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

Gawd was not overly anxious to lose his virginity. He found girls to be a mysterious and unknown quantity, and even though he was pretty constantly in their company, he felt strangely uneasy in certain circumstances. Sid pushed and pushed the issue as the summer wore on, so much so that Gawd found himself dreading being in his company when an available female came in range. It wasn't for lack of interest, because Gawd's hormones were working. He exhibited the usual signs of pubescence, even soiling Aunt Rose's sheets on occasion, much to his eternal embarrassment. But the awkwardness he felt when he was around most young women of his age prevented him from making even a first move. Sid chided him for his apparent shyness.

Sid never settled into a continuous relationship himself, but he never really talked about it much, and Gawd didn't push it. That would bring up his own very obvious chastity. But Gawd guessed that Sid was dashing well past first base on most occasions from his smug smile in rare moments when the topic came up.

Finally, it was back-to-school time, and the boys entered high school where they soon discovered that they existed on the bottom rung of the academic ladder. Much to Gawd's consternation, entrance into high school was accompanied by an Initiation Day, where the lowly Grade Niners, like he and Sid, were required to dress in silly costumes and be humiliated by the senior students for a complete day. Gawd was not a centre-of-attention person at the best of times, and the prospect of dressing in a diaper and baby bonnet, even if it was all in good fun, did not impress him in the least. Sid was already dreaming up acts of revenge he'd carry out against any senior who dared inflict even the slightest humiliation on him, but Gawd was terrified.

Gawd wore shorts and his coat over his silly baby costume, as he made his way to Sid's on the morning of the incredibly embarrassing day. This was not going to be great. The boys looked as if they'd been sentenced to eternal damnation as they trudged, heads hung low, toward the school. They knew the seniors would block every conceivable entrance to the place, thus necessitating the first humility.

It soon ended -- the dead horse routine with about five others who shared their fate, and they dodged and ducked their way toward their lockers, trying to avoid contact with their tormentors. It was a scary and frightening trip through the halls of the building, one time managing to elude capture, but the next, caught, and reduced to ridicule.

It was one of the few times Gawd was glad for the beginning of math class, even though he felt ridiculous sitting there in a diaper doing problems. He hoped the class would somehow last for the rest of the day, but it ended, and he headed for wood shop -- another fine pursuit for someone dressed as he was. It was not among his favourite classes, but he couldn't argue with his timetable.

Finally, though, it was lunch -- open season. It rained during the morning which created a potentially bad combination of events, as Gawd soon found out. He almost made it off the school property unscathed, having discovered an emergency exit out through the janitor's room, but he was caught just as he was about to bolt to freedom by one of the dreaded seniors out for a noon-hour walk with his girl.

"You there," the senior called toward him.

He was tempted to make a break for it -- he was that close to safety -- but the thought of an appearance at the school's Kangeroo Court and that ultimate humiliation forced him back. "Yes, sir," he answered, coming stiffly to a type of attention.

"Thought you could sneak out, eh?" the senior accused.

"No, sir," Gawd answered.

"Where do you think you're going, then?" the senior asked.

"Home for lunch," Gawd answered.

"We'll see about that," the senior said. He turned to the girl by his side. "And what price should he pay to go for lunch?" he asked her. "You decide."

Gawd was petrified by the situation, but his attention followed the senior's and he soon found himself looking at the girl. In fact, he found himself staring at the girl, but only for a moment before she caught him. He looked quickly away and felt himself flush. She was fresh and wholesome and beautiful-looking. He couldn't resist another glimpse and found her watching him, so their eyes met. He felt his heart jump with a rush of excitement. God, why am I dressed like this? he thought.

"Let him go for lunch, Gerald," the girl said, returning her attention to her apparent boyfriend.

"Why should I?" Gerald asked smugly and self-importantly. "I think we should have some fun with him."

Gawd stood quietly, mired in embarrassment and feeling vulnerable and stupid and pitiful.

"Let him go, Gerald," the girl said, with a touch of pleading in her voice.

"Oh, alright," the senior said, with a tone of resignation. "If it'll make you happy."

Gawd needed no second chance and sped on his way down the street toward home, but not before chancing another look at his saviour. She again met his eyes, and offered him a soft, warm smile for the thanks in his eyes.

The afternoon went better for it seemed most of the seniors had tired of humiliating the Grade Nines. Even though there was a parade downtown that proved a dangerous endeavour, Gawd felt more relaxed -- despite the fact his diaper had by this time drooped so he in constant peril of losing it. Finally, he and Sid were at the assembly where the Kangeroo Court was being held. Sid said he was laying low, sure he'd be taken to task for some disrespect he'd shown a couple of upper classmen earlier in the day. Such was not the case, and Gawd suspected that Sid may have exaggerated.

Soon, it was over and they were off home to change and get ready for the "Welcome To School" dance that night. The junior students were supposed to be treated exceedingly well, as if to somehow make amends for the day's humiliation. Gawd and Sid were surely looking forward to their first high school dance.

Gawd supposed that when you were at a dance, you were supposed to dance -- but he had no intention of doing so. Sid had quickly ended up sitting at a tableful of girls and was working his way through them on the dance floor. He'd sat with Sid and the girls at first but felt all kinds of pressure to dance. So he had excused himself, ostensibly to relieve himself, and didn't return to the table, choosing instead to sit alone at the end of the bleachers and watch the dancers. He'd been sitting in solitude for some time.

"All by yourself," a girl's voice said from behind him.

He turned, and saw the girl from earlier in the day -- the one who'd saved him from at least one humiliation in a day filled with humiliations. He felt himself tense up.

"Seems a shame," she said, "at your first high school dance."

"I don't know too many people yet," Gawd said, surprising himself by even talking to her.

"That'll probably change," she said.

Gawd said nothing, but smiled awkwardly.

"I should go," the girl said. "Gerald will miss me." She started away, then turned back. "Nice to see you without your diaper," she said, smiling warmly at him for the second time that day.

Gawd melted when she smiled. He couldn't explain the way he felt when he was near her—excited—nervous--anticipating. Deep inside he felt the stirrings of his young heart. He felt warm and glowy that she had even noticed him. He guessed she was a senior, because of her association with Gerald, who was obviously a senior. Why she would even notice he was alive was something he could not fathom. He was a nothing in life.

He watched for her the rest of the night, occasionally seeing her dancing with Gerald. He found himself wishing that he could be Gerald, even just for a couple of minutes. She would see him as her equal -- and would get to know him. He could almost see himself dancing with her, holding her close, feeling her against him. He found the thought toubling, knowing that it could never be, but he could not help but think it, try as he might. She was his goddess -- his Venus -- and he felt an attraction to her that he had not felt for any other. Even when he saw her on the dance floor, it was like she danced alone, and he saw no other, excepting himself, perhaps as Apollo.

He drifted back to the table where Sid's harem was down to two: the good-looking girl Sid was hoping to make out with, and her not-entirely-unattractive, but plain, best friend, who became Gawd's date for the night by default. Gawd sat beside the girl for the rest of the night, feeling awkward and uncomfortable at not asking her to dance. Finally he did dance with her for the last couple of slow songs of the night, feeling it was kind of his duty. She felt stiff and wooden, obviously feeling as awkward and uncomfortable as he had earlier. He guessed he should have left well enough alone.

Just as they were leaving the "Welcome to High School" dance as a foursome, there was a bit of a ruckus outside the door to the school. Gawd heard some scuffling and craned his neck to get a better look. He saw two older guys pushing and shoving each other and didn't realize at first that one of them was Gerald. Then he saw her standing just to the side of the altercation, looking distressed.

"Gerald, it was nothing," he heard the girl say.

"Nobody messes with my girl," Gerald said angrily, punctuating his words by shoving at the other guy.

"It was nothing, Gerald," the girl implored. "Let's go," she said.

Gerald hesitated in his advance on the other guy, turning toward the girl. "Keep out of it," he said, his voice mean and low. Then he turned back to his apparent foe.

"I didn't mean anything," the other guy said loudly, as if to show he wasn't afraid.

"Apologize to my girl," Gerald commanded.

"I'm sorry," the other guy barked. "I didn't mean nothing."

The two antagonists stood facing each other, and Gawd thought of "National Geographic" shows he'd seen on TV where big mountain goats stood just like this, then charged toward each other and crashed their heads together in one almighty blow.

"What started it?" Gawd heard Sid whisper to another kid who was closer to the action.

"The one guy's been drinkin', and he thought the other guy was trying to pick up his girl," the other kid whispered back. "It really wasn't much that I could see."

"Gerald, please," Gawd could hear the girl imploring her brutish boyfriend.

The whole crowd stood still and in total silence -- just for a moment.

"Get lost, asshole," Gerald suddenly roared. "Don't pull that shit again or I'll cream ya," he bellowed.

Gawd could see the other guy relax his at-the-ready stance just a bit. Gerald looked a little unsteady on his feet, sort of weaving back and forth on the spot he occupied. People in the crowd started to move about and talk in hushed tones, apparently sensing that the worst was over. Gawd looked over the crowd for the girl and found her, standing off by herself, looking more than miserable. He wanted to rush to her, just to tell her that it was all right, and that he would keep her from harm. But that would be stupid. Gerald would crush him like a small, insignificant bug.

Then the moment was past, and Sid and Gawd walked the girls home through darkened back streets where Sid was hoping to cop a feel, and Gawd was afraid he might. When they reached the one girl's house, Sid and his companion nearly inhaled one other for a couple of minutes, while Gawd and his companion stood awkwardly by, trying not to look at either their friends or each other.

As Gawd lay in his bed that night, his thoughts were of her, the woman who had captured his heart -- and she surely must be a woman, and not one of the girls he was accustomed to. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her there, and he felt close to her. When he slept, he dreamed of her, but not as he had with other girls he had found attractive. She came as an arc of light into the black world of his night, and he felt he could not dare to touch her, or even look upon her for fear of being blinded, so brilliant did she seem.

He awoke early, unrested. He climbed into his jeans, pulled on his jacket, and went out, while Aunt Rose, and most of the rest of the town, still slept. He walked straight out of town, along the County Line, until he hit Cemetery Road. He veered in that direction and found the railway tracks, just past the river at the bottom of the hill. It was an early autumn morning, despite the fact the calendar said it was still summer. Once you got past Labour Day, it was fall -- no matter what the calendar said. Mist was rising off the river, as the first rays of early morning sun collided with the coolness of the water's surface. It was still.....peaceful.....idyllic.

He walked to a place he'd discovered with the old man, when he'd been alive. Sometimes when they had had enough of Aunt Rose and everybody else trying to fuss over them, they'd come here. They'd bring fishing poles but rarely cast a line, and usually would end up ensconced in a conversation that was deep and varied and dealt with life and other such worrisome things. He sat on the riverbank, in the company of the trees and ferns, and perhaps the odd fish, for some time.

He thought about his dead mother. He thought of the old man. But mostly he thought about the girl. Knowing he could not have her -- that she was beyond his reach -- despite what he felt. He pondered his dilemma deep into the day, until he finally thought that Aunt Rose might wonder about him and headed back to town.

So that day passed, as did the next and the next. Soon the school year was in full motion. He saw her about the school--her name was Julia, usually with Gerald. She would smile warmly at him, and he would smile shyly back, hoping Gerald didn't notice. But there was nothing he could do, even though he felt excitement just to be near her.

One Friday, Gawd let Sid talk him into coming uptown to the after-school hangout for a cherry coke and a bag of chips. Gawd usually didn't frequent such spots, choosing to keep more to himself than his gregarious friend, but Sid was on the trail of a new babe, and he needed an accomplice to occupy her friend so he could make his move. Gawd, as usual, made the perfect accomplice, choosing to take part in the crime, but to not take any part of the rewards.

On this day, both Sid and Gawd were lucky, because Sid's prey turned up by herself, so he whisked her away, and Gawd was off the hook. He sat in a booth, resolved to finish his cherry coke and bag of chips even if he was all by himself. There was a football game up at the fairgrounds, and nearly the whole school was there. The crowd would be along after the game. With any luck, he'd be on his way home by then. He was bored. He took to reading his geography notes, while he munched the chips and sipped the coke.

Then, she was there. He looked up.......and she was there. He quickly looked down at the tabletop.

"Hi," she said. "Mind if I sit down?" She was already sitting.

He shook his head slowly from side to side, indicating it was all right, but could say nothing.

"Not interested in football?" she asked.

He looked cautiously up, and found he felt comfortable with her. She didn't seem to overwhelm his emotions as he'd been afraid she might. "No," he answered "It's a little rough. I can't understand doing it or watching it." He surprised himself by answering so forthrightly.

She laughed lightly. "I guess I asked," she said.

"Sorry," he apologized, and he could feel himself flush.

"I'm just kidding," she said, reaching forward and giving his hand a tiny squeeze. "Are you always this serious?" she asked.

He felt embarrassed and could only shrug his shoulders.

They sat for a moment in silence. He closed up his geography notes.

"Do you like high school?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered, "it's alright. It's 'way better than public school."

"That's what I thought when I first got here too," the girl said. "I hated public school."

"Yeah, me too," Gawd said. "They treat you like such a child."

She smiled. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

They talked for a while about where they lived in town, and she told him that she'd been a lifeguard at the beach over the summer. He thought she looked like a lifeguard from the beach, even though he thought it might be wrong to think of her in nothing but a bathing suit. He continued to feel comfortable with her and marveled that he would engage her in a conversation filled with the ordinary, when she was so obviously extraordinary.

He wanted to ask her why she bothered with him, when he was so obviously ordinary -- and especially when he didn't like football -- and he knew that Gerald was one of the dreaded footballers. "You're not at the football game," he remarked.

"No," she answered, and it was a short, abrupt no, and she made no effort to follow it up with an explanation, so he dropped it.

It was then that the first of those who had been to the game began coming through the door. A couple of early arrivals indicated that the home team had won, and there'd be joy in Mudville on this night.

"Want to go for a walk?" the girl asked, as she looked with apparent disapproval at the revelers. "Let's get out of here."

He went. He wanted to ask why, but said nothing, gathered up his schoolbooks, and followed her out the door, pushing past some high school seniors coming from the game. "Hey, Jules," one of them called out to her, "you missed a great game!"

She pushed past, seeming to pay them no attention, and he followed in her wake, aware that all were watching the two of them leaving, apparently together. "What's with her?" Gawd heard someone ask.

They soon left the main street and were on one of the town's maple-arched back streets. "Would you mind if we went to the park," she asked, as they walked along, side by side.

"No," he answered, knowing he would have followed her to the ends of the earth and back if she asked.

It was a warm fall night, and the leaves were falling from the trees, rustling underfoot as they walked. Gawd's heart was beating frantically in his chest, finding himself walking in this place with this girl, this woman. He thought he could feel energy between them, surrounding them like an envelope of warm, soft gas that intermingled about them, swirling and touching over them. He could almost see its bluish-white glow as he walked.

"It's a beautiful night," she said. "Don't you love this time of year?"

He didn't answer, awash in the moment.

"You're quiet," she remarked. "You like to watch things."

He smiled at her, but remained silent.

They walked in quiet, but for the leaves. As they reached the park, Gawd realized it was suppertime. Aunt Rose would wonder what'd happened to him. But he couldn't have excused himself to go call -- it would have seemed childish, and that was not how he wanted to seem.

As they walked through the entrance, she quickened her pace and made for the swings and slides. She sat on the middle swing and started to move slowly back and forth, her arms wrapped around the chains. She looked so fresh and alive, with her cheeks touched with blush from the walk, the sun's final rays pouring over the treetops and glistening off her hair, capturing her vivacity. A picture, he thought, as he found himself a seat on the end of one of the teeter- totters.

"Man, I can't wait for this year to end," she said. "I'll be finished with this town. I'll be getting out. Going to school in the city."

"That's what you want?" he asked, breaking his silence.

"More than anything," she answered. "I find this town so predictable. Everybody does exactly what's expected of them. I can't stand that. You've got to take chances and get out there and do something with yourself." She paused. "Don't you find it awfully boring around here?"

"I guess," he answered.

"Well, I do," she said. "And I want to see things, and do things when this year is over. I might even go overseas."

"Really?" he asked.

They sat for a moment in quiet, she swinging silently back and forth, while he watched her.

Suddenly she stopped, digging her feet into the sand under the swing. He saw a dark cloud come over her, smothering her once luminous spirit with blackness -- covering what had been such bright light. He saw a tear come to her eye -- her hand reached up to brush it away.

"What's wrong?" he asked, getting up from his seat and walking to her. He crouched in front of her, looking up into the sadness of her face.

"I'm pregnant," she sobbed.

His heart sank. Such was the news that he could think of nothing to say. He put his hand on her shoulder in an effort to comfort her.

"I don't know what to do," she said, misery in her voice.

"Can't you get married?" he asked innocently.

"I don't know if I can -- or even if I want to," she said. "I haven't told anybody else. You're the first person I've told."

"Gerald?" Gawd asked.

She nodded.

"He'll marry you," Gawd said. "You can get married."

"Oh, yeah, he'll marry me," she answered. "After school, he's going to be assistant produce manager at Bolander's Grocery. That sounds like a pretty exciting life, eh?"

"It could be worse," he answered, and he knew it could be. "He seems like a pretty good guy," Gawd lied.

"He's a Neanderthal," she said. "I was just having some fun with him. All the other girls, all those cheerleader types, wanted him so bad, that I thought I'd cheat them all out of marrying the captain of the football team. I guess the last laugh's on me. It was just supposed to be a diversion -- now it looks like my life."

"What about your parents? Maybe they'll help, and you won't have to get married," he suggested.

"My parents are going to flip when they get this news," she said. "They'll have me to the altar faster than you can say bastard."

He was again at a loss for words. He saw the tragedy in her life. He thought of her with Gerald and was disgusted by it. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, and take her away from her life -- give her a new one where it was like a faerie tale with white knights and happy endings. But he was only a Grade Niner, who lived with his Aunt Rose. He could offer her nothing. He had nothing. He was nothing.

"Look," she said, "I'm sorry to pull you into this." She got up from the swing, and took a step back, wiping her face with her hand, trying to compose herself. "I don't know what got into me. I couldn't go to any of my friends. I feel so humiliated...dirty," she said. "My girlfriends and I have names for girls who end up pregnant in high school. Now I'm one."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," he said. "It was a mistake."

"A pretty big one," she answered.

There was a pause. They stood silently, awkward tension between them for the first time. Night was coming, the light fading, shadows lengthening toward forever.

"Anyway, it was wrong for me to involve you," she said, looking over at him.

"I'm honoured," he answered, "I wish there was something more I could do. You need somebody to help, and I can't really do much -- other than listen and I don't mind doing that, if you need somebody to talk to. I can listen, and I'm sort of a loner, so you don't have to worry about me talking to anybody."

"I know you're sort of a loner," she said, smiling again, looking more relaxed. "That's why I picked you. That and you look wise beyond your years," she joked.

He smiled. "I'll help you if there's anything I can do," he said. "Just let me know."

It was nearly dark.

"I should go," she said. "My mom and dad will wonder what's become of me."

"Me too," Gawd said.

"Which way you going?" she asked.

He pointed in the direction of Aunt Rose's.

"We can walk together," she said as they set out for the park's entrance.

Nothing more happened over the weekend or during the next few days of school. When they passed in the hallway, they exchanged polite hellos, but nothing more -- except perhaps knowing looks. He continued to feel strongly for her, so that when they did pass, he still felt his heart race and a warm flush came over him. He wanted to be with her always, and he found it difficult not to rush up to her, to know how she was feeling and how things were going.

Finally, it was a week later, Friday night. Sid had a date, and he was home reading. He heard the phone ring. Aunt Rose was out playing bingo, so he put down his book and went to answer it.

"Hello," he said, as he put the receiver to his mouth.

"Hi," he heard her voice.

There was pause.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she answered.

Another pause.

"Can you meet me?" she asked.

"Sure," he answered. "Where?"

"At the swings in the park in about twenty minutes?" she asked.

"Alright," he answered.

"See you then," she said and she hung up.

He returned the receiver to its cradle, wondering what was up. The conversation had seemed clipped and urgent, although nothing had been said to suggest an emergency. But he grabbed his jacket and headed to the park. It wouldn't do to be late.

She was already there when he arrived at the swings.

"Hi," she said, as he approached.

He returned the greeting. "What's up?" he asked.

"I'm getting rid of the baby," she said matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm having an abortion," she replied, without looking at him.

"An abortion?" he asked.

"Yeah, somehow they take the baby out of you and you're not pregnant anymore," she said. "I'm going to the city to have it done," she said.

"Where? In the hospital?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "In a private clinic. Gerald knew about it. He arranged it. He's paying for it."

"He's taking you?" Gawd asked.

"No," she answered. "He thinks it wouldn't look good if we were both away from school at the same time. I've got to go by myself. On the bus."

"It's a long way to the city to go by yourself," he said.

"I can't ask anybody," she said. "Nobody knows, except you and I and Gerald. I don't want anybody else to know, or it'll be all over the school."

There was a pause.

"I could go with you," he offered. "Nobody'd suspect if you and I were away at the same time."

"I couldn't ask you to do that," she said. "How would you explain it to your Aunt?"

"Leave that to me," he said. "It's settled. When do we go?"

"Tuesday, on the eight o'clock morning bus," she answered. "I was hoping you'd go," she said, reaching over and taking his hand, holding it tightly for a moment.

He smiled.

They talked for a few moments longer, but there seemed little more to say. They parted, and Gawd went to lay his own plans for the trip. He would get Sid to help him out with an excuse for Aunt Rose. There was no need to tell him why his help was needed, but Gawd was sure he'd help cook up something.

On Tuesday morning, about a quarter to eight, he met her at the bus station. It was gray and rainy, and Gawd thought she looked small and afraid standing under the overhang, trying to keep dry.

"You alright?" he asked, as he joined her in seeking shelter from the rain.

"Good morning to you too," she said.

"Morning," he returned.

"I'm fine," she said. "In fact, I'm great, and I'll be glad when this is over. I almost called you last night to tell you not to bother coming this morning." She talked the talk, but he wondered just the same.

They stood for a moment in quiet. It was a damp, cold morning -- the kind that comes often between summer and winter, washing life from the world and leaving it a sodden, dead morasse to be covered with winter's refreshing apparel and then to be born anew in the spring. It was somehow fitting to do this thing surrounded by that death on this morning. We wouldn't be making this trip in spring, Gawd thought.

"My appointment's not 'til three," she said, after they were on the bus. "We have a couple of hours after we get there to get something to eat and find the place. We should be able to catch the seven o'clock bus and be home by midnight."

"Is it a serious operation?" he asked.

"Gerald's friend, the one who knew about the clinic, said it's a pretty quick thing," she answered. "His girlfriend had to have one, and he said they went dancing the same night, so it can't be too serious."

"I guess not," Gawd agreed. "Still......"

They rode most of the long trip in silence. It was an awkward, tense type of silence. He could feel her anxiety, the tension in her, coming from the seat beside him. He took her hand and held it tightly and looked at her. She returned the look, and Gawd knew her in that moment. He tried to pour himself into her, to let her know how he felt about her, and he thought that maybe she did know.

"Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me," she said at one point.

He smiled at her.

At lunch, she talked animatedly about her plans for the future, once the baby problem was solved, and he did what he'd said he'd do -- he listened to her hopes and dreams, even though he could have no part in them. He cursed himself. Such a fool, he thought. For today, I have a place in her life, but tomorrow I may be just a memory.

After lunch, they started to search out the clinic. She told him they weren't supposed to tell anyone they were going to a clinic -- they were supposed to say they were going to visit her cousin on the Southside for the afternoon, and possibly for dinner. Gawd knew they weren't going to a clinic.

He remembered some of the city. He'd lived here with his mother. That seemed like a lifetime ago, and he'd been just a kid. But he knew the Southside. It was where the down-and-outs like he and his mother had lived. What would a clinic be doing there, he wondered but said nothing.

When the cab pulled up in front of a rundown tenement, his fears were confirmed.

"You can't do this," he said. "This is no clinic."

"It's the only way," she answered. She was stone-faced, ashen.

"Why?" he asked, desperation in his voice.

"They wouldn't let me have this done in a hospital," she said.

"This is dangerous," he said. "You should have told me. You knew."

"I needed you to come -- you wouldn't have," she said.

"You can't go through with this," he pleaded.

"I have to," she said. "It'll be all right. He's a medical student. That's what Gerald's friend said. We can go dancing tonight. You'll see." She reached over and took his hand, holding it firmly. She looked into him. "Help me," she said softly.

They paid the cab and stood outside the dirty, frame building. They approached the front door and knocked.

"You're here to see your cousin. You're early," said the shaggy, little Englishman who answered the door. "You can come in," he said to Julia. "You," he said, pointing to Gawd, "can wait at the restaurant on the corner, until the visit is over. It'll be about an hour. Come back, then. Your lady friend will be waiting for you fresh as a daisy."

He paused and gave Gawd another lookover. "My, but you do look young to be involved in this sort of thing. Kids these days," he said with a sigh.

"I'm her brother, pervert," Gawd said, with a trace of anger in his voice.

"Sure you are," the Englishman said.

Gawd turned to Julia. "You're sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Effective birth control at an affordable price," the Englishman chortled.

Gawd shot him an angry glance.

"It'll be fine," Julia said, starting into the house with the man. Then she turned back to Gawd, leaned over and kissed him. "Thanks," she said and disappeared into the house. The door slammed shut, leaving him standing on the step alone.

He walked to the restaurant, ordered a cherry coke, and settled in to wait the hour. It passed slowly. He wondered at one point if the clock over the restaurant's cash register was working at all. Finally, though, he had waited the hour. He paid his bill, left the place, and walked the short distance back to the tenement. He approached the door and knocked.

"Well, well," said the Englishman, as he opened the door. "My young friend."

"Where's my sister?" Gawd asked, continuing the ruse he had begun earlier.

"She's just straightening her things. Making herself presentable for you, I should think," answered the Englishman.

Just at that moment, Julia came out one of the doors leading to the hallway where Gawd was standing.

"Hi," she said, when she saw him.

"You okay?" he asked, looking closely at her for some sign that she was not. She seemed pale, but she smiled at him.

"Ready to go dancing," she answered brightly.

But she had some difficulty walking to the restaurant to call a cab. They had to stop, and when he took her hand to steady her, it was ice cold.

In the restaurant, he guided her to a table where she ordered an orange juice, while he phoned for the cab.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked when he got back from making the call.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "I feel a little queasy, but the doctor said I could expect that. He told me to drink orange juice, because I've lost some blood. I'm sure I'll be fine." But she sounded tired. Not very convincing.

"I think we should go see a real doctor," he said.

"I'll be fine," she said.

"I hope so," he said.

She died later that night on the bus, in his arms. She just kept getting colder and colder, and he could do nothing to warm her. "I love you," he finally said to her. But she had already gone. And he was alone. He wept.