Self-Injury in the Garden

Share-All suffered alone, sitting on the floor of the painting room. Her breakfast lost, her mouth felt nasty, her stomach still queasy, she was unsure what to do. She forced herself to stand up. "I guess I'll go outside. Maybe I just need to be outside."

She kept her eyes on the wall as she made her way through the long room, afraid of the windows now because the memory of her dream had been triggered by looking out the window. In the cooking room, too, she made sure she did not look through a window by keeping her eyes on the floor as she walked. Once out the door, she felt relieved. No windows here!

She made her way to the path she had carved through the brambles. She noticed the pile of canes which she had cut was gone. She walked towards the fence, pushing away branches from young trees. When she arrived at the very back, she stood a while looking over the fence. In the distance she could see another house and a ways beyone it, another house, each enclosed by a fence. "I wonder if they have bramble patches," she mused. Turning back to the path, she realized that even after all the work she had done, she had really accomplished very little. "Will it last?" she thought. "What's the point of all this effort? The brambles will reappear. New volunteer trees will replace the ones I cut down. It just seems so pointless." Head down, she picked her way back to the tidy lawn.

She canvassed the yard for signs of the little slaves but no one was to be seen. "On my own, I guess." She crossed to the tool box, put on her gloves and picked up the pruning shears. Starting on the left of the path, she attacked the canes with a bitterness that gave her strength she didn't know she had. She cut and threw the canes into a pile. Cut and throw! Cut and throw! "'Pleasure'", she thought as she cut them down. "This is 'pleasure', you stupid cat! Take that! And that!" Cut and throw, cut and throw. The deeper she went, the harder she had to throw.

When she finally got to the fence again, she was breathing hard. She unbent herself and stood. A breeze came up and she was grateful. She looked at what she'd done, thinking how different today was. She wasn't at all dizzy in spite of having been sick earlier. The path was wide enough for two now and she hadn't really been working that long. At least that's how it felt.

She made several trips after that, starting at the edge of the lawn and working her way back to the fence, each time clearing away the brambles. Her back was beginning to ache, her arms hurt, and she was hungry. Still she kept at it. She worked until she had blisters on both hands in spite of the gloves. She worked until she could barely straighten up. Bent over, she practically crawled from the fence to the lawn. There she rolled on the ground and moaned.

She watched the clouds in the sky. She listened to the birds. She decided she would never move from that spot.

From the corner of her eye she saw JeSuis approaching. Her jaw tensed and eyes narrowed. "I've been working, so don't yell at me, cat!" she said to herself. She propped herself up on one elbow and glared at the cat.

"You're making great progress," said JeSuis. "I can almost picture the garden already."

"Bad choice of words, cat," said Share-All. "If I remember correctly, you know nothing about pictures."

"Point taken," responded JeSuis. "Can you tell me, since you are the picture-maker, what you think the garden will look like?"

"I could but I won't." The words were barely out of her mouth when Share-All caught herself. Disrespect was punishable. Refusal to comply was also punishable. Slaves were not allowed private thoughts. She opened her mouth, to tell JeSuis what she had seen the first time she saw the patch, then closed it. Was this a trick? The picture of the garden had been a private thought. By telling JeSuis, she would admitting to having had one. Her confession would bring punishment. On the other hand, if she kept it to herself, she was also being disobedient and would be punished. Her mind flashed back to the pictures she had painted. Were those also private things that were forbidden? A turmoil began from which Share-All felt no escape.

Just then JeSuis spoke, "You've worked so very hard. I bet you're hungry. Are you ready for a break?" Share-All was relieved to acquiesce. They made their way through the cooking room where Hopeful and Bright were already laying places on the table. Share-All and JeSuis walked down the hall and then waited outside the room with the white door for the others to finish.

They made their way into the room and JeSuis jumped up on the white stool. "You can use the smaller basin today for your hands and face. The left handle is for hot water." Share-All saw a small chunk of pink on the edge of the basin as she rolled up the sleeves of her shirt. She moved to stand in front of the basin and caught a movement in the window above it. She turned her head quickly to see what it was. She saw a face looking back at her. "But that can't be! JeSuis and I are alone in here." She examined the face quite closely, noting that this person wore the same shirt that she had on. Reluctantly, she turned to JeSuis and said, "Who is this?"

The cat spoke gently, "Yourself."

"Myself! No more mocking me, cat. I asked you 'who this is'."

"And I told you, Share-All. Can you see if this person has legs?"

Share-All leaned toward the window over the basin and as she did so the other person also leaned forward. Share-All jumped back.

"It is a reflection of yourself that you see. You are looking into a mirror, not through a window. A mirror helps us to see ourselves as others see us."

Share-All didn't like this at all. She didn't want to know any more about it and she really didn't want to have the cat explain it to her. She forced her eyes down, picked up the pink chunk, and turned the left handle to run water. She washed her hands, then dried them on the towel behind her. She winced in pain because the blisters had broken.

JeSuis said, "Let me see your hands."
Surely the cat was not going to check how clean she was, was she?

Share-All held out her hands, backside up.

"Turn them over, please," asked the cat.

Share-All turned them over. Large raw places where the covers of the blisters had been worn off burned all over her palms. The cat reached out a paw. Share-All thought JeSuis was going to touch them and pulled her hands away. "I won't hurt you," said the cat.

Share-All held out her arms again. JeSuis reached with her paw, past the slave's left hand, past her wrist, and pointed with her paw to numerous narrow scars covering Share-All's forearm. "What are these from?" the cat asked. "Are they from being punished?" Share-All pulled her arms back and rolled down the sleeves of the shirt. She muttered, "No. No, they are not from being punished."

The cat didn't ask again. Nor did she ask about the blisters. "Evidently no gauze or magic gloves this time," Share-All whined to herself.

Distinctly different from breakfast which was relaxed and filled with conversation, lunch was quiet. The meal itself was simple. As each finished, she got up and placed her plate on the purple counter. When only Merciful and Share-All remained, JeSuis spoke. "Merciful, will you get the bandages, please?" Merciful left and returned with the gauze. She looked at Share-All who held out her hands. Tenderly, Merciful lifted one. "I think we should put something on these or the bandages will stick. Let me go see if we have something to use."

"I didn't think you even noticed," said Share-All to the cat. "You were so interested in my scars." JeSuis did not answer. Merciful returned with an ointment which she put on Share-All's palms before wrapping them with gauze. When she had finished, JeSuis jumped down from the table by the back door. Merciful opened the door and the cat left. Merciful began to run water to wash the dishes.

Share-All was left standing in the middle of the room. She wanted to say something to the little slave but words refused to form themselves. Share-All stood there helplessly. "I know that you would like help and it's okay. With your hands they way they are, it would be very painful to dry the dishes," spoke Merciful. "I just don't understand how that happened. You were wearing the gloves we gave you."

The slave herself was unsure how it had happened. She only knew that she had been very angry. She was angry for having remembered the dream; she was angry at her ignorance and having to ask the meaning of words; she was angry with JeSuis for all that talk about not being slaves. She was very, very angry. "I was angry," she said to Merciful. "JeSuis made me very angry by saying that you were not slaves in this place. Everyone is a slave. Even the smallest child knows this."

Merciful kept her back turned to Share-All and continued to wash the dishes. "I suppose if you were angry with JeSuis for saying it, you will become angry with me too." She turned and looked earnestly into Share-All's face. "I am no slave."

That was all she said. Share-All returned her gaze searching for signs of lying, for any indication that the little slave was mocking her. She saw none. "How is this possible?" she asked her.

"Tell me first how being angry with JeSuis caused such horrible wounds on your hands. Then I will tell you how it is possible that I am no slave."