Nancy by Marc Isaac Potter

Nancy is lying here, is she in a coma?  No, this is disassociation–meaning that, in order to survive the dust storm,  she has separated from both her selves–that is to say from her … mind–and from her soul and all  three have long left her wrinkled living corpse.   A man was passing by in his car was going by so  "passingly" that:  


a) he did not stop to assist the supposed corpse, and 


b) he smashed his foot against the big gas pedal, saying something,


The man in the sharp Italian suit said this, quoting Psalm 23:  


“Certainly goodness and mercy— oh really?” he interrupted himself, mocking himself, mocking God. He  continued in the mocking tone:  “ … shall be with you all the days of your life...”


*


Since there was no one around to complain about it,  God decided to work some magic. Nancy lay there days and nights with nothing. When Teddy and Brewster came by in their 1953 Green International Pick Up,  they picked her up gently and put her in the truck bed. These two  kind-hearted lads took Nancy back to wherever they came from - where Praise the Lord, Lucillia was yelling at the kids and taking tortillas out of the IceBox.


When she saw Nancy, Lucillia knew there was no hope.  She had heard of a Father Benjamin way up in Prescott who was said to heal the sick and yes bring the dead back to life -  Thank God for cell phones.


Father Ben,  “FB”  as his close friends called him, knew this was the first of his visions. He put the parish in the care of Sister Beatricia and left for Bisbee.  Being a forceful, ugly, careful, meticulous, nurturing, caring man he demanded that the family leave their home immediately and go survive in the desert for one and a half days.  “36 hours of penance”  


Lucillia had heard rumors of this odd “Father Benjamin” behavior; unbeknownst to FB,  Lucille had provisions hidden in the mountain nearby.


Everything that FB did, I am not at liberty to say.   But know, unmistakably, that the Fernandez-Martinez household became the holiest place on earth for a few hours.   THE LORD arrived in a clear, visceral vision, and HE SAT–robes flowing–in the off-white chair that He had created.


“Ben,”  He said, “this woman has a special place in this world.  She is part of my design.  As I bring her back to health–better health than you or she or anyone has ever known–please understand that you will serve her all the days of your life,  world without end.”  


Ben fell fully on the dirt floor, crying and shaking.

 

Marc Isaac Potter (they/them) is a differently-abled writer living in the SF Bay Area.  They have been published in Fiery Scribe Review, Feral A Journal of Poetry and Art,  Poetic Sun Poetry, and Provenance Journal. You can find Marc on Twitter at @marcisaacpotter.