Episode 70 - Tension

(Music fades in) 

Welcome back to the podcast. To a normal episode, you could say. Not that this show was ever truly normal. 

Or rather, it’s not a normal podcast episode when you think about the entirety of podcasting, the many shows and stories told across the many genres. But when you narrow in on this particular show, on the standards I have set, this is a normal episode. 

And you could point out that every show has that sort of… dissonance or disconnection regarding the larger media within which it resides. Genres have a wide range of subgenres, and within those subgenres, you’ll find wide range of stories and components within those stories. That’s just the way it is. The way it needs to be, in fact. And so, I shouldn’t feel bad that I don’t have much of a sense of normal. But I do.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

There was an undeniable tension in the air. Or it should have been undeniable. But Wyatt stood about as if nothing was wrong, admiring some of the fixtures and other things on display. Those things were meant to be looked at. So in some ways, it shouldn’t be so noteworthy that he was obliging and doing that very thing. But this was a matter of time and place. It was a matter of prioritizing what needed to be reacted to. 

To the woman, the man was misprioritizating. She should have had the entirety of his attention. The sneer on her face testified to this unmet demand for his focus and the frustration therein that an entitlement that ran so deep could go unfulfilled. 

There was more to it than just that. There were layers or additional salts poured into the wounds. There were dimensions to it that were not immediately apparent on her face. There were things that could not be seen. But somehow they were felt. Jade felt them. I know it. Don’t ask me how I know. I just know.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

My lack of adherence to any sort of normal is–I have to admit–a great insecurity of mine. Part of it is that standard social anxiety: that need to fit in with one’s peers, to blend into the background because you remember how the other kids treated the one that stood out. Maybe you were involved in their plots and their bullying. Or maybe you were the kid who stood out. Maybe you were on the receiving end. Either way, you know what I’m talking about. 

But I guess you are ready to assume that I was one of those kids who stood out. That I was on the outside, pushed further into the void by the cruelty of my peers? It’s a reasonable guess, I assure you. It is aligned with the logic of the situation, for the most part, but it downplays my own strength and determination. Not that I managed to be normal, per se, but I did manage to be completely invisible. That, I am very good at.

But the cloak of invisibility that I have draped across my shoulders cannot last forever. It is a cloth like so many others, though it lives in the realm of imagery and other more figurative things. There are differences, as a result, but some things carry over. Namely, its delicacy. All cloths, literal or otherwise, are delicate things. They can fray across time, especially if handled too much. Especially if they are stretched out and wrapped around a body and held as tautly as I held onto mine.

Sometimes I think I can hear the tearing. The slight rip of individual threads and fibers as it comes apart. And each broken bit sends a chill of terror down my back. 

Without that cloak, I am helpless. I am exposed. And I know what’s waiting for me.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

“My brother won’t be home for a while,” the woman said. “Might not be all day.”

Wyatt let out his breath through his teeth. The act was hard to read. It was a release of some sort of tension, but was the tension he was carrying born out of frustration or his guilt? Or something else entirely? It was hard to say.

This was not a character the audience got to know well. He loved his brother, that much was clear. And there were slight slips of his tongue that gave his love some dimension, some context, some history to it. There were openings in his speech that gave one room to wonder and speculate, to paint a picture he did not immediately offer. Which maybe someone shouldn’t have done. But the temptation was there.

After all, Jade was still looking for her adventure. She was looking for her purpose in that moment. It had to be there with him.

The camera panned over to her, standing in silence in the expansive and seemingly endless space between Wyatt and the woman. Her expression was just as it had always been. The color palette of the world around her was just what you would expect. And yet, something was still wrong. Something was very, very wrong in a way that couldn’t be explained. 

Then the frame paused. A stillness overtook the screen. Then came a moment for the audience to really think about what it is they were seeing: the sight before them, that image with the hidden discontent beneath the surface, a point drilled in and emphasized. A tone set just before Jade turned her head towards the woman still seething but with something else on her mind.

(Music fades out and new music fades in) 

I don’t have any frame of reference for what a normal human life is. I only know that it is out of my reach, somehow. It’s the sort of thing that most people have or have been taught in some way. But I am the exception. It’s a gap in my knowledge that I can’t really hide. But I had to hide it.

The knowledge you have reveals far more about you than you realize. There’s a provenance to it, after all. There’s a history of how you acquired that information. And that history reveals something about you and your history. Maybe things you don’t want anyone to know. Maybe things they can’t know.

And there’s more to the picture than first meets the eye. Like for me, I think nothing in this show makes it seem like I had an easy life. You know, that normal, traditional, safe childhood. At the very least, I was the sort of child who roamed the internet far too freely and talked to people I shouldn’t have been talking to. I posted things about myself that I really should not have. I opened my work up to critique and criticism when I should have just been practicing the art of going through the motions. I saw things I shouldn’t have seen and learned things I was much too young to know. That says a lot. 

But there’s more to it than that. If you dig for it, you would eventually see why I was on the internet so much. I’ve hinted at it, sure. But when I did so, I was a lot stronger than I am right now.  

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

“I don’t mind waiting,” Wyatt finally said.

He shifted back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels. It was the only sign of some restlessness or discontent he showed. And it didn’t reveal anything else. It didn’t show what else he might have been thinking. 

The woman kept still. “You should at least sit down,” she said.

And when she did so, the unnatural sweetness was back. The twist and turns of her letters into something beautiful and also heinous. Something recognizable and something frightful in equal but inexplicable measures. 

Jade started shifting on her feet as well, but it was not a simple expression of movement, an urge to avoid stagnation or to burn through some energy. It was a warm up. Perhaps to run. Her stress, her fear, and her tension started to radiate out. It seeped into the room, and once that space was filled, it expanded outward, not just into the other spaces of the home but out through the camera as well. Except it wasn’t a camera. It was sheets of paper brought together to make an animation, a portrayal of a story, a glimpse into the human experience.

Or maybe it wasn’t paper. I actually don’t think they use paper in animation anymore, but I’m not sure if they did back then. It might have been the cut off point. But you get what I mean, right? Tell me you understand what I mean.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Reality is such a delicate thing, and yet, it’s also this thick tapestry. It is built layer upon layer. The reality we know is the product of so many other things laid down. Its pieces are numerous and locked together in seemingly the only way they will fit. 

Reality is what it has to be, and so, the illusions we create will always be very flimsy things. That’s what scares me, really. Because my illusions are the only sort of protection I have.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Wyatt seemed to consider the offer. His tongue slid across his teeth beneath his lips, pushing against the skin as it went. It’s an action that does not betray much, but it shows what isn’t there. Namely, there wasn’t a cause for concern. There wasn’t a reason for him to say no to something as simple as a seat. He didn’t think there was a trap waiting for him or that the woman was so much of a threat that she had something waiting just to get him. 

Rather, his hesitation seemed to be unrelated. It was something in his head, not his gut, that made him pause, that told him it was best to stay on his feet.
Maybe it was just a matter of chivalry. Maybe he could not be sure if the antiquated rule book he had held fast to had something to say about sitting in the woman’s home while her brother was out, and was the fact that she was his sister in law a critical detail to take into consideration? 

Maybe he had forgotten about that detail in the moment. Maybe it didn’t feel real. Who is to say? But as he weighed over his options, as he sat with the weight of a decision that didn’t really need to be a decision, his mind slowly began to settle on a chair in the corner, and the handkerchief that sat on its arm. 

He knew that piece of cloth. He didn’t need to see the embroidery, that monogrammed letter, to know for certain.

And yet, he still asked, “Is that my brother’s?” 

The woman only shrugged. 

“I really don’t know,” she said, flippantly. 

Another piece to this confrontation. Another reason to be concerned. Another deviation from normal or expected. For a widow, at least. Another chill to travel through the screen. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

I’ve tell you the truth here. I’ve already been found twice. The Queen and then that one person, that student who wanted to believe she was something more. I shouldn’t be surprised, really. And how can I be mad that I yelled into the void and the void responded? That’s just how it goes. I shouldn’t be upset. But I am, and I’m also not.

At the very least, I should know what I want right? I should know what I’m hoping for and what I’m dreading. That’s not just normal. It’s a key part of this process. 

(Music gradually fades out)

Aishi Online is a production of Miscellany Media Studios. It is written, produced, performed, and edited by MJ Bailey with music from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. If you like the show, please leave a review, tell a friend, or post about it on some mysterious online forum. You do you.