A Conversation

A Short Story

I slipped inside the hospital chapel.  Quiet surrounded me.  Chapels always seemed hushed somehow.  Most came for the comfort it offered, but not me.  I found it slightly funny that I ended up here.  I had no faith in God.  I'd written him off a long time ago.  No, I came in here to find a place to collect my ragged thoughts and regroup.  It'd been a long morning starting with leaving my purse on the bus and ending with seeing the oncologist. 

My eyes found the simple cross that adorned the wall in front of where I sat and I snorted.  I couldn't count the number of times I'd seen people grip the crosses they wore and pray in hopes of comfort.  Stupid people.  No, the news delivered to me a few minutes ago only reinforced my opinion on the idea of God.  Hadn't I suffered enough in this life without...I was so tired.

Stage four cancer.  Who knew that a little stomach was cancer?  Not what I was expecting.  Maybe an ulcer, but not cancer.  I had maybe six months left.  The doctor told me there was really nothing they could do at this point.  I could do the chemo, but it might or might not help.  I didn't want to spend the last months of my life so sick I couldn't get up and down without puking.  No, I wouldn't do the chemo.    Six months?  Really, how much worse could it get?

I didn't want to die.  I had so much left to do.  My life wasn't grand, just the average, ordinary day life of a regular person.  I went to work, paid my bills and sometimes had a little left over to indulge in a pair of Jimmy Choos.  They were my favorite shoes even though I had no place to wear them to.  I wasn't a bad person either.  I did my best to stay out of trouble and I always tried to help anyone who needed it.  No one had helped me, so I tried where I could to make sure other's got help.

Why?  Why me?  I wanted to scream, to shout, but I didn't.  There was no one to rail at.  Just me. 

"Here, miss, I think you might need this."

I looked around, startled to see an elderly gentleman holding out a Kleenex to me.  He smiled down at me with such kindness in his warm blue eyes.

"Thank you," I told him and wiped my eyes.  When had I started to cry?

"Are you alright?" he asked and sat down next to me.

"I'm fine."

He arched a brow in disbelief.  "You are not fine, young lady.  Would you like to talk about it?"

"No," I shook my head. 

He frowned, but nodded.  He saw me staring at the cross.  "I'm sorry, did I interrupt your prayers?"

"No," I laughed.  "I don't pray."

"Then why are you in the chapel?"

"It's quiet in here and I needed someplace to think."

"You don't believe in God."  A statement, not a question.

"No," I answered him.  How could I after everything that had happened to me in life?

"That's okay," he smiled at me.  "It doesn't matter if you believe in God or not."

He wasn't going to try and convince me? 

"No," he continued.  "All that matters is He believes in you."

I snorted.  Yeah, right.

He reached over and took my hand.  "It's true.  God loves all of his children, even the one who don't believe."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Stalewort old gent, I thought.  He sounded so sure of himself.