Cassie's Corpse

Chapter 7

I would be lying if I tried to appeal to human sentiments and said that I was scared when I fell. The more primal emotions of love and fear were solely human, and therefore lost on me. But I believe I was so convincing in my portrayal of being human that, for a short while, I even convinced myself, for when Rowland spoke for the first time in days I believe I experienced true horror.
   The old man had sat through examinations, taken medication, suffered through the intruding presence of nurses without so much as a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. He shook his head yes or no, he obeyed commands, he even reached for my hand on many an occasion, but he did not speak. To be terribly honest, I did not mind at first. Finally there was someone other than myself who seemed to truly grasp the importance of silence and self-reflection. But I will admit to missing the sound of his voice as time progressed.
   He spoke for the first time since arriving at the hospital just hours before he was discharged. His head was turned toward the window, eyes dull and unmoving. I felt his cold hand settle in mine, the cotton bedsheets stiff and cheap beneath my fingertips. Slowly he turned his head to me and our eyes met.
  I could see him, truly see him, and I prayed to God he could not see me. When he spoke his voice was dry and cracked. "I know you are not my granddaughter." My prayers, it seemed, went unanswered. The world spun and Angels screamed in my ears. I gasped a breath even though I did not need to breathe.
  "Grandpa-"
  "Do not call me that, Varielle."
  I closed my eyes, convinced he was either going to stab me or I was going to faint. Neither of those expectations were met, and instead I opened my eyes to find him crying.
  "Nicolai came to me," he said quietly, "at first I thought I had lost my mind. He told me everything, God not really being God, trying to convince you to kill Nicolai, you rebelling..." He took a shaky breath and I felt compelled to tell him it was going to be alright, or some other useless phrase that would offer no comfort. "...Cassie is dead, isn't she? He tried to tell me that you killed her. I didn't believe him. That's when I knew for sure you were good and he was bad."
  Hearing those words, 'you were good', I think I also felt love that day. "I didn't kill her."
  "Oh, I know, I know. She was very very sick.
To be quite honest, and I would never tell anyone but you this, I knew she wouldn't make it out of surgery. I was mentally preparing myself for her funeral."
  I was talking to him, really, honestly talking, not as his relative but as myself, and it took all of my effort not to break down in tears. "I'm sorry for your loss. I...I meant no disrespect."
  He took another breath, longer than the last one, and was silent for a moment. "Tell me," he said at last, "what is an Angel without a God?"
  Broken. Lost. Nothing. I could give many answers to his question, none of them satisfactory. But his response...his response astounded me.
  He looked at me, and he gave me the most heartbreaking smile I have ever seen, and he whispered one beautiful, terrible word. "Free."
I glanced down at our hands. "That right there is the problem. We are not built for freedom."
  "Maybe you just have to learn."
  "May I ask a question?"
  "Certainly."
  "Why do you trust me? Why do you even believe in any of this?"
He looked at me a moment, and I could not tell whether he was puzzled or amused. "It would be much easier to check myself into an asylum," he said, and I silently agreed, "but I do not think Cassie would have played along with my nonsense."
  I smiled, and for the first time it was genuine. "I do not think she would have,  either." I chewed my lip. "Nicolai caused your heart attack, didn't it?"
  "He wanted me dead, I think."
  I shook my head. "Oh, no, that's not it. If it wanted you dead you would be. It meant for you to live. Its goading me, trying to get me to succumb."
  "He's lonely," Rowland said, and his words chilled me to the bone, "he wants a friend. Something like him."
  "Not him," I corrected, "it. Nicolai is no longer my brother."
  Rowland nodded respectfully. "May I ask you a question?"
   "Anything."
  "You are an Angel, and I understand now that my viewpoint on your kind has been seriously skewed my entire life, and that God and the Bible are lies, but...would it be too much to ask you to pray with me?"
  "No," I said, for some odd reason feeling relief float through my veins, "I would be honored to pray with someone as good as yourself."
  "You know," he said as he took my other hand, "you are not bad, Varielle. You acknowledge your faults. Nicolai and many others do not. You have good in you yet."
  I smiled at him, appreciating the lie. "Thank you."
  We bowed our heads in prayer and were silent for over an hour, just taking comfort in each other: I from his humanity and he from my supposed divinity.
  He broke down in the car on the way home and I had to pull over. I hugged him and let him cry and he told me I was a terrible driver and I told him to be grateful I hadn't crashed.
I felt bad, being in his granddaughter's body, but I could not leave my vessel completely without drawing attention to myself. I came forward a little bit, letting myself shine through Cassie's eyes until the entire car glowed blue with my light, and he cried even harder. At first I was afraid  that I had upset him, but he informed me that he was crying because he was happy, and I was thoroughly confused by the human race once again.