Interstate (29 page)

please
, sir—I'll wait outside, but you know there are many other important things other than seeing to you that I have to do,” and walks backward out the door with his hand on it and shuts it. You run to her bed and drop to your knees facing her, cup your hands and say “Dear—” and then “No, another direction, not to her but to You,” and swivel around on your knees till you face the bare wall between the bed and door and say “Dear God, dear God, please make her alive again, please, please. I've never been religious, to my knowledge not since I was a boy. And then only because one of my parents wanted me to and I fell for it, you can say, a little bit—I don't think I truly believed in it but was just scared if I didn't. Nor have I ever asked You for anything and I don't think I did even then. If I did, only for boy things and that Mommy and Daddy never die at least not while I was alive, and so forth, and also myself, to never die, for like everyone that age I must have been afraid of death. But now it's father things I'm asking—father, as in dada, daddy, me, and
a
father thing. The deepest most deep most asking thing I've ever asked for or could and ever will, unless the same thing happened to her again or to my other child. And if I'm only allowed to ask it once then this is that time. If You give it, this little girl here, my daughter Julie alive, I'll do whatever You want. I'll become a believer again, a believer in You but this time as an adult, not out of fear and not knowing anything but from this experience here and belief. I will believe and believe in You, tell others what You've done, I'll work for You in ways I'll find out about, through religion if that's the way or one of them and every day or any way and anything You want from me for the rest of my life. And by doing anything for You I mean even to killing myself if that's what You'd want, though I'm not saying it is. I'm in fact saying it probably isn't—it isn't, I know it, and I know You know everything I'm saying and I mean before I even say or think it. Or I will know that and never have any doubts about it or You again if You give back her life and make her well again or well enough, full of life enough, for the doctors here or anywhere to make her normal again. Or well enough for her just to continue to live and if this is what has to be, then disabled and sickly, but I would hope to the way she was before those men killed her today. If we can make this arrangement, whatever the word for it is—please excuse me—and I go back on my word to You, dear God, please strike me dead. But give me this and I'll not only become a believer in You and work for You for the rest of my life but I'll be devoted, devotional, devout—please don't be disturbed or put off, set me aside, not listen to me, brush me off as ridiculous and no consequence, my plea for her of no consequence, feel I'm not saying what I most deeply believe and feel, because of my trouble with words now, for especially at this time You can understand why. All that goes without saying, as I said before, if You exist, and up till this time from the time I was a kid You mostly didn't for me. But You will forever if You give me—give her—us both—do this. I'll go to whatever kind of church or synagogue or mosque or place of worship You want me to or just be this way without that, but never be anything but a believer in You. I know I'm repeating myself, excuse me for that too. Repeated myself repeatedly but I don't know what else to say to You when everything I'm talking about is aimed at the same thing: that all I want is for her to be alive and what I'll do for it. In other words—and more repetition, I think, so excuse me again—but besides becoming and being a believer in You for life, whatever else You want from me or that I can see will show my belief in You, I'll do, and ‘want of me,' not ‘from.' So what more can I say or do, dear God, what more to get this, tell me? Or maybe I should just think about it myself—think quietly, let me think,” and you close your eyes and think, you think “This is very good, I truly believe in what I'm saying. If He's here I can only hope He's hearing me, for I swear I mean every word I'm thinking and I've said so far. I do, I'm not just thinking and saying it to get what I want; I mean it as deeply and unspuriously as anything I've ever thought, said or done. And now I've thought some more about it and I'll be silent in my head awhile and see if anything else comes,” and you're silent awhile and nothing else comes, “so there doesn't seem to be anything more now I can think to say to show how deeply and sincerely I mean it and what I can do for Him.” “So please, please, dear God,” you say, opening your eyes on the wall and keeping them there, “if You give me this and after You do I never hear from You again, or there's no other sign from You, like giving her life back now, from that life-giving moment on, I'll still never stop being this, doing it, being a strong and deep-as-conceivable-and-possible believer in You. I just need, want and am asking for this one thing from You and that's it, all I'll ever ask of You again, so I'm making that promise to You too. So give back—give her back her life, dear God. Make a miracle for her, please. I didn't think anything like that was possible till I started saying this to You—till before when I dropped to my knees to You, or really from the time the doctor left and shut the door and I ran to her side and dropped to my knees to You, and I know You know I didn't believe it before, but if it is possible, and I believe it is, there is no better, sweeter, more wonderful, good-natured, intelligent child in the world, I swear to You, no one who loves life as much and who has as much to live for and who is as loved by her parents and sis as much and who deserves her life back more and You can see, You can see, by everything she's done and said and just the way she's acted so far, that she's going to be the most giving and loving kid and adult there is. If that displeases You, my going on about her like that, giving an argument for her which You already know whether it's so or even close to what I said, as if all those things were reason for her to be chosen for this miracle, and they're probably not. But putting her up before let's say another dead child her age who this moment, and this probably happens around the world to some family every single second of the day, one of her parents might be praying as deeply to You to make her alive, and a parent who had always been a believer, no less, then I'm sorry, I very deeply apologize. And now there is nothing—but it's just, what I said about her, an example of how I feel about her—not an example but just how I do, which You of course also know. But now there is nothing, I was going to say, and You must know that too, nothing else I can say now. Her being alive to me—I mean just her being alive is everything to me, everything. So I beg You, I love You, I will worship You, I will truly believe in You, I will continue and continue to be a believer in You, I will do anything and everything for You, again and again and again I'm saying it, but make her live. Thank You…Oh, those were terrible words or at least many of them were and inept and almost all of it terribly spoken though I swear to You none of it previously thought up or planned, but please hear me and do what I ask. Thank You again, dear God, thank You. There's nothing more I can say but that there isn't and You know that and what I mean and how I feel about her and all this, so thank You again. Yes, that's it, finished.” You shut your eyes and cup your hands tight. You know nothing's happening to her and you don't look. Nothing but normal slow decomposing that comes when, well, that comes. But you don't open your eyes because you don't want to break the spell or whatever it is and by looking at her before it happens, this is what you mean, maybe that'll stop it from happening. Or maybe these things take time. The miracle doesn't have to happen or even begin to the moment you stop asking for it. So don't move, keep your hands cupped, eyes don't have to be shut so long, for you're looking at the wall and not her, but keep them shut anyway to be safe. But you mean it, you meant every word of it, you will become a believer, you will. If it happened, everything for you from that moment on or from the time you got the doctors in to work on her to keep her alive and you were told to wait outside, would be for God. Of course also for your family and day-to-day things too. You wouldn't become a zealot or an ascetic but you would go along with anything else that came from deeply believing in Him. What do you mean by that? It means—well, He knows what it means and this is what you'll do for Him and you will never stop believing as you said, which should be enough. But nothing's happened, you know nothing has or ever will. You mean by that “which should be enough” that He wouldn't want you to give everything up and do nothing else but work and think of Him from then on. But you never know, about that and that nothing can ever happen. For if that's what He wants from you for Him to bring her back, you'll do that too. And there are recorded miracles, ones comparable to what you asked for and more, but recorded—looked into and authenticated, you mean—by the church or group the people these miracles happened to were members of, so in a way questionable because these miracles ended up benefiting that church or group. But miracles today, yesterday, since people began believing in God, or even before so they would believe in Him. So many miracles that it'd seem some of them would have to have taken place. For could there be ten thousand church-validated miracles in the last five hundred years, let's say, and not one of them was true? And millions, billions of people believe in God, so you'd think He'd probably have to exist. It can't be this gigantic sham for centuries on end, millenniums, and if He exists it's also possible He can make miracles as all or almost all the religions have said and He heard you and did or will do soon what you asked. You don't know why she should be chosen for this miracle nor why it should happen because of your pleading. But if it can happen to someone, why not her? Who could be as worthy of it, as you said? Thousands, perhaps, millions, but nobody more worthy, is what you're saying. That without question has to be true, for how can one really compare the worthiness of children her age when you're talking about goodness and virtues and such? She's as good and virtuous and so on as any kid—how can she not be?—which is why you think, when you stick it in with all the other things about God's existence and the possibility of miracles and that praying to Him for one can work, that she has a chance. A minute, two have passed since you stopped praying. Maybe you shouldn't wait any longer to look. It might turn out to be dangerous for her. She may already have been brought back and have only two minutes for you to rush out and get the doctors to come in and work on her, before she dies again. That could be what God gives you without saying so—some kind of rule regarding miracles like this—two minutes, at the most three. Just think how you'd feel if you opened your eyes in a minute and saw her giving her last breath. No, you're being crazy. It can't work, this whole thing; she's dead forever, you dumb fool. Yes it can work, it's possible, you've shown how it can. You open your eyes and look at her. She looks the same. You stand up and put your ear by her mouth, you feel her head, cheeks, you put your ear by her nose and don't breathe, just listen. You feel her wrist for a pulse, then the other one. You put your hand on the sheet where you think her heart is, your ear to that part and then several places around it where you think the heart can be if it's not there and don't breathe, listen. Then because you think that ear maybe doesn't hear as well as the other one, the other one at several places on her chest. You would pull the sheet down and put your ear and hand on her chest and feel around and listen for a heartbeat but you know nothing's happened, nothing could. No, you don't do that because you don't want to feel and see her there. It'll be ugly, bloody; it'll show gouging, probing, big holes. But you did do everything you could for her, you did try for her, you did, no body could say you didn't, from start to finish you tried, you did, you tried. No, it's still possible, still. It has to be. You don't know about God and time, you don't know about God, period, or very little, but her life can't be taken, that's all, she has to become alive, goddamnit, and that's final. You cover your eyes, bend your head forward and think “Fuck the cupping-of-hands crap, this should be enough,” and say to yourself “Dear God, I'm sorry, for cursing, for whatever. Maybe You do exist, I am hoping You do and You hear me and help her and in some way make this whole thing a fantastic mistake. Maybe it takes longer than three minutes—You know what I'm talking about—longer than five, ten. Do it when You choose to, I beg You. If there's something I left out, didn't do, forgot to promise or didn't know to promise or offer You, please forgive me for that too, all of which I've said and said. But You have to know by now that anything You want of me I'll do and everything I already said I'd do for You and become, I will. Maybe You weren't listening before, maybe You are now; my daughter here, make her alive, please.” You look; nothing. You pull the sheet up above her feet and feel around an ankle where the pulse would be. You feel the other ankle there, then re-cover the feet. You shut your eyes. Yes, do it, you think. You pull the sheet down and see a long incision down her chest, two short slices across the incision, dried blood around them, no bullet hole, piece of clean gauze on her stomach over her belly button. You lift the gauze and it's just clear skin and the button underneath, so you don't know why it was left there. You put your ear where you think her heart is and then around there, feel around your chest till you feel your heartbeat and then put your hand on the same part of her chest, then your ear on it and don't breathe, just listen. You hear the door close with your other ear. Doctor's in the room again, you know it without looking. Or maybe someone else, sent by that doctor to get you out of here, for he could have been called elsewhere, an emergency someplace or his workday's over, and you say without looking up “Shh, don't move or speak, I'm listening,” and stick a finger in your free ear and listen some more. You put your ear to her mouth, part her lips with your fingers and listen at it some more, feel both her temples at the same time this time. He takes the gauze off her, drops it in the waste can by the bed, covers her up, straightens her arms, takes your arm and pats your hand he's holding and leads you out. Last thing you did wasn't to kiss her. You want to. But you can do it at the funeral chapel a few minutes before the funeral or in some crematory room if she's going to be cremated or at the funeral home in some room they keep her if the only ceremony for her is going to be at the cemetery.