God looked at her oddly.
“It was just a metaphor for how things get distorted.” Helen felt wetness on her cheek. She looked down at her hand. The nickel-sized red mark in the center of her palm had begun to bleed. The palms of her hands had been getting worse. She tried heavy-duty hand lotions, and the pharmacist had recommended Zim’s crack cream but it didn’t appear to be working. She had a sneaking suspicion that hanging out with God was producing her symptoms.
God looked away. “What is it?” Helen asked.
“I get kind of queasy at the sight of blood. Your hands will get better when I go away.”
“I see.” Helen studied her palms again.
“We should wrap them up. Do you have a First Aid kit?”
“I do now, in the bathroom.”
God attempted to wrap Helen’s hands with gauze. She wasn’t doing a very good job.
“You make a terrible nurse.” Helen was glad the sores didn’t hurt.
“And you look like a mummy.”
“Here, let me try.” Helen took the gauze and attempted to wrap her hands.
“You’re not any better.”
They both started to laugh.
“Helen?” a voice said from the inner office. Carmen had left for the day early as she had a wedding to go to. Helen guessed it was Bel.
“Who’s that?” God said in a panic.
“It’s Bel. We’re supposed to be going to dinner.”
“This is really bad timing,” God said, looking at the blood in the sink. The sink was covered in blood and Helen’s attempts at bandaging her own hands had proved futile. All she had succeeded in doing was covering the vanity with blood and ruining her white silk shirt.
“Helen, are you all right?” Bel called out.
“I’m in here, Bel,” Helen said, knowing what Bel was about to see was not going to be pretty.
Bel came in the bathroom. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing really,” Helen said lamely. “It’s just this skin condition I’ve got.”
“But your hands,” Bel said.
“Yes, well, perhaps you could assist me.”
“Yes, that’s a great idea. I’m thinking I should go,” God said. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”
“I’ll see you in a couple of days. Let those heal a bit,” God said. She looked over at Bel. “Sorry about that window thing and killing all the plants. Helen is helping me learn to deal with my anger issues.”
“That’s all right,” Bel said. God left and Bel wrapped Helen’s hands. “What was she talking about,’ the window thing’?”
“It’s nothing,” Helen said, avoiding Bel’s gaze.
“I thought you said you weren’t—”
“I’m not. This is a by-product of being in her presence. It’ll go away when she stops coming for therapy.”
“Well, right now it’s bleeding like a sieve,” Bel replied. She wrapped another layer of gauze over her hands.
“I know.”
“Do you have another shirt? We might be able to save this one if we get it soaking right away. Not to mention you look like you committed some heinous crime.”
Helen laughed. “I suppose I do. Yes, I have some extra clothes in that closet over there.”
Bel found a gray pullover. “Will this work?”
“Yes, at least it doesn’t have any buttons. I might need some help getting this off.”
“Here, let me help,” Bel said. She undid the buttons and then slid the shirt off Helen’s shoulders.
Helen noticed Bel’s high coloring. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m not used to being so close to someone,” Bel replied. She draped the gray pullover over Helen’s head gently and for a moment their eyes locked.
“It’s all right, Bel.”
“I know. Now let’s see if we can save your shirt,” Bel said. She immersed the white silk shirt in cold water. Helen sat on the commode and watched, feeling useless.
“Perhaps instead of going out for dinner we could go to my house. I froze some of the trout the girls caught, and I make a mean blackened trout.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I have an idea of how to make an adaptive fork for you to use.”
“Bel, you’re a good friend. Thank you.”
Bel smiled.
Chapter Eight
It was Wednesday night and Gigi knew her mother played bingo. Her father had invited her over for hamburgers. Gigi was leery about showing up at the house but she missed her father. He told her that Rose was keeping strict tabs on him because she’d found out about them going out for dinner together. She leaned her bike up against the house. Her mother’s gold Buick LeSabre was gone so it appeared the coast was clear. She noticed her mother hadn’t repaired the bathtub shrine of the Virgin Mary since Aunt Lil and Gigi had clandestinely destroyed it.
Gigi’s parents lived in a modest brick home off Thomas Street. The old palm trees in the front yard were horribly overgrown and filled with families of pigeons. The front yard was graveled over and in places the black plastic that was supposed to serve as a weed barrier was pulled up and knee-high weeds had taken root. The garage door still tilted to one side and wouldn’t shut properly after Rose ran into it one day. She was screaming at Gigi and put the car in drive instead of reverse. She slammed into the metal garage door and wrecked it permanently. That was three years ago.
It occurred to Gigi that her parents’ house was a museum of sorts for all the bad things that happened in their family, and for a moment she felt kind of sad. It must have been her conscience kicking in again. She limped into the living room. Riding her bike was painful in slippers. She had taped pieces of cardboard to the pedals in an attempt to remedy the situation. It wasn’t working that well. Her father was nowhere to be found. Gigi went to the kitchen. Her mother was standing at the kitchen counter making hamburger patties. She shrieked when she saw Gigi.
“What are you doing here?” Gigi said in a panic.
“I live here.”
“But you’re supposed to be at bingo,” Gigi said, backing out of the kitchen.
Rose stared at her.
Paulie came in the kitchen. “Gigi, you’re early.”
“Dad, you said she’d be gone.”
“Now, don’t get your grundies in a bundle,” Paulie said, putting his arm around Gigi’s shoulders. “I had to tell a little lie to get you here. Now, Rose, before you go off half-cocked, Gigi is our only child and damn it I want us to be a family again.” He hitched up his pants and licked his lower lip. These were signals he meant business.
Rose was still quiet. She was just standing there peering at Gigi.
Paulie continued, “Now, Gigi’s willing to become a Baptist.”
“Dad!” Gigi screeched.
“Gigi, work with me. Now, the Lehoneys down the street are Baptists and they seem like real nice folks. It seems there’s a lot less equipment and fanfare when you’re a Baptist and I’m willing to give this a try.”
Rose didn’t appear to be paying attention to a word he’d said. “Gigi, have you found God?” she asked in amazement.
Gigi panicked. She’d spent the better part of the afternoon with God. She’d been taking some extra time off from the photo studio so she could work on the book. God, it seemed, was in a hurry to get it done. God had warned her not to go around her mother because she glowed or something. This was not good. “I . . . I think God found me.”
“The shrines! That’s why you destroyed them. They are graven images and the Almighty doesn’t like them. The golden calf. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection. Come here, Gigi.” Rose held out her arms.
Gigi stood perfectly still. She could count on one hand the number of times her mother had hugged her. Paulie gave her a shove. As Gigi’s face was buried in her mother’s breasts, she asked, “Do we have to become Baptists?”
Rose and Paulie laughed. “No, that was just another little lie. Now, ho
w about those hamburgers. All this talk about God has made me hungry,” Paulie said. He picked up the plate of hamburgers and headed out to the backyard.
Gigi knew he’d gotten a little misty and didn’t want to appear unmanly. Her father was old-school.
Rose looked at Gigi’s feet. “Why are you wearing slippers?”
“It’s the latest fashion craze,” Gigi lied. “Haven’t you seen all the kids wearing pajama bottoms and slippers to school?”
“I suppose I have.” Rose pulled the potato salad out of the fridge.
“I missed your potato salad.”
“Gigi, we’ve got to try harder.”
“All right.”
Rose started to laugh. “You know, that’s the first thing we’ve agreed on in years.”
“I think it’s the first thing ever.”
Paulie came back in the kitchen blowing his nose on the big white hankie he kept in his back pocket. He gave Gigi a bear hug. “I’m glad you’re back, kid.”
“Me too.”
*
The next day Gigi shuffled into her appointment with Dr. Kohlrabi in the slippers that Caroline had knitted. They were multicolored and clashed badly with Gigi’s sober attire. She looked at Dr. Kohlrabi’s hands. “What, we both get half?” she said snidely.
Dr. Kohlrabi nodded. “It appears so.”
“I’m not finding this amusing in the least.”
“You don’t? I find this to be an amazing exchange, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
Gigi sighed. “No, it’s a pain in the ass. I used to be a heathen and a completely amoral pagan. It’s kind of hard to retain those identities when the finger of God has been poking around in your life. Not to mention that I’ve reconciled my differences with my mother, who thinks I’ve become an angel or something. Now I can do no wrong whereas before, I was born wrong. Is that disgusting or what?”
Dr. Kohlrabi smiled benevolently. “No, I think it’s wonderful.”
“Now she thinks I was smashing the religious bathtub shrines because God was pissed off about the graven images. She’s going to start her own shrine-smashing group and she wants me to head it up. I told her I was past that. I mean, the world is turning fucking upside down,” Gigi ranted.
Dr. Kohlrabi nodded.
“Aren’t you concerned about all of this?” Gigi said. She adjusted her slippers. The sizing was a bit off.
“Not really.”
“Why not?” Gigi asked, getting panicky.
“Because when one is dealing with the most powerful entity in the universe it’s complete folly to think that you might change the course of action.”
“Go with the flow, in other words.”
“Yes, you should enjoy this time with her. It won’t last forever, and you’ll miss her when she’s gone.”
“I thought she was, like, omni-accessible.”
“She is, but you don’t usually get a callback.”
“That’s true.”
*
At the end of the day, Helen stood waiting for the elevator. Her office was on the fourth floor of a small stucco building that housed a podiatrist, a massage therapist Helen kept meaning to go see, and some miscellaneous small businesses that kept coming and going. The door opened and God was standing inside dressed in a formal black tuxedo.
“Going down?” God stepped to one side.
“Yes, thank you. Where are you going all dressed up so fine?” Helen asked.
“I’m going to the Gala Lesbian Dress Ball.” God straightened her gold cummerbund. “It’s a benefit.”
“You’re really getting into this gay thing.”
“Yes, well, I’ve decided I’ve paid far too little attention to this particular sect of my creation. I’m finding them most interesting,” God said as she watched the elevator numbers light up as they descended.
“You’re picking up human habits,” Helen noted.
“I am, but they rub off easily enough.” God ran her hand along the wood railing in the elevator. She appeared to be preoccupied. This was unusual for her.
“What do you do after these forays into your science project, take a cosmic bath?”
“Precisely. I go the God Spa and wash all my earthly cares away.”
They both laughed.
“But really, I came to tell you something.” God met her gaze.
“Yes?” Helen inquired. She felt her heart rate speed up a notch.
God’s ulterior motives kept popping up in her life and in Gigi’s. It appeared God did not like to make her plans apparent in one sitting but rather revealed them slowly and in pieces.
“That night with your hands, when Bel fixed you up . . .”
“Yes?” Helen replied, wondering where this was going.
“She liked it too.”
“Liked what?” Helen asked, now knowing full well where this was going.
“Being so close to you.”
“I thought you’d left.” It suddenly occurred to Helen that having God in her life was more complicated than was first apparent. How many other things had God been privy to?
“I’m omniscient, remember?”
“You were spying.”
“That’s beside the point. I know what you were thinking. You liked how soft her hands felt on your shoulders. Your heart started racing and you felt flushed.”
“Since when have you been interested in my vital signs?”
“Tell the truth,” God prodded.
“All right. It was like being touched for the first time and I liked it.” Helen played back the scene in her head. It was a curious feeling being so close to Bel and she had never experienced that with another woman. She was a woman and so was Bel. There had been nothing more to it. “You didn’t manufacture those feelings, did you?”
“No, I had nothing to do with that, but you should send her orchids, white ones.”
“Why?” Helen was confused. She knew she was attracted to Bel but what to do about it was an entirely different issue.
“Because she likes them, silly. And she’s just as confused as you are.”
“All right. I’ll send the flowers.”
The elevator door opened and they stepped out.
“Have fun tonight,” Helen said.
“Oh, I intend to,” God said, smiling broadly. “Don’t worry about the thing with Bel. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”
*
It was Friday and Gigi had worked all morning at the photography studio taking aura pictures of a group of New Age people who had heard about Danielle’s studio. Gigi took fourteen portraits of long-haired people in Birkenstock sandals and smelling of patchouli. Her sinuses were inflamed and she was kind of crabby. Danielle gave her the rest of the afternoon off. Gigi called Caroline and told her she was coming home early. Caroline had been doing yard work all morning—she now had Fridays off from school—but said she’d take a shower so they could spend the afternoon doing you-know-what. This had improved Gigi’s mood immensely.
When she got home Gigi stood in the doorway of the bathroom. She hadn’t been able to find Caroline anywhere else in the house. “Oh, my God!”
“Yes?” God said from behind the door.
“What have you done to her?” Gigi demanded. She pointed to the huge set of bone white feathery wings coming out of Caroline’s shoulder blades.
“I made her an angel.”
“What for?”
“Because she wanted to know what angels looked like, although this isn’t really what they look like, rather it’s what Caroline thinks they look like.”
Caroline was looking in the mirror, obviously admiring her new appendages.
“And why is she naked?” Gigi’s face was hot.
“I wouldn’t give her the towel until she believed in me. I can’t have you living in the house with a nonbeliever. She was a tough sell. I had to do the burning bush trick and John the Baptist’s head on a platter. That’s what finally got her.”
“Why are yo
u wet?” Gigi said, pointing at God.
“I tried to put her out with the shower head when she was doing the burning bush thing,” Caroline said.
Gigi snatched the towel from God and handed it to Caroline. “Make those go away now before you get us all crucified,” Gigi snapped at God.
“You’re no fun,” God said, pouting.
“You’re dangerous. No wonder the world is so fucked up,” Gigi said.
“Gigi, that’s not nice,” Caroline said. Wingless, she slipped on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. “It’s not her fault that we’re so screwed up. She made us perfect. We’re solely responsible for our own imperfections.”
“Thank you,” God said.
“Whatever,” Gigi replied.
“And now you and I have a little errand to run,” God said to her.
“What now?” Gigi asked, perturbed.
“Did you run a hard copy of the manuscript like I asked?”
“Of course,” Gigi said. “It’s in my backpack.”
“Good. Now let’s go sell the thing.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” Gigi said.
“Stop being such a coward. I’ve already paved the way for you,” God said.
“Oh, gee, I can only imagine,” Gigi said, pulling the manuscript out of her backpack, which was still sitting on the bathroom floor where she had dropped it during the angel episode.
“Trust me,” God said. She picked up the manuscript and leafed through the pages.
“It is a good book,” Caroline said, brushing her hair.
“I want to make a difference in people’s lives,” God said. Gigi laughed.
“What’s so funny?” God said, her eyebrows knit in consternation.
“You already botched that one,” Gigi replied.
“This book is different; self-help is not the Bible. Besides, I didn’t have a lot to do with that, not the aftermath at least.”
“She’s right. I think keeping your book out of the theology section and in the New Age self-improvement section of the bookstore will help immensely. It’ll be more successful and less dangerous. I’ve been reading the book as Gigi’s been writing it. I hope you don’t mind,” Caroline said.
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