Pieces of You (13 page)

Martin watched as his father’s chest rose and fell in what seemed to be a normal breathing pattern. The doctors were still sounding hopeful but it had been four days since his dad had collapsed. When he left his post at the bedside to intercept a doctor in the hallway, he missed a very slight movement of those eyes; attempting to follow him across the room.

“You have to tell me what’s going on with my dad! Does he hear me when I tell him how Claire and the baby are doing? When I try to describe what’s happening in the world or at work? Does he feel it when I squeeze his hand? I’ve got to know! I can’t continue just watching him lying there, worrying if he is in pain, wondering if he knows I’m in the room.”
             

Dr. Denzler, one of the younger doctors in the clinic, normally spoke rapidly and with expansive hand gestures but not today. As he replied to Martin, every word was uttered with painstaking care.

“We believe that touch and talk is important to any person in a coma. Even though we can’t be certain about the extent of your father’s comprehension, it’s conceivable that he is aware at some level. We know that patients can continue to progress through different states of consciousness but we cannot measure the degree of cerebral ability.

“I suggest that you look carefully for any reaction. Any change, even the slightest response, you may take as an attempt to reach out to you.”

When the doctor had completed his examination of Mark, reported no visible change and plodded away down the hall, Martin pulled his chair even closer to his father’s bed. His facial expressions rocketed from despair to determination. “What can I say or do to get through to you?”

Without really knowing why, Martin started to recite one of the nursery rhymes he remembered his dad having read to him when he was just a toddler.

As I was going to St. Ives,

I met a man with seven wives,

Each wife had seven sacks,

Each sack had seven cats,

Each cat had seven kits:

Kits, cats, sacks and wives,

How many were going to St. Ives?

Mark leaned closer to his father.

“How many were going, Dad?” He said it in the same way his Dad had always asked the question of him—seeming to scratch his nose with his index finger—and waited.

As he watched for a sign of some recognition of their silly game from his Dad, other images popped up from his memory. There were the happy days when he sat between his Mom and Dad on the couch, watching his favorite cartoon, Doug Funnie and his best friend Skeeter, who got into all kinds of adventures in Bluffington.

There was also Darkwing Duck and his adopted daughter, Gosalyn Mallard, who used their powers to perform good deeds all over their town.

He had been happy living with his dad after Mom had left them, but there was always a flash of pain, an ache that was never completely soothed, when he thought of those earlier days. He wondered how often his Dad experienced that, too.

They never talked about why she had left but, as he got older, he picked up a few clues. Whatever the reason had been, he never blamed his dad, his hero, the one person who had walked with him through every teenage crisis.
             

Martin’s reminiscences took in their many excursions; some to other countries where his Dad alternated business meetings with sightseeing, others to their favorite bakery.

They had never varied their bakery routine.
One gooey pastry was always devoured on site, along with a pint of milk and another pastry wrapped to go.

Martin had to smile through his tears. Their good times could not be ending so soon. He begged for a sign to give him hope.

All of a sudden, Martin knew just what would rouse his father’s attention. Whispering, “Dad, I’ll be back soon,” he flew from the room.

When Martin returned to the hospital, he was carrying his father’s diving fins.

Of all their shared experiences, deep-sea diving was what they had talked about the most. Gliding past primeval-looking fish of great beauty or disgusting ugliness; feeling the current of fear pass between them when a long electric eel was almost close enough to touch, gazing awestruck at myriads of creatures hanging along coral reefs; Martin knew that these images were etched in his father’s memory, too.

So he placed a fin gently on one of his dad’s feet and watched closely. Almost immediately and for only an instant, the foot fluttered. Had he not been watching for a reaction, he would surely have missed the tiny motion.

“Oh, thank God, you are still with us.” There was nothing more, but Martin had his sign.

***

Mark was lying there, pondering how he could be able to feel a tingle in his foot when nothing moved, no matter how hard he concentrated on different parts of his body.

He was again immersed in the whiteness but soon a tiny black spot appeared; it was almost the reverse of looking into the night sky just as the first star announced the night.

‘Janine’, he whispered mentally into the void but the only answer was the echo of her name in his mind.

His inner vision panned the white space until he found the dark spot again. As the spot grew larger, moving closer, it changed into a recognizable form but not into the body of his Janie.

“Zachri!”

Zachri seemed to be hovering
just beyond his reach, neither seated nor with feet planted firmly on the floor.

“I bring good news, Mark,” he said.

Mark’s spirit jumped within his inert body.

“Why do you show up this way? Don’t you know it’s completely unnerving to see what appears to be a man hanging in the air? It is especially so for one who never believed in spirits!”

“This is the same way I arrived before. It startled you because your spirit was asleep, in an embryonic state.” Zachri moved closer so that his eyes were on the same level as Mark’s. “Mark, don’t I seem the least bit familiar to you?”

“Well, even the first time you showed up,” Mark replied. “I thought there was something unnervingly familiar about your eyes. It’s like somewhere in the recesses of my mind I can recall an experience but the image just won’t come into focus. It’s more like a feeling or an impression.” Mark spoke haltingly, looking for a way to express his thoughts.

“You almost look like my nephew; same blue eyes, light-brown hair and slightly prominent nose. You’re even short, like him, yet there’s something about you that plainly marks you as ‘other’.

The best word I can come up with is ‘enigmatic’. I’ve never met a person who exudes such a disconcerting mixture of power and tenderness. Are you one of those guardian angels the Bible says protects children? Were you my guardian angel?”

“I did come from the other side, but I wasn’t your guardian when you were a boy. As I’ve already said, my visit is in response to a specific request to help you.

“
I’ve been trying to show you that, when you act justly, you have nothing to fear; help is at hand.” Zachri appeared to change the subject:

“
Do you remember the Three Laws of Robotics presented by Isaac Asimov, the science fiction writer, in his Handbook of Robotics, 56th Edition, 2058 AD? Well, the first two are similar to the laws I follow:

One: A robot may not harm a human being, or through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

Two: A robot must follow the orders given it by a human being except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

“
You can trust me not to harm you or let you be harmed. Can you accept that?”

“Somewhat; but I’m still unclear about so many things in the morality/religious category. Questioning our teachers and religious leaders wasn’t allowed when I was a kid, even though some of what they said was foolishness to me. May I ask a few more questions, even though they mark me as a skeptic?”

“Yes, of course. It’s not wrong to question. Questioning tends to strengthen rather than destroy beliefs.”

“That’s what I taught Martin. Okay, here’s a few to start with: Do the spirits of people who die go directly to heaven or are they attached to their bodies until the second coming—if that is more than a myth? Are the numerous denominations within the Christian tradition acceptable to God or would He prefer the unity of believers? Is the god or gods that non-Christians worship the same one told of in the Bible…?”

Zachri cut him off.

“That’s enough to deal with in the brief time we have. These are the questions of a thinking person and I promise that you’ll have an answer to each one the moment you’re ready.

“
I can’t speak for God in answer to your second question but in the absence of unity, tolerance would surely be a good start.

“
As for the other two questions, I can’t give you direct answers today because I’d be breaking the First Law of Robotics.

“
You see; some things you cannot know yet because your mind wouldn’t be able to cope with their significance.

“
Can you recall what happened to early computers when they were fed more data than they had the capacity to process?”

“They blew their circuits or temporarily shut down.”

“I can’t let that happen to you. Now why don’t you ask your more urgent questions? I promise I’ll answer them immediately.”

“I have the distinct impression that you know exactly what’s on my mind so I might as well speak it. You’ve said you’re a messenger so what, precisely, is your message? Haven’t I gotten it by now?

“
It certainly would be nice to get back to my life. I r
eally
liked where it was heading before you came calling.”

“My message is just two words: absolution and reconciliation.”

“I believe I only heard those terms once or twice. Aren’t they Catholic theology? Why bring them up to a neophyte Protestant?”

“They’re meaningful words to the entire human race although few profit from them. I know this trip seems excessive to you but I’m not the only one advocating it. Knowing
who
rather than
why
may make it seem more relevant.”

“Let me guess! Moses, the same one who led his people out of Egypt, is leading me to a land that held great promise for me but that I screwed up.”

Mark’s sarcasm couldn’t have been lost on Zachri but he continued his explanation with a sympathetic smile.

“Just before I came back to earth, a crowd gathered around me. You were wrong, though; Moses was way in the rear while all the people you would immediately recognize were right up front. I was wrapped in rapture from their murmurs of loving support.

“
Our conjoining might even be comparable to your experience of sex. It may be, though, that my send-off to serve you was more impassioned.”

“Wow! If that response comes simply from sounds, I’ll buy front row tickets to every one of those concerts!”

Mark’s tone and expression suggested an ironic sense of wonder and a strong dose of disbelief.

“It’s normal to make fun of what you don’t understand, Mark. What I’m sharing is not a memory; rather, it’s a sensation that grows stronger with each replay. You can only experience me
,
but I represent a cosmos of beings, all of whom share my pleasure in serving you. Whatever and whoever I care for, they care for too, although each in a unique way.”

“I cannot relate to what you just described! Yours is unlike any story I’ve ever heard about the afterlife.”

“It’s not just an afterlife. It is now, before and beyond.”

“Whatever you say; how can I argue with a guy who floats?” This time Mark winked. Zachri’s response was totally unexpected. He gave Mark a high five.

“Before we begin the next journey, Zachri, I want you to know just how devastated I was when the bank closed.

“
I’m ready to confess what I never admitted, not even to myself. Maybe I am looking for absolution.”

Zachri said, “I’m listening.”

“I told myself I was acting like a leader, but now I admit I was justifying being a puppet. Like our boss, I was dazzled by the idea of making lots of money.  The derivatives ploy let my colleagues, and me, dismiss the warnings while we worked night and day to achieve the impossible. When the market turned and most of the mortgages landed in default, we tried to blame others; clients, lawmakers, anyone but ourselves.” Mark shuddered and continued.

“I remember the torment of walking away from the bank for the last time; staring at the empty buildings lining the downtown district.

“
What, only a few years earlier, had been the choicest office space had become a place to stay far away from. Amazing how fast wood and brick and glass deteriorate!

“
Some buildings were already boarded up, windows broken, graffiti announcing the new night-time landlords.”

Mark took a deep breath and quickened his pace.