The Kingdom Land (32 page)

Finally a small park allowed Erik to stop as he sat
down on one of the benches. There he could sense a light breeze and
a fresh smell of trees through the city's staleness. A giant oak
stood in the middle of the park, the leaves glistening with
sunlight as the breeze turned them as crystals to the afternoon
sun. The grass had a path worn through the middle by people finding
a shortcut from street to street. A small softball field stood
empty after a summer's work, its children already back at school.
People were scurrying to meet their lunch deadlines, and Erik saw
all that his eyes would show him, but it was not enough.

He cried. Not since that morning of his salvation in
the old pickup had he cried so openly and so freely. He was aware
that people would notice him on that bench, but he neither cared
nor was there little he could do to stop. There was little he could
do to hope. He couldn't help but think that the end had come. Not
the end of his life. Blindness wouldn't kill him. It was the end of
his hope. There would be no school in Havre, and there was no need
for blind welders. He had wanted to go to the coast, but not for
this. This trip would not be to become somebody. It would be a trip
to try to keep his life together, and that too was uncertain.

The things he had hoped for so long and so hard were
gone. He had dreamt all his life, but only one other time had he
felt so helpless. That was the night of the fight at the Mint Bar
when he realized he was only a dreamer who had no future. But that
night with Christ had changed all that, and once again he had
hoped. He had hoped even bigger dreams and made the plans because
he felt God had promised him those dreams. Now there was nothing.
There was only a broken man crying alone in the unkempt park amid
the dirt of a crowded downtown.

He felt utterly alone. It was one thing to be
abandoned by his mom. This was worse. The mere possibility of being
abandoned by God left Erik chilled in his solitude. For the past
two years, God had been his constant companion. Whenever he needed
to talk, he talked to God. Now, although he didn't even feel like
trying, no words would leave his lips, and he was sure there would
be no response if he did speak. If God had abandoned him, it must
mean he was worthless to everyone.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be
getting ready to start his life. God had promised him. Erik was
supposed to be protected by God, not eaten inside by some disease
he didn't even know existed. Yes, bad things sometimes happen to
Christians, but not now, not to him. He felt the next moment, the
next year, and the rest of his life had no significance. Erik, in
his despair, mused that his life never had any significance, so why
would he think that would ever change? Time no longer held a
future. Time now was only a commodity measured by clocks, not time
to carry out one's dreams.

There must be a mistake. There had
to be a mistake
. However, as Erik held his
hand over his good eye, he knew there was no mistake. Erik couldn't
even see the giant oak tree through his bad eye. All he could see
was a semi-green outline that to his senses wasn't a tree, although
he knew it was. His life seemed the same as the outline of that
tree; not precise or defined, only vague in its
existence.

“
No, it can't be. It isn't. God, you
can't let this happen. It's not supposed to happen this way,” Erik
said aloud when he finally could speak. He didn't care who might
hear or what they might think. “Where is your healing? What about
Your promise of my new life? Why did You let this happen in the
first place? Was my life so bad that You decided to end any hope by
taking my eyes? God, You've got to do something. What am I suppose
to do now?”

Erik's fear in the pit of his stomach reminded him of
the meetings at Hay Lake Hall in the sixties. Mary had remembered
the hall for its dances and Henry. Erik remembered the hall in his
nightmares. It was the Cold War and Russia was on everyone's mind.
The Civil Defense System would call monthly meetings to prepare the
people for nuclear war. Fairfield was within a hundred mile circle
of a battery of Minutemen missile silos, all supposedly pointed at
Russia. The northern Montana missiles would be a primary Russian
nuclear target, and Fairfield would lie in ashes.

The meeting at Hay Lake Hall would start with a
gentleman in an odd looking uniform coming forward. It wasn't
military issue and his shirt sleeves were so long it made it
awkward to use the pointer he loved to wave. He seemed to relish
the attention from the rows of terrified folks as he came to the
front of the room.

“
Thank you for all coming this
evening. As you all know, Cascade County lies in dangerous country
when the Russians decide to attack. It is only with great
preparation that we can hope to survive a nuclear blast, so I hope
you all watch the next film carefully because the danger is real.
Your life depends on your response that we will direct.”

The man didn't say, “if the Russians decide to act”.
He said, “when they attack” with great certainty. Erik, even at a
young age, had gotten into a habit of watching the Huntley-Brinkley
news report on NBC. The man in the front was so certain the
Russians were coming. How come Chet Huntley hadn't said that on the
news that evening? Was it a secret that only this man knew and it
was being hid from the rest of the country so they wouldn't panic?
Or was that little man just trying to act like he knew something?
Either way, Erik had watched the film, paralyzed in his seat as the
large plume of an H-bomb enveloped the screen before him.

Once home, Erik would sleep on the floor. The film
said the lowest ground was the safest. But then he began to think.
What if the Russians didn't attack with the bomb? Maybe they would
send troops over the Pole and through Canada to take out the
Minutemen with sheer force. That's what he would do. He would save
his bombs for the cities and send troops for the missiles before
anyone knew better. No one would know the troops were coming, but
they would show up at their farmhouse first since they lived on the
unguarded border. Low ground wouldn't be good enough. He would have
to find a place in the culverts or the coulee brush where the
troops would overlook a small boy.

As he finally drifted off to sleep, he would see wave
after wave of soldiers crossing the fields, and Erik, undecided and
unable, would never find a place to hide. The Russians would take
him. It was only a matter of time. He knew it was inevitable, but
he could do nothing to avoid it.

The fear he felt now felt the same as after the Hay
Lake Hall movies. He knew the inevitable was coming and there was
nothing he could do to hide from its consequences. He didn't know
how or when the attack would be complete, but his fear bore witness
that it was close and final.

His fear was mixed with thoughts racing through his
mind. He thought of what could have been, and what needed to be. He
most feared that he would never be able to see his child from a
wife he didn't even know yet. What woman would want to marry a man
who could neither see her nor provide for her? More than any other
sight, he wanted to see that child. He wanted to witness the baby
holding its arms out, reaching and calling for daddy, and then for
him to be able to pick up the child and comfort it, and show that
it was loved and needed. Erik wanted to do for a child what no one
had ever done for him. That scene might not be possible now, and
that reality made him sick to his stomach. He wanted his son to
know his father as a complete man, not a cripple like Erik's father
had been with booze and that Erik was now.

As he looked around, he strained to pick out details
that he might have missed before, and that he might not have the
chance to see again. He abhorred the thought that he could lose his
sight. He had seen nothing so far in his life, at least nothing
worthwhile. Nothing but the dirt covered land, and yet that would
be all he would have to hold in his memory. He had not seen the
color of waves breaking on the shores of the Pacific. He had never
witnessed a fine play at a theater, or the magnificence of a
skyscraper. He hated the land he now abhorred not seeing again more
than ever. He had told God before he would go back to that land to
make things right. Now God seemed to no longer exist. There was no
reason to return. There was no reason for anything.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty

 

 

T
he trip
home had never been longer. Erik tried to notice everything that
might make this ride different from the others. He wanted to see
something that he had missed before so he could hold it in his
memory when his eyes would no longer carrying the image.

He noticed a yellow farmhouse that, unlike most,
wasn't white but had bright yellow paint covering its three floors
with a large patch of trees to its left. Out front there was an old
horse plow where the mailbox hung and a sign that read “The
Halverson's” There was a small ravine into which the road dipped
and a stream laced its bottom. Alongside, a few birch trees lived,
fed by the stream's flow.

By the highway there was a notice warning of crossing
deer, but Erik had never seen deer there. He believed that sign was
only put there to generate false hope, as were the pictures of the
“Farmer's Journal” wheat fields.

On that trip there wasn't enough to keep Erik from
going back into his thoughts. He had always lived in those thoughts
more than his surroundings and this day made it even easier. Henry
continually tried to capture Erik's attention with conversation,
and several times succeeded, but only briefly.

“
Erik, you didn't wait to hear all
the doctor had to say. He thinks there might be a chance they'll
have good success with your eyes. If the surgery goes well you
might be able to see forms out of your bad eye.”

“
Forms? What good will forms do
me?”

“
He said that it would help in your
depth perception. That way you wouldn't reach for something and
find it wasn't there.”

“
Yeah, I know what depth perception
is. I've lived without it for the past few weeks. But it seems to
be the story of my life. I reach for something and it simply isn't
there. How many times can you do that until you realize its better
not to even reach?” The realities of Erik's remarks were too sharp
for there to be a response and they simply traveled once again in
silence.

“
Erik, are you going to have the
surgery?” Henry finally tried again.

“
Do I have a choice?”

“
Of course you have a choice, but I
think only one smart choice. Dr. Adler said you would have complete
blindness in that eye if you just let it go, and your other eye
could progress, so you need to keep everything you can.”

Erik's voice was wistful, as if he were a small boy.
“Couldn't we put off the surgery for a couple of months, until next
year or something? Let me get some of the school done?”

“
You heard what the doctor said.
It's a crucial time right now, especially to keep the other eye
from doing the same thing. Besides, you're going to be limited in
what you can do for a while. The doctor said you shouldn't be
driving, and I don't know if it would be smart to head off to
school right now. Erik, what do you think? Erik?”

Once again Erik's eyes were transfixed out the front
window. Tears began to swell in his eyes so he turned farther away
until he was looking straight into the side window glass. The
window had a slight layer of dust, and the sun was growing dim on
the horizon. With the dust backing, the window acted as a faint
mirror.Erik saw himself as inlaid on the passing country side.

His reflection froze on the glass as a ghostly image
impressed on the window. The landscape rose and fell with the
rolling plains, only his face remained entombed on the makeshift
mirror. He had always known he was part of this land, but the image
showed him as the land itself.

He looked at his eyes—the eyes carried his strength;
those eyes guided the tractor and witnessed the sunset. It was his
eyes that always portrayed the softness in Erik, and now they were
dying.

He tried to see if the damage to the eyes could be
seen. The left eye seemed lifeless. He didn't know if that came
from the sickness within the eye or the sickness within his heart.
In the best of times, Erik's eyes danced with life and light. Now
they were merely stone encased within his face against the picture
of the passing land.

The passing land contained harvested fields and
strips waiting for next year's crops. What Erik saw wasn't any
specific feature of the land, but the rising and falling landscape
against his face. It was as if his life was passing by in that
window, but he was encased and unable to move. He wanted to move or
to shout or to cry, but the land merely passed by and his image in
the dust-covered mirror reflected no hope of change.

“
Erik. Erik.”

“
Yeah?”

“
I think it would be good if Sunday
you'd let the elders anoint you with oil and let the people pray
for you.”

“
Sure, I'll do that. I'll let them
do that,” Erik responded without conviction.

“
Don't give up on God,
Erik.”

“
I don't know right now, Uncle
Henry. I don't know anything. It's like I'm just in another dream,
but this time it's a bad dream. I don't know what to do or what to
think. Where do I go from here?”