Previously…
“All I know for sure, is that if that woman
following us catches you, you will never go home again. So come. We must hurry
now. Clytemnestra has caught a whiff of something ugly in the air.”
“And what about her…the demon lady?”
Once again it is the messenger who answers.
“She is a feeder – she stays alive, in a
manner of speaking, by feeding on the energy left behind by the people who have
died…like the echoes.”
“Then why is she after me?”
“Because you are in no man’s land and are
fair game…and you have plenty of energy. If she taps you she will be very
powerful. With all your energy she could live forever.”
This is also one of the reasons why the old
lady refrains from touching the boy too much, especially when she needs
comfort. It is alright if he touches her, but she knows that every time she
touches him in need, she takes energy away from him – his life force. Skin
touching skin is the most powerful way of exchanging or transferring energy –
especially the palms of the hand and the lips where all the nerve endings are.
One kiss from that demon lady and the boy would die within moments.
“GAAARRRRRRRRRR,” roars the camel, and
begins to prance around as if she’s on hot coals.
“Mount up,” says the messenger to the old
lady. “We must move swiftly now, she is closer than we think. The echoes have
been speaking to her, and giving her directions.”And now...
Clutching his limp hand, Clara sat by
Joshua’s side, day after day, watching the drip-feed bag run dry…watching the
urine-bag fill up and get replaced by the hard working, never complaining,
nurses who washed and changed him every morning, smoothed out his clean sheets
and combed his hair. For the millionth time she examined his face for signs of
change. Today he seemed more white and drained of blood than usual. But she
must stay cheerful. Remain positive. Count her blessings…
But sitting there all by herself her resolve
soon crumbled. One by one her fears came home to roost, settling down blackly
in the gloom of her mind. As a child, when things had become too much, she had
often sat and banged her head against the wall to bring her some respite from
her thoughts. Now her demons multiplied; and in the same poisoned vein, mixed
with her guilt and shame, came the same old sad refrain, ‘you are the one to
blame’. Her sins clung to her like a cloak, dragging her waterlogged spirit down
into a pit of bottomless depression. She was actually finding it difficult to
breathe, her physical body being adversely affected by her thoughts. There was
nothing she could do about it. There was nothing she wanted to do about
it. She was almost starting to convulse as she spiralled down and down…and each
time she came to the bottom, it gave way and she fell through into an even
deeper, darker hell than before. Then she stopped breathing.
And there was God.
God knows she never believed in Him before,
and didn’t expect Him to answer her now…..a fair weather Christian. But there He
stood, in the depths of her despair, book in hand, serenity upon His face.
“Father?”
“Hello my child,” replied the priest.
“Thought I’d come and cheer you up.”
Clara froze, caught in a vice.
“Sorry to sneak up on you like that.”
It
can happen like that. In a single moment all the sins she’d been hiding from in
the last twenty years finally arrive all at once. One of the unforseen problems
of not going to regular confession. With no outlet, the sins just keep piling
up like bad debts till it comes time to pay the piper. And here he was; so much
older.
Looking at him now she remembered the
feeling of relief and lightness she used to get after unburdening herself in
that little confessional box. How easily she went into the day after that. How
friendly the world seemed. How lovely the sunshine. And then she hit puberty
and stopped because her mother said her period was a sign of Satan and her sins
began to pile up like bricks on a wall of silence which hid her like a dirty
secret. No more sister in Christ, or friend to all. No more innocence. No more
facing your foe with a forgiving smile. Now she sneaked amongst the shadows,
shy, sly and self preserving, no longer believing in forgiveness and redemption
for herself or for others. She drained her cup of abundance down to the bitter
dregs of a drab and lonely existence. Now it had come to this.
Clara did a quick check of herself to see if
she was presentable…touching her hair back and brushing her skirt straight.
There was nothing she could do about her soul however. She was a lapsed
Catholic and the priest knew it. No hiding that from him.
“I…er…haven’t been to church for a while,”
she stumbled and bumbled over the sentence, eyes darting here and there.
“Ah. You aren’t the only one,” he said, smiling
kindly and sitting down on a chair nearby. He had aged considerably since she’d
last seen him. She was sure she actually heard his bones creak.
“But never mind. No biggie,” he said in an
effort to be ‘hip’…or ‘with it’ as the teenagers said today. “Times are
changing. I remember when you and your mother used to come…” he said with a
faraway look in his eyes.
“Some parents have a habit of scaring off
the younger ones with their…dedication, shall I say, to the do’s and don’ts in
the Bible. In fact, I know some children whose parents used to beat them over
the head with the Bible, literally – hoping to transfer some piety and
knowledge that way. As I recall, your mother was quite a fervent bible basher
herself,” he said tactfully. “Doesn’t matter. Just wanted to say that I understand…and
no hard feelings.” He smiled at her so sweetly that she nearly burst into
tears.
‘Just don’t be nice to me,’ she thought.
‘Please don’t be nice to me or I shall never stop crying.’
“I heard about Joshua from the hospital,” he
continued. “They keep me informed about such things.”
“I’m….” said Clara, waving a tearful hand at
Joshua. “He won’t wake up. And I think it’s my fault.”
“Hubris.”
“What?”
“It’s God’s fault. He is in charge actually.
It’s hubris to think otherwise. You caused nothing. You only lack faith, which
is why you’re feeling so down and giving yourself airs.”
“But what can I do? I feel…”
“Well considering your agnostic point of
view, I suppose the best thing is you could try doing a few push-ups or
something,” he joked with a smile.
Clara laughed and felt her burden ease a
little.
“Thanks for coming. It’s actually good to
see you again.”
“I’m glad. And by the way I think you’re
holding up very well under the strain. These things aren’t easy.”
“Do you think he will wake?”
“I believe so….but what I believe is not
important. It’s what you believe.”
“I only have doubts….and that’s not good, is
it?”
“No. Which is why I’m here. I thought it
might help if I gave you a little blessing.”
“Bless Joshua.”
“There is no need to bless Joshua. He is
already blessed. It is you who needs the help.”
Clara looked at him uncertainly, suddenly
feeling a bit awkward and embarrassed.
“Do you object?”
“No.”
“Here we go then,” he said before she had time
to change her mind. The priest opened his Bible and laid it carefully on his
lap. Then he reached into his pocket and took out a vial of holy water. Gently
he unscrewed the lid and held it ready in his left hand.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit.”
Automatically Clara made the sign of the cross
and replied: “Amen.”
“May God, who through this water and the
Holy Spirit, has given us a new birth in Christ, be with you.”
Clara replied: “And with your spirit.”
“The blessing of this water is to remind us
of Christ, the living water, and of the sacrament of Baptism, in which we were
born of water and the Holy Spirit. Whenever, therefore, we are sprinkled with
this holy water in blessing, we thank God for his priceless gift to us and we
ask for strength in our time of travail.
“These are the words of the Holy Gospel
according to John: 7:37-39
"Let anyone who thirsts come to me and
drink. Whoever believes in me, as Scripture says: ‘Rivers of living water will
flow from within him.'
“Let us pray.
“Blessed are you, Lord, all-powerful God, who in Christ, the
living water of salvation,
blessed and transformed us. Grant that it will help us be patient and
bear our burdens lightly, that we may be a pillar of strength to those around
us.
“We ask this though Christ our Lord. Amen.
“Let this water call to mind our Baptism
into Christ, who has redeemed us by his death and resurrection.”
When the cool drops of water trickled
on her forehead, her first emotion was to cry. Someone was actually taking the
time to be nice to her…to help her. It had been so long…..just always holding
on, without any relief, or hope. It was such a soothing feeling….to have
someone do something special for her. She surrendered to the coolness of the
water running down her face and fancied that it was indeed cleansing her dark
and misgiving thoughts.
Then the strangest thing happened. Clara actually
began to feel her worries lift off her like plasters peeling away, until the
skin underneath showed through, smooth and new and whole, and felt her sins,
one by one, disappear into thin air.
A great sigh wrenched her body and her
sadness was torn from its throne perched on her heart and dragged into the open
air, along with all her despair – where it withered and died. And in its place,
a resignation to the way of all things. Not a giving up, but an acceptance of
what is, and what she couldn’t change with any amount of worrying and fretting.
Her mourning for her loss was quite gone.
For that’s all it was. Joshua suffered not – he would wake when he was
ready….or not. She did not assist him with her wailing and her woe. She saw
that now. He would not come back any the sooner for it…indeed, if he had heard
her carrying on like that he might have been convinced that he had died and not
come back at all.
She looked up to thank the priest but he was
no longer there, making her wander if she had made him up out of empty air. But
she wasn’t really surprised. Things had a habit of slipping away from her
lately. Anyway, it did not matter. For the moment she had respite from her
suffering.
It did not last forever though. On her
own, alone beside the bed, she could manage her equilibrium. When she went home
for a change of clothes it was another story. Things were much more fraught
with danger there.
“Don’t stay all night.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not bossing me around anymore.”
“Sorry. I only meant…”
“Why don’t you go and tell your sister what
to do if you want to boss someone around. She has pretty much been hopeless
since she got here.”
“She is trying…
“She does bugger-all. Sits around eating and
uses all the hot water. That’s what she does. Watches TV all the time.” Clara
immediately regretted her language and hoped the priest wasn’t listening…but
that woman… Basically that woman had the power to drag her down into hell with
her and there was nothing she could do about it. She wished she’d asked the
priest how to deal with Alice. But she could guess at the answer, and ‘forgive
your enemies’ was too bitter a pill to swallow at the moment. Her pride would
not let her do it…even if it meant losing her soul, she’d rather go to hell
than give that woman the time of day. She’d rather die.
“I’ll talk to her,” said Samuel, sincerely
regretting that he’d invited his sister over. Clara hadn’t stopped complaining
since she’d arrived. And it was only going to get a whole lot worse. It would
have been easier to try and cope without her. Too late now. No way could he
tell Alice to pick up her sticks and leave.
“The place is a mess.”
“I’ll speak to her.”
“She’s supposed to be doing the laundry and
the housework….and just look at it…why don’t you get her to clean the house…wash
the fucking dishes, because dear god I will break the next dirty dish I see
over your head.”
Clara turned tightly on her heel and all but
bumped into Alice eavesdropping at the door.
“Telling tales are you?” she said in a sotto
voce. “Can’t fight your own battles? Gotta get hubby to do that for you. After
all, he is the boss of the house.”
“And you are a slovenly cow.”
“Meow! And what makes you think
you’re such a wonderful wife and mother? You also ‘lie in bed all day’.”
“I work.”
“Oh yeah…like two hours a day.”
“Three.”
“…and the rest you slob around in your
dressing gown dreaming of your little toy-boy and fantasizing about how you’re
going to get on the bus and drive away with him. You’re no better than me….I’m
just up front about it,” she said, purposely pushing out her far superior
bosoms to make the point.
‘Just a lucky guess,’ thought Clara in a
panic. ‘She’s just fishing. She can’t know anything.’
“You didn’t think I knew. Did you? Well, a
little birdie told me,” she said with a wink, waggling her pinkie at Clara.
“You really are a scheming bitch, aren’t
you?”
“Oh now the gloves are coming off.”
“And that’s because I don’t give a fuck
anymore. My darling boy is in a coma so I’ve got nothing more to lose. I don’t
even care about you and Samuel anymore. I used to. And that’s how you could get
under my skin. But not anymore. You can have him for all the good he does
around here. The two of you are welcome to each other. Evil twins that’s for
sure. Go ahead and do your worst. I don’t give a shit. Animals, both of you.
Rutting animals.”
Alice purposely didn’t deny that, a point
not lost on Clara.
“And speaking of which, you can take that
slobbering dog with you….in case Samuel doesn’t feel up to it, you got
something to fall back on.”
“Oh my. You really do have the hump.”
Clara struck out with all her bottled-up
fury. The side of her little hand connected high up on Alice’s cheekbone and
knocked her flying into the wall.
“And don’t you ever talk to me like that
again. If you are anything less than polite to me I will make sure that no man
ever looks at you again.”
Alice bit down the automatic retort on its
way to her lips. Clara was the bigger woman, and she had righteous fury on her
side. Alice felt like she’d been hit by a brick. She also knew she had a mammoth
black-eye on the way.
In the silence there bloomed a new-found
respect for Clara. ‘The woman had balls after all,’ thought Alice.
