Dimensions of Genesis (2 page)

“And also vit you.” Lily replied, but she'd
disguised her voice by imitating an old Polish woman. “It has been
two veeks since I had confession.” Lily smothered a giggle as she
continued her charade.

“Please continue.”

“Oh thank you, thank you. Vell, let’s see,
twice I say the Lord’s name in vain, vonce I forget to say grace
before I ate and…vell…” She stammered in her Polish dialect.

 “Yes?” The deep voice asked
inquisitively, urging her to continue.

“I…oh I cannot, it is too sinful!”

“We all have things we may be ashamed of,” he
said with kindness, “but to ask forgiveness for them is
divine.”

Biting the insides of her cheeks and taking a
deep breath, she quelled the giggles that were fighting to break
free.

“Vell,” she whispered, pretending to be
nervous, “Many times…I have impure thoughts of…of…the young,
dark-haired priest…in this church!” With that, Lily put both her
hands over her mouth, desperate to smother the fountain of
giggles.

“Oh…uhhh….” the deep voice stuttered
steeped in horror.

There was an awkward silence for a few
moments. Lily bit her lip in anticipation, awaiting his
response.

After a couple of tense seconds, she heard a
loud sigh come from the other booth. Then he spoke with a stern,
but relieved voice.

“Lily!”

The dam burst and Lily laughed until tears
poured down her face.

“Oh Gabe! That was priceless!” She giggled as
she pushed the heavy curtain aside to leave the booth, but it fell
back before she’d gotten far enough out. The curtain swished
roughly onto her head, knocked her off balance and filled her hair
with static.

Lily watched as Gabe flew out of his side of
the confessional. An irate look painted upon his handsome face. He
obviously had intentions of scolding Lily for her inappropriate
behavior in the church.

The moment he saw her, however, his annoyed
look evolved into a reluctant smile.

Her hair, disheveled and full of static from
the brush with the curtain, stuck out like a butterscotch-colored
dandelion. A large scratch on her chin, caked with remnants of
dried blood, blemished her linen skin. Mascara streaked down her
face from the tears she'd shed due to her laughing fit. 

She grinned impishly, her green eyes fiery
with rebellion.

Taking her arm, Gabe led her quickly to a
back room in the church. Closing the door behind him, he chuckled
with an affectionate sigh.

Approaching her with a look of playful
disdain, he towered over her tiny five foot frame. Attempting to
pat down her wild hair, he managed to tuck most of the wild strays
behind her ears.

Lily’s mind was busy creating excuses and
witty remarks as she prepared for the onslaught of reprimands she
assumed she'd hear from Gabe. She waited for his usual speech about
respect for the church, his profession…blah, blah, blah, but it
never came.

Oh sure, the silent treatment.
She
thought dryly, though in truth, that was the worst punishment in
her eyes. Lily could handle the reprimands and scolding, but for
Gabe to withhold talking to her; was agony.

Softly, he cupped her petite face in his
large, warm hand. He retrieved a white handkerchief from his
pocket, licked it lightly and began wiping away the assortment of
smudges on her face. After successfully removing the dried blood
and smeared mascara, he paused, holding her face with both of his
hands. Staring at her affectionately, he ran his thumb over the old
scar on her forehead.

“Oh, my Lily,” He said quietly, gazing down
at her, “Whatever am I going to do with you?” His icy blue eyes
penetrated hers as he smiled, dimples materializing as his lips
curved up.

The mischievous smirk she wore slowly melted
from her face. Lily's emerald eyes fixated on his face. Her heart
beat madly in her chest as her head spun from his touch. 

As she gazed up at him, the atmosphere seemed
to shift with intent. As though an energy—a presence—embraced the
room. Lily’s eye’s closed as she heard a whisper within her soul,
‘Kiss him.’
it said, gently nudging her toward him.

The muse appeared to inspire Gabe as well as
he stared intensely into her eyes, though his face bore the
expression of an anguished internal debate.

Standing before one another, the whole world
existed only in that room. Anything outside became a blurry memory.
Beyond the door, the realm of Earth disappeared; there was no
church, no people, and no nuns. The sentinel statues faded to
transparency as did the staunch ambiance. 

Standing motionless in the church room,
facing one another, reality melted like fresh fallen snow on hot
skin.

Lifting her chin, Gabe leaned in to her. So
close, she felt the warmth of his breath on her face. Closing her
eyes, his lips inched towards hers, as though drawn by a
gravitational pull. Fate forced its way through the veil of
denial.

As his lips grazed her own for the first
time, Lily's memory drifted back to the day they first saw each
other. She'd never forget the moment they met, though it felt more
like a reunion than a first encounter. The recollection of that day
sealed in her mind as the best day of her life, well, other than
the part where she almost died.

The Book of David

The pressure on his chest always came
first.

A deep-seated panic washed over him as he
became lucid within his dream.

Floundering in an ocean of liquid that
smothered him from all sides. His senses dulled by the fluid,
suffocating him with its density.

Frantic for a breath of air, his lungs blazed
with pain. David searched the black abyss for some signature of
light, to shine a path to salvation. With no sense of direction, he
couldn't tell which way was up or down.

Hysterical, he screamed into the obsidian
depths. He called for help, as though some unseen angel might hear
his pleas and save him.

Desperate for air, his instincts force him to
inhale the cold, black mass into his lungs. Surrendering to the
darkness, he watched his body sink…drifting down into the void.
Tendrils of blackness shrouded his face until it was no more.

Then, as always, the ominous, disembodied
voice that seemed to whisper some ethereal answer to his
suffering…

“
The light...David...the
light…” 

~

Watching the raindrops descend on the window
pane in his office, David observed how each drop clung to its
temporary existence. Noting how every droplet adhered itself to the
wall of glass, then permitted gravity to pull it to an unknown
destination.

Like a tear gliding down the tender slope of
a lover’s cheek and plummeting off the jaw line cliff, the
raindrops surrendered to the ocean of droplets below.

David stared as each succumbed to the puddle
at the base of the windowsill. While most of the raindrops traveled
on the proven paths, a brave few would veer off course; blazing
their own trail.

In the midst of his quiet surveillance, he
was reminded of a philosophical question that he’d once heard.

“
If you were a droplet of water placed
into the ocean, could you pull yourself out or would you simply
blend with the waters?”

It made him think of society and its desire
for conformity. Religion, marriage, money and a life of servitude,
all predestined paths set before a human at the moment of
conception.

He wondered whether anyone could truly be a
single awareness, all their own thoughts, feelings and beliefs, or
if being born into the ocean of mass consciousness left you
completely at the will of the tides.

Smiling in spite of himself, small wrinkles
forming at the sides of his compassionate blue eyes, he recalled
his nickname in medical school...Socrates. Many of his peers had
teased him over his philosophical nature.

Chuckling, he crossed his arms and sighed
deeply as he rested his forehead against the cool window pane.

Watching the tiny droplets do their perilous
dive into the abyss, he wondered if he was the rebellious droplet
forging a new path; or simply a lost teardrop in the smothering
ocean.

“Dr. Blake…please report to emergency…Dr.
Blake.” A tired nurse echoed over the intercom, snapping David out
of his abstract daydream.

Sighing, he turned from the window and walked
briskly out of his office to the emergency ward. Running his hands
through his neatly trimmed blonde hair, he attempted to smooth back
any rogue strays.

Adjusting his collar and stethoscope, he gave
an obligatory nod to each of the doctors and nurses he passed. He
realized he knew very few of them by name, even though he’d worked
at St. Mary’s Hospital for three years. He made a mental note to
learn more of the staff by name.

St. Mary’s was the biggest hospital in
Edmonton, founded by the Catholic Church over forty years ago.

How ironic that one of their top doctors
is an Atheist.
He thought dryly.

Thankfully, the hospital didn’t have any
religious prerequisites; David wasn’t shy about debating his
religious opinions within the walls of the staff room.

Approaching the emergency desk, he noticed an
abnormally high number of patients in the waiting room. So many
that they'd run out of seats. Several people were standing or
sitting on the floor.

An angry heat flooded through David as he
stomped up to the admittance window.

“Why didn’t you page me sooner?” he demanded
of the nurse behind the desk. He didn’t recognize her as the usual
admitting nurse for the evening shift.

“I’m sorry…Dr. Blake…I thought you were on a
dinner break…I didn’t…want to bother you early.” She stammered
nervously, glancing at the now curious audience within the waiting
room.

David stared at her incredulously, “When I’m
at the hospital, I am always available for the patients. Having
this many waiting is unacceptable…how would you feel if you were
hurt and had to wait hours for a doctor?”

The young nurse, her eyes now brimming with
tears, tried to distract herself by shuffling patient’s records
around the desk.

Feeling guilty, David spoke with a renewed
calm, “I’m sorry, I didn’t become a doctor to have patients wait
for me while I pick my nose in my office…okay?” The young nurse
looked at him carefully and forced a weak smile.

“From now one, please make sure there are
never more than three people waiting before you call me, that way
we won't get too far behind.” He added with an encouraging
smile.

“I’m sorry Dr. Blake, it won’t happen again.”
she promised though her expression was still wary.

“I’m going to hold you to that you know,” he
joked, pointing his finger at her and giving her a wink, glancing
at her name tag, he added “…Nurse Henderson.”

Hoping he had not earned an enemy with the
young nurse, he walked to the rows of curtains where several
patients were waiting.

David leafed through the patient file for the
person behind curtain number one. Peering tentatively through his
steel rimmed glasses, he perused the symptoms this patient was
experiencing.

“Gastrointestinal cramping, fever of 102
degrees, fatigue, three days vomiting…food poisoning, flu maybe.”
David murmured as he drew back the curtain.

“Hi there,” He greeted the young lady perched
on the observation table. “Rebecca is it? Not feeling too well
today, huh?”

“No.” She moaned with a lethargic expression
on her pale and sweaty face. She clutched her queasy stomach as she
kept an anxious eye on the small kidney-shaped dish reserved for
vomiting. David had often wondered why those bowls were so petite,
only the world’s most proficient bulimic would be able to spew into
such a small dish without making a terrible mess.

With a sympathetic smile, he held her arm as
he assisted her to a laying position, the sanitary paper crinkling
loudly as she adjusted herself. He checked her vitals, assessed the
condition of her lymph nodes and questioned her about what items
she’d eaten over the last three days.

Narrowing it down to a sour tasting piece of
chicken at Mr. Chan’s Chinese Den, he diagnosed her ailment as a
case of salmonella poisoning. After administering a mild
anti-nauseate shot into her arm, he prescribed some electron
balancing fluids and lots of rest.

Helping her off the table, he wished her well
and proceeded to the next curtain, and the next…and the next.

Two concussions, one false labor, one real
labor, a broken collarbone, a broken ankle, two hundred stitches,
one mild heart attack and a cold sore. David performed flawlessly
under the pressures of the emergency room night shift.

Nine hours later, after tending to an endless
stream of medical woes, he was relieved to see the day shift
wandering in to take over the constant parade of maladies.

Stretching his weary arms over his head, he
arched his back and groaned at the aches that snarled at him from
his lower back.

“Another successful evening…” he muttered as
he locked up his office and walked to his car in the staff parking
lot. Nothing could make for a better shift than one where no one
died.

Exhausted, he pulled into his driveway just
as the Sun was reaching the top of the elder poplar trees that
swayed silently behind his home.

Exiting his car, his nostrils filled with the
sweet scent of damp roses and fresh cut grass. The dew-laden rose
garden sparkled, coated with millions of tiny liquid diamonds. The
hired gardener had taken special pride in cutting diagonal rows
over the vast expanse of the Blake's front yard.

David felt a pang of jealousy toward the
gardener as he walked up the front steps of his home. David missed
that sense of pride after laboring on the lawn, the accomplishment
of adding beauty to his home and to the world.