Death of the Body

by Rick Chiantaretto

  The priest continued our conversation as if there had been no break. “When I gave you the ring yesterday you told me you found it a bit… strange. I told you I had hoped you would sell the ring and give the money to the church for the care you have received over the years.”

  “But this was my father’s ring.”

  Another exchange of glances. “That’s possible I suppose, but you can’t be sure of that. You were a newly born infant when you came to us, on the verge of death. You never saw the ring until yesterday.”

  And suddenly I had another million questions, but I clapped my mouth shut and laid back down against the pillows.

  Sister Mary Rafaela patted Father Michaels on the shoulder. “Come, let him rest. Perhaps his memory will return tomorrow.”

  Father Michaels took the…glasses… off his face again, rubbing his green eyes, this time clearly in frustration. He gave me one last exasperated glance before Sister Mary Rafaela turned him toward the door. “He was the brightest of them all,” I heard him say quietly once he thought I was out of earshot.

  “Do you think he’s really possessed?” the nurse asked.

  Father Michaels sighed. “I don’t know. If he is, at least we know what the demon calls itself. Edmund. I’ll have to look into that name.”

  “Edmund was a saint, Father.”

  “Indeed. Perhaps it’s mocking us. Strange coincidence, this one. The day after his communion. I do suppose if the devil wanted to claim a soul it would be such a one as Alexander’s. He is so pure, so good. If he’s possessed by some evil thing, you can rest assured, Sister, that I will not rest until the mighty power of God exorcises it back to the Hell it came from.”

  More words I knew but didn’t understand. Exorcism I got.

  I had every intention of resting, or at least lying back in hopes of figuring things out, but I had to know that this was a safe place to stay for a while. I needed to know where I was. I turned to the young nurse in the room.

  “Are you a Sister too?”

  Her eyes rested on me momentarily before she turned back to changing clear liquid bags above some of the other beds, but she did answer me.

  “No. Not yet, anyway.” Her voice was heavily accented, something I had never heard before. The sound of it almost made me chuckle.

  “Can you tell me, please, where I am? What is this place?”

  The question made her stop. She smoothed her already wrinkle-free dress and I started to worry I wasn’t supposed to know, or at least that she wasn’t going to give an answer.

  “Saint Vincent’s orphanage,” she paused before continuing, a look on her face that told me she was hoping I would understand, or at least recognize what she was saying. “In Los Angeles, California.”

  Her voice rose a few pitches on the last syllable, like it was a question. The strange thing was I did recognize what she was saying; the words just had no meaning.

  She stood, anticipating my response. I didn’t know what to give her, so I smiled gently and nodded a thank you.

  Whatever this place was, it was certainly unfamiliar to me. I could now say with certainty that these people believed, beyond a doubt, that I had lived here with them for the past twelve years as a young boy named Alexander. But I knew that I had lived for ten years in Orenda with my mage community, with Hailey and Ralph, and my mother and father. As if my father’s ring wasn’t proof enough of that, I could feel my connection to the planet screaming inside of me. The feeling was different than it had been before. The planet seemed to be in more turmoil now, but it was the same inner spirit, the same magical fire, the same Mother Earth that I knew so intimately.

  I had no idea how I was going to sort out the two separate lives I was supposed to be living. I decided to go with what I knew: I had come from Orenda. I had lived there before. Now, I was here in Saint Vincent’s orphanage, in Los Angeles, California. I would try my best to fit in, and hopefully find a way to the ruins where I knew my real family would be waiting for me.

  Seven

  I had to spend one more night in the infirmary before Sister Mary Rafaela promised to release me back to my dormitory. I hadn’t been sleeping well in the infirmary, even with the better beds. The other patients kept me awake with all their whimpering. My thoughts probably would have kept me up anyway.

  To distract myself, I found a book tucked away in a bedside drawer and started to read absently. The title caught my attention briefly, enough for me to connect the title with a word I had been hearing. I opened the leather bound book with the imprint Holy Bible on the cover. As I read, it was like being reminded of something I already learned years earlier. Adam and Eve were two names I remembered instantly and I was grateful to finally have a memory to connect to the names, even if that memory was only plain black-and-white text. Sister Mary Rafaela had left my lamp on when she found me reading, but suggested I sleep.

  She sent me back to the dormitory when the sun was spilled pink into the sky. I had just gotten to where some guy named Moses hit a rock and made water come out. What a strange book. I wondered about the physical limitations of such a story but perhaps it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for someone who could alter an object’s molecular structure, like my father. I determined to try this trick for myself eventually.

  My dormitory was not impressive. It had a smell that was already familiar to me in this life. No doubt this was the room I had been in when I first opened my eyes to this strange new world. It was light enough to see rows and rows of cots just like mine, and the room was more of a large hall with doors at both ends. Almost all of the cots were occupied but all the bodies that rested on them were still asleep. Sister Mary Rafaela told me that another nun would be along soon to wake them. I was to sleep and rest until the next morning. Then I would be expected to resume my classes. I didn’t have trouble following the instructions. As soon as I hit the cot with the lumpy pillow, I fell asleep from exhaustion.

  My dreams were disconnected, sometimes bursting into scenes of bright colors with Hailey and Ralph, other times dark and silent with words and meanings piecing together without the help of memories to aid them. I was growing more and more unsettled, and even in sleep could feel my muscles tense. My mind flashed between black and red, sometimes red like blood, sometimes red like fire.

  When I woke, the sun was slanting sideways through the windows with a late-afternoon haze. My head felt clearer, but my muscles were still tired from the constant tension they had held for the last few hours. I managed to kick my sheets into twists and I was damp and sticky with sweat. My stomach growled, trying to get my attention away from my parched throat. I desperately craved a hot bath. But I had even more pressing needs. Two days being pumped full of fluids without a visit to a restroom was taking a toll on my bladder.

  The clothes I wore were old and dingy grey, and desperately needed washing, but I couldn’t remember where any extras were. I hobbled out of bed and made my way, barefoot, to the nearest door. This was, in fact, the only way I knew how to go, as it was the reversal of the way Sister Mary Rafaela had led me from the infirmary. I didn’t remember passing a bathroom on the way, but I did remember seeing the entrance to a chapel. I figured, with the chapel being so large, that religious services must be held there sometimes. As such, patrons might need facilities.

  Religion. What a funny notion! I was pleasantly surprised to find that I didn’t balk at the blankness that surrounded the word in my head. I had even just used it in a sentence to convey a coherent thought. Intriguing.

  Through the doorway was another massive hall. Everything from top to bottom was fashioned in dark mahogany, not that I could see much of it under the tapestries, paintings, and carvings that decorated almost every inch of this place. Any leftover space was crowded with tables, vases, or shrines (did I know this word?).

  As I approached the chapel, I heard melancholic singing. I cracked open the door, the same one that had been standing open on my trip back to the dormitory. I caught a glimpse of a children’s c
hoir rehearsing.

  I knew what a choir was. We had choirs in Orenda and would sometimes sing for our parents.

  One of the nuns was directing and I knew I would be interrupting, but I was determined to ask her to point me in the direction of the bathroom.

  The children’s voices dropped off when I entered the chapel, their song replaced by excited chatter. The nun turned and looked at me angrily but her expression softened at the sight of me.

  “Ah, Alexander. So good to see you up and about,” she chimed.

  I stared into her dark eyes and almost wet myself. For some reason, having the attention of all of the other children, as well as this woman, felt uncomfortable. Too bad I hadn’t thought about that before interrupting the choir.

  “I’m sorry, Sister.” I didn’t bother continuing with the rest of her name. I didn’t know it. “I was hoping you could point me to the bathroom. And maybe a place where I could get something to eat?”

  The nun smiled wryly. “No memory yet?”

  I shook my head, although honestly didn’t know if doing so was telling the truth or not. I had a memory—just not the one they wanted me to have.

  She turned to the group of children, who were intently peering at me. “Nicholas! You are a friend of Alexander?”

  “Oh yes, Sister Mary Chantale,” a small boy answered with more volume than I would have expected. He reminded me a bit of Ralph, though his features were all wrong.

  “Would you reintroduce him to the church grounds and answer his questions… em… carefully. Meet us for dinner in the mess hall?”

  “Oh yes, Sister.”

  “And me too, Sister Mary Chantale?” a high soprano voice rang hopefully.

  “No, Ruth, you can see your friend at dinner. There is no reason as to why a young lady such as yourself would need to escort young Alexander to the restroom.”

  A giggle escaped from the group.

  I had warm feelings toward Sister Mary Chantale. I didn’t know why, but the way she interacted with the children, the way she had them laughing while at the same time commanding respect, was kind and gentle and inspiring.

  Nicholas tugged on my sleeve and led the way out of the chapel as the children began singing again. The melody was familiar. I concentrated and was able to make out the words to “Our Father.”

  “Did I sing this song?” I asked Nicholas as we passed through the corridor back toward the dormitory. Guess that meant I had walked right passed the bathrooms.

  “Of course. Don’t you remember it?” Nicholas asked, quickening his pace.

  I matched his gait. “Actually, I do—sort of.”

  “That’s good. We’ll be singing it in two days for the families.”

  “Families?”

  A look of hope brightened Nicholas’s grey eyes, “Yeah! All the families who are looking for children are coming. Wouldn’t it be so cool if you and I got adopted together and became real brothers?”

  I didn’t have time to respond before he continued.

  “Clean clothes are in the cupboards along the far wall. Try to hurry. Maybe we can go down to the river.”

  I didn’t realize the room around me had changed, mostly because the walls were still the same mahogany. The only difference in this room was that the walls were lined with cabinets that ran from the floor halfway up the wall, and there were benches interrupting the smooth wooden floors. We had a room similar to this in Orenda near the fields where people would play sports.

  “This is the locker room,” Nicholas prompted when he saw the confused expression on my face. “The showers are that way,” he pointed, “and the toilets too. They weren’t joking about you having hit your head or something, were they?”

  I shook my head in response.

  He shrugged and walked over to one of the cabinets. He opened it, revealing clothing similar to what I had on, but the ones in the cabinet weren’t stained with sweat. “Well, we’re the same size,” he said taking two pairs of pants and two shirts from the shelf. “Underwear and socks are by you.”

  I took out two pairs of everything and handed them to him warily.

  Nicholas grinned. “Well I’m not going to waste the time. If I shower now I don’t have to do it with all the other guys tonight. I can use the time to try to jog your memory or something.”

  “Okay,” I responded, following him toward a big tiled room with showerheads protruding from the walls.

  “Toilets are that way,” he motioned again. “But let’s hurry. Dinner is in less than an hour.”

  It felt good to be clean again, even if my shower was a bit rushed. Nicholas chattered on and on about subjects I found fascinating: the other children in the orphanage, our classes, the nuns, the river behind the chapel, and how he liked to get dirty playing on the bank. He reminded me a lot of Ralph, and Ruth sounded a lot like Hailey. I couldn’t help wonder about the possibility of them actually being my lost friends. I contained my excitement at this thought, even though it brought a smile to my face, and reminded myself that Nicholas and Ruth just had similar dispositions.

  I didn’t stop myself from feeling excited to meet Ruth, or reacquaint myself with her as the case may be. That seemed like a good emotional compromise—more realistic.

  Nicholas had no interest in showing me the cavernous building we called our home, opting instead to pull me out back into the expansive grounds. It became apparent that his aptitudes didn’t lie in books and schoolwork, but in nature and athletics. His energy surprised me as he bounded across an expansive lawn toward a row of trees in the distance. I had to remind him I had just spent the last few days recovering from dehydration in an infirmary. He slowed his pace, albeit reluctantly.

  We reached the row of trees just as the sun was setting behind them. I followed Nicholas to a makeshift shelter fashioned out of long pieces of wood leaning up against a large tree.

  “You helped me build this,” Nicholas said, carefully watching me survey my surroundings. He sat on a tree stump and motioned for me to sit on another. “And that over there,” he pointed, “was where Simon died.”

  I followed his finger to a large white rock interrupting the flow of water at the river’s edge, and cringed. “He drowned?” I asked.

  Nicholas nodded slowly. “Do you remember?”

  I shook my head as the name Simon connected to the word drown in my memory.

  “That was a hard day for all of us.”

  “They still let us come out here?” I asked, surprised that the adults would permit Nicholas and I to be out here alone.

  A sheepish grin crossed his face. “If we get caught I’ll just tell them I was trying to help you remember. You should have some pretty strong memories here.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, Simon, for one. And you spend a lot of time here whenever you can. You and I sneak out here pretty often. It’s a good place to think, to get some fresh air, and play. When they told me you were in the infirmary, I honestly thought you were playing some sort of joke to get out of classes so you could get out here.”

  “Would I normally fake an illness to get out of class?” I asked, amazed. That didn’t sound like me at all.

  Nicholas chuckled a bit. “Are you kidding? You are the best at getting out of class. I always get caught. But I think that’s just because the nuns like you more.”

  His grin was contagious and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Nicholas’s eyes glazed over a bit, his smile fading. When he looked at me again, I could tell there was something he was trying to say, but didn’t know how to form the words. “You really don’t remember Simon?” he finally choked out.

  The question caught me off guard. I thought we were done with this subject. “No,” I answered. “Why?”

  Nicholas kicked the dirt, not looking at me.

  “What?” I prodded.

  “Nothing,” he answered, blinking back hurt in his eye. “You’ll remember soon enough.”

  My eyes narrowed—a gesture that he did
n’t miss, but ignored.

  “Come on, we’d better head back for dinner.”

  “Okay,” I agreed reluctantly, stealing another glance at the large white rock in the river.

  It wasn’t until I was almost back to the church that I had an idea. In fact, it wasn’t an idea at all—just a realization. As I walked back toward the stone edifice, with its windows now lit against the murky sky, I thought I could hear a murmuring coming from inside. It wasn’t until I got closer and the murmur seemed farther away that I realized what I was hearing. It was the trees near the river that were talking to each other.

  I couldn’t remember if I had heard them down by the river or if I had just started hearing them now, but even if they had been talking to each other while I was sitting with Nicholas in our makeshift fort, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. The sound was so familiar to me that it wouldn’t have been something I would have picked up on immediately. That thought gave me an odd sense of comfort. The fact that something as simple as the whispers of the trees could be familiar in this unfamiliar world was exactly what I needed to start unraveling my current existence. I resolved to ask the trees about my time here—surely they were older than I—in hopes of determining not only how long I had been in this place, but how I got here.

  Eight

  I met Ruth that night at dinner, as well as a few of the other children that claimed to be in my classes. I probably would have met more had I remembered I was supposed to answer to the name “Alexander.” It was easy when people were looking right at me when they called me that name, but I had a hard time responding when it was shouted across the room while I wasn’t paying attention. I found the food incredible and the environment in which we ate wasn’t that far off from what I remembered in Orenda; everyone ate together in a large cafeteria, and we all ate the same thing. There were choices in drinks and desserts, and the nuns ate at separate tables instead of with the children. I didn’t see Father Michaels at dinner and couldn’t help but wonder why he wouldn’t join us for what would have been considered a joyful community meal in Orenda.