Write In The Middle Of It

Erik sat in the cafeteria at the hospital flipping through a Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces as if he were an English major studying for an exam. He promised Autumn that when he read to Sadiah that he would not read her any of the garbage that was selling on the shelves nor would he read anything religious to her. So, Erik took it upon himself to pull out one of his favorite texts from college, even though it was a bitch to carry in a backpack to the hospital with him.

At first Erik detested the whole idea of reading to a coma patient.

How depressing. And besides, he had his own freaking problems.

But once Autumn explained to him how much the grant was to do this type of thing, Erik began to give it some thought. He decided to meet Autumn, Mr. Gibson and Pete for breakfast and after he heard Sadiah’s story his heart broke. He went home, blew the dust off of his textbook, and walked over to the hospital.

When he entered the unusually empty hospital room he looked at Sadiah.

Who could do that to a little girl? Only the beeping of hospital equipment serenaded the angel.

Not a soul was around. Mr. Gibson was probably at his hotel attempting to go to sleep.

Pete was somewhere grabbing a quick bite to eat.

Erik sat in the rocking chair that was by Sadiah’s bed and began to explain to her who he was.

“Hey sweetie, my name is Erik.” He felt a little foolish saying the things he was saying but somehow it was like the words that came from his mouth were not his own.

“I know you have had it rough lately but I’m here to take your mind off of your troubles, okay. And the best way to do that is to listen to some great literature.”

He paused slightly as he flipped through the ultra thin pages of the anthology.

“But what to start you out with, that’s the question.”

Unbeknownst to him, Pete, with a Wendy’s bag in hand, was watching him through the doorway. He smiled and walked away to let Erik do his work. Erik looked up happily as if he were a small child finding a long,lost toy.

“Okay Sadiah,” he said automatically brushing the bangs from her face as if this was something that he normally did.

“I am going to start you off with a comedy because it seems like you need a laugh or two.” Erik winced to himself because he thought that possibly his comments were inappropriate.

Shit I have never done this before, Autumn told me just to do what comes naturally.

“This is actually a French play called Tartuffe, and I know what you’re thinking…boring.” He chuckled to himself.

“Yeah I though so too at first, but it’s actually pretty good. It’s a comedy about a religious hypocrite and how he tries to swindle money from a very affluent family….”

***

It seemed like Sadiah was under that pew for an eternity. She kept hearing the demons swirling about over her head and she refused to come out. She just prayed the same scriptures over and over again rebuking the spirits that were causing her so much torment. Then she felt a cool breeze. It enveloped her whole body and she finally opened her eyes after what felt like weeks of clamping them shut. When she opened then she saw a green hue that beckoned her. She gently crawled out from under the pew and listened attentively to what she thought was an angel singing. But when she came out she saw a young man sitting at the other end of the pew that she escaped from. He was dressed in jeans and a black hoodie but he did not seem threatening at all. He was smiling and reading from a large Bible-like book in a poetic rhythm. She carefully walked over to him and quietly sat next to him but it appeared as if he did not see her.

He did not look up once.

When she attempted to reach out to him she couldn’t touch him and that frustrated her.

The young man seemed so pleased with himself that she decided that it would be wrong to disturb him. Sadiah was caught up in the rhythm of his voice and she closed her eyes and swayed to the song in her head which she eventually rested on his shoulder.

She began to interpret what he was saying and even chuckled at some of the lines in his poem. At times the young man chuckled with her, but kept reading.