Chapter four: Do you believe!?

Trigger warnings for those who need them

Ableism and religious fanaticism

I play my piece, surrounded by sound and the love of the good one.
I feel good.
I feel blessed.
I could stay like this forever.
But then my piece comes to an end.
I add a little ditty, trying to prolong that blip of agency.
But then I wait for mom to pick me up me from my chair and lead me down the steps.
“Mom?” I ask but I don’t get a reply.
I get up anyway.
I know the way down it’s just that mom likes to help me.
I feel for the bar that snakes down the stairwell and suddenly from somewhere below me mom yelps. Followed by the sound of hurried boots charging towards me. “George you can’t come down by yourself what if you fall?”
I shrug “Then I fall. You weren’t there to help me down.”
“That’s because…” her voice trails off, there’s something. Something she’s not sure she wants to share with me yet. “It’s not important. I’m sorry for being late, but please next time just wait for me okay?”
I nod obediently to make her feel better.
As we walk to the wooden benches together I wish I told her I like doing things by myself.
That I don’t need her help with everything.
I’m thirteen already, I’m not a helpless little kid.
But then we sit and the pastor starts speaking again and it just kind of doesn’t feel that important anymore.
Mom simply wants to help me.
And I should be grateful to her.

When the sermon is over I expect to go to the little cafe with the ladies who like to talk gossip but we take a different street instead.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet. He can help us.”
“With what?”
She chuckles “You’ll see.”
The door creaks as we enter and inside there are whispers from people I do not recognise.
“Ah, the blind organist.” The voice sounds overly loud and boisterous like he’s trying to make a show of something.
Around him, the whispers softly go ‘Oooh.’ And ‘aaah’.
I cross my arms uncomfortably. I can smell the incense that we use to worship the good one, but the shape of the room sounds off. The voices don’t bounce off the walls like they do in the church.
The space feels cramped, warm and musty.
Just what is this place?
“His name is George,” Mom tells the man.
“George, you say? Such a wonderful name. Now George, you’ve been blind your entire life haven’t you?”
I turn to mom, she prods me in the shoulder as if to say ‘Answer the man’.
“Yes.”
“I can’t hear you kid you’ll have to speak a little louder.” I can hear people softly laughing in the audience in response.
I don’t want to ‘speak a little louder’. I want to know where I am and what’s going on.
“Yes!” Mom speaks up for me “He’s born blind.”
“Such a tragedy, such an injustice.” The man shouts a lot but I don’t know why.
“Mom, what’s-?” I ask but before I have the chance to get the full phrase out the boisterous man opens his mouth again.
“You may have been born blind young man, but that ends today.”
What?
“We’re going to restore your sight young man. When you walk out these doors you can see as clearly as myself or your darling mother.”
“What? Why!?” I exclaim before I have the chance to stop myself.
“Don’t you want to see?” mom asks me and-
I don’t know!?
I think I’m fine the way I am…
I thought you were fine with it too!?
“George?” Mom asks carefully.
This is unfair.
She put on that high-pitched voice, the one that makes her sound pitiful and sad. The one I can’t yell at.
“Don’t you even want to try?”
My fists tremble, I hang my head “I, I can try.”
“Please step forward.” The man’s voice is further away now. When did he move?
Mom grabs my arms tenderly and leads me up towards it.
Part of me wants to leave, wants to run, have a fight.
But I must admit a part of me is curious.
What are they planning?
Will it work?
“The bad one’s curses may be irreversible but that doesn’t mean we cannot ask the good one for another blessing. A blessing of sight to reach down into your broken eyes and grant them the power to see!”
Around me, the people murmur and whisper.
I can’t shake the feeling they’re all looking at me.
Judging me.
Pitying me.
I don’t know who these people are but I don’t like them very much.
Even if this thing this…blessing would work.
Was the audience really a necessity?
“Stop!” The boisterous man shouts and I freeze. “She cannot cross the threshold, little George has to do this part by himself. Only he can perform the ritual.”
Mom’s hand vanishes, I reach for it, grab her arm in a panic.
I changed my mind “I don’t like this.” I tell her.
She kisses my forehead “It’s gonna be okay. Just walk forward and do as the man says.”
I nod obediently.
Even though I want to cry.
I let go of mom and walk forward by myself.
I don’t know this place.
This space.
My steps are small, unsure of themselves.
But then the voice tells me to stop.
I freeze in place, fists still at the ready.
“Close your eyes.” He instructs.
I follow his instructions.
“Now raise your hands to the sky and answer me truthfully young man, do you believe in the goodness of the good one, the mercy of the lord!”
“Yes?”
“I will ask you again young man do. you. believe!” His voice gets louder.
“Yes.”
“Do you believe!” louder still. Is he angry with me?
“Yes!” I shout back “Yes I believe!”
To my relief the phrase the man yells changes “Do you love him like he loves us all!?”
“Yes!” I shout at the top of my lungs.
He seems to be pleased with this, and his phrase changes again “Will you accept his gift of sight!?”
I guess, if it works then “Yes!”
“Do you believe he’ll come down to you and restore your sight?”
I don’t know but I feel like if I say anything other than ‘yes’ things go horribly wrong somehow “Yes!”
Out of nowhere a drum starts beating, ramping up in speed until it goes as rapidly as the beating of my heart.
Then it stops as abruptly as it came.
There’s tension in the air, it’s almost palpable.
“Do you think you can see now!?” the boisterous man cries out triumphantly.
“Yes!”
“Then open your eyes and look upon the world.”
I open my eyes.
The crows cheers and claps but I’m greeted with the same familiar nothing.
“Tell me what you see young man!”
“Nothing.”
And I cry, not for my sight but for all those empty promises. I feel stupid for hoping. Stupid for believing.
The crowd goes silent.
Mom comes running to me, ‘the threshold’ now gone apparently. She embraces me and I can feel her disappointment in my bones.
The boisterous man sounds solemn as he tells the crowd “Unlimited conviction is necessary for the lord to do his work! I’m afraid our George just didn’t have enough of it.”
Mom drags me back to a seat and that’s it.
The boisterous man announces some other poor soul.
A woman who cannot walk due to injury, but who will soon be dancing like no one’s ever danced before.
I don’t want to hear it.
Don’t want to be here. “Can we go now?” I ask carefully.
She takes a long while to respond but then says “Yes sweetie.”
We get up.
Of course, the people start whispering as we walk to the door.
I don’t care.
I can hear the clink of money by the door as mom pays for our visit.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work,” I tell her.
She pats my hair “Don’t worry darling.” she tells me in that high-pitched voice again “We can try again next week.”