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Comfortable Madness First PDF 4-13-18

Prayer “Dear Jesus,”

Prayer “Dear Jesus,” I prayed. “Christ,” Tayla said. We were in the living room. I lay on the couch, floating on oxy. “I have to,” I said. Tayla rubbed my toes at the end of the cast. She shrugged. “Dear Jesus,” I said. I was not prone to prayer. If there was a god, he wanted nothing to do with me. Still, something to told me to pray. “This is stupid,” Tayla said. “Dear Jesus.” Tayla’s fingers were hard and strong. Her face was all shadows. “What should I pray for?” I asked. “Money.” “Seriously,” I said. “Prayer’s not going to do anything,” she said. I closed my eyes again and tried to imagine God. All I saw was Gid. All I knew was that redemption hurt. Pain and fear were my redeeming qualities.

Soon I knew things. I knew someday Tayla would walk away. Someday, Coy would come with his knife and split me open. I knew I was dying. The couch was hard under me. The cushions were too full. My back hurt. My leg ached. Gid stood in the corner. Not his usual solid self. The edges of his body were hazed, like ink dropped into water. “I’m here,” he said. The room was dark. Light from the lamp on the corner fell through the window. “You’re going to be fine,” he said. “I’m dying,” I said. He shook his head. “I’m scared,” I said. “Scared is good,” he said. I reached for the lamp. “Don’t,” he said. “Gid…” “Not now,” he said. “Not yet.” “I need to see you.” He shivered. “I’m not ready,” he said. I lay on the couch, heavy and soft. Even the air seemed to press on me. “Soon?” I asked. Gid nodded. “When?” I asked. “When I’m done,” he said. Between one thought and the next, I slipped away. I fell into thick and seamless dark. I floated. “When I’m done,” Gid said again. “Soon?”