Purgatorium (30 page)

I look over at her. She smiles, touching her stomach gently. “Honey?” she asks, looking at me.

I read the sign ahead of us: “Dead End ¼ Mile. Last Entrance to Interstate.” The car starts shaking, as if something were trying to pick it up. I feel the steering wheel jerk to the right. The last ramp to the interstate is just ahead. I try to hold the wheel straight but the car turns onto the onramp. I try to force the wheel in the other direction and the car jerks back and forth a little, but it stays on course for the onramp. Madi looks more and more terrified, clutching at her seat and dashboard.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed?” Madi screams. The car merges onto the interstate.

I want to yell out, “I’m trying to save us! I need you to be quiet!” but I don’t. Madi cries, looking down at her belly and then back at me.

“I will change my fate,” I say to myself. “I will change my fate. I will change my fate.” An alarm starts beeping in the distance.

TUESDAY

Raphael

My alarm clock is beeping. I quickly slam my hand down, turning it off. My eyes adjust to the light slowly. As I pick up my watch, I notice the Handbook once again sitting beside it. I think the angels are trying to tell me something.

I think about Madi and how gullible her words were towards Christ, making me believe that God has our best intentions at heart. What a joke it all seems now. Even his best Angels are a little screwed-up in the head. If I am going to survive this place it will be because of me, not him.

I prop myself up in my bed, rubbing my left hand over my overgrown stubble. I run my right hand through my hair and notice it is much longer now.
Why is my hair getting longer everyday?
I think.

I look out towards my window and can’t see the hourglass reflecting off of it.

Why can’t I see it now?

I stand, groggily looking out my window. Outside, the trees are budding and birds fly by, landing on wet branches.

The race enters my head, plagued with thoughts of constant doubt.

I can’t believe my life gets to be decided by a race. Sunday is a few days away and that’s not even counting that I only have an hour per day. I’m not going to be fast or strong enough by then.

I suddenly hear the sound of a match being lit. I see a blurry figure sitting in the chair by the window. I blink and rub my eyes, looking again.

The dark figure says, “Springtime brings with it the ideas of re-growth, rejuvenation, renewal, resurrection, and most of all, rebirth. I’m more of a realist myself.”

The light flickers on a small object protruding out from the dark figure’s jacket pocket. It’s the Ten of hearts, which leads me to believe that it must be Raphael gracing me with his presence.

Raphael appears from the shadows,
leans back in his chair, and begins puffing smoke from his cigarette with panache. He takes a few hard sniffs and says,“Is that doubt I’m smelling? It smells a lot like doubt in here. Do you smell it? Very stinky a smell is doubt. Can really bring a person down from its stench alone.”

He pauses, taking another smoke break with his lit cigarette still in his hand.

“God created man. God gave man free will. God gave one rule. Man breaks rule, God leaves man. Man learns to survive—becomes sinful to survive. Man evolves out of his sins. I mean, really, God’s plan is simple. He wants all of you to succeed. Once that forbidden fruit was tasted, God left you with your immoral sins and judgments, letting only you to decide on your own free will of choice. Sin, nowadays, is a religion to you people. The theme of the story is you people give up on yourselves too easily.”

The piano starts playing “The Light in the Piazza.” It must be 3:10, I think. I’m growing accustomed to not looking at my watch.

Raphael
stares at me, dragging on his cigarette. “We find out today what kind of man you really are.” He walks over to the fridge, opens the freezer door, reaches for the pistol case, and takes it out. He walks back to the bedroom, puts the case down on the windowsill, opens it, and quickly loads it.

I am in shock that he found it so quickly. I think I have learned enough to get me through. There is nothing else they can really teach me. I am a big boy now, I don’t need to be babysat any longer. I’m sure he will understand. Less stress for him and myself.

I walk over to him, ready to get his attention to what I have to say, when Raphael tosses the pistol to me. I catch it clumsily. “If your demon had found that pistol, you would have been screwed. Keep it with you at all times.”

I walk over to my bedside table to pick up my watch when Raphael starts coughing up a lung.

“You won’t be needing that. Give it to me.” He extends his hand out to me. I wait, not wanting to give it to him. “Since you assume that you know everything, then having a watch around is the least of your worries. I mean, you are such a
big boy
now and all. Don’t need a babysitter like me trying to teach you how to shoot or nothing. Right?”

Raphael takes another long drag from his cigarette and then puts it out on the windowsill, exhaling smoke in my direction. I get nervous, forgetting that Angels can read my mind. But he has to understand where I am coming from. I hold the watch in my hand and think about the possibilities of actually needing it.

“Give me the watch and I will leave you alone. You will have the whole day to yourself. How does that sound?” he says with a sour voice.

I try to see if I can read his mind when he looks at me, tilting his head. “You don’t even wanna know what is going through my mind at this moment in time, brotha.” He looks at me as if he were going to throw me out of the window or something.

“Or something,” he says back to me in a condescending voice. I can see in his crazy green eyes that he is not playing around. Terrified at what he could do, I give him the watch and keep my thoughts to a minimum. Raphael puts my watch on his wrist and takes another puff. My room is getting clouded up. I sit there waiting for him to leave.

His words mumble through the cigar in his mouth, saying to himself, “Insecurity dressed up as confidence.” He laughs at the loud thought, thinking I didn’t hear him. He then grows quiet. Raphael stares at me for a few seconds, licking his lips as he puts a cigar in his mouth. “It’s funny how you want to be alone when you have the ‘black angel’ coming to help your sorry…”

He takes his matchbook and lights another match. The lit match burns the end of his cigar. He takes a few puffs and sits there in silence. He lets out the smoke, coughing his lungs out while he does so. “That’s exactly what I needed,” he says, speaking to himself.

“Well, a deal is a deal. Good luck, you soul survivor you! Made my job easy.” He laughs as he takes another big puff.

The smoke fills the air, blinding me. I wave the smoke away and look up at the window again. Raphael is gone.

Finally, I think. I pass by the
hatchet
in its glass case and go into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I am glad to see the hourglass reflecting from it. I watch the sand pour down little by little. I glance around and see no one watching me, then reach my hand out and get close enough to touch it. I stop and take my hand back. I can’t risk it.

I grab the razor and once again try to cut my beard. I start with my neck and I shave upwards, slowly. Suddenly, I slip and fall face-first in the mirror, cracking it and the hourglass. The glass from the mirror sprays out. Pieces of it fall into the sink as I drop my face, not wanting to get cut.

What have I done?! I look down in the sink and see the razor blade. There is a shade of red at its tip. I feel my neck and look up. The mirror is somehow back to normal. The hourglass is unbroken. I glance down and the shards of glass are nowhere to be seen.

I look back at my reflection and see the small cut on my neck. My mind is playing games on me again, I think. It’s feeling more real. Soon I won’t be able to tell what is real and what is not. Maybe this has to do with my body on the outside. Or the reapers erasing my mind so many times that I am all messed up.

I stare at myself and feel as if a cancer is spreading in me and it’s just a matter of time before it eats me alive. I need to clear my head of this notion. Think about happy thoughts. I think about Madi and the promise I made to her. I straighten myself back up and walk to my closet.

I open the doors, walk in, look at my suit, and remember Madi buying this for me. I think back to that date for a moment of clarity. I can still smell her perfume. I take the suit off the rack and begin my morning routine.

As I put on my jacket, seeing the Jack of hearts sticking out, I remember what Raphael had said.

My insecurity is dressed up as confidence. Maybe he is right. Physically I feel stronger than I ever have been, but mentally I feel weak and I don’t know why.

Now dressed, I tuck the pistol into my pants in the back, then lift my jacket over to conceal it. I look back at the bedroom door and see Madi holding a plate of eggs and sausage. The cancer is spreading to me again.
She is not real
, I think to myself.

“Oh, I was hoping to catch you before you left,” she says, smiling. “I made breakfast.”

It’s not her, I think.

“Don’t say anything,” she continues. “This is your big promotion day. I know you hate kind gestures, but I got you something else for this momentous occasion. I was going to surprise you, but I couldn’t wait. I hope you like it!”

Madi walks over to the closet and looks around inside of it. “I hid it last night hoping you would find it in the stars,” she says, smiling coyly at me. “Poo, I know it’s around here somewhere. I’m sure I’ll find it when you’re gone. Just pretend I didn’t say anything, okay?”

I look out the room and to the mirror in the bathroom. I see my reflection smile at me. I
watch
as my reflection yells at Madi and pushes her to the floor. I look away not wanting to believe that I would ever do that to Madi. I turn back to the mirror to see Madi, but instead I see the hourglass flipping over.

5 Minutes

I feel anxious and scared at the same time. I am finally on my own. I don’t need my watch.
I can do this on my own
, I continue saying to myself.

I walk back to the living room and, while passing the glass case, notice the
hatchet
is missing. It’s just another trick, I think. I open my front door and see a stocking full of packs of gum by my feet.

Across the hall, the waitress leaves her apartment, locking up behind herself. I see that she is alive and well again. I look at her, wanting to apologize for everything, but I know nothing will come out. She puts her hand over my mouth and smiles at me. Then she picks up the stocking, takes out a piece of gum, and splits it in half. She puts one in her mouth and hands me the other.

I take it and put it in my mouth, knowing I can’t actually taste it. We look at each other as if she was telling me that we are okay. She nods her head and walks away. I watch her go to the elevator out of the corner of my eye.

Suddenly,
Raphael
is standing beside me. “So…?” says Raphael. I jump up in shock, causing my stocking to fall to the floor. “You’re just going to let her walk away? And you’re just gonna stand there and chew your gum? Really? Chewing your half of the piece of gum? That’s what you are going to do? Smells like doubt. You doubting yourself, boy?”

I look at him in anger, wondering why he is still here.

“Only one chick in this whole place and he doubts himself. Typical white boy shyness! Why you looking at me crazy like that? I’m leavin’! Just wanted to grab some food to last me through the day is all!” He takes the stocking off the floor and pulls out a gum packet to show me.

I
walk slowly toward the elevator, Raphael urging me forward every few steps. I look behind, wondering why he is following me.

“I’m not taking the stairs. You can take the stairs, Little Bow Peep.”

Can’t you just use your wings and fly out the window?
I think to him. He looks back over at me as if he just smelled a fart. The elevator doors open.

“I’m sorry, do you see my wings behind me? I mean I haven’t looked back there in quite some time now. Did this place change the rules on me, having my wings back when I was on the toilet or something? Praise! Praise! Praise! Praise to the sinful man that is gonna have your naked butt first once you enter hell. Get in the elevator, fool!”

He pushes me into the elevator and walks in behind me, dropping the stocking on the floor. Staring at the painting, he says, “That’s a misinterpretation piece, right there. Someone took a lot of pride and not much else, developing this monstrosity of fine craftsmanship.”

I don’t understand. Does that mean he loves it or hates it?

Raphael looks at me and then at the panel of buttons. I just watch Raphael, thinking of what he wants from me now.

“Do you know who I am?” Raphael asks, pausing for me to respond. I remain silent. “And again the Lord said to
Raphael
: ‘Bind Azazel hand and foot, and cast him into the darkness, and make an opening in the desert and cast him there in. And place upon him rough and jagged rocks, and cover him with darkness, and let him abide there forever, and cover his face that he may not see light. And on the day of the great judgment he shall be cast into the fire.’ Meaning you best be pushing that button, before I make you press it. Got it, cracker?”