Chapter 12: Unanswered Prayers

Frank Li was remembering when he was a child his brothers built a swing and entertained him by allowing him to jump out of it at ever increasingly higher increments. An old tamarack and a long pine pole placed side by side on the deep green of the lawn tied together to support one long rope with a wooden seat that had two notches sawed in it on each of its sorter sides placed atop the curved part in the rope at the bottom was all it was. But the lesson that was to be learned was far greater than the rustic though well constructed swing.

“When you reach the end of the length of the swing pull yourself up and allow yourself to let go of the rope and land on your feet. That is how you jump out of a swing, Frankie. Try it!” one of his older brothers urged him. “I won't swing it very high at first to give you a feel for it. After that we can go higher if you would like!”

Then his brother pushed the swing much higher than he expected and shouted, “Now Frankie! Jump!” And when Frank rose from the seat he yelled, “Let go, Frankie! Let go, now!” And Frankie did though he was petrified with fear. And he fell perpendicular to the lawn. He landed on his feet. It worked! He was completely unharmed. “You did it, Frankie!” his brother yelled, “And on the first time! That's great, Frankie! Do you want to try it again?”

Frankie was unsure, but when prodded he did it again. Then again and again going higher and higher until at last his big brother said, “That's it, Frankie. You can't jump out any higher on this swing without getting hurt.”

“Why not!” Frankie protested, “I want to go higher. Please?” But his brother refused to do it any higher. 'Let me jump out even from a higher place! Please?' he begged Them sensing They were not in favor of it either. 'I'm not afraid of it! Help me get him to swing me higher so I can do it in order to prove it can be done by You!' Then he understood even They couldn't do it on that swing. But Frankie was not to be deterred.

He called his brother by name and ran to him and pleaded to be swung even higher several times. And finally his brother gave in, “Okay,” he said, “But you have to promise me you won't jump out. Okay, Frankie?” And Frankie didn't want to lie to him, but he didn't want to stop either. So he agreed not to jump out not really caring about swinging higher. He wanted to jump out. That was where the real fun was, in the jumping out. Thus as the swing went higher and higher, high enough to scare him almost as much as jumping had he lifted himself up by the ropes.

“Sit down, Frankie!” his brother screamed, “You can't jump! The angle is all wrong!”

But Frankie didn't listen. It was his only chance. His brother would never trust him to swing him that high again. So, he let go of the rope, sensing right away something was wrong. His feet were extended out in front of him but not pointed down toward the lawn at all! His brother screamed his name, but he fell. His brother had been right. They had been right! It couldn't be done. And he landed on the flat of his back on the lawn with a high part of the uneven lawn under him.

His brother was already there as he lit. His back was in pain, more pain than he had ever known before. And he was scared beyond words. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He just lay there in disbelief.

“Are you hurt, Frankie!” his brother asked. “You crazy kid! I told you it wouldn't work! You promised me! Why did you let me down?” his brother added when it was clear he hadn't broken anything, at least anything you could see. “Are you in pain?” his brother asked. “Can you sit up?” he asked again.

Frankie tried to sit up, but it hurt too much more, so he rolled to his side and pushed himself up and got up like an old man getting up off the floor.

“Oh, Frankie!” his brother said, “You are hurt. You crazy kid!”

Then his older brother helped him take a few steps before it was clear he could walk on his own. Someone yelled for Frank's mother and she came to screen door and asked what was going on and then what happened.

“He jumped out of the swing!” his brother said defensively Frankie thought, but he didn't blame him for saving his skin. Frankie knew it was all his own fault. He alone was responsible. And he felt bad about breaking his promise to his brother. So he told his brother he was sorry just as his mother was shaming his brother claiming he was old enough to know better than to take the chance.

“You're sorry?” his brother said, “Like that helps me a lot!” meaning he considered his punishment whatever it had been was all Frank's fault too.

“I'm sorry,” he said to his mother thinking he might get punished too.

“What did you do it for?” she scolded him, “Can you walk on your own?” Then when she saw that he could she said, “Come on in the house right now!” But when she saw he really was in considerable pain she said, “You really are hurt, aren't you? Do you want to go to the doctor?”

Frankie shook his head.

“What part of you hurts?” she said, showing her concern for his body, “Do you think you can lie down?”

Lying down sounded a lot better than standing to Frankie, so he nodded, finding it hurt worse. Then his mother led him to the couch and told him to lie down helping him find which way hurt the least. Then she disappeared to get him an over the counter pain killer.

'I'm sorry,' he thought to Them. 'I was wrong.' But feeling more distant from Them than he had felt in a long time, if ever, he thought, 'Can't you just fix it?' Then he realized They could, but he had ignored Them on purpose just to have a little more fun and be a big shot. 'Forgive me!' he begged, but knew they had nothing to be forgiven for.

His older brother should have known better than to be pushing a kid his size that high, just to be a big shot. The problem was between him and his brother, not him and Them. He was too young to resist jumping out of the swing and his brother knew better than to start doing something to put him in that much danger anyway.

“That's what the Devil does, ain't it?” he said quietly to Them.

“Who are you talking to, Frankie?” his mother said and when he didn't answer she gave him the over the counter drug cut in half and helped him sit up and take it, “There now, just lay there as long as you need to. I'm busy folding clothes. I'll be right in the other room if you need me. Just yell! Okay?”

Frankie didn't say anything.

“Okay, Frankie,” she said, “If it hurts too much let me know somehow. Okay?”

There was that promise thing again. What was he going to do if he couldn't keep his promise and passed out or something like his dad did when he was dunk and couldn't?

“Okay, Frankie?” she asked again more concerned he didn't answer than making him promise.

“I can't,” he said.

“What do you mean, Frankie?” she said, “Does it hurt that bad?”

“It hurts, but I just mean I can't promise,” he said.

“Okay, Frankie,” she smiled, “I'll come and check on you once in a while then. Okay?”

“What if I pass out like Dad does when he's drunk between times?” he asked.

“Well,” she said lightheartedly, “Then we'll get you to the doctor. Either way, you'll be alright.”

“Will I ever get better?” Frankie asked.

“If it's that bad it might take a long time,” she said, “Backs are a hard thing to heal. Now just lie back and do the best you can to put up with it until the half a pill works.”

Then she helped him lie flat on his back and it hurt, but not near as much as it had to sit up. And after that she went back to work folding her clothes while the children continued to play in the front yard.

'Won't you even heal me?' he thought. 'Don't you like me anymore?' But the thought seemed to make his back hurt even worse, especially when he realized They were not going to heal him even though they still liked him.

'We'll help you deal with it,' he thought he heard Them say.

But in Frank Li's spirit where he was remembering the incident there in his coma at the hospital he wondered whether his back would ever be the same as it was before after all these years of near constant aching. His brother had never forgiven him either. But he just had to put it behind him. Lots of things hurt worse than that now that he was older. And he realized the Devil was still at it even then. But it didn't concern him as much as the first time he understood that. Back then it had been a devastating discovery.

Then he wondered if his brother ever admitted he was wrong to him and asked him to forgive him and if he did forgive him, would the pain would go away. But he knew his brother thought he was perfect and because of that fiction he never did things like that no matter how many times he had the opportunity. And it seemed just to him. And he thought he understood his brother a lot more. But he had been that way the first time Frank could remember him. And for the first time in a very long time he felt sorry for his brother.

“It's no wonder,” he said finally, becoming aware of us instead of his memory at last.

“Fascinating,” my husband said and I agreed as we remembered it as well.

“They can't forgive my brother either until he admits what he's been doing all these years,” Frank said, being troubled in his spirit, because just for a moment he felt good about that. “Forgive me,” he said and changed his mind and began feeling bad for his poor brother again.

“You're learning, Frank,” I said.

My husband looked at him wishing he had learned that at such a young age a moment before he was suddenly back to normal.

Frank wondered what my husband's story was.

But I know it only too well.

“Pretenders can hide in a church,” Frank said, “Some us fight like hell just because it's the way we were born, with a mental disorder. Sometimes They prepare us early. Sometimes not.”

My husband did the Spock thing again.

“It's not easy for anyone, Frank Li,” I said as the EEG lit up with graphs on nearly every line and stayed that way for quite awhile but still far below the normal conscious level.

His mother saw it and rose to push, the button hanging by the side of his bed. And very soon a nurse came in, checked the monitor and shook her head, looked Frank's mother in the eyes and said, “Well, he's capable of thinking at least. They do that some times. He's still got a long ways to go before he wakes up and says anything. Any idea what that will be?”

His mother shook her head, sat back down in her chair and blowing her nose wiped her eyes with a clean part of the tissue and started to say something, but lost the thought to oblivion. Neither one of us could catch it either. But They knew what it was though They didn't share it, They never gossip.