Project 42: Chapter 8

Below are chapters 3-4 of the still currently untitled novel for Project 42.
Yes, it is riddled with typos, spelling mistakes, and grammar mistakes.
November is for writing. Editing I'll save for later.
You can still follow the entire story on Google Docs.

Chapter 8: Show him sympathy

I fell asleep again, and when I woke I could not move. At all. I was paralyzed. My eyesight was no better. At least the bedsheets were warm. The room seemed quiet. I tried to move my mouth. I was still breathing fine, but found it very difficult to make a sound. All I could do was pray and wait.

*****

Father God, who art in Heaven

Hallowed be your name

Your kingdom come, Your will be done

On earth as it is in heaven

God, please help me to be the person you want me to be

so that you can work through me on this earth

Lord, I can reach out to so many people

I want to continue serving my church, go on missions trip

Why have you struck me down will illness

that I cannot see, or even move?

Lord, heal me, or at least tell me why

Tell me why I deserve this pain

Tell me why my life has to go down like this

Why my friends, parents, have to suffer

Why there must be so much pain

In your Son’s holy name

Amen

*****

Dr. Tonkin, or at least someone who stepped and breathed like him, came into my room not too longer after I had woken up. Ben followed, and talked first,

“Al, How are you doing?” I made a noise that was a cross between a muffled squeal and a cough. I heard some scribbling. “We’ve got some tough news for you.” He paused. I wondered if he was waiting for a response from me, but I was exhausted from my previous reply. He’d have to live with silence.

“Um, from the spinal tap, we’ve identified that you have a Staphylococcal meningitis that is causing encephalitis - it’s an acute bacterial inflammation of the brain.”

Dr. Tonkin continued, “I’m putting you on an antibiotic treatment, starting with ceftriaxone and gentamicin. They’ll be administered by IV. Ceftriaxone is a cephalosporin antibiotic that also has neuroprotective activity, so I hope you’ll be able to start moving again sometime soon.”

He asked the nurse - I didn’t know the nurse was in the room - to hook me up to the IV drip, as they prepared me for the treatment. I wondered how long the treatment would be. I was unable to ask anyone. But Ben seemed to read my mind.

“We’ll try this out for a 48 hours, seeing if any of the symptoms subside. Staph can be a tough bug to crack nowadays, but we’re starting with some good third-generation cephalosporins, so we hope to wipe this out as soon as we can.” I made out croaking-like sound to acknowledge my thanks for him. He stayed with me for a while, laying his hand on my shoulder, but was soon called to another patient and I was once again left alone.

I thought of all that had happened so far, though my thoughts were becoming increasingly muddled. I hoped Helvetia was doing okay, and that her... - father...? or brother? - in the coma was still okay. I wondered if they already held a funeral yet, both for Helvetia’s family, and my fellowship friends, and Ronda. And where were my parents? Did they die in some accident in Italy and were just burried in some obscure location. Or were they still alive, being help ransom by dim-witted crooks that couldn’t execute a proper ransom threat.

But when I thought back to me, I got increasing angry. I was sure that God was targeting me - directly taking away my parents, families, and girlfriend. I also lost the family car, and burnt down the apartment. Aside from getting sued and charged for millions in personal and property damages, I now had no home, no one to take care of me except the doctor, Ben, and the nurse. Thank God for Canadian health care. I did still have a room that I had leased nearby McMaster University in Hamilton, but I’m not sure what would happen to my masters. It was only a year-long program, and my medical school acceptance could only be deffered for a maximum of a year. I was already losing a big chunk of my masters; would I be able to finish on time?

Of course, all this assumed that I would get better soon. What if part of me stayed paralyzed, or my eyesight was never fully restored. Would Cambridge let me continue medical school? What else would I do with my life? All of these thoughts were making me tired. Or maybe it was the drug, or whatever they were feeding me through the drip.

*****

The next twenty-four hours were torture. Breathing was uncomfortable, and I felt so alone. I was kept in constant worry, about my own health, my parents, Helvetia. I prayed and prayed for the torture to cease, but the IV kept running and I kept breathing.

There was much time to think of my situation. After sporadic naps, my mind was getting a bit clearly, and I swore my fingers were starting to wriggle if I tried. Of course, they only felt like they were wriggling. The dense clouds in my eyes still refused to go away.

My ability to speak returned to me. But I still had no one to talk to. Ben was off for the weekend, and I was left without anyone else. The only other bed in the room was empty. I think doctors were concerned about the possibility of resistant forms of Staph aureus, and wanted to contain it as much as they could. I had no visitors throughout Saturday, perhaps because I had no one who wanted to visit me. Or maybe everyone was scared of infection, and no one wanted to risk sharing my misery.

But on Sunday morning I was greeted with a surprise. I heard the familiar voice of Ben.

“Aren’t you off for the weekend?”

“Yes - but I’m back to see you as a visitor!” My heart was warmed. “And I brought another visitor!”

“Al - I’m so sad to see you like this.” Her voice was soft and musical. I’d heard it before, but who?

“I know your voice.”, I said. Who was this? While I was filled with compassion, I was also upset. Why would Ben suddenly bring people to see me? I didn’t want people to see me in this state of weakness! And yet, I felt so lonely. Everyone I loved had left me. God wasn’t responding. I suppose this was all I had now.

“Here’s a hint”. She hummed the tune of a familiar piece... a Tchaikovsky piano concerto. We played this in the orchestra last year!

“Cathy?” Our pianist.

“Haha, you got me. I heard about everything through the school grapevine. And I know Ben from volunteering. He was talking about how one of his patients was just going so much pain, and asked if I could help to pray for them. I put two and two together and asked if the patient’s name was Al. I came with Ben to see if we could cheer you up!”

At first happy, I could feel my anger emerging. Didn’t Ben know about patient confidentiality by now? And cheer me up? I needed to find my parents, that would cheer me up. My girlfriend had left me, my friends were dead. But before resorting to a sarcastic remark, I calmed myself down and just said “could you just give me some time alone please?”

“Come on Al! I brought you CD. It’s our recording from last year.” I didn’t have much of an option as she stuck into a stereo that presumably she brought. It was Stravinsky’s Firebird, a Russian ballet of a bird that was initially trapped by later freed. I think Cathy choose it to encourage me, but my feelings of freedom were disappearing. I felt bound, stuck to the bed, trapped by the deaths of loved ones. Trapped by God. The pain was too much, I didn’t to sit here in my friends’ pity. This was not living.

As the finale started with the triumphant brass melody, I told them to stop the tape.

“Stop it?” asked Ben.

“Yes. I have something to say.”

Project 42:7

Chapter 7: Seven Days and Seven Nights

Project 42: Chapters 5 and 6

Below are chapters 3-4 of the still currently untitled novel for Project 42.
Yes, it is riddled with typos, spelling mistakes, and grammar mistakes.
November is for writing. Editing I'll save for later.
You can still follow the entire story on Google Docs.

Chapter 5: Out from the presence

When I was woke up, the lights were bright, so bright I could not see. I was in a bed, relatively comfortable. I had been changed into a hospital gown, separated from my convocation clothing at last. My eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness. I was in a ward in some room. But I was too weak to move, as much as I wanted too. There wasn’t much looking around I could do anyways, as this white cloudiness seemed to cover a significant part my eyesight. I wondered if I was in a mental asylum. I’d probably gone crazy trying to cope with the deaths of of relatives, friends, and mentors. And probably my parents too.

A doctor came in. He introduced himself as Dr. Tonkin. I could barely make out his figure, though thankfully I could hear him clearly. He asked how I was feeling.

“I can’t see.”

“Nothing at all?” He sounded like he was caught off guard.

“Just this white cloudiness. I can see some shadows.” The doctor was scribbling something down in my chart.

“Anything else?”

“I’m just confused.” Why would God do this to me? What did I do wrong? Where are my parents? How is Helvetia doing? How will I do my masters? What happened to my friends? Did they do anything wrong?

Dr. Tonkin interpreted my confusion as disorientation, which I suppose was confusing too. It just didn’t feel as pressing. But I let him continue. I learned that I’d passed out at the memorial and thankfully someone called an ambulance and had me sent to North York General Hospital. I had spent just 3 hours in bed before I started to stir. They had found my health card in my wallet, but were unable to contact my parents. That mystery seemed to be my own constancy. Everything else was falling apart. I couldn’t depend on Helvetia anymore. I didn’t know which friends were still alive. My family was missing. I couldn’t even see any more, how would I be able to guide myself?

Feeling blindness and despair, I told the doctor I needed rest. He seemed to agree, and left, though I sensed a slight impatience in his voice. I lay there, eyes closed, avoiding the blindness of the light, and temporary escaping the cloudiness that seemed to obscure all that was in front of me. I took refuge in darkness, but that thought was also disturbing. I could not win.

Eventually I fell asleep. When I awoke, my eyesight was near-black, though I could still sense cloudiness. This was not good. A doctor came in and took some blood samples. Degradingly, a nurse took a urine sample while I used a bedpan. I felt so weak, so helpless. There was nothing I could do on my own.

I realized that my time should really be spent trying to reach out to others. WIthout family, my fellowship friends, and Helvetia, I didn’t know who I could depend on to take care of me. At the very least, I could hope and pray that Helvetia had calmed down, and that my parents were safe. I asked the nurse if she knew where my phone was. They were probably with my wallet, I added. She replied, “They’re right on the table beside you.”

“Table?”

I was suddenly overcome with sadness. I couldn’t even make out a table that was right beside me.

“Oh sorry”, said the nurse. “Ben was nice enough to charge up your phone for you. It was almost dead.”

“I guess that’s nice of Ben... wait, who’s Ben? Dr. Tonkin?”

“Oh no. It’s one of our interns. I think you’d like him, he’ll be in later today.”

“Ah, I’ll look forward to then.” I supposed I could ask him to help me read through my e-mails and texts. I would be unable to do that all on my own anyways. The nurse seemed busy and usually only stayed for a few minutes at most. I tried to count the number of hours I’d been at the hospital, realizing I’d forgotten to ask the nurse for the time of day. I certainly didn’t feel very tired anymore, so I must’ve gotten a good deal of rest. But physically, I still felt weak, and could barely move.

I tried to avoid thinking of death but it was so hard. I guess we were all destined for death anyways, but this all felt so sudden. Maybe it was just all a matter of time. Why have hope? My parents were probably already gone, and I probably didn’t have that much time either. But despite my despair, there was a song stuck in my head that kept my hopes that afternoon.

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best thought, by day or by night
Waking or sleeping, THy presence my sight

I went back to sleep.


Chapter 6: All this evil

I was awoken by the presence of someone stirring in my room. I was still weak. I opened my eyes hoping for some sight, but was only greeted by the same cloud that was beginning to haunt my dreams too. The footsteps were heavy, but the shoes were not as hard as those of Dr. Tonkin. “Ben?”, I asked.

“Yes, that’s me.” His voice was smooth and comforting. It seemed to contrast the authoritativeness of Dr. Tonkin, the sharpness of the nurse, and even the high-pitched voice of Helvetia, who still wouldn’t leave my mind. I prayed that she had found God after the shock of losing her parents. Maybe she had already texted me. Or maybe even called.

“Hi Ben. The nurse told me you charged my phone for me. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome! My phone has the exact same charger, so I thought that I might as well charge it. You seemed to be getting a lot of messages; it was buzzing all last night.

“Oh... could you help me... I can’t see”

“Yeah, your chart says you’ve been seeing a white cloudiness?”

“Well, it’s more of a black blur now, as if my sight was covered with ashes and dust.” Ben scribbled something in my chart.

“Here”, he said, placing the phone on my open hand. “Anything you want me to do? First you have to let me in.” I told him my password. “Wow, 23 e-mails”, “30 texts”. I asked him to read me some of my texts. There was a lull.

“Just read them to me”, I pleaded.

“Here goes then. The first is from Kalmar.” Kalmar was one of my friends first year in university, though we haven't talked much recently. “Did you hear about Jonathan and Robin? Car crash on the DVP. Impromptu memorial going on at Blood overpass. Let us know if you trouble finding us.” Many other texts were along the same lines, where some were still inquiring on the status of my eight friends. Unfortunately, I had no good news for them. I didn’t reply. I assumed they would’ve found out the sad truth by now.

No texts or missed calls from Helvetia. I was worried, but also relieved I wouldn’t have to deal with her urgently. Recognizing that Ben had no idea who I was talking about, I started with a run down of my life, but I quickly broke down in tears, trying to piece together who was left. Ben put an arm around my shoulder, gave me a slight squeeze that was the first thing remotely like a hug since the convocation ceremony. I needed it.

“I knew there was something about you when I first saw you in your bed. There was something divine working in your life, I just didn’t know it was so bitter. I will pray for you.”, Ben said. I paused in my despair, and praised God for this ray of hope. God was still out there.

Feeling closer to Ben, we spent at least an hour in silent meditation. But I still had some sense of urgency in my need to contact others, so I asked him to check my voicemail. There were six messages. The first was from Travel France. Ben put it on speakerphone, and we both listened.

“Hi Albion James. This is TravelFrance cruises. We have not yet heard from you. Both Mr. and Mrs. James have not made contact with the ship and the custom authorities will be notified in 24 hours. If you have any information about their whereabouts, or if you have contacted them, please let us know. Merci Beaucoup.”

Still no information. That message was half a day old - they’d be contacting custom officials soon. The second message was from the Dean, asking if I’d be interested in speaking at Ronda’s funeral. Bedridden and blinded, that probably wasn’t the best idea. Yet I felt that I’d be doing such a disservice to Ronda - much like how I felt God was being a disservice to everything I wanted my life to be. How could I continue working for Him when I was so incapable of anything, overwhelmed by disease, and having my friends and family taken away?

The third message was sent around noon earlier today from my masters supervisor. That’s right, I should have been in to see him today - given the shortness of my degree, he probably would not be happy to hear that I’ve been blinded and was in the hospital. His message ended with a slightly threatening note - clearly he might have been having a bad day, but he stated that if I didn’t feel that meetings were important, we could easily do without them and he could terminate my masters program. I’ll have to find a way to tell him I’m bedridden.

The next message was from the car company. Apparently, my dad’s car had been towed at my expense, after I had left it in a 1 hour parking zone. Given that my dad was unable to pick up the phone at home or at his cell - where ever he was - we had missed the 24 hour report time, and the car had now been compacted - again, at our expense. That was a tough loss, as it was our family’s only car. I never really needed one because I relied on public transit, and either my parents’ car or Helvetia’s family when I really needed it. But now...

Ben decided to continue with the fifth message in hopes of cheering me up. The stream of bad news was emotionally tiring, and added onto my physical fatigue, this onslaught of messages was a test of its own. But I was not ready for this. It was from my building owner. I learned of a fire on my apartment building floor that had thoroughly burned through my apartment, damaged three adjacent apartments, and decommissioned one of elevators because of extensive damage to the elevator shaft. But the shock was in the following line:

“The cause of the fire that led to millions of dollars of damages and the death of one person on the sixteenth floor has been traced to your oven. We have been unable to contact with primary residents of your apartment, but Al, you are listed as the third resident and a fellow tenant indicated that you were present at the apartment that day. Please contact us immediately.”

I recalled leaving the stove on when I had dashed to see Helvetia in the hospital. Another death, my house gone. I doubted insurance would cover for a mistake like this. I was screwed. My sadness had turned to anger, but my anger could only manifest itself in me, or God. The angrier I got at myself, the worse I saw God; the angrier I got at Him, the more I hated myself. My life was completely falling apart. I might as well have died in the fire.

Ben appeared to be struggling too. I couldn’t see his facial expressions, but his speech became awkward. I asked for the sixth and final message. He told me not to worry about it, that I should get some rest. I should’ve listened. But I stubbornly insisted to received the final nail in my coffin of hope, my last opportunity for a night of rest:

“Dear Albion James. I represent the Davis family, who recently lost their only child in a fire that you were responsible. We are charging you with the following: negligence, property damage, and second degree murder. Please provide us with your defense information, and we intend on scheduling our dispute for early next year, “

Me. A murderer. Alone without family and friends. My school has come to an end. I have no future. I am sick, and blind. Helpless, useless. I could barely move. All I could do was cry. Ben had run out of words to say, and all the hospital staff took pity on me. Apparently, I had some guests come in: the Dean, and some university classmates. But, in my pain, none dared to speak. And so, I and they were left to mourn in silence.

Project 42: Chapters 3 & 4

Below are chapters 3-4 of the still currently untitled novel for Project 42.
Yes, it is riddled with typos, spelling mistakes, and grammar mistakes.
November is for writing. Editing I'll save for later.
You can still follow the entire story on Google Docs.

Chapter 3: The Fire of God

“Al - I’m sorry that this has to come at this time. But I think you should know first, and I rather tell you in person.” This didn’t look too good. Was he sick, retiring? But why me? He continued, “Ronda passed away earlier today.”

Ms. Matthews - Ronda - was one of the senior faculty members at the university. More important, she was my research supervisor and mentor, guiding me when ever I was struggling. She was always my first reference, and a great influencing power in my decision to pursue a global health masters.

By the end of my three years at the lab, we’d grown incredibly close. She didn’t have much family any more - she’d never had any kids - but we’d go out for dinner fairly often, and I even introduced her to my parents. But she was still in such good health when I last saw her - I was going to meet up with her tomorrow...

“I know you two were very close -”

“- I’m just... in shock, this is so... sudden; how? how did she -”

“blood vessel burst in her head, she was pronounced dead by the time she arrived at the hospital.”

There were tears in the Dean’s eyes, he’d known Ronda for a long time too. I just stared back. I felt so guilty, I didn’t even notice that she wasn’t present at the ceremonies. And why her? Was there any justice in this death?

There wasn’t much for else for the Dean and I to say. I had no comforting words. I excused myself from his office, and walked back down the stairs and approached the entrance of Convocation Hall. There I heard laughing, saw the flashes of cameras capturing the moments of this happy-sad day. I couldn’t stand it, I needed to go outside.

The bitter, cold wind hit my face as I stepped out. I didn’t remember it being this could this morning. Finding an empty bench in the parkette around the block, I sat down and wept. I couldn’t understand how God would let a wonderful person like Ronda die so suddenly. She had so many great years ahead of her - about to wrap up a huge paper for Science, while she was beginning to plan out her retirement. Travel the world, write a novel, become the oldest participant on Jeopardy! - why was that taken away from her? I pray that she’s in a better place now.

*****

I returned to the reception, passing silently by some of my friends. Where was Helvetia? I couldn’t text her either, as she was holding onto my phone in her purse while I was up on stage.. I circled the room four times before heading back outside and returning to my bench. I thought of Ronda and how fragile life could be. Sudden aneurysm in the brain - pop, and it’s all over. She had no heart or blood pressure problems that I knew of. What if the same suddenly happened to my parents? Or me? Or Helvetia? I bowed my head and prayed again.

“Where have you been?!?”, I heard, in the high-pitched Helvetia-like voice. I snapped my head up as I felt her grasping my right arm. I expected to see some anger. I did not expect to see my girlfriend, tears down her face, in near hysterics. Not good.

“Where have you been?!?” she repeated again.

“... I … I tried to find you, but -”

“I’ve been looking for you for the last hour! Your... your mom called and... and”

“and what?”

“... and she called to say she and your dad loved you - and she was cut off. I haven’t been able to call back. I think, I think they might be -”

“No. This isn’t happening. They probably just lost connection or something.” I didn’t sound convinced. Silence and tears. What could’ve possibly happened? They’d arrived in Spain a few days ago, and were already on their cruise for the reunion. Ship sunk? Caught in violent protest? Kidnapped for ransom? “When did she call?”

“Just about an hour ago. I just... I’ve checked the news. No stories of any cruise ship or anything.” I didn’t know if I should be more or less concerned. More silence. I broke it. “Ronda just passed away. Dean called me into his office to tell me”

“What? How? Why so sudden?” Exactly my thoughts. And now, my parents. I should never had told them to go on that reunion. They should’ve stayed here. Everything would be alright. But Ronda would still be dead. And whatever was happening to my parents are probably hitting my other relatives too. I didn’t reply to Helvetia. We just sat in silence, my hand in hers.

*****

God,

I don’t know why this is happening right now.

Why couldn’t I just have a simple convocation,

yet this time you’ve given me is now full of grief

It’ll be the day that Ronda died,

the day my parents called... and...

I don’t know where they are right now,

but I pray that they’re alive

that you keep them warm and safe

forever in your hand.

I pray for Ronda, Lord

I don’t understand why she had to die

but now that she’s with You

I pray that you’ll be with me and her friends

as we try to understand this sudden mess

Lord, you are Lord of all

Blessed is all that you do

Help me to discern what is right

To know what to do, what to say, what to pray

Be with my parents

Keep my relatives safe

I pray that I’ll be able to see them again.

In Jesus’ name

Amen

*****

Helvetia tried calling again, but no luck. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. We sat, watching people head to their cars and drive away from this miserable place of bad news. She tried her best to comfort me, bringing up Bible verses, hugging me, humming tunes of my favourite songs. She wanted to cheer me up before dinner tonight. Knowing that my family was away, her parents had invited me over for a night of celebration. I tried to push the thoughts of death aside, but I couldn’t. My mind was playing nightmare after nightmare.

We returned to the lobby of Convocation Hall, Helvetia’s parents were supposed to pick us up in about half an hour. I tried to put on a smiling face as some friends passed us, but it was like a mask that wouldn’t fit. Helvetia asked if I still wanted to eat dinner with them tonight; I told her that it would best for me just to go home. She said she understood, but how could she know how I felt? I never should have asked.

We waited and waited, but no one came. Now, Helvetia was alternating between trying to contact my parents, her parents, and her brother - who was probably more likely to pick up the phone than her parents. After her futile attempts and my sitting in silence for another hour, she texted her brother that she was heading home, and we decided to take the subway. We learned that they’d be delays at Bloor Station; it seemed like nothing was running well today.

The blockage eventually cleared, and the trains were back to regular service, each car packed with impatient commuters. So much complaining, so much anger. I wish that’s all I had to worry about. Helvetia took off at Sheppard-Yonge Station to her home on the east side of Toronto. I grew up in one of the condos right on Yonge Street.

The street was busy as usual in the evenings. Korean stores and bubble tea shops filled with customers, and lots of lights and sounds. I took the elevator up to my floor, to the two bedroom apartment that had been my home for twenty-two years. I’d been alone the last four days after my parents flew out, but tonight felt emptier than ever.

I locked the door, took off my shoes, put on a pot of water for some tea, and was about to collapse in bed when I saw the red light on the answering machine. The call display showed a number from France. I listened. It was in French, which I barely could recall from my high school. Something about the ocean. Three o’clock. James. James. A phone number. And then in English, but with a heavy French accent:

“Dear Albion James. I represent TravelFrance Cruises and Excursions. You were listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Ezo James and Mrs. Formosa James. On a recent stop at Naples, Italy, both Mister and Madame James were not present at embarkation time. After delaying our departure for two hours, we were unable to contact them and set sail. If you have been in contact with either individual or are aware of their whereabouts, please contact us as soon as possible. Merci beaucoup.”

TravelFrance asking me for information? I couldn’t imagine why what could’ve happened to my parents. I wondered if my other relatives were fine. I wondered where my parents were when they made that call. Okay, Al. Pull yourself together. God’s in control, everything happens for a reason.

I had barely put the handset down when my cellphone rang. It was set to one of my favourite hymns, “Be Thou My Vision”. I really needed to see now. I glanced at the screen, and saw the smiling face of my girlfriend of three years.

“My parents are dead.”

Chapter 4: They are dead

God,

I don’t know what’s happening right now

why so many of my friends and family are dying at your hands

I don’t know why.

Why?

Please, please forgive me

forgive my parents, my friends, for our sins

We don’t understand Your plans

and we forget You in the midst of our school, our work

Forgive us

and have mercy on us Lord

Everything I am is lifted for You

Be with my parents

Be with Helvetia

Comfort her in ways that I cannot even imagine

And help me to comfort her

And comfort me

I need your wisdom

Jesus’ Name

Amen

*****

“What?” She didn’t respond. All I could hear was her sobbing. I didn’t know what to say, what words of comfort. Nothing in the world seemed comfortable right now. “Are you at home? I’ll be right there.” More crying.

“Helvetia!”, I shouted! “WHERE ARE YOU RIGHT NOW?”

“Scarborough Grace Hospital”

“I’ll be right there. Everything will be all right.”

I dropped my bag and grabbed my dad’s - what in the world could’ve happened to him? - car keys. I didn’t drive often, but was glad I’d bother to get my license for this moment. Still in my valedictorian suit, I took the elevator. There was another person, a girl from floor nineteen, I see from time to time. “Going on a date with Helvetia?”

I didn’t even know how to respond. I struggled to remember that world, with the absence of all the pain and struggle. I tried to relate to this girl from floor nineteen, but I couldn’t. I’m not sure why, but I answered “yes”, in the quietest whisper I could muster, hoping that she would shut up. And she did.

I got into my dad’s - oh God, please tell me he’s okay - car, and started driving. I tried to keep my eyes on the road, to focus on just one thing. The dashed lines of the road, the licence plate on the car in front of me. Helvetia’s father. I always liked him. He was a dentist, always with a bright smile and could always offer some advice about medical school and name a cool fact about one of your teeth. I’d already asked for his blessing for my proposal to Helvetia, just a month ago.

And Helvetia’s mom - a wonderful cook, who made the best cream of broccoli soup that man had ever tasted. But she was also as bright as her husband, with a PhD in liberation theology. She led a book club at her church, and you could always spot her dishes during the church potluck.

What could’ve happened to them? Fire at home? Murder? Heart attack? Car accident? I shuddered to think of the possibility of the latter. Why couldn’t I have just offered to take the subway. Or why didn’t I just drive myself down and decline their offer? But it could be anything! It’s a miracle I made it to the hospital without an accident. My head was a swirling mess of tears, hit repeatedly with shock after shock so that nothing would settle.

I parked and checked my phone. Helvetia had texted me their room number. I’d been to Scarborough Grace a few times, most recently to be with Helvetia after she broke her arm last year when she tripped while playing volleyball on the church team. It was just a minor fracture, but it was a major step in our relationship. We were there to comfort each other. But today felt so different, nothing in me felt alive.

I found her room, in the hospital’s Intensive Care Unit. I immediately saw Helvetia, sitting with her head down on a chair in the corner of the room, distant from the bed in front of her. The body in the bed drew my attention, and I realized that it was Zaire, Helvetia’s brother. I couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not, but I could there was much blood-stained linen, and it appeared that he was missing part of his right leg.

Helvetia looked up and saw me. She’d been crying for a while but it appeared that she’d had stopped for a while. I sat down beside her, holding her hand in mind. I had no words. She broke the silence.

“Crash on the DVP” she said. My fears were confirmed. An accident on the Don Valley Parkway, Toronto’s North-South highway linking the suburbs to downtown. Her parents and Zaire must have been driving down to pick us up before the crash.

“... and your parents?”, I managed to say. But I shouldn’t have said it, as Helvetia once again broke into tears. I held her hand tighter, but she pulled her hand out and moved away from her. I felt so distant. “Come on, Helvetia, it’s hard. I feel your pain. We should pray -”

“What do you mean you feel my pain? Your parents could still be alive. In fact, they probably are, enjoying the Mediterranean. My parents are gone. Gone forever. Zed’s in a coma, and I just had an argument with him yesterday and now I’m not sure if I’ll ever talk to him again and say sorry and how am I going to do school and keep care of him and -”

“Helvetia, I’m so sorry. Let’s just sit down. Remember our prayers earlier? God still has a better plan in store for us -”

“No, Albion. My parents are dead. Ronda is dead. Your parents are missing. Whatever God is doing, our lives don’t mean anything to him. The good are dying, Al. We’re probably next. He probably wanted to kill us too, but he caught the car too early.”

“Helvetia! Calm down. Don’t bring up God like that. We need him more than ever, and my parents are still missing, and Zaire still has a chance. God can”

“God can make everything alright”, Helvetia said mockingly, in a high-pitched voice that was even high for her. “Don’t you get it Al? He hates us.”

“No, Helvetia, God -”

“- JUST CURSE GOD AND DIE.”

“Foolishness! You praise God when things go alright, but reject him when trials come? Shall we received good from God, but not receive evil?”

The nurse, realizing that the tension in the room was escalating, came to ask me to leave. And so I sat in the waiting room fuming. “Curse God and die?” This was a far cry from the girl I thought I knew so well. But my anger ebbed quickly and I thought of Helvetia’s parents, her brother. Ronda. My parents. Now was a time to mourn.

Sitting in the waiting room, I watched the news, and saw the report of the accident. This was no small affair - a truck had swerved and crashed through the divider, causing cars on both the northbound and southbound lanes to panic. At least eight cars were involved. At least ten dead. Four were unharmed or escaped with minor scratches, while another five, presumably including Zaire, were in the hospital for major injuries. I later learned that Helvetia’s parents were the first two to be pronounced dead at the site of the crash. A candlelight vigil was being held at the bloor overpass overlooking the site of the crash.

I asked the nurse if I could see Helvetia, but she told me that Helvetia had asked me to leave. I decided to go to down to Bloor and pray for those who were in the accident. I think I drove safer, I had calmed down a bit, though I had a new added worry for Helvetia. “Curse God and die”. I sincerely hope that it was just the state she was in. I prayed again for my parents. I realized that we did receive a call from mom that she loved me. I feared for my parents, but there was so much to be concerned about right now. Why would God put so much on my plate? DId he think I could handle this? Was this a test?

Arriving at Bloor, driving down Don Mills and avoiding the DVP at all costs, I parked my car and walked to the site of the impromptu memorial. It was cold but that no longer mattered. I might as well got frostbite all over, feeling is torture, I’d rather be numb all over.

As I approached the candles, I noticed two pictures, one of Helvetia’s mom and another of her dad. They looked so happy in the pictures, as if they’d taken it after the church Christmas potluck. But it was the other faces that caught my eye. The other eight. They were my closest friends in my school fellowship. They must have been driving home and hit the same truck that Helvetia’s parents hit on their way down to get us. I collapsed in pain.

And then I went blind.

Chapter 2: Naked I Came

Chapter 2: Naked I Came

November 1, 2013

Dear God,

please please calm me during this speech

I pray that you talk through me!

In Jesus’ name

Amen

*****

“Esteemed guests, faculty, graduates, family, and friends, I am honoured yet humbled to stand here today as the class valedictorian, to say a final farewell to our few years together. Insignificant as they may have seemed as we now pursue jobs and professional degrees, I think we can all agree that earning the pieces of paper we now hold in your hand was part of one of the most exciting and engaging experiences of our life.

“It’s been a joy to be a part of the University of Toronto community over the last four years, I met quite a few of your as I canvassed to be our class representative. I may have met you in orchestra, on the lacrosse team, with the jazz band, or through Doctors Without Borders - and yet there are still so many of you I have never met, names I never heard until today. I think it just speaks to our great diversity, both in terms of the people we are, as well as this wonderful school we go to.

“For myself, school’s really been an exciting ride. I came into my first year worried and frightened by the excitement of frosh week, the stories of intense classwork and unforgiving professors, and rumours of students going insane during exams and project season. But here I am, and here you all are - we’ve survived” - a few screams from the audience come in here - “lived to tell the tale of our school lives, and are now all ready for the next step.”

“As both a musician and an athlete, I’ve learned much about having the time of my life despite being in a field crowded with other students aiming to be the lucky few who are the best of the best. But there is so much more than the piano recital and the volleyball tournaments.” - another wave of yells spread through the crowd, presumably as our team had just won the provincial championships a week ago. “Looking back, I know that my life isn’t defined by those willing moments, and times of glory. It’s those times of hard work, suffering, and just being with my friends and doing the things I love, that have truly made the last four years the blessing that it has been.

I talked more about my experiences abroad, and how they changed me. I had done some missions work in Ghana, mainly working in small communities in the Northern part of the nation, a stark rural and impoverished region compared to the richer south. While my medical experience there was limited - I only helped out with some paperwork, as I’m not even in medical school yet - I really appreciated the ability to serve the community and interact with the patients that came to the clinic. “And thus, it’s not always about what you could have done, but about what you learned and what you can gain from it.”

“Lastly, I want to end with three final comments. First, no matter what you end up doing, be blameless and upright. Of course, avoid making mistakes - but none of us are perfect. It is thus important that we stand upright - that even though we may make errors, we can always have good intentions. Always work with a good conscience, so that those who revile your good behaviour may be put to shame.

“Even more importantly, second - remember that you are human, that all of us came naked from our mother’s wombs. Yes, some were born in richer families, others born in poor conditions, others with genetic disorders, but none of us, university education or not, are entitled to any more than any other. What I learned the most from working with young adults in Ghana was that they are always happy, always smiling - perhaps they’ve figured life more than we do. Here, we are obsessed over material goods, fashion, and technology. Just remember that stripped to the bones, we are all the same, 206 pieces that come together to make the dynamic creature that each one of us are. Remember this always, and strive to live as humans who aim to connect with as many people as possible.

“Lastly, enjoy every moment. I would not be speaking here today if I was unable to stand the all-nighters, the challenges in our biochemistry assignments, the long orchestra practices, the sports tournaments, and confronting my fears in Ghana. Every difficult moment will come to serve you in the future, so try to cherish each moment. Most vital to me, is the Lord and my faith that all affliction that we suffer is for our good, helping us to comfort others, build hope, and strengthen our endurance. Ultimately, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away - Blessed be the name of the Lord.

“Stand upright, remember you’re human, and enjoy every moment. All the best in your endeavors, and may the Lord and His love be with you. Thank you all.” I once again shook the hand of the dean, and walked off the stage to some generous applause. With everyone seated, spaces were much fewer, though I managed to find one close to the front. Speeches past, and eventually came the presentation of an honorary degree to our keynote speaker, followed by her brief speech. Exhausted by this point, I failed to catch her name - I think she was a playwright who became a Member of Parliament or something.

She did say something that stuck to me though, as I realized that she had started practically criticizing the words that I had just said. In her high-pitched voice, she dictated, “It’s easy to tell people to ‘seize the day’ when your own day is going so well. But when life’s in the gutter, why sit down and enjoy it? It’s our job to strive to climb out of the gutter and always demand of ourselves something better.” It’s an interesting idea, but it is too warm and I’m too tired to decide on whether I agree or disagree with her thoughts. I end up slinking back into my chair, looking at the heads in front of me, and trying to stay awake.

Luckily the ceremony is soon over, and I find myself in the cooler atrium, snacking on some cookies. There’s a line for the lemonade that’s a bit too long to make lining up worthwhile, though talking to my classmates has made my throat quite dry. I took a few pictures with those I’d met in the orchestra, and had a brief chat with my coach. The afternoon is going well, but I feel that I’m ready to go home - if only I could find Helvetia in the crowd. I couldn’t call her either, as I’d let her hold on to my phone while I’d been on stage, as I’ve always been paranoid that my phone would suddenly start ringing while I game a speech. I continue to wander around the room, sifting through some familiar faces and observing the broken pieces of cookies that are spread about among the plates in the lab. Suddenly, I notice the Dean, bee-lining right for me. Expecting some praise for my speech, I stopped in my tracks when he asked me to go with him to his office. Immediately. I look at his slightly twisted face. I follow.

Chapter 1: Blameless and Upright

Chapter 1: Blameless and Upright

November 1, 2013

Dear God, 

it’s a blessing to be back in Toronto today

thank you for the last four years

being with me every step of the way through undergrad 

and providing me with this education as a stepping stone for med school

I pray

that you’ll continue to guide me through my Masters

keep my family safe

and be with Helvetia and I through this year

keep me awake through the ceremonies today

In your Son’s holy name,

Amen 

***** 

“Carol Jackson.”

Yet another gowned graduate crossed the stage, just one of the hundreds I had never met in my last four years. She shakes the hand of the first robed guy - our dean. Another handshake - this time the provost, whatever he does. Then, an elderly woman of some importance hands her the diploma, before she walks down the stairs on the opposite end of the platform, before taking her seat in the thousand-plus audience of the University of Toronto’s Convocation Hall.

“Kyle Jackson.”

Sometimes, I feel like convocation’s rather tedious and a waste of time, a mindless progression of students picking up their precious papers, their cummulation of sleepless nights cramming for exams, last-minute projects, and for many, tens of thousands of dollars in student debt. It’s almost like a party, held months after graduation, a momentary time where we pause and celebrate our near worthless degrees in the midst of loans and unemployment. But lucky for me, I’ve got my schools lined up for the next while.

“Earl Jacobe.”

Oh, Earl! He was in one of my classes. Protein structures, I think. Yes, he was the one who did the presentation on inhibiting carbonic anhydrase. My wrinkled and slightly damp program handbook says he graduated cum laude, majoring in biophysics. I can see the beads of sweat on his face. It’s way too warm in here, I can’t wait to get out of this robe and breath in some fresh chilly November air.

“Cathay Jacobs.”

Cathay - who went by Cathy - I knew from orchestra, though I’ve said little more than a few words to her in my time here. She played the Tchaikovsky piano concerto in my second year. Psychology major. I had the oboe solo. My parents had me playing wind instruments soon after I mastered breathing, I moved from flute, to clarinet, had a brief stint with the French Horn, before setting on the oboe. It’s a beautiful instrument.

“Abel James.”

I’ll be up next. The rather tall Abel, who I’m meeting for the first time, awkwardly staggers across the stage to shake the hands of the graying professors. I think of my girlfriend of three years, Helvetia, somewhere in the crowd of dressed-up family members awaiting a glimpse of their graduates to appear on stage. My family, while usually dedicated to being with me every step of the way, are on route to London, England for a big wedding - family reunion. It was a tough decision, but I encouraged them to go. Besides, they’d only catch a brief look at the speck that I am cross the stage before I once again disappear into the other graduates and sit through hours of name calling. Plus, we could always buy a video and just skip to the important parts, like right now -

“Albion James.” - or Al, as I prefer. I walk across the stage, gazing across the audience and trying to spot Helvetia, but I realize the task is impossible. I shake the familiar hand of the dean, his eyes offering both acknowledgement and praise. I was, afterall, the model student. I’d managed to finish off my year with a perfect GPA, in addition to my involvement in music, sports, academic, and social advocacy clubs. I’d met him in his office several times now, discussing various scholarships, and going over the details of the valedictorian speech I was to prepare. The provost’s hand was much colder, and the tired look on his wrinkled face that I could only notice on stage indicated that he too wished he could just fast forward much of this ceremony.

I shook the third hand, who passed me my degree, before I approached the end of the platform. It would still be an hour before I’d needed to be backstage to prepare for my speech, so I decided to slip back into the audience. Perhaps I’d find some of my closer friends, or even better, Helvetia. And by God’s grace, I did find her. I took the empty seat to her right. She was wearing her dark blue dress she knew I loved.

“Did you see me up there?”, I asked?

“Barely, but who could miss that big head of yours?”

“Haha, very funny. It’ll be your turn to walk the stage next year.”

“I know,” she said with a sudden quietness.

“How are classes going?”

“Good, I guess. It’s just not the same without you here...”. It’s been a tough few weeks for both of us. After meeting her in my second year (I was a TA for one of the first year biology courses), we quickly grew close. How often do you meet another Christian student with almost the exact same research interests? But now with her in Toronto and myself doing a 12 month Global Health Masters at McMaster University, we went from inseparable to being cities apart. Of course, it was only an hour’s bus drive, but the lack of constant contact was taking a toll on both of us. I was hoping to ask for her hand in marriage this Christmas, but now I’m thinking I’d be best to wait for us to be united before any such big moves.

Name after name was called - most I didn’t recognize, but there were others I knew from orchestra, other players on the lacrosse team, and some students in student politics that I recognized from the school paper. There were also a few students from my Christian fellowship that went up. And now the dean returned to his seat, then the podium.

This was my cue to return to the backstage, which I did promptly. I could hear snippets of the dean’s comments - “graduated summa cum laude, specialization in biochemistry”, “star oboist of the UofT chamber orchestra”, and “two-year goalie of the lacrosse team”. My work on my missions trips, volunteering with local community efforts. Classic resume stuff.

“And Al is currently working on a 12 month Global Health Masters at McMaster University on a full scholarship by the Canadian Council of Doctors, before he continues with medical school at Cambridge next year Medical School.” It was such a blessing to get that call from the university, also with my school fees mostly paid off with grants and awards. It would be exciting to move to England for school - I hope that Helvetia would be able to find a school there as well. That’s partially why I decided to stay another year for a masters, other than the scholarship, of course. I let my mind drift off into my thesis work, and into a future at Cambridge University. 

A sudden silence in the air brought me back to reality. I recalled the speech I had prepared, I wrote it back a few weeks ago, shortly after I’d started my masters research. I hoped everyone would like it. Not having my parents in the crowd did help to reduce my stress, they could just watch a replay of it online later. The dean had just wrapped up his introduction, leaving the empty podium to me. I approached the lectern with a silent prayer.