INFECtIOUS (31 page)

"I didn't
have a choice. I couldn't watch her die. They dropped me off down the road from
your gate. I wanted to find a way to tell you without getting Nancy killed, but
I just couldn't figure my way out." With shame on his face he says
quietly, "I met with them at the fence a bunch of times. I told '
em
it was too hard. That you weren't ever alone and I
couldn't do anything about it! I was stalling. It was killing me. I knew they'd
kill Nancy easy if I didn't hurry up and give '
em
something. So I took the picture to prove I was working on it. I found that
camera in an empty apartment in my building. I gave it to them and they gave
me," he swallows another sob, "Nancy's ear. Said if I didn't deliver
you they'd give me the rest of her—in tiny pieces next time."

He sobs into his
arm again and this time, everyone lets him. We're all being moved to
compassion, despite our anger and betrayal. This broken man has been through so
much. I'm sure every man in the room is wondering if he would've done the same
for his wife. Would we have the strength to say no if our dearest loved one was
being threatened and abused and we had the power to make it stop? I'm finding
compassion that comes from God and not from me. Chuck is my enemy, but I'm
supposed to "bless those that curse me" and "turn the other
cheek." So much harder than I thought it would be when I read those verses
in naivety and said, "
no
problem, Lord, anything
for you."

Chuck collects
himself again and continues, speaking quickly, pushing to get to the end of his
traumatic time here. "I heard you two were going out of town to shop. I
wasn't supposed to meet them for almost another two weeks; and I didn't know
what to do. I left the compound with a fishing pole, told the guards I was
going fishing. I walked to one of their blood centers.
Got a
mask off of a—a dead guy in the street.
Nobody stopped me. I told the
Pravda guy at the blood center that you were important to Pravda and that you
were going to be in Commerce the next day. I had another
picture,
I had taken three pictures that day. I gave it to a Pravda worker and then I
came back to the community and waited. When you came back safe, I knew I was in
trouble. I mean, I was real glad you were ok. I didn't want anything bad to
happen to you. I just didn't know what to do you know?" he looks down at
his feet in shame. "I'm supposed to bring you with me next time I meet
them.
Supposed to be tomorrow.
But I already decided I
wasn't
gonna
do it!" he says loudly.

He hasn't earned
any trust with this story and I don't believe him. By the condemning looks on
the elder's faces, I'd say they don't believe him either. Mountain Man Jack
said it's all about blood. They think my blood is special enough to go through
all of this.
All the trouble to Chuck and his wife, all the
weeks
meeting at the fence and the attempted kidnapping.
All this for one person.
Me. What will they do to me
if they get me?

"Is Ivy in
any danger from anyone else in the community?"
Mr
Terrell asks.

Before I can
even be nervous about that possibility, Chuck shakes his head "no"
and I
  
sink back in my chair relieved.
Then Chuck stares into my eyes and in a low voice he says, "But she's in
terrible danger from the rest of the world." A shiver shakes my whole body
when he says even quieter, "They want '
er
real
bad."

Aunty's
Admirers

We bury Aunty
today. Rosa and I are sitting on my bed, ready, too early, for
Aunty's
funeral. Rosa still hasn't spoken and I don't know
how much she understands. Though I haven't cried yet today, she seems to know
that I am sad because she sits close to me and pets me sweetly. I hope she and
I will see happier days together. I know she has already seen way too much
sadness in her short life. I want so much to show her happiness and fun. She
came to me in one of my darkest times and I find it hard to give her more than
an occasional smile. She must think that all of life is hard and tragic. I wonder
what that must do to her little personality. I hope she isn't too damaged
already.

She surprises me
by crawling across the bed to the nightstand and pointing at
Aunty's
Bible. She wants me to read to her? I already
devoted myself this morning before waking her, but this morning's Bible reading
didn't bring me comfort. I can hardly remember now what I read. I pick up the
Bible but then decide to read first from the little daily book that I skipped
this morning. I read out loud to Rosa:

"Give up the illusion that you deserve a problem-free life.
Part of you

is
still hungering for the resolution of all difficulties. This is a false hope!

As I told my disciples, in the world you will have trouble. Link
your hope

not
to problem solving in this life but to the promise of an eternity of

problem-free
life in heaven. Instead of seeking perfection in this fallen

world
,
pour out your energy into seeking Me: the Perfect One.

It is possible to enjoy
Me
and glorify Me
in the midst of adverse

circumstances
. In fact, My Light shines most brightly through believers

who
trust Me in the dark. That kind of trust is supernatural: a

production
of My indwelling Spirit. When things seem all wrong, trust

Me anyway.
I am much less interested in right circumstances than in

right
responses to whatever comes your way."

The recommended
reading at the bottom is Psalm 112:4
,7
. I look the
verses up in
Aunty's
Bible and read them out loud
too:

"Light arises in the darkness for the upright; He is gracious
and compassionate and righteous... He will not fear evil tidings; His heart is
steadfast, trusting in The Lord."

Rosa looks up at
me when I finish reading and smiles at me encouragingly. She can't have
understood any of that. I'm still not sure she even understands English. But she
looks at me like, "see, it's going to be ok." I smile at her and hug
her close. It's time to go say goodbye to Aunty now.

We walk across
the street, her little hand in mine. I'm happy to have her with me. The new
responsibility is not a burden but a comfort. I feel less alone and I thank God
in my heart for sending her. It was so good of Him.

Tim is waiting
outside in the cold morning air for me. I am relieved to see him. He came over
last night to check on me and I told him all about Chuck. I suspect he had
already heard about it from Andrew, but he let me tell it all as though it was
new to him, patiently listening. I am surprised to discover that he is suddenly
my closest friend. I wouldn't be in my right mind right now if he hadn't
carried me through this. I feel somehow like it honors Aunty, too. She saw
before I did what a good man he is. I still feel strongly attracted to Matt. I
don't want to marry Tim. I'm sure I'll never get to marry anyone. Time is
almost up and I'm being hunted by zombies. The odds of me living long enough to
marry someone and have a "normal" life are zilch.

The viewing
feels like ten hours instead of one. I sit with Rosa near the front of the U.R.
meeting room, across from the wooden casket. It's a simple casket, nothing pretty
about it. It is raw wood, hastily constructed, without even a coat of stain. It
seems almost an insult to bury her in it. I can't help but wonder if Jamie's
dad intentionally didn't make something nice because everyone thinks I'm a
problem lately. I look down at my feet and avoid looking at it or at her. I've
already said goodbye, once when she left me, and then again as I prepared her
body to go. I'm here today because it's what she would think is proper. I speak
to as few people as possible. Only looking up when they linger near me and it
becomes rude to avoid them.

In the short
line of well-wishers, Harmony is the first to sit down next to me. I'm too dead
inside to make effort towards our broken friendship. She is too awkward to know
how to do it all herself. She sits for a minute, neither of us speaking, the
awkwardness increasing. I find anger building inexplicably inside me again.
When I think I might not be able to hold it in any longer, Harmony chokes on a
sob and surprises me with a kiss on the cheek. Then she's gone. My anger
evaporates leaving only footprints of minor irritation. I go back to my quiet
staring at the floor.

Jose and Ellen
come separately, each taking a turn away from Thomas' bedside. Ellen tells me
that they told him and that he cried for me. I guess he had to find out
eventually. I wish he didn't have to know and be sad.

Dr. Markowitz
stands next to my chair for a long time, his hand on my shoulder. Each time I
look up at him to see if I should say something, he doesn't look at me but
continues to stare silently at her. Then, without any words, he squeezes my
shoulder and walks away. I'm relieved because I have nothing to say. I never
realized that there were men who cared deeply for her. Mr. Terrell seems to
have been carrying a secret torch for her as well. I suspect that he cared a
lot. That his suspicion of Chuck may have begun with jealousy over the
attention Chuck was flaunting at Aunty.

I think Dr.
Markowitz may have cared for her more deeply than just normal friendship, too.
Her passing matters more to them then I would have ever realized. I wonder if
she cared for them the same
way?
I'm ashamed that I
have no idea. I feel guilty when I think about how much time we spent talking
about me. I wonder if I really knew the real
Aunty?
I
wonder if anyone else knew her, really knew her, better than me? If there was
someone she confided in, would I long to know all that she shared or would I be
jealous that it wasn't me?

If Mr. Terrell
hadn't discovered Chuck's secret life yesterday, I'm sure Chuck would be here.
Fake crying and making a show.
Trying to
figure out how to kidnap me.
I think they have him in one of the cells
where Matt was held. I barely slept last night thinking about Chuck and his
wife. Part of me wonders if I should give myself up to save her. My anger from
yesterday is mostly gone. I feel bad for him. He never wanted anything to do
with me. I tell myself it's my love for Rosa that keeps me from suggesting I
trade myself for Nancy. But I know
it's
cowardice, too.

I can vividly
imagine what they would do to me. I have this horrible picture in my head.
Me
, on a cold steel table, strapped down. I'm in a dark room
with bright lamps shining down on me. I can't see into the shadows around the
room and I know they are there, staring at me. I'm wearing only a paper cloth
across my body and there are needles in both of my arms, draining me of my
blood. In this disturbing vision I know that they are draining me dry, not just
taking small amounts. I know I'll die on that cold table alone. I shiver, lost
in my morbid fantasy. Rosa pulls on my arm and brings me back to reality.
Reality is barely better. I ask her if she needs to go potty and she nods
emphatically. I lead her out of the room.

Rev.
DePold's
sermon is short. He speaks of what Aunty did for
the community and how she loved me. He reads about Heaven from the Bible and
reminds us of how beautiful it will be. Staring straight into my eyes, he
reminds us that we don't grieve as those who have no hope. We'll be with Aunty
again soon. His quote at the end is the only part that I'll remember. It's
beautiful. He quotes the author C.S. Lewis:

"If I find
in myself desires which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most
probable explanation is that I was made for another world."

At the small
cemetery behind the old Methodist church building, there are only a handful of
people. Tim and Rosa stand close to me, seeking warmth in the cold wind. Mr.
Terrell stands whispering to Dr. Markowitz. Rev.
DePold
and a few other Elders and their wives make up the rest of who Aunty counted
close. It's less than I thought there would be. I guess Aunty didn't really
make many close female friends either. We lived for each other and our work
here. Was it enough? Were we right to seclude ourselves? Now, with her gone,
I'm lost. She felt that way driving home from Commerce. I saw it in her eyes
that day. She was terrified that someone had tried to take me. She didn't know
how to live without me either. And now, somehow, I have to be the one who
figures out how to survive alone. At the last minute, Ellen, Harmony and Sherry
quietly join us. It fills the small group out a little and makes the gathering
feel more complete. I'm thankful that they came.

As they lower
her into the cold ground, I turn
away,
it hurts
unbearably to see her drop from my sight for the last time. With my back to the
grave, I see someone watching us, standing close to a tree at the far end of
the field. He doesn't hide when I turn, but lifts a hand of greeting and
friendship.
A gloved hand.
It's Matt. He came. I turn
back around quickly as Tim starts to lean past me, interested in what I'm
looking at. He doesn't see Matt but steps close to me and puts his arm around
me in comfort. I cringe away slightly, knowing that Matt is still watching.

Mr. Terrell
picks up a hammer and begins to pound a simple wooden cross into the ground to
mark her grave. Someone has crudely etched her name into the front. The
echoey
sound of the hammer hitting with each swing reminds
me of the Jesus movie. The horrible sound as the soldiers swung their hammers
and nailed him to the cross. I had to turn away during the movie, unable to
watch, even though it was just an actor. It felt real and I knew it was real.
My Jesus had been nailed to a cross for me so that I wouldn't have to die.
Aunty is still alive. She isn't really dead. I wish knowing that would
alleviate some of the lung crushing grief I am drowning in.

I must look
awful because Tim offers to take Rosa for the afternoon so I can sleep. It's
true I've had very little sleep in the last few days. I give in and accept his
help again. It's starting to seem like we are married and Rosa is our child.
The way we pass her back and forth and share responsibility of her.

We leave the
gravesite as a group and Rev.
Depold
steps alongside
me. "Ms. Scott will be taking over the Inn, Ivy. You are welcome to stay
there for as long as you need and she would probably love some help learning
the ropes."

I don't know
what to say. I hate the thought of anyone else running the Inn—especially the
cold fish, Ms. Julia Scott. The Inn needs someone kind and good with people.
Someone with the gift of hospitality.
Ms. Scott is hard
working, but she couldn't come close to replacing Aunty. I have no desire to
live there with her. I'll show her around and pack my things and go. I'm not
sure where I'll go. But I won't stay there.

"When will
she be moving in?" I croak. It's been hours since I've used my voice and
those hours have been filled with more crying.

"Tomorrow."

"Ok."
There's nothing else to say. I don't need permission to leave and I don't want
to be told where to go. Let him think I'll stay there for now.

Before stepping
away from my side, Rev.
Depold
says, "I have a
word for you Ivy. I read it this morning and I believe God wanted me to give it
to you. Just to you. It's another quote from C.S. Lewis. He's one of my
favorites. It's this: 'God, who foresaw your tribulation, has specially armed
you to go through it, not without pain but without stain.'"

Not without pain
but without stain. I definitely get the pain part.