One Page #27

The woman knelt at her bedside with her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clasped before her and resting on the soft flannel of her bed sheets. Her knees hurt from kneeling, but her devotions muted her pain. She spoke the same words over and over again in a low whisper, nearly silent so as not to wake her sister who lay sleeping on the other side of the bed. There was one candle that remained lit on the bedside table, and the woman could see it flickering behind her eyelids. She imagined the shadows dancing ravenously across the walls in the breeze that blew in through the open window. She had been praying for many long minutes, waiting for a sense of God, and connection, a feeling in her chest that she always felt when she prayed for long enough. But it hadn’t come yet and she momentarily worried that she would never feel it again. Her sister snored lightly. The woman tried to clear her mind, but she was distracted by the heavy beat of a bass coming from the house next door. She found her head was nodding in time with the beat and she immediately stilled it. Her hands were sweating and her knees ached into her thighs and calves. She winced in pain and her sister turned over in her sleep, facing her now. Her light breathing rhythmically fluttered the hair that fell over her face. The woman took a deep breath and focused all of her attention on her prayer. She was praying for guidance. She hadn’t prayed in about thirteen years, ever since he mother was killed while crossing the street. The woman had cried and screamed and raged against the walls, but never prayed. Eventually the pain of her loss began to dull. But now she didn’t know what else to do. She felt utterly scattered and confused. Her sister still attended the Episcopal church of their youth. But the woman despised the people there and had long since ceased going. Now she yearned. She was not sure what for. Her cat padded in through the open doorway and nudged into her side and her knees and her back, wanting to be pet. The bell around her neck jingled softly. Then there was silence. The breeze had stopped and her cat had lain down, and her sister had paused in her night travels. All was quiet. She heard from far above her the strain of a high voice, following one note and holding, suspended. The woman’s head raised, her eyes still closed, but relaxed. The note continued. Everything else disappeared. And then all was silent again. The woman’s chest felt lighter, like it had risen far above her body and held there with the note, suspended. Her clasped hands relaxed, and her knees no longer ached. Her sister turned over and the jingle of her cat’s bell faded into the other room. Rest.