God's Will

A Short Story

By Kella Trams

Written August 15th, 2004

Based on a Vision

Sweat trickled down Summer's back. She fanned herself, first with her hand, then, grabbing a bit of scrap paper by the keyboard, she fanned herself more effectively. But instead of the cool refreshing draught of air she was wishing for, she faced a wash of hot, humid air. Her hands felt dirty and greasy. She had washed her hands in cold water five times already that day and still they did not feel clean. She looked through the window across the table from her. It was closed. She hesitated for a moment, pulling herself back, and then in one quick motion she walked around to the window and shoved it open. She stuck her head out and breathed in the fresh air. It was even hotter than the warm inside the house but it was still fresh. Summer knew she shouldn't leave the window open because she would let what little cool was left in the house out, and all the heat of the day in. But the air smelled so good.

Summer left the window open, walked around the table and plopped herself back down on her bed. She picked up her reading book, flipped through a couple of pages that were blown aside, and began reading again. She lost herself within the magic world of her fantasy book and did not hear the buzzing that was becoming swiftly louder.

The buzzing was irregular, like a broken fan that needs to be whacked in order to get it regular again. But this buzzing was not coming from any type of machinery. It came from one of nature's creations and the buzzing was not so random and irregular as a broken fan. It was the more complex code like language of a wasp. The wasp had seen the open window and, being an adventurous young wasp, it flew through into another world. Suddenly he was contained. He no longer had endless space. There were large flat surfaces barring his way. Huge, hard, boulder like things stuck out of the ground at random places, making the space even more cramped. He no longer could remember how he had gotten into the space. He was trapped! The wasp tried to break through one of the barriers but fell back onto one of the boulders. It's buzzing faltered, and then started up again, more fierce. The wasp, determined now, threw itself against the barrier again and again until it was thoroughly angry. The wasp, out of the corner of one of its many eyes, saw movement, a living thing. With all its might, the wasp buzzed towards the living thing. It landed on the thing's shoulder, and before the thing could brush him away, he stung.

"Ow!" Summer cried, clutching her shoulder. The wasp flew away in fear of the large, loud, thing, and miraculously found the window and sped away. Summer rubbed her sore shoulder, her brow wrinkled in concern. She had some memory of what had happened to her when she was stung by a wasp when she was little. It hadn't been good. She squinted, trying to see the memory in her mind's eye. But it was too fuzzy and faded. Suddenly, she looked down at her arm, because she thought she felt the wasp again. But it wasn't the wasp. Bumps were rising along her arm, hundreds of them. She felt her face, and there too, more bumps were rising. She looked at her legs. It was as if a hundred wasps had stung her all over her body. The bumps began to itch horribly. She began to scratch her skin, as if she were trying to tear off the skin so that it would stop itching. She stood up to go to her parents before anything worse happened. But something worse did happen. Her throat suddenly became extremely tight. Summer gasped as she found she could hardly breathe. Her head felt light and dizzy. She collapsed to the floor and began crawling out of her room, gasping for breath.

"Mummy!" she cried, as she crawled sluggishly out of her room, down the hall.

"What is it dear?" her mother's voice called, quite calmly. Summer gasped for breath again and crawled slower.

"Mummy, help! Help me!" she sobbed, as tears began rolling town her cheek, making the bumps on her face sting. Summer saw her mother climbing up the stairs and then come running towards her.

"What's wrong Summer, are you- Good Lord!" her mother cried. "George! George come quickly, Summer's been stung and stung bad." she yelled. Summer's father came running up the stairs and without asking any questions, he picked up Summer and carried her down the steps, through the living room, out the door, and placed her in the car. Summer's father began to drive. Summer kept gasping for breath, trying not to panic, but she was terribly scared. Her heart was beating rapidly.

"Don't worry sweetheart, we're taking you to the emergency room," she heard her father's voice say, though she couldn't see him any longer. Her eyes were clamped shut and her vision would be blurry with tears. Her mind began to scatter.

"The emergency room: that's where they take people who are dying…Oh please Lord, don't let me die," she thought. She began speaking out loud, in a sobbing whisper.

"Please Lord don't let me die, please, just let me live, I want to live, please Lord, I want to live, please, please, please, just let me live…" she said, trailing off. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. She felt herself slipping. She tried to reach out, to hold onto her mother and father; hold onto her life. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live! The colors around her began fading. The light dimmed. Everything was going black. She couldn't see a thing. But she felt movement. She felt her father's strong hands lifting her out of the car and running with her in his arms. She dimly heard a door swing open and the noise of many voices talking. She thought she heard her father's voice speaking but it was all so fuzzy now that every sound blended into one. She felt herself being placed on a slightly cushy surface, and the surface wheeling away, always surrounded by fuzzy voices.

"Don't let me die," she whispered, hardly breathing at all now. To her astonishment, someone answered her.

"Don't worry. We won't." And Summer felt breath inside her again as a hard plastic cup was placed over her nose and mouth. She was still alive.

When Summer woke up, she found herself in a room that was very white. The walls were white. The blankets were white. The curtains were white. It was almost blinding. She felt something on her face and tried to take it off. But as she did, she felt the breath leave her body again and enough sense was still in her to replace the plastic cup and keep breathing. Summer looked at her surroundings. Next to her bed was a white table with a vase of flowers sitting on it. The flowers looked extremely colorful and bright in the white room.

Just then, the door opened and a black man with a white coat walked into the room. Behind him were her parents. She tried to sit up, so she could reach her arms out to them and hug them, but she found the gesture difficult.

"Don't try to sit up," the kind voice of the man said. "You'll feel weak for quite some time. You've had a close call." He looked at Summer's parents and said "I'll leave you alone with her," before leaving the room. Summer opened her mouth to speak but only raspy noises came out and it burned her throat.

"Don't try to speak, Darling, you mustn't. Here, I brought a pad of paper and a pencil for you to write on so we can communicate at least a little bit. But don't strain yourself, Dear." her mother said. Summer looked down at the pad and pencil. She couldn't think of what to say. So many thoughts were crowding around in her head. Finally, she decided to be straight forward, though she knew her parents wouldn't like it much.

"I almost died didn't I?" she wrote. Her mother blinked quickly, and Summer could tell she was trying not to cry.

"Like the Doctor said, you had a close call. You frightened all of us to pieces!" she said in her sweet, casual, hostess manner.

"Were you really frightened?"

"Yes," she said, letting a sob out. "I really thought I was going to lose you." Summer's father came closer and rubbed his wife's shoulders. "Oh, Summer, I didn't want to tell you, but, I was so very afraid. You looked so frightened, so scared, that I could hardly bare it." Her mother turned away, burying her face in her husband's shirt, wetting it with her tears. Summer's father put his arm around his wife, soothingly, and then looked at Summer.

"It's true. We prayed that God would spare you, and he did. We are so very thankful that you are alive. I'm sure we shall never be able to thank God enough for the miracle he gave us."

Summer smiled. She wished she could speak out loud.

"Yes, and I'm sure now that you won't have any hesitations in going to that Catholic school I recommended, and then perhaps pursuing your education in religion further on afterwards." He hesitated. "I know there are those who don't believe in female priests but-I believe you would be a good woman priest, if ever there was one. Do think about it won't you? I know it seems a far way off, but it seems that this event would make you think about giving your life to God. You owe it to him in a way. Think about it." Her father led his weeping wife towards the door and as the walked out of the room he said, "Feel better. We'll visit again this evening."

"Wait!" she tried to call, but she only succeeded in making a croaking sound and a severe burning sensation in her throat. Her father, obviously, heard it and popped his head back in through the door. Summer hastily wrote on the pad of paper.

"When will I see John? Does he know?" Her father's face seemed to twitch.

"No, he doesn't know yet. I shall tell him that you want to see him." And he walked out of the room. Summer sighed. She knew her father didn't approve of her dating John, or any boy before she turns eighteen. But her father was kind and understanding, most of the time, and understood that a girl feels left out if she is the only one of her friends without a boyfriend. Of course, what he didn't understand was that Summer truly loved John. She was thoroughly in love with him. She imagined his face in her mind, but then shook herself out of it because it only brought tears to her eyes. She hadn't seen him in over a week. He was due to come back from Minnesota the day before and she had been waiting for his call as she was reading.

Summer then began thinking about what her father had said about owing her life to God. Had it really been God who saved her life? She had been praying and asking him with all her might to let her live, even as she was wheeled into the emergency room. She thought about what would've happened if she had died. What would've happened to her parents? Would they have become completely miserable and turn there backs on society for eternity? No, they wouldn't do that. She remembered how when she heard about a boy's death, a boy she knew, she wondered the same thing about his parents. But they continued going to the theater, going out to dinner, talking with old friends, acting as if they were content. They couldn't just slip away out of the chaos. Her father was a reverend and he couldn't do that. He would look to God to support him and he would find a way to explain her death. Most likely he would end up telling himself that it was God's will for her to die. Her mother though, she knew, would have more trouble. She would most likely spend hours in her bedroom, crying over her daughter.

And what about her friends? All her friends, all her old playmates, all her companions, all her fellow performers she had met over the years. Who of them would miss her if she died? Her close friends, for sure would miss her, the friends she had spent long hours with, laughing, singing, chanting, playing games, making jokes, talking about nothing what so ever. She had cried with some of them before. She had been with them through everything, and they had been with her for the same. They would miss her. How would they react? Would they sob for hours for the first week and then after that, block her from their memory until someone was brave enough to mention her name, and they all would become teary eyed and stay silent for a moment, before someone changed the subject. No, they wouldn't do that. She hoped they wouldn't. But, how was she to ever know? If they were to ever do that, she would be dead and wouldn't be able to find out, and she certainly wasn't dead now, so there was no reason for them to do so. And her best friend, Melanie, what would she do? Summer worried over that. Melanie was easily depressed and thought about killing herself when times were extra bad. She missed Summer if Summer went away for just a few days and would run up and give her a big hug as soon as she returned. They were closer than close. Who knows how Melanie would respond. Oh, and John. What would he do? What would he do. Summer shut her eyes tight, trying not to imagine when suddenly, there was a knock at the door and through it walked John.

Behind John was a large, black woman with dark curly hair covering her head. She was wearing a white, nurse's outfit. She walked confidently over to Summer's bedside. Summer had rather expected a nurse to have hurried quick steps and fuss endlessly.

"I think we can take this off you now, your breathing seems very regular," she said, carefully removing the plastic cup from Summer's face. She found she could breathe normally, with just a little extra effort. "You'll be able to talk now," she said, smiling at Summer and then John, before walking out of the room and closing the door silently. John looked down and then backed up, standing awkwardly near the bed.

"Sit down," Summer said, breathlessly, pointing to the chair by the bed. John did and put his hand on hers.

"How are you feeling?" He said hesitantly.

"Much better now that you're here," she said, smiling. He looked down again.

"I heard what happened from your folks. Did you-Did you really-" he faltered.

"Almost die?" she said.

"Yeah."

"Yes, I did. I'm allergic to wasp stings you see. They make me break out and close my windpipe so that I can't breathe. I was lucky. If I hadn't gotten the oxygen within a couple minutes, my lungs would've collapsed and I would've died."

"You-You seem so confident in talking about it. If I were you I wouldn't want to even think about it. I'm…I'm not sure I want to think about it even though I'm not you."

"John? What's wrong? I'm alright."

"I know, but just…Just hearing your parents, the way they said it, it sounded almost as if you hadn't made it that you… that you did die. I just…" John covered his face with his hands.

"Oh, John, don't be upset. Please, I can't bear it. I'm all right, truly I am. Look at me. Just, look at me. Oh, John, there are tears in your eyes! I've never seen you cry before. You are truly upset aren't you?"

"I was so afraid I'd lose you." They were the same exact words her mother had used, but now, they sounded more truthful. John buried his face in his hands again.

"John, look at me. You did not lose me and you are not going to. I am alive. I'm breathing! I'm talking to you! And I love you, John, look at me, I love you! I will not leave you. I am here, with you, and I will not leave." She squeezed his hand. There were tears in her eyes now too, because she could not bear seeing him cry. She wiped the tears off his face and gave him a watery smile. He returned it.

"You're right, I know. I love you too. I just…"

"Shh…Let's not talk about it anymore. I'm just glad you're here. Now, let's really talk."

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Summer sat up in her bed, flipping through the pages of a magazine. As she flipped, she hummed to the familiar tune playing on the radio. Then, without knowing she was doing it, she let herself sing the words, loud and clear.

"The stars shined in the sky, and I knew that you were the one," she sang.

"That's some voice you got there, girl," a deep voice said. Summer jerked her head up and saw the nurse who always aided her, sweeping the floor just inside her room.

"Oh, thank you," Summer said modestly.

"Was that your boyfriend that was here earlier?" she asked.

"Yes, it was. His name is John."

"Mhmmm, I see. He seemed pretty worried about you. He must care about you an awful lot.

"Yes, I suppose he does." Summer paused, trying to think of something more to say without getting too personal. "We've been together for over a year.

"My word! That is a long time! I'm sure you're mighty proud."

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"About that singin'…Do you perform much? Y' know, solos and such? I guess what I'm askin' is, do you like singing in front of people, by yourself? "

"Sing in front of people, oh yes! All the time! I'm always hoping that, like in one of those movies where there's a group of friends and one of them sings, that my friends will start asking me to sing and push me up in front of them and keep prodding me until I just burst out singing. I've wished that many times. I wish I had more chances to sing in front of people!" The nurse looked at her hard.

"Sing for me right now," she said, closing the door. So Summer sang.

"I peer through windows, Watch life go by, Dream of tomorrow, And wonder why, The past is holding me, Keeping life at bay, I wonder lost in yesterday, Wanting to fly, But scared to try.

"But if someone like you found someone like me, Then suddenly, Nothing would ever be the same! My heart would take wing, And I'd feel so alive, If someone like you found me." Summer thought of stopping and asking if she the woman had heard enough or if she continue, but the look on the woman's face told her the answer. She let herself go and no longer worried about people hearing her in nearby rooms.

"So many secrets, I've longed to share, All I have needed, Is someone there, To help me see a world, I've never seen before, A love to open every door, To set me free, So I can soar!

"If someone like you found someone like me, Then suddenly, Nothing would ever be the same! It'd be a new way to live. A new life to love, If someone like you found me." Summer let her voice rise even more, to the fullest volume she could manage in her condition.

"Oh, If someone like you found someone like me, Then suddenLY, Nothing would evER be the same, My heart would take wing and I'd FEEL-SO-ALIVE…If someone like you loved me…loved me…loved me…"

Summer found that she had closed her eyes and she opened them to look at the nurse. Her eyes were also closed but they opened just after Summer's did and she murmured before clapping loudly.

"You're voice sure is beautiful. Why, you ought to be on the stage! I don't just mean the stages around here, the little ones with the ol' ladies watching and smiling because they think that you're cute and young and got your whole future ahead of you, I mean the big stage. The stage where thousands of people from miles around come, just to hear you sing! You ever been in one of those musicals in town?" Summer smiled.

"Oh yes. I love musicals. I wish I had been in more! The song I just sang was from a musical."

"I could tell, from the way you sang it. You put so much expression into your voice! How on earth do you do that?"

"It just… kind of… comes naturally I guess. I sing what I feel."

"I'm telling you, you need to be on the stage, girl! You need to-Ya know what? I've got a great idea. I'm gonna-No, I won't tell you. It'll be a surprise!" the nurse said, as she began to run out the door. "Oh! I almost forgot," she said, turning back around and running up to Summer's bedside. "I forgot to tell you, the Doctor is coming to talk to you this afternoon. You'll like him. He's awful nice. He'll probably tell you when you can go home. My name is Rose by the way," she said quickly, then sticking out her large, work worn hand, which Summer shook.

"Mine's Summer."

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Summer sat back, reading her magazine again. This time she was actually reading it, not just flipping through pages. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," she called. She was well enough now to grant or forbid permission to enter now. The black man who had come in with her parents before entered the room.

"Hello Summer," he said, in a deep voice. "I understand you are feeling much better! I'm very glad to hear that. My name is Dr. Heron, but you can call me Joe if you like." Summer paused. Dr. Heron didn't sound right and neither did Joe.

"How about Dr. Joe, could I call you that?"

"Yes, I suppose so," he said, sitting himself down in a chair by the bed.

"So, Dr. Joe, How am I and when can I go home?" she asked. He chuckled.

"You certainly do get right to the point don't you? Well, seeing that I won't give you a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo that I'll only have to simplify because you won't even begin to understand. I don't know why doctors even bother doing that! It makes them seem smart I suppose. No, I'll tell you straight out. I've got good news and I've got bad news. The good news is that you have recovered well and you should be able to go home in a day or two, maybe even tomorrow. The bad news is that you shall have to either be very careful around wasps, bees, and so on, and never get stung, or else you will have to take this medication," he said taking out a small orange container, "for the rest of your life." Summer took the small container and rattled the pills around inside of it.

"What will happen if I am stung again?" she said calmly.

"At best, you will not be as lucky as you are now. I don't know if you remember, but you were stung when you were very young, on your wrist. Nearly your whole arm swelled up. We were afraid your blood circulation would be cut off or something horrible. But nothing of the sort happened. You healed for the most part." Summer nodded.

"Yes, I think I remember now. The nerves in my wrist still hurt now and then." Dr. Joe nodded back.

"Do you have any questions before I go?" Summer looked down at her lap before speaking.

"Do you believe in God?"

"That certainly wasn't the question I was expecting…But to answer your question…Sometimes. Sometimes I believe in some sort of higher presence that, well, doesn't exactly control us, like puppets, but, well, helps us along. Humans aren't perfect and though we need to fend for ourselves most of the time, sometimes we need a little help. So, when that little bit of unexplained help comes along, and I witness it, then I believe in God. What about you?"

"Well, it's not really a question for me. My father's a reverend. Believing in God is like…It's like breathing." Summer thought about how ironic that was, seeing as she hadn't been able to breathe by herself several days ago. "But, I have another question. Do you think that when I prayed and prayed for God to please let me live, he was the one who saved me from dying?" Dr. Joe smiled and shook his head, no.

"Why?" Summer asked.

"This is how I look at it. God knew that you were in trouble, and that you were dying. He heard your prayers. But because he heard them, he knew how much you wanted to live. You've probably heard, many times in your life, that if you want something enough, you'll get it? Well…The power of the mind is a strange thing. That isn't my field but I did study it a bit. In your praying and asking God for life, you were really telling yourself that you weren't ready to die. You didn't wanna die and you weren't gonna let that happen. You told your body right from the start that you were not gonna let it give out on you. The only way you knew how to do that was by praying to God. So, no, I don't think it was God who saved you. He knew you were strong enough to do live through it on your own." he said, leaning back in his chair as if that settled the matter.

"So, I don't owe God anything, for surviving, do I?"

"Owe him something? No, I don't think so. I think that, if it was God who saved you, you have paid him back enough just by being who you are and living your life to the fullest. He doesn't want you necessarily to commit your life to him. I think he just likes being acknowledged once in a while. And I talk as if God is a he! I'm sorry. It's a force of habit I suppose. If he or she is up there right now, they are thinking how wonderful it is that there are still people like you in the world today, Summer." And with that, Dr. Joe got up to leave.

Just then, the nurse, Rose, burst in through the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, but, I've been preparing a surprise for Summer and it's only now ready! Could she get out of bed do you think?"

"Oh yes, of course she could! She has quite a lot of energy and her mental state is fit enough to be pondering philosophical questions, heh heh. "

Rose led Summer out of the room, down the hall, and into a light filled open walled room. On one side there were two dozen or so people, some in wheel chairs, some standing, some with tubes in their wrists, most of them patients. They were all smiling at her. Summer was just going to ask what this was all about when she saw a small platform at the other side of the room. Her eyes widened and her face lit up.

"You said you wished you could sing and perform more often, missy. Well, I got you an audience here. Just go right on up to that platform and sing away!" Summer walked eagerly up, stepped onto the platform and looked around her. She found that her mind was blank of song lyrics for once.

"What should I sing?" she asked hesitantly.

"How about that wonderful love song you sang for me in you room? huh?" Rose said. So Summer sang the song again, letting her voice fill the whole room. And then she sang another song, and another song, and another, until she was nearly tired out from all the excitement. After every song, the audience of ill and injured patients applauded wildly. They were all so happy to see such a young girl so full of life when they were not. She looked up at Rose, to see if she should continue or stop.

"Why don't you sing one more song, Missy, and then you can go back to your room. You can sing again tomorrow if you like."

"All right," Summer said, searching her mind for another song. She was almost at a loss when she chanced to look up and see John's face at the back of the audience. Immediately, a song came into her head. It was the song she heard John sing so many times.

"I've got one! Now, this song is meant to be sung by four or five people, in different parts so, it might sound kind of different, but I'll do my best." she said, and she sang.

"Whoa whoa ooh whoa, For the longest time, Whoa whoa ooh whoa, for the longest-

"If you say goodbye to me tonight, There will still be music left to write. What else could I do? I'm so inspired by you/ That hasn't happened for the longest time.

"Once I thought my innocence was gone, Now I know that happiness goes on, That's where you found me, When you put your arms around me, I haven't been there for the longest time.

"Whoa whoa ooh whoa, For the longest time, Whoa whoa ooh whoa, for the longest-

"I'm that voice you're hearing in the hall, And the greatest miracle of all, Is how I need you, And how you needed me too, That hasn't happened for the longest time.

"Maybe this won't last very long, But you feel so right, And I could be wrong, Maybe I've been hoping too hard, But we've come this far and it's more than I hoped for.

"Who knows how much further we'll go on, Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone, I'll take my chances, I forgot how nice romance is, I haven't been there for the longest time."

"I had second thoughts at the start, I said to myself, Hold onto your heart, Now I know the man that you are, You're wonderful so far, And it's more than I hoped for.

"I don't care what consequence it brings, I have been a fool for lesser things, I want you so bad, I think you ought to know that I intend to hold you for the longest time, yes I intend to hold you for the longest-Time."

Summer held out her last note, looking at John all the while and then smiled as she was greeted by applause from all sides. She carefully stepped down from the platform and walked over towards John. She smiled and he smiled back.

"Well? What did you think?" she asked, teasing.

"Beautiful, as always. I don't know how you remember all those songs and the words. I always forget right away. I-" he said, but he was interrupted.

"Excuse me," a man said. "I'm sorry for interrupting but I had to speak with you before I went back to my room," the man said looking at Summer. "My name is Jones, I'm from New York and I'm a theater producer up there. I came down here for a special surgery and recovery and such and I'm going back in a month. I wanted to tell you that if you ever come to New York, give me a call, and I can guarantee you a part in one of our musicals up there." Summer's eyes widened and she swallowed hard.

"A.. A Broadway Musical?"

"What else," the man said smiling. "You've got real talent. I can see it in your face. Expressive, full of feeling. And your voice ain't so bad either!" he said, teasing. "Here, this is my card. When you've gotten a bit older, decide what you wanna do with your life, maybe, give me a call. You could be big, kid, you could be big!" He playfully hit her shoulder with his hand and walked away saying only "Cheers."

Summer couldn't get the smile off her face. Broadway? Her? It was what she had always dreamed of! She hugged John because she was so happy.

"Can you believe it John? Broadway? Oh Thank you God!"

"Yeah! I know! That's great! What I can't understand is how you were able to let the entire hospital know that you could sing so fast!

"Why John, don't you know? There are two parts to play in the performing business. You're either the performer or the audience. I'm the performer. An audience is all I need. Maybe it's God's will that I have an audience."