Part 36 (2/2)
”Much needed rain,” Gary whispered, rocking back and forth.
Deborah grabbed the blue ribbon keychain that always hung around her neck. It said WWJD. ”What is this,” she said, ”a radio station? I never heard of WWJD.” She started yanking it off her neck.
”Come on, Cuz, it means 'What Would Jesus Do,'” Gary said. ”You know that.”
Deborah stopped fussing with the keys and collapsed back into the chair. ”Can you believe they even gave her that AID virus and injected her into monkeys?” She stared at the floor, rocking violently, her chest rising and falling fast with each breath.
Gary sat, calmly rocking in his chair, watching Deborah's every move, like a doctor studying a patient. ”Don't make yourself sick over something you can't do nothin about,” Gary whispered to Deborah as she rubbed the welts on her eyes. ”It's not worth it... you got to let the Lord handle it.” His eyes drooped closed as he mumbled, ”What is Deborah doing for Deborah?”
When she didn't answer he looked at me and said, ”I was talking to G.o.d just now-he's trying to make me say stuff, trying to make me move.” Deborah called Gary The Disciple because he had a habit of channeling the Lord in the middle of a conversation. It started about twenty years earlier, when he was thirty-one minute he was busy with booze and women, the next he'd had several heart attacks and bypa.s.ses, and he woke up preaching.
”I been tryin to keep Him out of this because we've got company,” he said, flas.h.i.+ng me a bashful grin. ”But sometimes He just won't let me keep Him out.”
Gary's brown eyes went vacant, unfocused, as he stood slowly from his chair, spread his arms wide, and reached toward Deborah, who struggled to her feet, hobbled toward him, and wrapped her arms around his waist. The moment she touched him, his upper body seized like he'd been electrocuted. His arms thrust closed, hands clasping each side of Deborah's head, palms to her jaw, fingers spread from the back of her skull to the bridge of her nose. Then he started shaking. He squeezed Deborah's face to his chest as her shoulders heaved in silent sobs, and tears rolled from Gary's eyes.
As they rocked back and forth, Gary tipped his head to the sky, and began singing in a hauntingly beautiful baritone.
”Welcome, into this place. ... Welcome, into this broken vessel.” His singing, quiet at first, grew louder with each word until it filled the house and poured into the tobacco fields. ”You desire to abide in the praises of your people, so I lift my hand, and I lift my heart, and I offer up this praise unto ya, Lord.”
”You're welcome into this broken vessel, Lord,” he whispered, squeezing Deborah's head in his palms. His eyes shot open and closed, and he began to preach, sweat pouring from his face.
”That you said in your word Lord, that the BELIEVER would lay hands on the sick, and that they shall RECOVER!” His voice rose and fell, from a whisper to a yell and back. ”I REALIZE G.o.d that TONIGHT there's just some things doctors CANNOT DO!”
”Amen Lord,” Deborah mumbled, face pressed to his chest, voice m.u.f.fled.
”We thank ya tonight,” Gary whispered. ”Because we need your help with them CELLS, Lord ... we need your help liftin the BURDEN of them cells from this woman! Lift this burden, Lord, take it away, we don't NEED it!”
Deborah started convulsing in Gary's arms, weeping and whispering, ”Thank ya, Lord ... Thank ya, Lord.” Gary squeezed his eyes tight, and yelled along with her, ”THANK YOU, LORD! THANK YOU FOR TONIGHT!” Their voices grew louder together, until Gary stopped, tears and sweat pouring from his face onto Deborah as she screamed, ”Thank you Jesus!” and let loose with a chorus of hallelujahs and praise G.o.ds. Gary swayed back and forth, breaking into song again, his voice deep and old, as if coming from the generations who worked his tobacco fields before him: ”I know the Lord been good, yoooooooooooh ... I know the Lord been good.”
”Real good,” Deborah whispered.
”He's put food on my table ...” Gary dropped his voice, humming as Deborah spoke: ”Show me which way to go, Lord,” she said. ”Show me where you want me to go with these cells, Lord, please. I'll do anything you want me to do, Lord, just help me with this BURDEN. I can't do it alone-I thought I could. But I can't TAKE it, Lord.”
Mmmmmmm mmmmmmm mmmmmmm, Gary hummed.
”Thank you Lord for giving me this information about my mother and my sister, but please HELP ME, cause I know I can't handle this burden by myself. Take them CELLS from me, Lord, take that BURDEN. Get it off and LEAVE it there! I can't carry it no more, Lord. You wanted me to give it to you and I just didn't want to, but you can have it now, Lord. You can HAVE IT! Hallelujah, amen.”
For the first time since Gary stood from his chair, he looked straight at me.
I'd been watching all this from a recliner a few feet away, dumbfounded, terrified to move or make noise, frantically scribbling notes. In any other circ.u.mstance I might have thought the whole thing was crazy. But what was happening between Gary and Deborah at that moment was the furthest thing from crazy I'd seen all day. As I watched, all I could think was, Oh my G.o.d... I did this to her.
Gary stared into my eyes as he hugged Deborah's sobbing body and whispered to her, ”You're not alone.”
Looking at me, Gary said, ”She can't handle the burden of these cells no more, Lord! She can't do it!” Then he raised his arms above Deborah's head and yelled, ”LORD, I KNOW you sent Miss Rebecca to help LIFT THE BURDEN of them CELLS!” He thrust his arms toward me, hands pointed at either side of my head. ”GIVE THEM TO HER!” he yelled. ”LET HER CARRY THEM.”
I sat frozen, staring at Gary, thinking, Wait a minute, that wasn't supposed to happen!
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