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.