It's tonight
I want to be alone with you
I want to have you
All around me
With no one watching
I want you to hear me
Crying out to you
Sweep me away
In your love, sweep me away
In your love
Where I'm who I am
Where you draw me closer
And I'm drawn near you
Where even in the night
Even in the emptiest shadows
I'm free
I'm lost in you
My heart is open
Tonight it longs for you
Tonight I want to be with you
Empty yet full
Broken yet whole
Hear me out
Do you hear
The songs in my heart?
They cry about you
Sweeping me away
In your love
Sweeping me away
In your love
Sweeping me away
Where I'm with you
Where I find you
And nothing else matters
Because when I open my eyes
I see you
Holding my hands
We're lost in each other
And when I close my eyes
You're up there
Overcoming in my place
Carrying my pain
And you look at me
Breathing your last
Yet here forever
Where you're never away
And you smile at me
When I come to you
And tonight I seek you
I'm lost in your love
And there I want
To be lost forever
Singing forever
How much you love me
How much I love you
I love you
Tonight I love you
And then tomorrow
When the skies glow with your sun
I love you
Then when the moon comes
I love you
And the darkness is all around
I love you
Until my singing is no more
I love you
Until I'm no more
I love you
Until I'm with you
Forever with you
to dwell in your love
To love you back
To love you even more
With a love I'd never have known
Until the work with me is done
Until I'm yours
Completely yours
Fully surrendered
Fully given
Complete
Totally whole
Until then
Sweep me
Sweep me away
In your love
Sweep me away.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Prologue
She walked on a carpeted aisle wearing an elaborately designed white dress, holding on to a bouquet of fresh white roses as if it was the last thing in the world she would do. And the smile on her face, a wide grin that showed an adequate number of teeth, did not ever leave her face- even when she stepped on the hem of her dress and almost fell face down on the floor with the cameraman, alert as ever, to take all the action in. Only her eyes showed that her heart indeed jumped for a second there, opening so wide in surprise that she’d been able to walk on and let go of the hem of her dress.
But she quickly recovered and not a soul noticed that she’d come so close to giving the guests mighty cramps in the stomach. Why, even her parents might laugh at her, though they’d try to hold it in first, for sure. And she wouldn’t have known what to do then. She thought that maybe she’d have given running away a try. Oh, and she’d run as fast as she’d be able until her legs quivered and her knees gave up.
But that was over. No use making a big deal out of it. Whew, Good Heavens, thank God! So, she looked straight on ahead to find out that there were no more people walking before her. They’d all gotten to their places. When did that happen? The walk felt extremely long. And all the while, her smile was there, bright and never fading- until her eyes settled by the far end of the room, at the one thing she really wanted to see. Until then, her smile was even brighter.
He was dressed mostly in black and she could swear he looked like someone she saw in a movie before. He stood next to another man- the best man- shifting his weight from one leg to another and wiping sweat off his forehead. At the sight of him, an emotion so strong overwhelmed her. It was something she didn’t want to put a name to simply because words didn’t suffice. The feeling was so great, so much bigger than herself, that it made her heart ache. But then, why the trouble, she settled to call it love. And yes, she discovered, love made her heart ache because love was supposed to be beyond herself.
She giggled as she stared at him wiping at his forehead so frequently, as if he was extremely hot or- most likely, she thought- very nervous. I’m not running away, sweetheart, don’t you fret, she wanted to tell him. But he was still so far away. She still had a long walk to do. She’d tell him later.
And when, at last, she reached him, there were tears in her eyes. Then it became confusing if she was happy or sad. There were tears in his eyes too and if he’d spoken, he probably would have said something as cliché as ‘there’s something in my eye’. But that wasn’t like him at all; he’d more likely say ‘oh dear, I don’t think I can push through with this (sniff)’ and then give her a playful wink. Then they’d both stifle laughter, their shoulders shaking. But then he didn’t utter a word and that was just as well, because they didn’t want the guests to wonder what was up with them.
As they walked towards the priest, in front of everyone, he took her hand and enclosed it in his. His hand was warm, and she knew that not far from now, their hands will start to sweat but he wouldn’t pull his hand from hers- until she did it herself. “Your hand’s icky,” she used to always say. And he always responded with that hearty laughter of his, until his eyes watered and he badly needed to shut up. But she always said his hand was icky and he never told her anything like, “why, m’lady, your hand’s just about as icky as mine.” He just laughed. And she always laughed along with him because it just wasn’t possible to hear him laugh and not laugh along. Sometimes, it got her wondering why she was even laughing in the first place, after her facial muscles were spent and before she realized that the question made her look stupid.
She savored the feel of him next to her- the scent of his perfume and the warmth of his breath as he spoke. She felt as if she was born to be exactly where she was. Right here, right now. But then, she was feeling a lot of feelings and thinking a lot of things too. Maybe it was just something brides normally felt next to their grooms. But somehow, she refused to believe that because that reduced it to something so insignificant. And because she didn’t think that was the case.
Then, drowning in the depth of her thoughts, she remembered that she was supposed to tell him something- that thing about being a runaway bride. She smiled inside and imagined how he’d respond to it. Would he shrug, maybe? Oh no, he wouldn’t. Not him. He would smile, even if he didn’t find it amusing at all. That thought encouraged her. She squeezed his hand and from the corner of her eye, she saw him move. He was looking at her, eyes asking, she was sure: what’s wrong, dear? Is anything the matter? She was supposed to be teasing him, not answering immediately, but it later dawned on her that she was dealing with a patient man here. He could stand there forever, waiting for her to respond. And, truly, hadn’t he proved the astonishing extent of his patience? So, she gave the little game up and spoke.
“Well, sweeth-” Her tongue was stuck at the roof of her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and drool would have easily dripped off her lips had she not closed her mouth immediately. She did it so suddenly her teeth hurt. She couldn't believe it but she forgot the name of the groom.
Her understanding of her current state came to her like the end of the world. It was awfully unexpected. She’d forgotten his name, now how crazy was that? She closed her eyes and concentrated, hearing the monotone of the priest’s words somewhere in the background. She did, as her professor used to tell her, squeeze blood out of a turnip. Only that there wasn’t blood to squeeze at all. It was all in vain.
But didn’t I know those things about him? About us? Of course I know him. I- I just forgot. Her eyebrows met and her head suddenly ached so much, throbbing so terribly she could have demanded for a new one and got it.
I don’t know who I’m getting married to, she thought. But that was insane. She did know; she was very sure of that. Wasn’t she just a few minutes ago, remembering fond memories of him? Just like the time when…the time when- oh snap! I forgot that too? And then, as she was debating with herself, she thought, oh boy, that fall was almost a sure thing! She exhaled a lot of air and remembered that troublesome hem of her dress. And that was all she remembered thinking (on her way down the aisle): that troublesome hem of her dress, and of course the fact that she didn’t know who the groom was.
Then, as if awaken from a dream, she became aware of his hand around hers. It was warm, almost comforting, but she could feel the promise of sweat. She pulled her hand free of his and lifted her eyes to face. Then, all her blood fled from her, leaving her skin looking like bond paper. The groom’s face was blank. The space where the eyes should have been was frighteningly empty. His face was just a fair-colored space with hair above and a neck below. She blinked hard but everything was still the same.
She didn’t like staring at his face- or whatever it was called- but her eyes were glued to it. I’m going crazy, she thought. Normal people don’t see blank faces, do they? She willed her eyes closed and, good Heavens, they did. But she couldn’t close her eyes forever and curiosity was soon seeping into her veins. Slowly, she opened her left eye then her right, and looked at his face again. “Wh-Who are you?” she asked, her voice slightly trembling. There was nothing but the silence. Somehow, the priest had stopped his recitation and the guests did not even whisper. She wanted to see if they’re still there but couldn’t. Her eyes stayed on the blank face as much as she wanted to look away.
When the groom stayed quiet, annoyance started creeping into her veins too. She wanted for him to answer. She wanted it so badly that she almost grabbed him by the elbows and shook him for whatever it was worth. Well, maybe he was asleep, you know. You’d never tell given the circumstances. But eventually, the groom actually spoke. His voice was distantly familiar, which annoyed her all the more, but soft and soothing to the ears. She thought she even liked it, in spite of herself. “Did you cut your hair?” the groom asked. And, as she thought about answering, she was never, ever more startled in her life.
…
When she woke up the next day, the only things she remembered of last night’s dream were an idea of a peculiar wedding- it had something to do with a strange groom- and a question that had no apparent connection to anything at all.
But she just shrugged it all off, thinking it wouldn’t matter at all anyway. She’d forget all about the dream later in the day. She always does.
…
It had been a full day and a lot has happened, although there was really only one thing she would think about tonight, staring at the ceiling, struggling to sleep. She’d lost a patient today. She thought of how foolish she’d been- assuming she had everything under control, as if she was God Himself. She’d been a surgeon for quite a while now, and she knew better than putting confidence on herself. Doctors do make mistakes- and that’s exactly what she did. She was mistaken big time. But of course she was just exaggerating things- the patient still would have died even if she squeezed her brain dry and spent her entire life treating Mrs. Alberts. It was her time to go- no further explanations needed. Some things just happen because they do- and that was that. She just found that too hard to understand.
So there she was now, walking towards her car looking like she just knew she was going to die tomorrow, thinking dumb Jessie. That’s what you are- dumb.
As she inserted the key to the slot at her car door, a car parked exactly beside her. It was an old Mitsubishi Lancer. Dr. Timothy Reynolds got out of the car, a baseball cap on his head and a smile on his lips. The smile was extremely contagious. Despite everything, Jessie smiled back. Dr. Reynolds slammed his car door and Jessie feared the car’s parts might fall apart. It stayed in one piece though, but it badly needed replacing. For a moment, Jessie forgot about Mrs. Alberts. She even felt like laughing now.
“You need to buy a new car Dr. Reynolds,” Jessie said, fighting the urge to laugh, reminding herself that it wasn’t polite to laugh at people.
“Yep, but I just love this baby,” Dr. Reynolds answered, patting his car’s fender. Then, he stared at her, his eyes without a trace of emotion, “You’re looking good today Dr. Peterson. Did you cut your hair?”
Jessie’s hand stopped at the door handle and she turned to look at Dr. Reynolds. A wide smile was across her face. Her other hand reached to her head and she remembered that she did. She had cut her hair yesterday. For a second there, she stood next to her car disbelieving she’d forgotten that. But then, she guessed, hat's what losing a patient did.
“I did, thank you,” she said, almost demurely, and Dr. Reynolds nodded.
Then she was on her way home, tired and sleepy. She didn’t even look back through her side view mirror at the man whose smile she’d been wanting to see in her dreams. She wasn't even aware that her dream just came true- well not all of it though. Some of it was just about to unfold.
ENDBut she quickly recovered and not a soul noticed that she’d come so close to giving the guests mighty cramps in the stomach. Why, even her parents might laugh at her, though they’d try to hold it in first, for sure. And she wouldn’t have known what to do then. She thought that maybe she’d have given running away a try. Oh, and she’d run as fast as she’d be able until her legs quivered and her knees gave up.
But that was over. No use making a big deal out of it. Whew, Good Heavens, thank God! So, she looked straight on ahead to find out that there were no more people walking before her. They’d all gotten to their places. When did that happen? The walk felt extremely long. And all the while, her smile was there, bright and never fading- until her eyes settled by the far end of the room, at the one thing she really wanted to see. Until then, her smile was even brighter.
He was dressed mostly in black and she could swear he looked like someone she saw in a movie before. He stood next to another man- the best man- shifting his weight from one leg to another and wiping sweat off his forehead. At the sight of him, an emotion so strong overwhelmed her. It was something she didn’t want to put a name to simply because words didn’t suffice. The feeling was so great, so much bigger than herself, that it made her heart ache. But then, why the trouble, she settled to call it love. And yes, she discovered, love made her heart ache because love was supposed to be beyond herself.
She giggled as she stared at him wiping at his forehead so frequently, as if he was extremely hot or- most likely, she thought- very nervous. I’m not running away, sweetheart, don’t you fret, she wanted to tell him. But he was still so far away. She still had a long walk to do. She’d tell him later.
And when, at last, she reached him, there were tears in her eyes. Then it became confusing if she was happy or sad. There were tears in his eyes too and if he’d spoken, he probably would have said something as cliché as ‘there’s something in my eye’. But that wasn’t like him at all; he’d more likely say ‘oh dear, I don’t think I can push through with this (sniff)’ and then give her a playful wink. Then they’d both stifle laughter, their shoulders shaking. But then he didn’t utter a word and that was just as well, because they didn’t want the guests to wonder what was up with them.
As they walked towards the priest, in front of everyone, he took her hand and enclosed it in his. His hand was warm, and she knew that not far from now, their hands will start to sweat but he wouldn’t pull his hand from hers- until she did it herself. “Your hand’s icky,” she used to always say. And he always responded with that hearty laughter of his, until his eyes watered and he badly needed to shut up. But she always said his hand was icky and he never told her anything like, “why, m’lady, your hand’s just about as icky as mine.” He just laughed. And she always laughed along with him because it just wasn’t possible to hear him laugh and not laugh along. Sometimes, it got her wondering why she was even laughing in the first place, after her facial muscles were spent and before she realized that the question made her look stupid.
She savored the feel of him next to her- the scent of his perfume and the warmth of his breath as he spoke. She felt as if she was born to be exactly where she was. Right here, right now. But then, she was feeling a lot of feelings and thinking a lot of things too. Maybe it was just something brides normally felt next to their grooms. But somehow, she refused to believe that because that reduced it to something so insignificant. And because she didn’t think that was the case.
Then, drowning in the depth of her thoughts, she remembered that she was supposed to tell him something- that thing about being a runaway bride. She smiled inside and imagined how he’d respond to it. Would he shrug, maybe? Oh no, he wouldn’t. Not him. He would smile, even if he didn’t find it amusing at all. That thought encouraged her. She squeezed his hand and from the corner of her eye, she saw him move. He was looking at her, eyes asking, she was sure: what’s wrong, dear? Is anything the matter? She was supposed to be teasing him, not answering immediately, but it later dawned on her that she was dealing with a patient man here. He could stand there forever, waiting for her to respond. And, truly, hadn’t he proved the astonishing extent of his patience? So, she gave the little game up and spoke.
“Well, sweeth-” Her tongue was stuck at the roof of her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and drool would have easily dripped off her lips had she not closed her mouth immediately. She did it so suddenly her teeth hurt. She couldn't believe it but she forgot the name of the groom.
Her understanding of her current state came to her like the end of the world. It was awfully unexpected. She’d forgotten his name, now how crazy was that? She closed her eyes and concentrated, hearing the monotone of the priest’s words somewhere in the background. She did, as her professor used to tell her, squeeze blood out of a turnip. Only that there wasn’t blood to squeeze at all. It was all in vain.
But didn’t I know those things about him? About us? Of course I know him. I- I just forgot. Her eyebrows met and her head suddenly ached so much, throbbing so terribly she could have demanded for a new one and got it.
I don’t know who I’m getting married to, she thought. But that was insane. She did know; she was very sure of that. Wasn’t she just a few minutes ago, remembering fond memories of him? Just like the time when…the time when- oh snap! I forgot that too? And then, as she was debating with herself, she thought, oh boy, that fall was almost a sure thing! She exhaled a lot of air and remembered that troublesome hem of her dress. And that was all she remembered thinking (on her way down the aisle): that troublesome hem of her dress, and of course the fact that she didn’t know who the groom was.
Then, as if awaken from a dream, she became aware of his hand around hers. It was warm, almost comforting, but she could feel the promise of sweat. She pulled her hand free of his and lifted her eyes to face. Then, all her blood fled from her, leaving her skin looking like bond paper. The groom’s face was blank. The space where the eyes should have been was frighteningly empty. His face was just a fair-colored space with hair above and a neck below. She blinked hard but everything was still the same.
She didn’t like staring at his face- or whatever it was called- but her eyes were glued to it. I’m going crazy, she thought. Normal people don’t see blank faces, do they? She willed her eyes closed and, good Heavens, they did. But she couldn’t close her eyes forever and curiosity was soon seeping into her veins. Slowly, she opened her left eye then her right, and looked at his face again. “Wh-Who are you?” she asked, her voice slightly trembling. There was nothing but the silence. Somehow, the priest had stopped his recitation and the guests did not even whisper. She wanted to see if they’re still there but couldn’t. Her eyes stayed on the blank face as much as she wanted to look away.
When the groom stayed quiet, annoyance started creeping into her veins too. She wanted for him to answer. She wanted it so badly that she almost grabbed him by the elbows and shook him for whatever it was worth. Well, maybe he was asleep, you know. You’d never tell given the circumstances. But eventually, the groom actually spoke. His voice was distantly familiar, which annoyed her all the more, but soft and soothing to the ears. She thought she even liked it, in spite of herself. “Did you cut your hair?” the groom asked. And, as she thought about answering, she was never, ever more startled in her life.
…
When she woke up the next day, the only things she remembered of last night’s dream were an idea of a peculiar wedding- it had something to do with a strange groom- and a question that had no apparent connection to anything at all.
But she just shrugged it all off, thinking it wouldn’t matter at all anyway. She’d forget all about the dream later in the day. She always does.
…
It had been a full day and a lot has happened, although there was really only one thing she would think about tonight, staring at the ceiling, struggling to sleep. She’d lost a patient today. She thought of how foolish she’d been- assuming she had everything under control, as if she was God Himself. She’d been a surgeon for quite a while now, and she knew better than putting confidence on herself. Doctors do make mistakes- and that’s exactly what she did. She was mistaken big time. But of course she was just exaggerating things- the patient still would have died even if she squeezed her brain dry and spent her entire life treating Mrs. Alberts. It was her time to go- no further explanations needed. Some things just happen because they do- and that was that. She just found that too hard to understand.
So there she was now, walking towards her car looking like she just knew she was going to die tomorrow, thinking dumb Jessie. That’s what you are- dumb.
As she inserted the key to the slot at her car door, a car parked exactly beside her. It was an old Mitsubishi Lancer. Dr. Timothy Reynolds got out of the car, a baseball cap on his head and a smile on his lips. The smile was extremely contagious. Despite everything, Jessie smiled back. Dr. Reynolds slammed his car door and Jessie feared the car’s parts might fall apart. It stayed in one piece though, but it badly needed replacing. For a moment, Jessie forgot about Mrs. Alberts. She even felt like laughing now.
“You need to buy a new car Dr. Reynolds,” Jessie said, fighting the urge to laugh, reminding herself that it wasn’t polite to laugh at people.
“Yep, but I just love this baby,” Dr. Reynolds answered, patting his car’s fender. Then, he stared at her, his eyes without a trace of emotion, “You’re looking good today Dr. Peterson. Did you cut your hair?”
Jessie’s hand stopped at the door handle and she turned to look at Dr. Reynolds. A wide smile was across her face. Her other hand reached to her head and she remembered that she did. She had cut her hair yesterday. For a second there, she stood next to her car disbelieving she’d forgotten that. But then, she guessed, hat's what losing a patient did.
“I did, thank you,” she said, almost demurely, and Dr. Reynolds nodded.
Then she was on her way home, tired and sleepy. She didn’t even look back through her side view mirror at the man whose smile she’d been wanting to see in her dreams. She wasn't even aware that her dream just came true- well not all of it though. Some of it was just about to unfold.
Sammy Boy
I know how I look, Sammy thought, trying to ignore the penetrating stare of Bill Anson. Bill Anson the Handsomest Creature on Earth. Bill Anson the Great. High and Mighty Bill Anson. Sammy tried to shake off all these thoughts while he felt as if a hole was starting to melt its way through the middle portion of his lanky body. “Sammy Boy!” Bill’s unmistakable voice boomed across the room, making Sammy’s head jerk to its direction. “Yes?” Sammy’s answer was almost a whisper. He cringed at the devilish grin across Bill’s face. It meant trouble. Bill stood up from the armchair he’d been sitting on and went to Sammy. He draped an arm around Sammy’s shoulders and gave them a tight little squeeze. “Party at my house tonight. You’re invited.” At this, Sammy’s eyes bulged so much they could easily be mistaken as trying to fall off their sockets. His mouth, now a perfect oval, hung open as if meaning to say something. I’ve never been invited to a party before, Sammy could have just said. Bill chuckled. The sound wasn’t a bit lovely, Sammy noted. “Yes, I’m inviting you. So you better come.” The wide grin resurfaced. Sammy stared at Bill’s mouth as he was speaking and Sammy got lost in the way Bill’s mouth moved up and down, up and down, as he spoke. Somehow, it looked hilarious to him. He wanted to laugh so badly. But of course he restrained himself. Laughing at Billy would be a huge mistake. Massive.
“What’s the occasion, Bill?” Sammy asked as politely as he could after a serious consideration of the major holidays of the year. He thought maybe it was Bill’s birthday. Then he quickly threw the idea away. Who in Royal Commons forgot Bill’s birthday? “Well, nothing beats a Friday night, Sammy boy. And you’d be missed if you don’t come.” Bill’s grin grew wider than ever. Sammy fell silent.
If there was one thing Sammy sure knew, it’s that nobody was going to miss him if he chose to be a no-show. People don’t invite ‘freaks’ to parties. People deliberately forget about ‘freaks’. Bill gave Sammy a gentle pat on the hump on his back. Sammy exhaled sharply. He was suddenly reminded of the strange addition to his anatomy. How he hated that hump. He loathed it with all the life in him. He found it hard to accept the reason why people called him a ‘Mountain Range’. Of course that’s when they forget that he also went by the name ‘Humpy Sammy’. It was the reason why walking along corridors was a picture of the Parting of the Red Sea. The crowd always split exactly where he passed- as if he was Moses himself. And then occasionally, someone would comment: “Hey Humpy! Cool Backpack!” to which Sammy would automatically hug the backpack that he never wore on his back closer to his chest, squeezing comfort out of it. At that point, everyone laughed. The sound of their mocking laughter was horrible. It rang in his ears for weeks, even before he got another dose of it. It reminded him everyday how he didn’t ever belong. It reminded him that he was a freak show. The pain created an empty hole in him. The pain was new every day, and only Sammy knew how painful it was. But he chose to live with it because he found nothing else to do.
So when Bill the High and Mighty invited him to the party, he was expecting the part when people would tell him to get real; come on, invite you to a party? It always came with pranks like this. But strangely, it never came and Sammy’s heart fluttered with hope. Bill left him alone and went back to his friends. It even seemed as if it never happened at all.
He smiled to himself and he wasn’t aware that he looked quite stupid and scary with that smile. He decided he was going to the party. And then, with tightly closed eyes, he prayed that the hump would go away. Go away- just like that. He prayed in his armchair just minutes before Professor Harding arrived in the classroom with noisy and bored college students, just like every time.
…
Bill walked around his house, one arm around a stoned-looking brunette’s waist, laughing idiotically at a joke he shared to a group of people clustered together playing cards. Those people had laughed so hard at his joke, throwing their heads back and clutching their bellies. But he knew they laughed only for the sake of laughing and because they felt like they should. But for Bill, the joke was funny enough to set pieces of chewed cracker flying in the air. Bill didn’t care if he was the only one who found himself funny, as long as people forced themselves to laugh along. And why wouldn’t they? He was Bill- and that was that.
Bill looked for Sammy among the people crammed in his house. There was no sign of him. Then he saw it- the unmistakable hump on Sammy’s back glowing with the light from the open refrigerator it stood next to. Bill almost immediately sprinted to the direction of that deformed back. A wave of relief ran through him as he narrowed the distance between him and Sammy. Finally, breath heavy and chest heaving, Bill reached Sammy. Just that it wasn’t Sammy at all. Bill’s mouth fell open when the back he’d thought was humped straightened and revealed that it was just like any other back after all. Nothing extra. It was Phil, who’d bended forward into the fridge looking for something- a glass of water maybe. Slowly, taking some precious time, sweat trickled down his spine. Things shouldn’t go wrong, he thought. At once, confidence left him and he was suddenly cold. His arrogant swagger vanished to a drunken attempt at walking straight. When he heard that voice the other night, it scared hell out of him and he decided without any thought that he wasn’t going to dare disobey.
Bill tried to look tough, though he was far from it. He knew he was just a coward who hid behind connections- ones that his father had earned. No connection could help him now. He had to face the situation by himself. That scared him even more.
When he fell out of sleep that night, the voice unmistakably said: “Make sure Sammy comes along.” He’d instantly looked around his room although he didn’t really need to. He knew he wouldn’t see who the voice was from. He’d heard the voice as clear as any sound from a speaker on maximum volume. The voice rang in his ears so clearly he couldn’t deny it existed. He’d even felt the vibration that created it. He didn’t recognize the voice, the low murmur that it was. But the fear that crawled in his veins the instant that he heard it was enough. For the first time, someone told Bill what to do- and Bill obeyed without any debate. It was unusual as Bill’s immediate obedience.
When Bill realized that almost an hour had gone without any trace of Sammy, he started to shake, first inside then he trembled as if he was struggling with hypothermia. He was very afraid. When the voice said ‘Make sure Sammy comes along’, it had also meant ‘Make sure or else….’ And Bill knew that too, like all the other weird things he now knew and would die to not know.
Bill let go of the brunette the moment he understood that he was indeed trembling and he started to frantically search the house. He went upstairs with unstable knees. They felt like snapping any moment now. He opened three bedroom doors but not a shadow of Sammy was in any of the rooms. He searched bathrooms, went down to the garage, looked into every corner of the house and surveyed the street. Sammy wasn’t anywhere.
He was bathing in sweat now and he was breathing in ragged gasps. He fought hard to steady his hands but lost. He wanted to yell “Sam!” at the top of his voice but stopped himself. He didn’t want to go insane. He later decided to go back inside the house and look there again. You know Sammy’s not there, his mind told him. “Shut up!” Bill said aloud at himself and stepped into the house. As he walked inside, looking at everything and everyone but not really seeing, he felt as desperate as a dying beggar. He thought, ‘what’s the point?’ but went on anyway. His arms dropped to his sides and he didn’t notice that his shoulders were sagging so low he looked like a man-ape. Make sure Sammy comes along, the voice reminded him. It reminded him that he failed. He walked around the house mindlessly, hoping to death that Sammy would greet him there, with a wide grateful smile painted across his innocent face, but knowing that Sammy wouldn’t. Make sure Sammy comes along. Or else.
…
He walked along the corridor and, as was expected, the crowd parted in the middle. They must’ve seen Moses himself in him. He stared at the floor, trying to ignore the way people inched farther from him. He sighed weakly. It was lonely to be where you did not belong. He, of all people, knew that so well now but he still couldn’t get used to it. The loneliness was new everyday. It ate at his insides and gnawed away at his spirit.
Every day, he was amazed at how he managed to survive. And at night just before he went to bed, he always closed his eyes and prayed a prayer of thanks, just like every time. He’d learned to do that some time before, after his father sent him to the hospital and the doctor told him that there was an oversized tumor in his body. It was not painful- not physically though, and the doctor confirmed his feeling that it had been growing. Funny, he thought, where the tumor grew- the tumor that the doctors had no name whatsoever for. How he’d hoped they’d just had a name for it. He wouldn’t care if it was back cancer, if there was anything like that. If only it wouldn’t be this nameless hump growing on his back as if it had a life of its own. They weren’t even able to point out to him the causes for such growth. As the days passed and he grew more aware of its presence, he developed a certain dislike towards it. He hated it with every significant meaning of the word.
That day, as he sat quite uncomfortably on his armchair, he closed his eyes as tight as his facial muscles allowed and prayed for the tumor to go away. Go away- just like that. As he was opening his eyes, finishing his litany of requests, laughter roared across the room. Then, the source of the horrible sound remarked, a devilish grin on his face: “Hey Billy, cool backpack!” The rest of the people in the room then contributed to the horrifying chorus. And no one but Bill knew how painful it was.
“What’s the occasion, Bill?” Sammy asked as politely as he could after a serious consideration of the major holidays of the year. He thought maybe it was Bill’s birthday. Then he quickly threw the idea away. Who in Royal Commons forgot Bill’s birthday? “Well, nothing beats a Friday night, Sammy boy. And you’d be missed if you don’t come.” Bill’s grin grew wider than ever. Sammy fell silent.
If there was one thing Sammy sure knew, it’s that nobody was going to miss him if he chose to be a no-show. People don’t invite ‘freaks’ to parties. People deliberately forget about ‘freaks’. Bill gave Sammy a gentle pat on the hump on his back. Sammy exhaled sharply. He was suddenly reminded of the strange addition to his anatomy. How he hated that hump. He loathed it with all the life in him. He found it hard to accept the reason why people called him a ‘Mountain Range’. Of course that’s when they forget that he also went by the name ‘Humpy Sammy’. It was the reason why walking along corridors was a picture of the Parting of the Red Sea. The crowd always split exactly where he passed- as if he was Moses himself. And then occasionally, someone would comment: “Hey Humpy! Cool Backpack!” to which Sammy would automatically hug the backpack that he never wore on his back closer to his chest, squeezing comfort out of it. At that point, everyone laughed. The sound of their mocking laughter was horrible. It rang in his ears for weeks, even before he got another dose of it. It reminded him everyday how he didn’t ever belong. It reminded him that he was a freak show. The pain created an empty hole in him. The pain was new every day, and only Sammy knew how painful it was. But he chose to live with it because he found nothing else to do.
So when Bill the High and Mighty invited him to the party, he was expecting the part when people would tell him to get real; come on, invite you to a party? It always came with pranks like this. But strangely, it never came and Sammy’s heart fluttered with hope. Bill left him alone and went back to his friends. It even seemed as if it never happened at all.
He smiled to himself and he wasn’t aware that he looked quite stupid and scary with that smile. He decided he was going to the party. And then, with tightly closed eyes, he prayed that the hump would go away. Go away- just like that. He prayed in his armchair just minutes before Professor Harding arrived in the classroom with noisy and bored college students, just like every time.
…
Bill walked around his house, one arm around a stoned-looking brunette’s waist, laughing idiotically at a joke he shared to a group of people clustered together playing cards. Those people had laughed so hard at his joke, throwing their heads back and clutching their bellies. But he knew they laughed only for the sake of laughing and because they felt like they should. But for Bill, the joke was funny enough to set pieces of chewed cracker flying in the air. Bill didn’t care if he was the only one who found himself funny, as long as people forced themselves to laugh along. And why wouldn’t they? He was Bill- and that was that.
Bill looked for Sammy among the people crammed in his house. There was no sign of him. Then he saw it- the unmistakable hump on Sammy’s back glowing with the light from the open refrigerator it stood next to. Bill almost immediately sprinted to the direction of that deformed back. A wave of relief ran through him as he narrowed the distance between him and Sammy. Finally, breath heavy and chest heaving, Bill reached Sammy. Just that it wasn’t Sammy at all. Bill’s mouth fell open when the back he’d thought was humped straightened and revealed that it was just like any other back after all. Nothing extra. It was Phil, who’d bended forward into the fridge looking for something- a glass of water maybe. Slowly, taking some precious time, sweat trickled down his spine. Things shouldn’t go wrong, he thought. At once, confidence left him and he was suddenly cold. His arrogant swagger vanished to a drunken attempt at walking straight. When he heard that voice the other night, it scared hell out of him and he decided without any thought that he wasn’t going to dare disobey.
Bill tried to look tough, though he was far from it. He knew he was just a coward who hid behind connections- ones that his father had earned. No connection could help him now. He had to face the situation by himself. That scared him even more.
When he fell out of sleep that night, the voice unmistakably said: “Make sure Sammy comes along.” He’d instantly looked around his room although he didn’t really need to. He knew he wouldn’t see who the voice was from. He’d heard the voice as clear as any sound from a speaker on maximum volume. The voice rang in his ears so clearly he couldn’t deny it existed. He’d even felt the vibration that created it. He didn’t recognize the voice, the low murmur that it was. But the fear that crawled in his veins the instant that he heard it was enough. For the first time, someone told Bill what to do- and Bill obeyed without any debate. It was unusual as Bill’s immediate obedience.
When Bill realized that almost an hour had gone without any trace of Sammy, he started to shake, first inside then he trembled as if he was struggling with hypothermia. He was very afraid. When the voice said ‘Make sure Sammy comes along’, it had also meant ‘Make sure or else….’ And Bill knew that too, like all the other weird things he now knew and would die to not know.
Bill let go of the brunette the moment he understood that he was indeed trembling and he started to frantically search the house. He went upstairs with unstable knees. They felt like snapping any moment now. He opened three bedroom doors but not a shadow of Sammy was in any of the rooms. He searched bathrooms, went down to the garage, looked into every corner of the house and surveyed the street. Sammy wasn’t anywhere.
He was bathing in sweat now and he was breathing in ragged gasps. He fought hard to steady his hands but lost. He wanted to yell “Sam!” at the top of his voice but stopped himself. He didn’t want to go insane. He later decided to go back inside the house and look there again. You know Sammy’s not there, his mind told him. “Shut up!” Bill said aloud at himself and stepped into the house. As he walked inside, looking at everything and everyone but not really seeing, he felt as desperate as a dying beggar. He thought, ‘what’s the point?’ but went on anyway. His arms dropped to his sides and he didn’t notice that his shoulders were sagging so low he looked like a man-ape. Make sure Sammy comes along, the voice reminded him. It reminded him that he failed. He walked around the house mindlessly, hoping to death that Sammy would greet him there, with a wide grateful smile painted across his innocent face, but knowing that Sammy wouldn’t. Make sure Sammy comes along. Or else.
…
He walked along the corridor and, as was expected, the crowd parted in the middle. They must’ve seen Moses himself in him. He stared at the floor, trying to ignore the way people inched farther from him. He sighed weakly. It was lonely to be where you did not belong. He, of all people, knew that so well now but he still couldn’t get used to it. The loneliness was new everyday. It ate at his insides and gnawed away at his spirit.
Every day, he was amazed at how he managed to survive. And at night just before he went to bed, he always closed his eyes and prayed a prayer of thanks, just like every time. He’d learned to do that some time before, after his father sent him to the hospital and the doctor told him that there was an oversized tumor in his body. It was not painful- not physically though, and the doctor confirmed his feeling that it had been growing. Funny, he thought, where the tumor grew- the tumor that the doctors had no name whatsoever for. How he’d hoped they’d just had a name for it. He wouldn’t care if it was back cancer, if there was anything like that. If only it wouldn’t be this nameless hump growing on his back as if it had a life of its own. They weren’t even able to point out to him the causes for such growth. As the days passed and he grew more aware of its presence, he developed a certain dislike towards it. He hated it with every significant meaning of the word.
That day, as he sat quite uncomfortably on his armchair, he closed his eyes as tight as his facial muscles allowed and prayed for the tumor to go away. Go away- just like that. As he was opening his eyes, finishing his litany of requests, laughter roared across the room. Then, the source of the horrible sound remarked, a devilish grin on his face: “Hey Billy, cool backpack!” The rest of the people in the room then contributed to the horrifying chorus. And no one but Bill knew how painful it was.
Cover Over
1 Peter 4:18
Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.
What made this so hard for me to do? When all along I knew this so well?
Was it my pride? Was it my selfishness?
Whatever my reasons had been, they could not justify the mistakes I made.
I knew that God wants me to understand, to forgive, to look over the wrongs of others, to be gracious and gentle. But what I did was the exact opposite. I made my ego priority over the people that I love and value- even to the point of ignoring their feelings and hurting them even more.
It was such a distressing state to be in- knowing that you are hurting someone so dear to you yet you're not willing to let up and let go.
But as always, God is faithful and just.
I was wrong. He rebuked me. Oh and I'm telling you, it's not very comfortable being rebuked by God. It hurts. So much, maybe because what He was trying to tell me was so true.
But as God always is, He was faithful to me. That night when I could not sleep from all the raging thoughts in my head, and from the fumes that never are that almost snaked their way out of my nostrils, God gave me a choice. That choice was to love. That choice was to forgive. That choice was to look over the mistakes.
I made that choice.
And like magic, I felt so relieved, I think I never had so much peace in my heart before. My heart felt so light. There was no longer any burden inside me. The yoke that I was carrying was again easy and light.
And that was the moment I realized that I was exactly at the center of the will of God. I was where God wants me to be. I was doing the right thing- finally, after such a long delay.
And now I have my answer. There's no way I can obey God and keep my pride. There's no way I can sleep sound every night thinking about the wrongs other people did me.
It's so easy to hurt the people that we love, especially those people who care about us, who truly are concerned about us. But when we hurt them, we are at the same time doing the damage to ourselves, hurting ourselves in the process.
So the only logical thing to do is to get out of that corner and live. Forgive. Love.
That's what we all ought to do- we should love each other deeply because love covers over a multitude of sins.
Even Jesus did.
Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.
What made this so hard for me to do? When all along I knew this so well?
Was it my pride? Was it my selfishness?
Whatever my reasons had been, they could not justify the mistakes I made.
I knew that God wants me to understand, to forgive, to look over the wrongs of others, to be gracious and gentle. But what I did was the exact opposite. I made my ego priority over the people that I love and value- even to the point of ignoring their feelings and hurting them even more.
It was such a distressing state to be in- knowing that you are hurting someone so dear to you yet you're not willing to let up and let go.
But as always, God is faithful and just.
I was wrong. He rebuked me. Oh and I'm telling you, it's not very comfortable being rebuked by God. It hurts. So much, maybe because what He was trying to tell me was so true.
But as God always is, He was faithful to me. That night when I could not sleep from all the raging thoughts in my head, and from the fumes that never are that almost snaked their way out of my nostrils, God gave me a choice. That choice was to love. That choice was to forgive. That choice was to look over the mistakes.
I made that choice.
And like magic, I felt so relieved, I think I never had so much peace in my heart before. My heart felt so light. There was no longer any burden inside me. The yoke that I was carrying was again easy and light.
And that was the moment I realized that I was exactly at the center of the will of God. I was where God wants me to be. I was doing the right thing- finally, after such a long delay.
And now I have my answer. There's no way I can obey God and keep my pride. There's no way I can sleep sound every night thinking about the wrongs other people did me.
It's so easy to hurt the people that we love, especially those people who care about us, who truly are concerned about us. But when we hurt them, we are at the same time doing the damage to ourselves, hurting ourselves in the process.
So the only logical thing to do is to get out of that corner and live. Forgive. Love.
That's what we all ought to do- we should love each other deeply because love covers over a multitude of sins.
Even Jesus did.
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