I sang Alleluia in the choir
I confessed my darkest deeds to an envious man
My brothers they never went blind for what they did
But I may as well have
In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son
I had one more stupid question
--from Forgiven by Alanis Morrissette
Gabe brought in lunch a little while later, a tray in her hands and a bottle of orange juice balanced under her chin.
"You looked hungry after not eating for 4 months," she said with the air of one commenting on the weather. "so I brought you something." The girl placed the tray on his lap before he could protest. Micah squinted at the food. There was a small sandwich, lots of vegetables, and some Jell-O that looked much too wiggly for comfort.
"I'm not hungry," he muttered, pushing the tray away. Gabe set down the orange juice on his tray and rolled her eyes.
"You are so. Do you need me to feed you, or can you handle a fork by yourself?" Micah glared up at her, snatching the fork and jabbing at his food.
"I think I've got it under control." He poked at the Jell-O; the fork stuck for a few seconds before he could pull it out.
(Wow. If that machine didn't kill me, the hospital food will.)
Gabe made a little face and opened his orange juice for him.
"Well, you'd better take it and eat it. Or there'll be Hell to pay." Micah blinked at her words
(take this and eat saith the lord god)
and poked the Jell-O again.
"Mmph." But he scooped up some vegetables anyway, eyeing them carefully -- carrots, broccoli, potatoes --
(corn oh god there's corn)
and dropped the fork back onto the plate.
"I'm really not hungry," Micah murmured, staring at the kernels of yellow that had been scattered onto the sheet. Gabe looked up at him questioningly.
"Ah--" She glanced at the plate and a flicker of uncertainty flitted over her face. Her eyes drifted back up to him
(why is she looking at me like that)
and didn't accuse, but understood.
"You don't have to eat the corn, Mr. Balding," she said gently. Micah looked up at her sharply.
"What do you--" But she had already begun to carefully scrape the vegetables into the trashcan. He watched in silence, waiting until she placed the plate in front of him again. Then he took the sandwich and raised it to his mouth. "Thanks," he mumbled, taking a bite. Micah watched Gabe out of the corner of his eye; she was looking somber.
"No problem," she whispered, turning away again. He chewed quietly on the dry roast beef and watched her back. Gabe was really beginning to bother him; she always seemed to know more than she should.
(She looks at me like she knows something. What, though?)
Micah swallowed and took another bite of his sandwich, avoiding the Jell-O at all costs.
(She couldn't know anything. But she does-- she knows about the corn.)
Gabe was calmly scribbling something on a clipboard. He squinted at her, trying to imitate her amazing x-ray vision, but he couldn't look through her.
(How could she, though? How?)
There were no answers to these questions he had, and he wasn't getting anything from Gabe. So Micah scowled and finished his sandwich.
Silence reigned supreme in the hospital room. Gabe was randomly jotting down notes on her clipboard and snacking on a bag of chips she'd bought from the vending machine down the hall. Micah was sulkily reading a three-year-old People magazine. He'd tried to sleep, but the eyes of the Children always appeared before he could drift off, so he remained awake and with a pounding headache. Of course, he denied that he was either tired or in pain, so there was no relief from the migraine. Gabe tried to strike up a conversation several times, but Micah refused to talk. And now they were silent, each sulking in their own corner -- up until Nurse Pruitt came in.
"Gabrielle," she said sharply, startling both of them. Gabe dropped a chip on the floor, glared at it, then smiled at the older woman.
" 'Lo, Nurse Pruitt," she murmured politely. The elder nurse simply bustled towards Micah, who resisted the urge to sneer with distaste.
"I am simply making a quick check-up of the patient," she snapped, bony fingers checking his forehead and pulse before he had the chance to bite them. "I wouldn't want anything to -- go wrong." Gabe's face went pale with anger; she forced another polite smile.
"Mm. How considerate of you. I do, however, have things under control." Micah scowled as Nurse Pruitt pulled her hands away after fluffing his pillow.
"Do you?" The elder nurse smiled thinly. "Glad to hear it." Gabe's forced grin wavered. She ushered Nurse Pruitt to the door with a little less patience than she had before.
"Yes, I do. And I would appreciate it if you left me to my duties." Nurse Pruitt whirled and started to say something, but -- her patience spent -- Gabe slammed the door in her face. Micah blinked in surprise.
(That old bitch just touched me. Ew.)
Gabe scowled at the closed door, muttering under her breath.
"Crazy old hag," she grumbled. Micah rubbed at his forehead, Nurse Pruitt's visit already behind him. Sleep was welling behind his eyes, but so were the faces of the Children. Now his eyelids refused to close.
(Can't sleep. Don't want another dream.)
Gabe glanced at him, brow furrowing
(don't look at me like that STOPPIT)
in concern.
"Mr. Balding--" she began, but he stopped her tiredly.
"Look, it's too confusing whenever you say that. I think someone's talking to my
(dead father say it your father that's dead and you don't care)
dad, so just call me Micah." He rubbed again at his face. Gabe nodded a little, taking something out of the cabinet.
"All right. Micah, you don't look well. Are you sure you're not tired...?" She produced a small bottle of pills, different from the one that she gave him earlier. Micah cocked a brow at her.
"What're--" he started, then stopped. There was something beneath his pillow, jabbing into his back. Gabe noticed it too and pulled it out -- a small crucifix. It was a cheap little plastic thing, a simple cross with a suffering Jesus nailed to it. But it made him shiver all the same. "What's that doing there?" Gabe chewed at her lower lip nervously and tossed the cross at the trashcan.
"That bitch Pruitt put it under your pillow," she muttered. Micah frowned.
"Why would--"
"Here. Take this." Gabe offered a cup of water and a pill. He scowled at this too, putting his hands up to defend him.
"God, will you stop shoving things at me?" The girl pushed it closer.
"Take the pill," she insisted.
(take this and eat saith the lord god)
Micah squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He heard a frustrated growl and felt Gabe clamp a hand around his wrists.
"I'll force it down your throat if you want," she snapped, "Now open your mouth!" He shook his head again, but Gabe let go of his wrists and seized his chin roughly.
"Ow!" he complained, though it didn't hurt -- just surprised him. Micah opened his eyes to see Gabe less than a foot from his face. She had her mouth set in a thin line.
"You're going to take this pill," she said tightly, "and you're going to sleep. You're going to get some rest and relaxation if it--"
(don't say kills me don't say kills me)
"--kills you." Micah cringed and clamped his mouth shut. Gabe, patience wilting, pinched his nose shut until he couldn't breathe. When he gasped for air, she squeezed his cheeks so his lips were pooched out like a goldfish. Micah scowled at her as she raised the pill to his lips. "Swallow it," Gabe murmured, popping in the pill and pouring water from the cup into his mouth. He did so, glaring all the while. She poured more water and he swallowed that too, feeling suddenly and completely sleepy. Gabe didn't let go of his mouth quite yet; she squinted at him. "Your eyes are so dark," she whispered, gently moving her grip to his chin. He blinked sleepily at her, brows twisting into a frown.
"Hm?" he mumbled, and she let go of his face.
"Nothing." Gabe leaned him back against the pillow, setting aside the cup of water. "Go to sleep. You're dead
(dead dead dead)
tired and you need your rest." But Micah didn't even hear the rest of her sentence; he drifted off into a peaceful sleep and the world was lost to him.
It was nearly 6:30 p.m. when Micah woke up and saw the priest.
He was a tall man with white hair, and the fact that he was leaning over Micah made him seem three times taller. The boy blinked rapidly up at the priest, taking in his black robe and white collar. A rosary hung from the man's neck. Micah blinked again, then screamed.
"Jesus Christ, what are you doing?!" He scrambled back into the wall. The priest, wide-eyed and clutching his Bible to his chest, started reciting Our Father.
"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name--" Micah looked around frantically. There wasn't anyone else in the room.
"Gabe!" he bellowed, "Gabe, where are you? Good God, get this guy away from me!" The priest stopped the prayer and said shakily,
"I'm here to give you your last rites, son--"
"Last rites?!" Micah shook his head desperately. "But I'm not dying!" The priest held his Bible out in front of him like a shield.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee--" Micah clamped his hands over his ears.
"Stop it, stop it!"
"--blessed art thou among women--"
"STOP STOP STOP STOP!!" He felt his fingers clutch his hair as he tried to block out the prayer. "STOP STOP STOP!!"
"What the hell--?!" Gabe skidded into the room, running quickly over to the bed. "Father Clementè!" Micah looked up at them, hands still over his ears. The priest looked very startled.
"Gabrielle, I'm afraid there's been a mistake--"
"Damn right there's been a mistake," gasped Micah, lowering his hands. "This guy just came in and started babbling at me, Gabe, and it scared the he--" Gabe moved towards him and pressed her palm to his forehead.
"Sh, quiet," she murmured, turning to the priest. "Father Clementè, it's all right. You've got the wrong room." Father Clementè nodded shakily, heading for the door.
"Very sorry, son. Very sorry." He muttered something in Italian as he turned the corner, then was out of sight.
Micah gaped after him, heart still pounding from the scare.
"My God," he murmured. "What a crazy old man." Gabe nodded, her hands lingering on Micah's shoulders.
"He got confused." She hesitated, then pulled away and started for the chair at the other side of the room. "You missed dinner," she called over her shoulder. "Are you hungry at all?" He shook his head in a silent 'no'. Gabe shrugged and collapsed into the chair. Micah dragged a hand across his forehead.
"Wow. What a way to wake up." There was a short pause. Gabe was fiddling with her silver thumbring, Micah staring at his hands. Then he spoke up. "Hey, Gabe," he began. The girl looked up.
"Hm?" Micah shifted uncomfortably.
"Look, things haven't been exactly... normal since I woke up. I thought maybe you'd know what's going on." Gabe squinted a little
(oh god she's doing it again)
and scratched her temple idly.
"What do you mean?" Micah let out an exasperated little breath.
"Oh, come on. The way Pruitt's been acting, the crucifix, the priest-- the corn--" Gabe held up a hand to stop him, then ticked off the points on her fingers.
"Pruitt's a lonely old woman with nothing better to do than pester the patients. She put the crucifix there to make you feel uncomfortable. Father Clementè wandered into the wrong room. And today's special in the cafeteria was mixed vegetables." She folded her hands calmly in her lap. "That's all." Micah squinted, not quite believing her.
"Mm." And all at once, something he had been meaning to say hit him. He narrowed his eyes. "You gave me a sleeping pill."
"What?" Gabe looked up, having grabbed the magazine that Micah had discarded.
"You gave me a sleeping pill," he repeated, scowling now. The girl blushed a little in the dim light.
"You weren't going to sleep on your own," she mumbled, turning the page of her magazine. "and I know you were tired, so don't lie to me. You feel better now, don't you?" Micah raised an eyebrow, then sighed in defeat.
"Well... yeah, I guess."
"Y'see?" Gabe looked back down at an article on George Bush Sr.'s election and made a face. The boy watched her for a moment, then leaned back in bed.
"Mmph."
"And don't grunt at me like that. I'm right and you know it." She glanced up for a moment with a sideways grin
(she can see right through you idiot)
and then back down to her magazine.
"Try to get some more sleep. Tomorrow morning Nurse Edith's going to bring down a wheelchair so you can try it out a little. We need to build up those arm muscles of yours, Bulimia Boy." Micah let out another indignant snort, then crossed his arms over his chest.
(Wheelchair. I need a wheelchair.)
Gabe glanced up from her magazine for another quiet moment, making him wince.
(God, not even my thoughts feel private anymore.)
He returned the look with a sneer and she lowered her eyes.
(I'm gonna have to watch this one.)
And then his thoughts drifted elsewhere, leaving the room in silence once again.