Gabriel Eris (Chapter 5)

CHAPTER THE FIFTH


Lunch had come, some sort of brown, clumpy thing, but Gabriel asked and was rewarded for his trouble with a shiny, red apple. Before asking, he had prayed for some time on the matter. He had been unsure as to the orthodoxy of asking, rather than simply receiving whatever was freely given. His natural tendency was towards meekness, and he would much have liked to receive with thanks whatever was set before him, brown and clumpy though it was. Yet, somewhere within himself, he could not silence the faint rebellion which insisted (albeit faintly) that to request fruit, in place of brown clumps, was not at all an imposition, but may well be a dictate given him by God. Of course, God was not so easily adressed and understood down here as he was in His heaven. Consequently, Gabriel had to craft his prayer with far greater dilligence than he had been accustomed to. Oddly enough, he chose to place himself directly in the path of sunlight beneath the window where Mr. Crenshaw had formerly stood. There, he clasped his hands, raised his eyes towards heaven, and, bringing this question with him, listened intently for an answer from God, which he knew would come, even in this strange, terrestrial place.

After about an hour and a quarter in this position, his stomach growling more fiercely with every passing minute, the Lord assured him inwardly that, yes, it was perfectly fine to request the apple; that he himself would be a better minister of the Word if well nourished, and that the request might even do something to nudge the hospital administration in a healthier direction for the sake of all patients. The Lord did suggest, however, that, after having partaken of this nourishment, he would do well to fast from food for a period of several days, to purify himself from certain unsavory energies which had begun to accrue around his aura during the short time that he had spent among worldly people. In addition, the Lord counselled him not to take his prayer life so lightly, for things on earth were not at all as they were in heaven. Here, divine help was not given unless wholeheartedly sought. Though an angel, he would almost have to begin from scratch, apprenticing himself to the examples of saints and holy persons, whose words and lives had been recorded for no lesser purpose than this.

"Pardon me," he said to the head nurse, in the most deferential tone the dear woman had ever heard, "But would it be possible to obtain a bit of fruit, or a vegetable, perhaps, in place of the usual offering?"

While the nurse was thoroughly accustomed to odd behaviors and patterns of speech, she was not at all prepared for the spectacle which Gabriel presented. Though it would be difficult to say exactly what it was about him which struck her as so unusual in this already unusual place, or what elements -- his tone, words, demeanor, etc. -- had combined to produce the effect, nonetheless, the sense was undeniable and acute. Something was different about this man. Normally, she might have made some offhand remark about the meal; that it was good enough for the others, or that somewhere, in that murky, brown stew (of sorts) there was to be found a smattering of onions; a serving of vegetables. Perhaps she simply liked his face, because her customary attitude did not arise or even occur to her.

"Let me see what we have here," she replied, and, disappearing into a farther room, returned a moment later with the apple in her hand.

Gabriel's eyes lit-up from within, his cheeks glowed, and a truly magnificent smile broke out over his face. He had no doubt whatsoever that his prayer had been handsomely granted. "Thank you. Thank you," he said.

The nurse smiled back, her heart warmed. She felt as though she had really done something for him, and not merely acquiesced in the performance of a simple favor. She resolved, half-consciously, to set out some apples and oranges during mealtimes, if only for the benefit of this singular patient, to whom she had already developed a peculiar attachment which she dared not attempt to explain, even to herself.

Two other patients, upon spying Gabriel's apple, suddenly wanted one for themselves. After all, there was not much variation in daily life here, and whenever some new thing seemed possible, it was immediately seized upon by at least one of the patients, purely for the novelty of it. Neither of these men cared much for apples, but the variation in protocol was just too attractive to resist. The nurse was happy to oblige them.

Gabriel said another prayer, taking his time as he did so, then proceeded to devour the apple in the same, patient and deliberate way. When he had finished, he went back outside and took a seat on the bench beside several other patients who had also finished their meals, and were now eagerly enjoying their smokes. Here, he attempted to place himself in a reflective mood, and to become aware of the holy presence which infused, sustained, and surrounded all things. Never, while in his former habitation, had his sense of the holy presence so much as waned. yet, ever since he arrived here, his connection to the presence had begun to shrink and slip away. To be without it was a new experience altogether, and not a pleasant one, by any means.

A few curious or scoffing looks were thrown his way, but he did not so much as notice them, and for the most part the other patients left him in peace. After some hours of sitting there in perfect stillness, during which time he could feel his nerves and muscles rebelling, and his back aching terribly, he was, nonetheless, able to silence his thoughts just enough so that a slight breeze of the Holy Spirit could be felt passing delicately through his mind. There was God. No, He had not left him, though He would be difficult to discover in this place. Now, the air, the sky, the leaves, and everything around him took on another, more vibrant, piquant flavor. So palpable was the effect, so unmistakably reminiscent of his homeland, that for an instant Gabriel believed he was being carried back up to heaven. Indeed, he was, but not in the way he imagined, and not so quickly as he would have liked.

Weeks passed in the hospital. Doctors came and went. They had dozens of questions for him, and questionaires for him to fill out. They were most insistent that he take his medication, which he did. The pills made his mind fuzzy and his body heavy. They made him drowsy, so that he slept a great deal more than he wanted to. What is worse, in the hours that were left for prayer, they continued to impede his spiritual progress, as if attaching little hooks and weights to his soul, preventing it from rising above the circumstances into which he had fallen. He had seen two men, on two seperate occassions, resist the orderlies' attempts to administer the medication, and had not seen those men again for some time. When they returned, they appeared considerable altered, and shuffled rather than walked, like men more dead than alive. After the second week, Gabriel began slipping his meds under the bushes, and his faculties soon returned to what they had been. Only Carrot had seen him do it, and warned him to be careful.

"They'll test you," he said. "They'll test your urine, to make sure you're taking them. If they find you're not taking them, -- oh, boy. Then they start giving you the injections. Thorazine, maybe. And if you still won't cooperate, they've got a machine back there. They'll stretch you out on a hard table and pump you so full of electricity, you won't know yourself anymore. Not for a while, anyway. They did it to me once, and I've been a good little boy ever since."

Gabriel resolved then to find a way out, somehow. Hiding pills was a form of deception, and this alone had him feeling very uneasy. Now, he knew, he would probably have to lie to the doctors, or they would never believe he was sane, and never let him out. All of this was so sordid, and he agonized over which course to take. For days, he prayed and prayed until he fell asleep on his knees, ever hopeful that the Lord would send a miracle and open up a wall for him to walk through, but no such miracle came, and he began to lose faith, not in God, but in the portion of goodness which God had granted him. Was it not enough? Had he been careless with it, so that it stagnated and would not grow? It seemed as though he would have to lie, after all, so he used his last prayers to beg forgiveness for what he felt he had to do. Then the doctor called his name and he was led, as he had been several times before, into a small room at the end of a long hall.

"Let's see, where were we?" The doctor shuffled his papers, squinted at them, clapped them on the table and looked at the wall. It was not his custom to look at the patients, and certainly not in their eyes. "Still think you're an angel?"

"Archeangel," said Gabriel. Then, remembering he had to lie, "But, no. No, Sir. The pills you've given me have been most effective. It seems I owe a considerable debt to modern science, for your methods have cured me, Sir."

"Is that so?" The doctor was examining a small tear at the end of his cuff, and thinking about stopping to pick up some new shirts on his way home. "You no longer think you are Gabriel, the voice of God?"

"Ha, it's silly, isn't it? I've no idea how such a notion could have lodged itself in my brain in the first place. I imagine it must have been some trauma brought about by my strict religious upbringing. I would certainly like to continue therapy for as long as it takes to get to the bottom of this delusion. Luckily, though, I am free of it now. My name is Harold. I remember that, but nothing else. A blow on the head, perhaps? I've heard such things are possible. But now I must endeavor to reclaim my life, under a new name, I suppose."

"But not 'Gabriel, the angel of the Lord'?"

"Oh no, no, of course not. You see how silly it sounds. Well, it sounds just the same to me as it does to you, Sir. Pure nonsense."

"Good, good. It sounds like you're making progress... Harold. Let me run this by the board and we'll decide what to do with you. We may want to keep you just a little while longer, for observation, but it looks as though you could be going home very soon. Sound good?"

"Oh, yes, Sir. I'd like to go now, if I may."

The doctor suppressed a minor chuckle.