Delilah

Chapter 21

As I strode across the roof and down the stairs, I could feel Naomi's and Alian's eyes on my back. I imagined their mouths hung open in surprise, but I dared not turn to see. I could not let Naomi look into my eyes and see the pain there. I feared her eyes would penetrate my soul and discern the secrets hiding there. I needed time to perfect my mask before returning to help with Sallu's care.

I got out the bathing tub and set it up on the roof. No spit bath would do. I felt dirty all the way through. I did not bother to heat water but poured the liquid directly from the jar. I gasped at the cold as I stepped into the tub, but somehow welcomed the discomfort. I scrubbed until my skin turned pink and then scrubbed some more. When I saw dried blood under my fingernails, I took a luffa gourd and attacked the ends of my fingers. Tears ran down my face as I crooned, "What have I done? What have I done?"

How long I stayed in the bathing tub, I do not know. I was lost in a trance; locked in my mind with my pain. It was not Sallu's blood I scrubbed from my body, but Samson's. And no matter how hard I scrubbed, I kept seeing more. When I finally stepped from the tub, I realized that some of the blood in the murky water was fresh. Looking at my hands, I saw I had scrubbed the fingers on my right hand until I drew blood. Dully, I wondered what I would tell Naomi. Then methodically, I pulled off parts of the fingernails on my three middle fingers, so that the nail was torn so far down that it bled. I would tell Naomi that I caught the fingernails while preparing my bath.

Finally I climbed onto my sleeping couch and enveloped my cold, aching body in blankets. I tossed and turned, haunted by memories of Sallu's impassioned statement by the well about Samson's love for me, but overlaid with his weak voice saying listlessly, "I cannot find victory in his death."

I eventually found slumber as the first rays of dawn painted the sky. Alian's voice greeted a new day with the now familiar strains, "He found him in a desert land. . ." As I drifted off I wondered why this Yahweh would find Delilah and Sallu separately in the desert and lead them both to the home of Naomi the healer.

Hours later I awakened from a deep sleep; yet, I did not feel rested. I was swathed in an apathetic malaise. It was an effort just to turn back the covers and rise from the sleeping couch. I methodically combed my hair and donned my outer garments. Even walking took concentration. Rather than placing one foot in front of another by rote, I had to consciously will each step. By sheer determination, I made my way to the roof where the sick man lay. I found Naomi there sewing beside Sallu, whose eyes were closed, while his breathing was labored, and his body twitched as though some tortuous puppet master pulled strings at random.

I simply stood and stared at him for seconds before finally asking, "Is he unconscious? Will your Yahweh grant his death wish?"

Naomi looked up. The sun at my back made her squint, intensifying her wrinkles and accenting her advanced age. For the first time, she looked frail and exhausted.

Patting the pallet where she sat under the awning that had been erected to protect from the midday sun, she said softly. "Sit."

As I positioned myself as bid, she continued, "I fear he is unconscious. His sleep is not natural. As for Yahweh's intentions, I wish I knew. I can only use the gifts He gave me. The rest is in His hands. Just like everyone else, I have to wait and pray."

"What are you praying?" I queried. "Do you pray as Sallu would wish, for death, or do you pray that God will validate your healing and grant life?"

Naomi was so still and quiet, I thought she did not intend to answer my question. As I peaked a glance at her from under lowered lashes, I saw her start and look sharply in my direction before answering. It was not until much later that I realized her reaction was to my use of the sick man's name, a name that had not been revealed to us before I took my leave to bathe and rest.