Be Not Afraid (21 page)

“I think she has a pretty good doctor,” I heard myself say. “He seemed okay to me, anyway. Aside from the clown shoes.”

Father William laughed, a short, barking sound, and stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. We watched a few cars drift by, looking for parking, and move on again. A couple walked down the sidewalk, their arms around one another, heads touching. The woman cried softly while the man looked straight ahead, his face stoic and impassive. Next to me, Father William shifted. Out of the corner of
my eye, I could make out the red spheres; they shimmered around the edges, as if lit from within.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“Of course.”

“How did you hurt your back?”

“Oh, it was a long time ago. When I was a child, actually. My little brother fell into our pool, and I dove in to get him.” He sighed, a weighted sound I could not place. “It was too shallow. I broke my neck, severed three of the disks in my spine. I was in the hospital for six months. I wasn’t supposed to walk again. Ever.”

“But you did.”

“Yes, I got better.” He shrugged. “Stronger. I tackled my rehabilitation program like nothing I’d ever done before. Total commitment.” He smiled. “Being sentenced to a wheelchair for the rest of my life didn’t sit well with me. I had things to do. Places to see.”

“Wow.” I was impressed. “It still hurts, though, sometimes?”

“Most of the time.” He turned to look at me. “Speaking of which, have you heard anything more about the epileptic girl? From your school?”

I had to tell him. Someone else had to know in case Dominic’s crazy idea didn’t work, in case he got himself into even deeper trouble than he was already in. And a Catholic priest, who as far as I knew was the only person supposed to be
doing
any kind of ritual in the first place,
was the ideal person to tell. “Not too much,” I started, then paused. “Father, can I ask you something else?”

“Sure.”

“Have you ever helped someone who had a spirit inside them?”

He looked at me, a curious expression crossing his face. “You mean have I ever performed an exorcism?”

“Yes.”

“No. No, never. Only a very few priests are selected as exorcists in the Catholic Church. They’re sent to Rome to study the practice. Some of them are there for years. Exorcist priests are a rarity, even in this country. I don’t think we have more than nine of them living in the United States.”

“But you’re a priest,” I said. “Couldn’t you do one if you had to? I mean, if it was an emergency or something?”

He shook his head, rubbing one of his white eyebrows with the side of a finger. “I really don’t have any idea about that kind of thing, Marin. Like I said, you need special training. It’s a very, very delicate process. Not to mention dangerous.” He shifted in his seat, realigned his cane between his feet. “May I ask why you’re asking?”

I held my breath for a moment, and then let it out. “I saw one,” I said.

“You saw one what?”

“A … a spirit, or something. I saw it. Inside Cassie, the girl they’re saying has epilepsy.”

Father William’s face contorted, as if he had just tasted
something rotten. “You saw a spirit?” he repeated. “Inside her?”

I nodded.

He opened his mouth and then shut it. “That’s impossible,” he said. “And I mean that with all due respect. But that’s completely impossible. You must have imagined what you saw. Or maybe you saw something else. Some other part … of … of her illness. Her mental state. I’m sure things look completely bizarre right now, in the condition she’s in.”

“I didn’t imagine it. I know what I saw.”

“And what”—he paused—“what did you see?”

“I saw blackness.”

“Ah.” Father William nodded, as if playing along. “Blackness.”

“I’ve been seeing pain in people’s bodies for almost a year now,” I said. “Shapes and colors of all different kinds, all different shades. And in all that time, I’ve never seen a black one. Ever. It’s so black that it’s almost impossible to describe. And it moves, Father. It moves around inside her head, down into her chest.”

The priest’s face blanched. He stared at the sidewalk for a moment and then ran a hand over his eyes. “It must have been the epilepsy,” he said finally. “Have you ever had the chance to look at someone with epilepsy?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Half the time, I don’t know what kind of pain I’m seeing in people. I’ve seen a lot of different things.”

“I’m sure that’s what it was, then.” The look on his face
had become patronizing again. Maybe even with a bit of condescension mixed in.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “This is different. I’m telling you, it
moved.
Nothing I’ve ever seen inside a person has ever moved like that. It’s like … like this black ribbon that slides in and around her cells.…” I shook my head. “It’s crazy.”

“I’m sure it’s the epilepsy.” Father William drew his fingers around his mouth.

I was starting to get angry. “You’d believe me if you could see it,” I burst out. “It would scare the shit out of you.” I winced as the expletive came out of my mouth and hung my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to swear.”

“That’s all right.” He patted my back. “I understand how upsetting all of this has been for you. Really, I do. And now with Nan. It’s a lot. Things are going at full tilt here.”

“But there’s other things,” I said. “Today, when I saw her, she talked in a weird voice that wasn’t hers. And her fingertips turned black. And then her eyes changed.”

“Changed how?”

“The pupils turned sideways, like a lizard’s eyes or something. And then these horrible things started growing out of her neck!” I squeezed my eyes at the memory, clapped my hands over my ears.

“Marin.” Father William’s hand on my shoulder made me jump. “You’ve got to calm down, dear. There are things that can happen to a human body during seizures
that are very difficult to explain, let alone witness.” His hand moved in circles between my shoulder blades; it felt irritating and comforting at the same time. “You’ve been through so much this past year. It’s starting to have an effect on you.”

“No!” I squeezed my eyes even tighter. “That’s not it!”

“Listen to me. I know you think you understand what’s happening to this girl, but let me tell you something. Spiritual possession is incredibly rare. From the little I know about it, less than one percent of all cases turn out to be real situations in which a spirit has actually entered the body. Less than
one
percent! Plus, it takes
years
to diagnose. There are all sorts of experts who have to come in and examine the person and eliminate every other medical and mental possibility.”

I opened my eyes, staring out at the sea of cars again. Maybe Dominic’s parents weren’t the only people who wouldn’t listen to us. Who wouldn’t hear. “You don’t believe me,” I said. “You just think I’m some dumb kid, getting hysterical.”

“I don’t think you’re a dumb kid at all.” He was somber. “I really don’t. You’re actually one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. And I mean that.”

“Why? Because I can see pain?”

“Well, yes, partly because of that. But also because you’re intelligent. And sensitive. The way you’ve dealt with your particular affliction has been—”

“Affliction?” I interrupted.

He paused, staring down at his hands. “I’m sorry. What do you call it?”

“I don’t call it anything.” I waited. “Nan calls it a blessing.”

He smiled, looking out over the parking lot again. “Yes,” he said. “Of course she would. That’s exactly what it is. A blessing.”

I stayed quiet after that. Now that Nan had been brought up again, I didn’t feel like arguing anymore.

Father William apparently felt the same way. Clutching his cane, he pulled himself to his feet. I stared at the knees of his black pants as he donned his hat and straightened his sweater. “Marin, look at me.” His voice was gentle, soft. I raised my eyes. “You must be very careful about dabbling into anything having to do with spiritual realms. That’s not something to fool around with. In any kind of way. If it turns out this girl is indeed possessed by some kind of spirit or, God forbid, a demon, she’ll have to be cared for by professionals. A real exorcist will have to be brought in, someone who will invoke the name of God through a series of specific prayers and rituals. That’s the only way a spirit can be cast out. It can take weeks. Sometimes even months. And even then sometimes, it doesn’t work.”

My blood ran cold at his words. But I didn’t answer.

“Marin,” he said again, “promise me you won’t get involved.”

“I’m already involved.”

“Then promise me you’ll un-involve yourself.” His eyes were grave. “I mean it. Promise me.”

“Only if you’ll help.” My knees were shaking.

“I am not an exorcist. And even if that’s what that girl needs, I can’t just go out and get one. The bishop has to be alerted first and then he assigns one.”

“Then alert the bishop.” I bit my lip. “You can do that, can’t you?”

“Cassie would have to be examined first. By a priest who has experience with these kinds of situations. Then he would make a request to the bishop.”

“Do you know of any special priests who could do that? Who could come examine her?”

Father William rested a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll look into it,” he said. “But, please, dear, in the meantime, promise me you’ll stay out of it. It’s much, much more complicated than you could ever imagine. Please walk away and don’t look back. For your own sake. And for Nan’s.”

He left me with that, shuffling down the sidewalk without saying goodbye. I sat there for a long time after, still a little stunned that I had told him anything at all. But there was no one else. Literally. And I was scared. For Dominic. And for Cassie too. Had I just created a whole new set of problems by telling Father William? Or would the people who needed to be involved, the ones who should have been involved from the very beginning, finally be brought in?

The moon overhead was as full as a coin. Gauzy clouds
moved swiftly behind it, and a constellation of stars seemed to have been flung against the dark sky by an invisible hand. For a brief moment, it seemed that everything was looking down at me, gazing from a great distance, an entire world I did not know about and would not ever comprehend in this lifetime.

I got up finally and went back inside to find Dad.

Together, we would continue to wait.

It was 4:37 a.m. when Dr. Andrews came back into the waiting room, cap in hand. I was stretched out on a brown vinyl couch watching a steak knife infomercial while trying to keep my eyes open. Dad was sprawled on the smaller sofa across the room, one leg slung over the arm of it. His eyes were wide open. Neither of us had said another word to each other. However, at the sight of Dr. Andrews, we both sprang to our feet. Without his blue cap, I could make out a bald spot on top. The purple orb behind his ear had diminished somewhat, although the yellow one in his mouth looked bigger.

“How is she?” Dad asked.

“It went as well as it possibly could have,” the doctor said. “But five out of the six arteries were blocked, which, combined with the heart attack, has left her heart severely
damaged.” He swept his eyes over me. “Now we wait. As I said before, the next twenty-four hours are critical.”

“Thank you.” Dad stuck his hand out. “For all you’ve done.” His lower lip trembled as they shook. I might have thanked him, too, if I had not caught sight of the blood all over his ridiculous paper shoe coverings, drops and spatters adorning the blue paper like some kind of bizarre painting. Nan’s blood. The sight of it left me mute.

A few minutes later, a nurse led us into the ICU, where Nan lay on a vast stretcher, her body covered with tubes and wires and blankets. For a split second, I thought we were too late, that Nan had breathed her last while we had been out in the waiting room, talking to Dr. Andrews. Her skin was the color of an eggshell, the edges of her lips dry and cracked. Thin tubes snaked out of her nose, and another one ran down the length of her arms. A white bandage had been taped to one side of her head; a dull bruise bloomed on her cheek. Still, nothing prepared me for what I saw beneath her hospital gown, inside her chest cavity. Even ten feet away, the shape of her pain was staggeringly large, the size of an orange, mealy and fibrous-looking, as if the muscle had been dragged against a cheese grater. I pressed my hand against my mouth so that I would not scream.

“Come on,” Dad said in a tight voice. “It’s okay.”

I made my way to the bed, following Dad, holding my breath. The only sound in the room was the steady, faint beeping of a machine hooked to one of Nan’s fingers. On
a screen in front, a red digital heart blinked on and off—once, twice, three times—in sync with the beep. There was a pause. Then once, twice, three times again. Dad stared at it for a minute, as if it might start talking to him. Then he put his hands on the bed railing and looked down at his mother. His face was gray, and the backs of his arms trembled.

I stayed to the left of him, motionless except for my fingers, which fluttered at the tips. The blue beads inside Nan’s hands, still running the length of her knuckles, skittered abruptly, as if caught, and then resumed again. Still! Despite everything else! I let out a sob then and ran to her, sinking down against the other side of the bed. I clutched at her hand, pressing my face against it. “Oh, Nan, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

I wept for a long, long time, until I could not cry anymore, until I was dizzy from it. My eyes and nose were swollen; the inside of my head felt as though it had been packed with cotton. I lifted my head, swaying a little under the bright lights. Dad was gone. I stared at the place he had been—just inches away, across the bed—as if he might rematerialize if I looked hard enough. But he had left.

I lurched as a low moan, barely audible, drifted up from the bed. “Nan,” I whispered. Her eyes were still closed, but another groan came out of her mouth. “I’m here, Nan. I’m right here.” I smoothed her white hair back from her face. It was matted on top, as if someone had put honey in it, and damp around the edges. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I
know you’ll get better. I know it. I’m here, Nan. I’m right here.”