crazy as it sounds, Will gives serious consideration to
starting over, if it’s even possible.
He finally decides to go forth with it, in
hopes of saving the old lady’s life.
No, s he’ll die whether you’re to blame
or not.
For the first time since Will began to hear
the voice, it speaks in a complete sentence, giving him a reason to
carry on and not begin anew. The voice also adds authenticity to
the gypsy’s claim that he can start over simply by uttering a
phrase. Whether or not the claim is truthful is another matter
entirely. All that is important is that it is a reason in a world
without reason, which happens to be reason enough for
Will.
There’s a shuffle of footsteps behind Will.
The curtain separating him and Beverly from the rest of the unit is
drawn back so quickly that Will has no chance to react. Literally,
in the blink of an eye, a tall, slim redhead with watery eyes
stands before him accompanied by a physician.
Will lets go of the lady’s hand and prepares
to answer, what he can only assume is, a series of uncomfortable
and difficult questions. However, Will is wrong. Only a few
question are asked and it’s the tall redhead who inquires. The
doctor, on the other hand, checks on Beverly with indifference, as
if he’s inspecting a motor vehicle of sorts, pulling a tube here,
pressing buttons there, his actions are all very mechanical and
cold.
“Who are you?” She asks, wiping her eyes with
a piece of tissue.
Concerned church
member.
“I am member of Beverly’s church,” Will
answers. “I saw her being loaded into an ambulance and I became
concerned.”
The redhead smiles at Will before taking one
of his hand in her own.
“Thank you for caring,” she says. “It makes me
happy that she was in the company of a friend. I was at work when I
got the call and rushed right over.”
“Where do you work?”
“Veniero’s Bakery,” she answers. “I’m sorry. I
didn’t catch your name.”
“William Freeman.”
“Jessica Caine,” she says, extending her hand
to shake his. “Will you be attending service anytime
soon?”
“Service?” Will questioningly
repeats.
“Yes, you are a member of my grandmother’s
church, are you not?”
“Yes, of course. Service, as in attending
church service. Yeah, um, no.”
“Why?” she probes, confused as to why a man
who said he was a member of her grandmother’s church would not be
attending service anytime soon.
“I won’t be in church anytime soon. I’m
actually having a bit of a crisis in faith at the moment,” he
offers Jessica as his excuse.
“That’s understandable. I’m not much of a
believer either. My grandmother was though. And if she were
conscious, she’d have a fit over our weak faith.” Tears fill the
girl’s eyes as she glances over at her bed-stricken grandmother.
“Grandma always used to tell me that everything that happens to us
in our lives happens for a reason. I just can’t see how her falling
down in the subway is reason for anything.”
Will looks away due to the uncomfortable
implications of his own underlying guilt. Jessica notices the
change in his demeanor right away.
“There’s nothing anyone could have done to
prevent this,” she says, comforting Will.
“I beg to differ,” he responds as he replays
the incident over in his head.
“Look, some piece of shit litters in the
subway and my grandmother slips and falls. It isn’t anybody’s fault
except the person who opted against disposing of his trash
properly. As worried as I am about my grandmother, it won’t help
her to play the blame game and point fingers all
willy-nilly.”
“Willy-nilly?” Will breaks his streak of
solemnity in order to tease Jessica about her choice of
words.
“Yes, willy-nilly is a proper dictionary
term,” she lightheartedly defends her vernacular. They share a
polite chuckle together, the type strangers share when one or more
of them desperately needs the moment to be funnier than it
starting over, if it’s even possible.
He finally decides to go forth with it, in
hopes of saving the old lady’s life.
No, s he’ll die whether you’re to blame
or not.
For the first time since Will began to hear
the voice, it speaks in a complete sentence, giving him a reason to
carry on and not begin anew. The voice also adds authenticity to
the gypsy’s claim that he can start over simply by uttering a
phrase. Whether or not the claim is truthful is another matter
entirely. All that is important is that it is a reason in a world
without reason, which happens to be reason enough for
Will.
There’s a shuffle of footsteps behind Will.
The curtain separating him and Beverly from the rest of the unit is
drawn back so quickly that Will has no chance to react. Literally,
in the blink of an eye, a tall, slim redhead with watery eyes
stands before him accompanied by a physician.
Will lets go of the lady’s hand and prepares
to answer, what he can only assume is, a series of uncomfortable
and difficult questions. However, Will is wrong. Only a few
question are asked and it’s the tall redhead who inquires. The
doctor, on the other hand, checks on Beverly with indifference, as
if he’s inspecting a motor vehicle of sorts, pulling a tube here,
pressing buttons there, his actions are all very mechanical and
cold.
“Who are you?” She asks, wiping her eyes with
a piece of tissue.
Concerned church
member.
“I am member of Beverly’s church,” Will
answers. “I saw her being loaded into an ambulance and I became
concerned.”
The redhead smiles at Will before taking one
of his hand in her own.
“Thank you for caring,” she says. “It makes me
happy that she was in the company of a friend. I was at work when I
got the call and rushed right over.”
“Where do you work?”
“Veniero’s Bakery,” she answers. “I’m sorry. I
didn’t catch your name.”
“William Freeman.”
“Jessica Caine,” she says, extending her hand
to shake his. “Will you be attending service anytime
soon?”
“Service?” Will questioningly
repeats.
“Yes, you are a member of my grandmother’s
church, are you not?”
“Yes, of course. Service, as in attending
church service. Yeah, um, no.”
“Why?” she probes, confused as to why a man
who said he was a member of her grandmother’s church would not be
attending service anytime soon.
“I won’t be in church anytime soon. I’m
actually having a bit of a crisis in faith at the moment,” he
offers Jessica as his excuse.
“That’s understandable. I’m not much of a
believer either. My grandmother was though. And if she were
conscious, she’d have a fit over our weak faith.” Tears fill the
girl’s eyes as she glances over at her bed-stricken grandmother.
“Grandma always used to tell me that everything that happens to us
in our lives happens for a reason. I just can’t see how her falling
down in the subway is reason for anything.”
Will looks away due to the uncomfortable
implications of his own underlying guilt. Jessica notices the
change in his demeanor right away.
“There’s nothing anyone could have done to
prevent this,” she says, comforting Will.
“I beg to differ,” he responds as he replays
the incident over in his head.
“Look, some piece of shit litters in the
subway and my grandmother slips and falls. It isn’t anybody’s fault
except the person who opted against disposing of his trash
properly. As worried as I am about my grandmother, it won’t help
her to play the blame game and point fingers all
willy-nilly.”
“Willy-nilly?” Will breaks his streak of
solemnity in order to tease Jessica about her choice of
words.
“Yes, willy-nilly is a proper dictionary
term,” she lightheartedly defends her vernacular. They share a
polite chuckle together, the type strangers share when one or more
of them desperately needs the moment to be funnier than it
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