BITE Chapter 10
In another life
September 25, 2021
I’ve been reading that book. You know, for someone with a name like Bubba, this doc actually seems pretty smart. He’s a good writer, for sure. Back when I was a homemaker, I enjoyed reading a lot of romantasy novels in my free time. Sometimes, I would get so sucked into the story that I wouldn’t consciously read the words. I would see and hear it all play out in my head like a movie, and then eventually I would realize I was a chapter or two ahead of where I had been, with no memory of the specific words I’d read. Somehow, this nonfiction disease research book is having that same effect on me. I can see and understand the ideas it’s communicating, but I’ll be damned if I could directly quote it.
I had another nightmare last night. It was almost exactly the same: there was the confusing city, those robed things, Mr. Coexist, and the King towering in the distance. You’d think with all this talk about how great The King these people worship is, I wouldn’t be so afraid of one in my nightmares. Apparently, though, it’s not unusual for people with my disease. Dr. Zaile writes about how the mental, physical, and spiritual are all connected. Unresolved trauma leads to stress, which harms the body, which impacts the soul’s connection to greater reality, which impacts the mind, and so on in an endless loop. I can see how that might sound like hippy bullshit, but Dr. Zaile does such a good job explaining it.
In terms of hyporegivoluntatis, he says I need to lean into the nightmares and embrace them so that I can more closely examine what I’m truly afraid of. The King is an archetypical image that represents authority, law, and judgement, and the figures may be his citizens or law enforcement. If these things terrify me, it’s because I’ve done something wrong and feel on some level that I deserve punishment. I’ll be fucked if that doesn’t describe me to a T.
I’m writing this from the cafeteria. I wasn’t prescribed any meds after all: just to eat more, so that’s what I’m doing. It’s not like I have to force-feed myself or anything. This shit is genuinely delicious even if it looks kinda funny. I can’t get enough of it. If anything, I’ll have to try not to gain too much weight. Considering how busy the cafeteria has been all day, I don’t think I’m alone in this.
There was some sort of commotion earlier this morning. The kitchen door started shaking and rattling, and I heard a lot of crashing and banging sounds coming from there. For a single moment, I moved to help. You know how it is. Your instincts make you wanna at least check and ask if things are okay. Apparently, that was the wrong move. The three people closest to me all shot up and moved between me and the kitchen. One of the men even put his hands on me. He didn’t shove me or hit me or anything, but still, I wasn’t exactly a fan.
“Please, ma’am,” he told me. “Leave it to the experts.”
I pushed his hands off of my shoulders. He offered no resistance.
“There’s no need to worry, ma’am,” he said. “The cooks here all have special training to use the fancy equipment in there. You’d just get in their way. But don’t worry,” he added. “I’m sure you’ll learn all about it. You seem like you’d do good in a kitchen.”
“Thanks,” I said. I chose to believe his comment was well-meaning. “I guess I could use something to do while I’m here. It’s only for a month, though,” I added. It was more to remind myself than anything. I’m getting too comfortable too fast.
A short, mousey woman across the table from me chimed in.
“I remember when I was new to the Kingdom. All I wanted to do was find some small way to give back. All the free food, free healthcare, free books, free bed, well, really everything they gave me just made me feel so darn guilty.”
“I don’t really feel…”
“Oh, I’m sure you feel bad too,” she interrupted. “You seem like such a nice lady, after all.” She grabbed my hand. “Here, follow me. I’ll show you a place that I think could use you.”
She seemed so earnest, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to see more of this place while I was here. She guided me through a series of hallways until we got to Pieman’s room. I was pulled along up the stairs on the left and onto the second floor. There was a long hallway stretching into the distance lined with doors on each side. We went through the first door on the right.
The room we entered had silver and gold shag carpet and a pale yellow paint job on the walls and ceiling. At the opposite end was a raised stage. There was a drum kit, a few guitar cases, and a microphone and mic stand. To the left of the stage were rows of metal folding chairs. In the right corner opposite the doorway were several large beanbag chairs. There were two cornhole boards with beanbags scattered around each of them. Rubber dodgeballs littered the floor.
“This is one of our Sunday School classrooms,” the mousey woman explained. “This whole hallway has them. Pieman oh so loves having the children near to him.”
I was too stunned to say anything. You remember, don’t you, Luke? I had always talked about helping with Sunday School at our church. If I couldn’t raise my own children, I could at least help to raise other people’s. I could at least feel like a mom for a few hours a week. I just never got around to it. Something always seemed to get in the way. Oh, what am I saying? You probably don’t remember any of that. You’d taken my infertility diagnosis even harder than I did.
The lady put her arm around my shoulder. I didn’t resist.
“I think you would do well working with children. I can sense you have a real heart for ministry.”
“I…” It was a struggle to get any words out. “I’m not a true believer. I don’t worship the King.”
The lady pulled away from me. “Oh, honey, I know. You’re new here like I once was. This will come later of course. I’m sure you’ll be a true believer before you know it. Just trust me; once you give your soul to the King, everything else just falls into place. You see the world for what it is. Now, I ain’t saying it’s all sunshine and rainbows. King knows I’ve had some bad days.” She laughed. “But the King gives me comfort to survive them and strength to push through them, and when it’s good, oh, it’s just heavenly.”
I nodded. She left me there to go do who knows what. I didn’t care. I collapsed into one of the beanbag chairs. Staring at that empty room, I imagined an alternative, better present. I saw our boy running around and playing with the other kids. I know you always wanted a boy, Luke. I watch as our son picks up one of the balls and throws it at the Sunday School teacher. I can’t help but laugh. It’s just the sort of thing my son would do. He runs up to the teacher, hugs her, and says he’s sorry. It’s just the sort of thing your son would do. It was a beautiful dream, but it couldn’t last. The dream faded, I was alone again, and I cried.
Looking back, I’ve been far too hard on these people. I don’t fully understand what they believe and why, but I haven’t really tried to. They’re not all weirdos. They’re not all idiots. They’re just people. They’re sad, broken people like me. Maybe there’s something to this King worship after all. I mean, look at what they’ve managed to build here. A little slice of heaven, Pieman calls it. I’m starting to see what he means. If all of these flawed, incomplete people can come together and build something like this, then there just has to be something to their beliefs. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so there should be another service for me to attend. I’ll be there with an open mind and an open heart.