From Genesis to Revelation:
One Man's Journey Into Light

And Gawd returned to the place from whence he had come -- the city -- and to that part of it that contained mainly vermin and refuse. He wanted no more to do with the town where he'd spent the greater part of his life. He could no longer bear the places that had been special to him, because each held a gentle memory of a moment captured in his heart. He wept as he sat on the bus that took him from Halybury, knowing that he had been, at the very least, content to have lived there. But he knew there was now nothing for him. Some uncles and aunts and cousins were left about the town, and he had acquaintances after so many years, so there were plenty of well-wishers as he laid his daughter to rest in the cemetery by the river. People were scandalized by his wife's behaviour, and they knew how close he'd been to Aunt Rose. So he received more than his share of well-meaning pity for a couple of weeks. He even got a couple of offers of fairly decent jobs.

But it was like his life had ended on that fateful night, and he could no longer imagine a need to carry on with it. So, he cast it away and went out to live among the vermin and refuse, to be a solitary soul, keeping no other company than himself. He signed the title to the house over to his wife and gave her pretty much everything he owned, much to the chagrin of some of the relatives who might have made gains at the expense of his broken life. But he bore Janet no ill will and thought of her as a kind person for having put up with him for as long as she had. It had been a great sacrifice on her part. He remembered their parting conversation.

"You're going away?" she'd asked.

"Yeah, it looks that way," he answered.

"To the city?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess," he answered.

"Are you going to go to school?" she asked.

"I might," he answered. "I haven't decided."

"You should go," she said. "You've always wanted to."

There was a pause. They were standing in their old bedroom, only it was just her bedroom now, and he guessed she and Fred would be sleeping in their bed from now on. The pause continued, and it was somewhat awkward.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," she finally said, her voice quiet, furtive. "I really didn't mean to hurt you." She hesitated. There were tears welling up in her eyes.

"It's okay," he said with little emotion in his voice.

"I'll always love you, you know," she said.

He felt empty. He was quiet.

She reached out and took his hand. He left it limp, uncommitted.

"We'll always be soulmates, you know," she said, pushing out with her voice to make it sound more sincere.

"Yeah, I guess," he answered flatly. He looked up to meet her eyes, looking through her, into her -- trying to know what had happened between them.

"I'm sorry about Celeste," the woman said. "I know you and she had a special relationship."

He smiled, but said nothing.

"I've got to go," she said rather suddenly, looking at her watch, shifting up the atmosphere in the room by a couple of notches. Letting him know the special moment was over. She had done what she had felt compelled to do.

He watched from the bedroom window as she walked out to her car. Good-bye, he thought. But he also thought that he really didn't care. He was numb toward her after so many years of so little.

He gathered up a few things from around the house, a picture of his daughter, a toothbrush and a clean pair of underwear, stuffed them into the old duffle bag he'd brought with him to his Grandfather's all those years ago when he'd first come to this place. It seemed fitting that he would go out with just about exactly what he had come in with. Then he boarded a bus for the city -- back from whence he had come.

While he had divested himself of most of his earthly possessions, he'd kept what was left of his inheritance from Aunt Rose. His ex-wife didn't even quibble about it, she was so glad to get all the rest of his stuff, such as it was. He tucked the money from Aunt Rose carefully away, in a place where he could get at it, but where the getting at it was somewhat difficult. He took none of it with him on the bus, except for a few dollars to buy a few supplies at the other end, and that he pinned to the inside of his shirt. He took a heavier coat than he needed for this time of year, and he wore his work boots, because he knew he'd need to be prepared for most things in his new life. And he went out into the streets.

It was actually pleasant enough for the first few months, during the summer and fall, so there was little need to worry about the weather. He found himself a place under a railway trestle, out and away from where most others could usually be found. He quickly found a branch library that was friendly and welcoming, even to those such as he, who were uncomfortable with the normal way of things and on vacation from responsibility. He visited a mission or two and the food bank to obtain sustenance on his journey. He settled in.

Even in the winter, it seemed somehow all right. He found some casual work shoveling snow at an apartment complex, and the superintendent let him sleep in the garbage room when it was really cold out. It smelled pretty bad, and the truck that picked up the garbage came at about four in the morning. But he was thankful. Sometimes he found perfectly good magazines in among the trash. And he was thankful even for that.

He read a lot and visited the library, but he liked to go down into the centre of the city and watch people. He took to thinking of this as an activity called street watching, which he regarded as sort of a job. He would sit stone still for hours at a busy intersection, usually until the police asked him to move on. He simply watched people as they passed by, examining them for clues about who they might really be, besides the made-up creatures currently on parade for all the world to see. He would wonder about how they had come to pass this way in life -- what set of circumstances had happened to them since they were nothing but tiny children to have brought them to this particular intersection on this particular day.

One day, as he sat watching, a young woman was standing at the corner waiting for the "walk" signal so she could cross the street. A youth suddenly appeared, grabbed her purse, and started to run. The young woman shrieked, alerting everyone on the street to her dilemma, and the youth immediately became a major centre of attention on the crowded street. One passerby, a well-built young man in a muscle shirt, threw himself into the path of the fleeing delinquent, bringing him to ground almost right in front of where Gawd was sitting.

Just as quickly as the tangled twosome skidded onto the pavement, the youth who had grabbed the purse squirted free and came quickly back to his feet. He reached up under his coat and produced a huge and dangerous-looking gun. He levelled it at the approaching crowd, led by the young woman whose purse had been stolen. The youth defiantly cocked the gun.

Gawd felt himself tense up, expecting the worst.

"Don't nobody move!" commanded the youth.

The crowd froze. The youth froze. Gawd watched from almost between them. Then, a strange thing happened. Gawd stood up, attracting the attention of all concerned. He looked thoughtfully over at the youth, who kept the gun leveled at the crowd but watched Gawd nervously out of the corner of one eye. "Don't move, man," the youth snarled threateningly at Gawd, almost turning the gun from the crowd to point at the derelict so obviously interfering with the stand-off.

At first, Gawd said nothing, but continued to regard the youth thoughtfully, as if he might be studying an exhibit in a museum. Then, he spoke slowly and deliberately. "I'm not sure you should be doing this," he said to the young man with the gun.

"Who the hell are you? You're nothin' but a bum," he challenged. "And you're gonna be a dead bum," he threatened.

Gawd could see behind the youth to where a couple of police officers had manouvered in behind the parked cars and were making their way secretly down the street to the confrontation. "You should think about what you're doing," he said steadily, no trace of tension in his voice. "These people have families."

Those words had hardly departed Gawd's mouth when the youth turned suddenly and violently toward him. "You goddammned bastard bum!" he cried out, lunging at Gawd, grabbing him by the lapel of his coat, pressing the gun to his temple. "But I'll bet you don't have a family, eh bum?" he hissed into Gawd's face. Gawd could taste the young man's breath.

At that moment the police felt they had their best chance, so two officers hurtled themselves over the car they'd been crouching behind and crashed heavily into Gawd and the young man. All four went smashing into a large plate glass window in the storefront behind them. Gawd remembered hearing a loud crack as they fell through the window. He remembered thinking about the gun. Then, everything went dark.

He came to in a hospital emergency room about fifteen minutes later. At first, they thought he'd been shot, but it turned out he just taken a hit on the head when they'd fallen into the window. A doctor gave him the once over and declared him basically fit, except for the bump on his head, but told him to lay still for a few moments, until they could be absolutely sure he hadn't suffered some internal injury.

While he was laying still, his eyes closed, he felt another person in the examination room. He opened his eyes, expecting to see a doctor or nurse fussing about with some of the array of wires and knobs protruding from the medical equipment. Instead, he saw a young woman in street clothes.

"Hello," she said softly.

Gawd smiled, but said nothing.

"I wanted to thank you," the young woman said.

Gawd continued to lay quietly, watching her.

"It was my purse," she explained. "I thought he was going to shoot. I thought someone was going to get shot." She paused. "I could have been the one if you hadn't distracted him. That was a very brave thing you did. You're a very brave man."

Gawd remained quiet.

"Look, you look like you're a little down on your luck, and I'd like to repay you," the young woman said. "Here's my business card and I want you to get in touch with me in the next couple of days." She slipped the card into his hand.

"I've got to go now," she started. "But thanks again. That was really something special." And she turned and left the examination room.

Gawd held up the business card, examining it. She was a lawyer. Nice young woman, he thought, as he climbed down off the bed. It was time to go, and he slipped out of the emergency department and back onto the street. He had a bit of a headache, but figured he'd live. He didn't want any attention. He wanted quiet and calm.

Of course, he didn't call the lady lawyer. He settled back into life on the street. As years passed, he moved from the railway trestle out to a piece of bush behind one of the city's cemeteries. He managed to hang onto his winter shoveling job during those years and slept snug and secure among the refuse of others on the coldest of winter nights. And while others might have said that his was a mean and miserable lot, he did not once complain that he was somehow treated unfairly. Even on those nights when he went to sleep hungry because he could not bear another sermon at the mission, he did not lament his existence.

One day, after some years had passed, as he was walking down the street, perhaps more shuffling than walking because of the heavy boots he wore, he came across a boy sitting on the front steps of an apartment building, looking extremely unhappy. As Gawd approached, the young man rose to meet him.

"You don't know anybody who'd like to buy a camera?" he asked Gawd, glancing about nervously.

"I don't think so," Gawd answered, looking curiously at the young man who had part of a camera protruding out from under his jacket. "Where did you get it?" Gawd asked, breaking with his usual habit of asking nothing of anyone.

"I won it," the young man answered.

"You must be lucky," Gawd replied, and he continued on his way.

Some time later, Gawd was again walking and he came upon the same boy, who was again sitting on the front steps of the apartment building and again looking most unhappy.

"Did you sell the camera?" Gawd asked, as he approached to pass.

The boy looked up, appearing surprised.

"The camera you won," Gawd said. "Did you sell it?"

"Oh......no," answered the boy. "I couldn't. It wasn't mine."

"What do you mean?" Gawd asked. "I thought you won it."

"I took it from my Dad's stuff," the boy answered. "I was getting even with him because he divorced my mom -- that's what my counsellor would say."

"That's too bad -- I mean about your mom and dad," Gawd observed.

"I hate it," the boy said. "My mom and dad split up, so I've got to move halfway across the city -- away from everything. And I'm stuck living with my mom because my dad's with his new family. Nobody seems to really give a care about me or what I think."

Gawd decided to pause and sat down on the step near the boy.

"That's tough what you're going through," he offered. "The adults are all mixed up and they don't see the kids. I'm sure they still care about you just like they always have -- but they're just so caught up in their own lives that they can't see anything else."

"I don't know," answered the boy. "I just want them to know that I'm not part of the furniture."

"I'm sure they'll realize that," Gawd said.

"I hope so," answered the young man.

Gawd got to his feet. "I should go," he said. "It's good that you put your Dad's camera back. Your counsellor would probably have been right -- you were probably getting even. Don't be too hard on your parents. I'm sure they love you."

Just then a car drove up in front of the apartment building. Gawd could see someone peering curiously out of the car window, perhaps wondering what interest a derelict creature such as this might have with a young boy, and perhaps even thinking the worst.

"Take care," he said to the boy. "Be strong." And he turned and walked away. The next day, he went to the library, as was his custom, but instead of sitting among the newspapers and magazines, he went to the study tables over by the reference section, where he was resolved that he would produce a letter. He had not forgotten the boy he had met the previous day, and he felt that he should somehow make an attempt to help the lad in his struggles. He would do what he could.

He had an idea that he would try to write a letter to the boy's parents, telling them how their son felt, to give them a chance to recognize the error of their ways and make some effort to appease their child. He was sure the parents were just so caught up in their own lives that they had lost sight of the boy. They just needed a reminder that he was also part of the family, and hence the divorce.

Just as he was about to start to write, he sensed another person standing by him. He turned to see the very boy who was in his thoughts.

"Hello," the young man said.

"Hi," Gawd answered.

There was a pause.

"You looking for something to read?" Gawd asked.

"I have a project to do," the boy answered somewhat glumly.

"That's too bad," Gawd said sympathetically.

"My dad was supposed to help me but he had to go to his office," the boy said.

"Where's your mom?" Gawd asked.

"She's working," the boy said. "She's always working."

There was another pause.

"I might be able to help," Gawd said quietly.

"Do you think you could?" the boy asked.

"I used to help my daughter with her projects," Gawd said, and he became somewhat pensive after he spoke the words.

So Gawd helped the young man, whose name was Joshua, or Josh for short, with his school project. They were soon sitting at the study table surrounded by huge stacks of reference materials. For the first time in many years -- a very considerable length of time -- Gawd felt some true enjoyment in his life. But even as he went about digging through the research materials, he was aware that others in the library were watching the odd twosome, the unshaven, unkempt derelict and the boy, and were no doubt wondering at the pairing. For a moment -- just the tiniest of moments -- he was ashamed of what he'd become, but he continued to help the boy, who was oblivious to the busy-bodyness directed at the two of them.

It was a delicious afternoon for Gawd, who felt no harm was done to be with the boy in such a public place. But, as with all good things, time eventually ran out on the afternoon, and the library was due to close. So, they returned some of their reference materials, and the boy gathered up the notes he had made, and they started for the door.

"There, do you think you've got enough to get a start?" Gawd asked, as they walked.

"Oh, I'm sure I do," answered the boy.

They were soon outside on the sidewalk in front of the building.

Gawd had decided they should part once they left the library, so he bade Joshua farewell and started away from the direction of the apartment building where he knew the boy lived. "See you," he said, as he started off.

"Why are you going that way?" asked the boy.

"I've got some things to do downtown," Gawd lied.

"Come this way," the boy said. "Let's walk part way together."

"I really shouldn't," Gawd maintained.

"Come on, please," pleaded the boy. "You can still turn off and go downtown."

"Maybe just a little ways," Gawd said, relenting, unable to say no the boy, perhaps still feeling the glow of helping him in the library.

"Great," answered the boy.

And they set off.

They'd walked only a short distance when Gawd was aware of a car coming up beside them and slowing to a stop. He turned to see what was up.

"Oh, great, it's my dad," the boy said, and it was obvious that he was less than pleased.

They stopped on the sidewalk beside the car and watched as a tall, athletic-looking man got out.

"Josh," the man started. "I've been looking for you. Your mother's been frantic. I had to leave a business meeting." He rattled out the statements in a machine gun style, and the boy recoiled each time he was hit with a new volley. He punctuated the attack with a look of disgust in Gawd's direction.

"I was at the library," the boy snapped back angrily. "I was doing my project -- the one you were supposed to help me with."

"I know you were at the library -- I went there -- and they told me you'd been with a filthy old man," the father said, his voice now also filled with anger. "I had to deal with something at work. I explained about that to you." He paused, giving Gawd another look-over. "Who is this, anyway?" he asked the boy.

"He's my friend," answered the boy defiantly. "He helped me with my project."

There was a moment of quiet uneasiness.

"Josh, wait in your Dad's car," Gawd said to the boy, suddenly deciding to act out of character, to get involved.

"But....." the boy started to protest.

"Please, Josh?" Gawd asked.

the boy hung his head, but he went and got into the car.

"I don't mean your boy any harm," Gawd said to the father, once the car door had closed.

"I think you'd better move along," the father said. "I don't know what you were doing with Josh, but I'd appreciate it if you'd stay away from him. He's going through a tough time right now, and he's a little mixed up."

"I'm not sure he's the one who's mixed up," Gawd answered. "I think you've got a really bright, eager kid there, and I think you're mixed up about where your priorities lie."

"I don't think you know what you're talking about," the father answered, and there was anger in his voice again. "How dare you interfere with my family."

"I may not know what I'm talking about," Gawd answered, "but I know a boy who needs a little attention when I see him. I know a boy who's very close to the edge -- and who's very unhappy with things. And I'd be thankful if somebody told me about it."

"You better get the hell out of here," the father said forcefully, starting for the driver's side of the car, bearing an awful countenance. "And don't come near my son again," he threatened, as he got into the car and slammed the door. The car roared off, spraying up loose gravel, while the boy and Gawd looked helplessly at each other.

Gawd sighed. He'd tried.

Some weeks later, he was sitting in a downtown park, reading a newspaper he'd found in the trash, and paying little attention to what was transpiring about him. He didn't see the man approach but, rather, sensed his presence and looked up. He saw the father.

The man looked somewhat fidgety and uncomfortable. He cleared his throat.

"I saw you sitting here," the father started. "I wanted to talk to you. I was hoping I might get to see you again."

Gawd regarded him, but said nothing.

"I was wrong when I talked to you before," the father confessed. "You were so right about what I was doing with Josh. God, what a bastard I was being. I don't know what got into me."

Still, Gawd was quiet. He watched the man.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks and that I was sorry for being less than kind the other day," the father said. "I can't patch things up with Josh's mom -- things are over between us -- but I can try to make sure the boy doesn't get caught in a crossfire." He paused. "Listen, you look like you're a little down on your luck," he continued. "I don't know if there's anything I can do, but I owe you a lot -- and here's my card. You just call my secretary." He paused again. "Thanks," he concluded, reaching out and grasping Gawd's hand, giving it a firm shake.

Then, he started to walk off, but before he had gone far, he turned back. "He got an "A" on that project," he called, smiling, then continuing on his way.

Gawd returned the smile. He glanced at the business card. A vice president in charge of finance. A captain of industry. Strange how some things work out.

More years passed, and they were kind to Gawd. He suffered the occasional humiliation of poverty. There was more hunger than not, and he lost his winter accommodation in the refuse room at the apartment complex when the kindly superintendent was arrested and convicted of scamming money out of the tenants monthly rental fees, so it was cold in winter. But it was a peaceful period for him. He lived quietly, continuing to frequent the library, where he was able to spirit himself away from the drab ordinariness of his reality, and into exotic locales and faraway faerie lands.

The torturous remembrances of his earlier life had even seemed to fade somewhat. He still carried the girl's picture close to his heart, his fair daughter who had been the love of his life. Over the years, he had sometimes been reminded of her, brought up short by the sight of another young face, so fresh and innocent. But he tried not to dwell on the past, and went on about his life, such as it was, until he had reached nearly three score years.

One day, as he was sitting in a coffee shop sipping a cup of tea, having been fortunate enough to have salvaged an old chesterfield suite that was in good enough shape to get a couple of bucks for, something happened. A young girl, possibly a teenager, came to sit beside him -- or actually at a table directly across from him, so it was difficult for him to avoid appearing to stare at her.

She was a pretty girl, but he quickly saw that she seemed in some distress, red-eyed, perhaps from weeping. As she toyed with her coffee, she seemed to be stifling yet another sob. He wondered what could make one so young so apparently miserable, at an age when there should be few concerns, and life should be bright and rosy.

She fought back tears even as he watched, thinking he should look away and allow her some privacy in her moment of anguish, but he was as unable to do so as she was able to prevent the tears. She wept, holding her hand up over her face, trying to hide her grief. Finally, he could take no more.

"Are you all right?" he asked, getting up and approaching her.

She looked up, a picture of misery.

"Are you all right?" he asked again, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, taking a chance.

She wiped away the tears and tried to compose herself. "I think so," she answered. "Thanks," she added, taking his hand and giving it a tiny squeeze.

He went back to his own table. After he sat down, he looked up and saw the girl looking straight back at him. She smiled. He smiled.

"You could talk about it," he suggested, and he again broke with his usual habit of keeping only to himself.

"It won't do any good," she answered.

"It usually does some good," he said.

She smiled again. "You look like you need to talk about it," she said.

He smiled, but said nothing.

A couple who'd been sitting down at the other end of the place got up and left, so Gawd, the girl, and the guy behind the counter were the only ones who remained. It was quiet for a few moments.

Gawd glanced back toward the girl and saw that she appeared deep in thought. "God, what a mess," he thought he heard her mumble.

"It can't be that bad," Gawd said.

"It's that bad," the girl said. "I'm pregnant," she added matter-of-factly. "How much worse could it be?"

Gawd was taken aback by her news. She looked so young -- too young. "That's a tough one," he said. "That's a real tough one."

There was silence. The guy behind the counter had disappeared, probably into the kitchen.

"What are you going to do?" Gawd asked, knowing it was none of his business, but remembering back to another time to another young girl in a similar circumstance.

"I came here to get rid of it," she said, her voice flat, even and hushed.

"An abortion?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

She looked over at him, a picture of misery.

"Who knows?" Gawd asked.

"Just my boyfriend," the girl said.

"And where's he?" Gawd asked.

"He didn't think it would look right if we both missed school on the same day," she said. "He gave me the money and told me where to go."

Gawd remembered another and felt sadness with the memory. "Your parents don't know?" he asked.

"I don't have parents. I live with my grandmother," she answered. "I could never tell her. It would kill her." Another look of grief came over her at the thought of her dear grandmother. "And after she took me in."

"She should know," Gawd said. "She won't stop loving you. She might be able to help you. I'm not sure you're doing the right thing."

"I can't tell her," the girl said. "She wouldn't know what to do. She'd die."

"You might be surprised," Gawd said.

There was a silence. The girl seemed deep in thought.

"I can't," she finally said. "I've got to get rid of it. I've got to go for the abortion."

"Look, maybe you should go for the abortion," Gawd answered, "but you should do it under the right circumstances. You should tell your grandmother, and let her help you through it. You shouldn't do it like this. It's a mistake. A serious mistake." Again there were memories from his past -- when he had sat in such a place waiting for another to do the deed. Only it had ended in tragedy.

Still, he wondered that he should speak so, when he had borne such an aversion to doing so to others during his years of solitude. He had seen a thousand decrepit children dwelling in misery and anguish on the streets of this city, but he had said nothing to any of them. He had not helped their cause one iota, but had watched from a distance. But for this young girl, he was overwhelmed with empathy and a desire to assist, if only he could.

"How could I ever go to her?" the girl said. "She trusted me." She looked directly at Gawd. "You know I've had sex once, and it was almost an accident the way it happened, and my life is ruined," she said, with a tone of seriousness to her voice.

"Your life doesn't have to be ruined," Gawd said, his voice also serious, an earnestness to it. "You could go to your grandmother, or even a teacher at school, or your doctor -- get somebody to help you through this. There are some things that you should have help with. This is one of them. Don't throw your life away over one mistake."

Gawd's voice had risen in volume and become more intense as he'd spoken, swelling to a magnificent crescendo in the last line. When he finished, there was dead silence in the coffee shop, the girl chewing nervously on the ends of her hair, no sign of the counter guy.

The silence persisted for several moments, until the counter guy came out of the kitchen area and crashed a fresh tray of donuts into position behind the counter.

"Will you help?" said a quiet, uncertain voice.

More silence. Gawd thought.

"I'll go to your grandmother's with you," he finally said.

"I don't know if I can do that," she said fearfully.

"It's your only option," Gawd said. "I'll try to help you through that."

More silence. The girl thought.

"I'll try," she finally said. "If you'll come, I'll try to tell her." She gave a hint of a smile.

"There, you feel better already," Gawd said, breaking into a broad grin himself.

She smiled more warmly.

So, they set off for the other side of the city where the grandmother lived, Gawd paying their bus fare with the last of his money, even though she offered to pay from the money her boyfriend had given her for the abortion. There was mostly silence between them as they rode, both with their thoughts, perhaps wondering how they had come to be in such a position. Soon, they were standing on the sidewalk in front of the grandmother's house.

"I'm not sure I should be doing this," the girl said uncertainly.

"Let's go," Gawd said, gently taking her by the arm and starting up the sidewalk.

Gawd followed her into the house, feeling uneasy about being in what might be called a home, but he trailed along behind her, certain that he wouldn't waver in this task.

When the grandmother heard someone in the house, she came out to see who it was, so they met in the dining room. When Gawd first saw her, he was taken aback, because he'd been expecting a gray-haired, bespectacled, wrinkled-up, elderly sort of person, and what he got was an extremely attractive woman who was obviously comfortably enjoying the autumn of her years.

"Grandma," the girl said, when the older woman entered, rushing to embrace her.

"Why aren't you in school, child?" the grandmother asked. "And who's this with you?"

The girl stepped back, suddenly serious, she took her grandmother's hand. "I've got something important to talk to you about," she said quietly. "This kind gentleman came to help me tell you."

Gawd felt himself flush as the woman's attention focussed on him. He could feel her looking him over, and he felt naked and vulnerable and uncomfortable before her. He was ashamed of the disreputable condition of his attire. He wanted for a shower, a razor, a comb and a change of clothes.

"Hello, ma'am," he said respectfully.

"Hello," the woman said back, then turned her attention back to the girl. "Now, what's this that's so important that you've missed school."

"Oh, grandma," the girl sort of sighed, in a way that showed this was a serious topic indeed. "I'm pregnant."

There was silence for a moment after she said the words. The older woman said nothing. Then, she reached out and put an arm around her grandchild, and held her close.

"She needs your help, ma'am," Gawd said softly.

"Of course she does," the grandmother said rather fiercely. "And she shall have it."

"Oh, grandma," the girl wept, melting into the older woman's comforting embrace.

"You poor child," the grandmother said to the girl. "How you must have suffered keeping this all to yourself."

Gawd started to quietly withdraw. He took a couple of small steps back toward the doorway that led out of the room.

"Wait," the grandmother said when she saw his intent. He stopped his retreat. "What's this man's involvement in this?" she asked her granddaughter.

"He's the one who told me to tell you," the girl said. "I was going to have an abortion -- I was upset, and he asked me what was wrong."

"An abortion!" the older woman exclaimed. "Without talking to me about it?"

"He told me I should come to you," the girl said. "He told me that I shouldn't let it ruin my life."

"It seems you may have saved my granddaughter's life," the grandmother said to Gawd.

"I was just someone she could talk to, ma'am," Gawd answered. "She made the right choice herself."

"Well, would you consider staying to dinner for your trouble?" the grandmother asked. Gawd felt his heart jump.

"I really probably should be going," Gawd answered. But he knew he surely didn't mean it.

"Come now," the woman said, "you can certainly stay for dinner. I can even give you a ride home after."

"I don't know, ma'am," Gawd continued to protest.

"Please stay," the girl interjected.

Gawd looked sheepishly toward his shoes, feeling awkward and embarrassed.

"There, it's settled," the grandmother said with finality. "I'll set an extra place."

The exchange was followed by a moment of silence, as if everyone was now unsure what to do next, Gawd because he was a stranger in the house, and the two women because they had invited a derelict into their home and were now unsure what to do with him.

"Would you like to get cleaned up?" the grandmother suddenly asked, perhaps sensing the embarrassment he felt at his general condition and appearance. "Come with me," she instructed, not waiting for him to answer. Gawd followed her up the stairs of the well-kept house and into a large bedroom.

"Look," she said, "here's what you'll be needing." She pushed open a door leading off the bedroom to reveal a bathroom. "You could probably use a shower," she said, offering him a wide smile.

He felt small and petty for being nothing and having nothing. "Don't be embarrassed," the grandmother said. "You're obviously a very special man to have helped my granddaughter the way you did. I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for the way you look. You have a shower and get cleaned up."

She seemed to eye him up for a moment. "I'm going to go up into the attic and get down some of my Henry's clothes for you. I think you're about the same size." She paused for a moment as if thinking about something. "He was my husband," she explained. "He died a few years ago. It's about time I got some use out of those clothes."

Soon Gawd was luxuriating in the hottest of showers, letting the water course over him, washing away the years of filth and grime. And when he finally got out of the shower, fearful that he had emptied the hot water heater, there were fresh towels, a razor, and everything else he needed, including his choice from a huge wardrobe that had been laid out on the bed.

Once he had cleaned and groomed and dressed himself, he descended to the main floor of the house, where he found the women had prepared a veritable feast. And as he sat and ate, he felt so absolutely contented that he engaged in pleasant conversation with the two women and they laughed and joked about the state of the weather and other inane subjects. But they also broached the difficult topic of the pregnancy, and Gawd found himself invited to participate in that discussion as if he might have been one of the family. He relished the occasion.

After dinner, he helped to clear the dishes and went into the kitchen to see if there was anything he could help with. Just as he offered, the phone rang and it was one of the girl's friends, so she disappeared to make gossip about schoolmates, while he found himself in possession of a dish towel, which he immediately set about using.

"You know you're charming company," the grandmother said to him, as they did the dishes. "It's hard to believe..." She started to say, but stopped in mid-sentence.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I was going to call you a bum," she said apologetically.

"I suppose that would be fair," he answered, "considering that I am one."

"How could..." she started to ask, then stopped.

"What's the matter?" he asked again.

She smiled. "I was going to ask how a nice guy like you ended up in a predicament like this -- or something like that. That would be kind of a clichéd question, eh?"

He smiled back but said nothing. They washed and dried in silence for a moment.

"It was really great of you to help my granddaughter out," the grandmother finally said, just as he was drying the last dish, and she was wiping down the counter. "I don't know what I could do to thank you."

"It's all right," he answered. "I was just glad to do it."

"Do you want to stay for a while longer, or can I give you a ride home?" she asked. "It would be nice if you stayed."

"Oh, I've probably outstayed my welcome now," he replied. "I should probably go. But I can walk. It's not very far."

"Well, all right, if you're sure," she said.

"Thanks anyway," he said.

"Let me give you a few of Henry's things before you go," she offered. Soon, he was loaded down with a couple of bags of clothes and was saying his farewells at the door. The grandmother had given him their telephone number and told him to call if he ever needed anything. When she asked for his number, he had to explain that he didn't have a telephone at his place, and she looked at him strangely but said nothing. Finally, he left the place and went back out into the streets just as night was falling. And he smiled that he had accomplished so much on this day. It had been a good day. Good indeed.

He had walked for some time, lost in his thoughts, and so didn't notice a car pull up alongside of him, until it was right beside him. He watched as the driver's side door opened. It was the grandmother. "I've had quite a time finding you," she said. "It's pitch black out here."

He looked at her, somewhat confused that she should have appeared. "It's no wonder you have no phone," she said. "You have no place to live, do you?"

He looked about awkwardly.

"Listen," the woman started, "come and stay with us for a while. We talked about it after you left. We've got all kinds of space in that big, old house. We'd be happy for the company."

He turned and started to walk away.

"I had a great time tonight," she said. "It was so very nice to have someone of similar interests to talk to over dinner again. Come and give it a try for a while. Just call it a vacation for yourself. You can just lounge around the house all day if you like."

"I'm not sure," he answered. But he knew he was sure. He wanted to accept -- he wanted to scream out that he accepted -- but something would not let him -- and he struggled with it.

"Come with me," the grandmother said. "We'd both love to have you as part of the household. For as long or as short as you like."

"You really don't mind?" he asked uncertainly.

"You're welcome with us," she said, smiling.

"Okay," Gawd said. And he smiled and he got into her car. And his time in the wilderness was at an end.