THE WITCH LED CALEB THROUGH THE BACK of the church and down a dark staircase that ended in a big room full of pipes and a large metal box that sounded like a car. She opened a pale blue door and pointed in. He shuffled past her into a small room with one bare cot and a folded gray blanket. She glared at him, and he thought she was going to yell, but she slammed the door and walked off.
The room was black. He felt for the bed and collapsed onto a thin mattress. His stomach felt like someone was in there twisting it into knots. But the pills the doctor had given him helped a little. Mostly they made his eyes heavy. Tonight had been a very bad night. The light had disappeared from his world and he felt like maybe he was dying. He curled into a ball and drifted into sleep.
It was still dark when Caleb awoke. He lay on his back, wet with sweat, and he stared hard at the ceiling. But he saw only black. Where was he?
Oh yes. The small room.
The terrible meeting.
Desperation hit him like a hammer. What was happening to him? Images of that small child with metal braces on his legs skipped through his mind. The Father had his hands out begging, and the child was crying.
He did not heal the boy because he could not heal the boy. There was no light. Not even a small glimmer.
“Dadda,” he whispered. “I am falling, Dadda.”
The old familiar voice from so many years remained silent. Funny how he had come home from the church just two days ago, full of light after begging forgiveness, and yet already the light was gone.
On Sunday he’d decided with simple clarity that watching the television was doing bad things to his spirit. Maybe he should have smashed the glass box then. There was no other way to shut it off since the witch had stolen the knob.
But he hadn’t. Then later at night he’d grown bored with the silence and taken the pillow off his ears, just to hear. An hour later he was sitting in bed laughing at the behavior of a crazy fox chasing a chicken. And an hour after that he was turning the dial to find other pictures. Not only the drawn kind either. For the first time in his life he watched in stunned disbelief as a young woman kissed a young man on his mouth. They were not united in marriage. He thought of Adam and Eve walking naked through the garden, but it felt different. It felt dark. And it also felt exciting.
Caleb lay still on the cot and blinked in the darkness. “Dadda, please what’s happening to me?”
But he knew what was happening to him. At least he knew a little bit. He closed his eyes and cried himself back to sleep.
“Wake up, son.”
Caleb heard the distant voice twice before opening his eyes.
The light was on and a man sat on the edge of his bed. It was the doctor.
He smiled. “You were tired, I see.”
Caleb blinked the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself to his elbows.
“Don’t get up.”
Caleb lay back. The doctor was tall and had a mustache like the Greek Father. He had bags under his eyes too. He put his palm on Caleb’s cheek, then pulled an instrument from his pocket and touched the shiny cold end to his chest and stomach.
“Stomach’s still going to war. How are you feeling?”
“My whole body hurts.” It was the truth: a dull pain ran through his whole body, and he thought it was worse than yesterday.
The doctor smiled. “Well, the flu will do that.” He reached for the floor and put a tray of food on the bed. “I brought you some chicken soup and crackers. When you’re done, take both tablets with the water,” he said, pointing to two white pills.
Then he stood and walked to the door. “I’ll leave the light on. See you tonight.” He left.
The soup tasted very good, and it seemed to soothe the pain in his stomach. He drank the last drop, finished the last of the crackers, and took the pills with the water. But a half-hour later the pain in his stomach began to flare up so badly that he couldn’t straighten his legs. He used the toilet in the corner, hoping that would help, but it didn’t.
He broke out in a cold sweat. What if there was something very wrong with his body? What if he was dying? Oh, dear God, don’t let me die!
If God was talking, Caleb couldn’t hear him.
He thought about going out and finding the doctor, but the thought of the witch catching him out of the room effectively pushed the idea from his mind. Instead he curled up very tight and began to rock. He sang an old Ge’ez song about the goodness of God.
When Caleb woke again the room was dark. Someone had turned off the light. So it was the next night?
He tried to sit up. Pain shot through his head and he dropped back, moaning. His gut throbbed and his bones felt on fire.
You’re dying, Caleb.
The truth of the statement struck him as odd. It was true, though. Somehow he was dying, and he was dying all alone. Dr. Thompson was dying over by the ocean, but not alone.
Caleb began to cry. This was all happening because he had let the black brine into his cup of olive oil. He’d let some of the pure oil spill out and had poured in some black brine. Or maybe a whole bunch of black brine.
I beg you for your mercy, Father. I have sinned and fallen away and I beg you to forgive me.
He sobbed and prayed it again, and then again. Not because he doubted that God had heard him, but because he wanted to. It was becoming his mantra, this prayer. He’d prayed it at the church and several times before that.
He had to urinate, but his stomach hurt so bad that he could not climb from bed. He was dying.
Step into the kingdom, Caleb. Dadda’s old voice ran through his memory.
How?
Do you desire to?
Yes.
Have you confessed?
Yes. I confess. I do confess!
Then surrender. You will give yourself back to your Father?
Yes. Yes, I do. I will do anything, Father.
Then believe.
Believe?
Of course he knew what belief was. It was the faith that had lived in his mind every hour of his life. The simple knowledge that the kingdom of God was here for the discovering, just behind the skin of this world. That in the kingdom the rules were different. He had known so without doubt. Until just these last couple days, of course. Now the truth of it felt distant.
A small sputter of light lit his mind and then faded.
He blinked. Distant but not gone. He smiled and his heart surged with comfort.
“I believe,” he said aloud. “Of course I believe. I have always believed.”
The light in his mind’s eye stuttered again. And then again.
He rolled to his back, wide-eyed. “Yes! I do believe! I really do believe!”
Suddenly the world turned white and his heart began to float. It felt like that anyway, like he was suddenly floating off the bed, when he knew very well that he was lying on the mattress.
He rolled onto his stomach and began to sob, but this time with joy. My Father, forgive me. You are so tender and kind; I don’t deserve your love.
The light lapped at his mind and spread warmth through his bones. He lay for a long time just resting in the light. He was home again, and now that he thought about it, he no longer really cared if he died. In fact, it would be lovely to see Dadda again.
It wasn’t until a couple of hours later that he decided dying might not be the best thing right now. His stomach still hurt very badly. But that wasn’t a problem now, was it?
No, it wasn’t.
He touched his belly and asked God to take away the pain. Like a vapor rising into the air, the pain vanished.
Caleb smiled. Yes, that was really no problem at all.
Thank you, Father. Thank you.
A light ignited in Caleb’s mind and he gasped.
He was seeing the woman again. The one who looked so familiar from his vision. The woman was looking at him with wide eyes. Caleb watched in horror as again a very large bird swooped from the sky toward the woman. Fire blasted from its beak and its mouth gaped wide. It was going to eat the woman! It was, it was!
But then the vision vanished.