The Apocalypse Reader Part 9

"Your soul will improve."

"If work doesn't, I don't know what will improve it. I need rest, wife, not stiff benches. My back hurts."

"Go see a chiropractor."

"But that's a witch doctor, isn't it? How can you recommend one and go to church? They are too expensive anyway. To pay to see one, I'd have to work one more day and hurt myself."

"And how do you think you'll pa.s.s the citizenship test if you can't even understand the questions?"

"Good question. Let me rest."

He fell asleep on their orange sofa and snored even before the sun set.

In the morning, he woke up Tony to go out and work. "Got to pay for school," he said. With nostalgia, he thought of the old days in Yugoslavia, where higher education was free.

They drove to Hyde Park in their Toyota pickup with ladders on top. On the way they stopped for coffee at Dairy Queen. Tony picked up a newspaper, and as they drove on, he said, "Dad, look at this, there's a war in Croatia."

"Nonsense."

"Why, look at this, in Dal) near the Danube Bridge, Yugoslav forces killed seventy-two Croatian policemen."

"Really? What else does it say?" He spilled hot coffee over his white shirt. "But that's not war," he said. "Just several dozen people killed."

"And to you that's normal?" Tony asked.

"Not normal, just not war."

"What is war then?"

"Big armies attacking each other, not just incidents."

But while he painted he was worried and absentminded. His wrists hurt, swollen with arthritis. His brush strokes often went over window sills, and he had to wipe the paint. A kid's room that was supposed to be half red, half blue, he painted all blue in quick rolls, with the blue paint dripping from the ceiling onto his paper cap and brows. He'd made a cap out of the New York Times New York Times.

DURING THE CITIZENSHIP test, Daniel could understand almost no questions.

"Maybe we should wait," said the officer. "You must be able to speak English to partic.i.p.ate in our democracy. How will you know what you're voting for if you can't understand the language? Out of five questions, you got only one right, that Bush is the president."

"I know. I learn," Daniel said. "Ask more."

The officer, a middle-aged black woman, said, "All right. Who is the governor of Ohio?"

"Voinovich!" Daniel exclaimed. He knew-there were so few people from Yugoslavia in politics, and here was one. Although Voinovich was a Serb, Daniel was proud of him-it made it easier in a way to be a "vich" in Ohio. "And Kucinich was the mayor of Cleveland," he said.

"We don't have to worry about Cleveland right now," the officer said and scrutinized him. "All right, you pa.s.s. Welcome to the United States of America!"

"Thank you, thank you!" he said.

As HE PULLED out of the parking lot on Court Street, he said to Tony and Mira: "Can you believe it, the Serb governor's name saved me from flunking the citizenship test. You never know where help will come from."

"It's amazing," said Tony.

"I was so worried that you wouldn't make it," Mira said. "We are all Americans now, can you believe it? Isn't it great?"

"Sure thing," said Tony. "Except, who's going to believe Dad? He speaks English so badly."

"At least they'll believe you," said Daniel. "Especially when they draft you. You had to say you'd bear arms for this country, didn't you?"

DANIEL WAS PROUD of being an American, and as a true American, he watched the six o'clock news every night after work, and later CNN. Although he still spoke with a heavy accent and without much grammar, he understood English. And when one hot morning he got the news that his hometown, Pakrac, in Croatia was attacked by Serb irregulars backed by the Yugoslav Federal Army, he did not go to work. He tried to call his old uncle who lived on the eastern side of the Pakra river-he couldn't get through. He couldn't get through to any members of his family in Croatia. He grew anxious, and read the Bible but found little comfort.

DANIEL BOUGHT A shortwave radio and listened to the news every night. He got Croatian radio, BBC, Deutsche Welle. There was a report of the Pakrac hospital being bombed, and another of Vukovar being surrounded by 20,000 troops, and people ma.s.sacred. Gradually, he managed to hear from most of his relatives, but he still feared for their lives. But even more he feared for their souls; most of them were atheists.

Vukovar fell three months later, and Daniel's life went on as usual; after work he watched CNN and listened to the pulsing shortwaves on the radio until he fell asleep.

A COUPLE OF years later the war in Croatia was at a standstill and the war in Bosnia reached a high pitch; some of Daniel's relatives from the vicinity of Banja Luka disappeared. One day as he worked and worried, painting wooden siding in a Hyde Park house among many large trees, he saw a blonde woman in a tennis skirt nimbly stretching on the floor. He gazed at her strong muscular and smoothly feminine thighs and her freckled cleavage as she bent to touch her Nikes with her fingers. Daniel's ladder shook and sc.r.a.ped on the wood siding.

"Oh, goodness, you'll fall if you don't watch out," she said.

"That's the problem. I watch."

"Let me hold your ladder," she said.

He was leaning over the tall window, his knees at her eye level.

She grabbed the ladder.

"Not necessary," he said. "It's firm."

"Is it?" she said and touched his crotch. Like a youngster, he got an instant erection. "Oh, that's a compliment," she said. "My husband doesn't react like that to me. Thank you, my friend." She spoke up into his crotch, and it wasn't clear to him whether she was talking to him, or to a part of him. She sounded delighted at any rate. She unzipped his jeans, and held his p.e.n.i.s in her hands. With a brush laden with dripping white paint, which sprinkled over her hedges along the house, and another hand holding on to the bucket of paint, he couldn't defend himself, unless he said something, and he couldn't think right away what he could say that wouldn't be rude. And by the time he could think to say something, like "You are beautiful but I am a married Christian and therefore this is not the right thing to do," he felt tremors of l.u.s.t and a delicious comfort in yielding to what was happening with such dexterity; her gently sliding nails made his lower abdomen twitch.

Daniel moved, bending lower a little bit, and he put the brush on the can of paint, and fastened the can along the ladder; the hairs on his forearm got stuck in a screw. Probably thinking that he wanted to jump into the room, she said, "Oh no, this is a fine arrangement. You keep doing your thing, I'll do mine if you don't mind."

When he came, he was flushed, with sweat drenching his shirt. "This is fun," she said. "Why don't you come here tomorrow, and we'll play some more through the window?"

"But job done today."

"I know. We could do a bigger one tomorrow."

After this Daniel felt a mixture of shame and guilt. What's the big deal, he thought. It happens. It's not like I have done anything. I just stood there; she did it. What choice did I have? But that reminded him of Adam's excuse in the Garden of Eden. She did it. Why be selfish and worry about himself; he had to worry about his relatives in the Balkans. So what if he wasn't a saint?

THAT EVENING HE went to a gathering of Croatian immigrants at a winery, Vinoklet, in the suburbs of Cincinnati. The sun was setting colorfully over the vineyards, and Daniel had the impression that he was in his native region. A Croatian engineer who ran the winery had nearly replicated his native landscape here-rolling hills with rows of vines, greenish fish ponds, and scattered groves of apple trees. At the entrance to the winery, a sign read, "Warning: consumption of our wines in moderate amounts creates an aura of well being that may lead to pregnancy."

Pa.s.sionate emigres gave speeches about the importance of writing letters to the White House, to the state senator, to alert them that there was a large Croatian population that wanted something done to stop the war in Bosnia with a fair settlement for the Croatian minority. "You can all give twenty dollars apiece to hire someone who will send the messages to the White House by e-mail if you don't have the time for it."

Daniel gave, and then drank the wines, "Tears of Joy" and "Sunset Blush." He chatted with a man who had lost his arm in World War II; he enjoyed speaking Croatian and feeling like he was not a foreigner. "I was just a lad then," the man said. "I was harvesting in a little wheatfield when Chetniks came, surrounded us, and took us to Knin, where they hacked us with knives. I woke up in a mound of bodies, and crawled out. A nurse helped me, and I was between life and death for months, and for ten years my wound kept festering, until I finally recovered, probably thanks to wine. I love wine."

"Probably G.o.d saved you. Not wine."

"Maybe the Virgin saved me."

"Which one?" Daniel asked.

"As far as I can tell, you don't mind being saved by wine either, my friend, do you?" The man laughed loudly, with a smell of garlic and wine coming out of him.

True, Daniel was drunk, as he hadn't been in years. He realized that although he liked the man he didn't like arguing with Catholics, and if campaigning for Croatia meant simply campaigning for Catholics, he wasn't enthusiastic. But he had to do something to help his relatives. He had another gla.s.s of red wine.

And next morning, he had a headache. He listened to the news about a great earthquake somewhere in China, a flood in northern Europe, further starvation in Somalia, and more ma.s.sacres in Rwanda.

The acc.u.mulation of so much trouble at once made him feel uneasy, especially since he felt guilty that he had drunk so much the night before and even worse, that he had enjoyed a woman's playing with him, and that at night, he had awakened, wishing she were holding him again. And so, penitently, he read from the Bible, in Croatian, the equivalent of this English translation (Matthew 24:3, 6-7): And as he sat upon the mount of Olives, the disciples came unto him privately, saying, Tell us, when shall these things be? and what shall be the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world? (3) [And Jesus answered]. . . And ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars: see that ye be not troubled.- for all these things must come to pa.s.s, but the end is not yet. (6) For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes, in divers places. (7) Daniel panicked. The end of the world was coming. He did not know how fast-maybe there was a year to live. And he was not ready.

He told his wife-who was doing crossword puzzles, proud that she had such a good command of English-that the end of the world was at hand.

"Of course it is," she said.

"But why do we take on mortgage then, why do we save for retirement?"

"That's different-so that you wouldn't pay taxes, silly."

"So you believe the end is near?"

"Depends on how you look at it. n.o.body knows when exactly, and people have waited for generations."

"Yes, but now there are more wars and earthquakes than ever after Christ."

"How do we know that?"

"Don't tell me you're a skeptic, you go to church."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am going there right now. I don't want to worry about the end of the world; that'll take care of itself."

He admired his wife's att.i.tude, and her straight posture as she walked out, and he stayed troubled. She no longer worked as a department-store cashier, but as a real-estate agent.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Daniel went to Mira's Baptist church, and knocked on the minister's door. A chubby minister with a tight shirt b.u.t.toned on top-he literally had a red neck-opened the door. They had met before, because for religious holidays Daniel still visited the church.

"When do you think Christ comes to this planet?" Daniel asked.

"He's here now, with us," said the minister and yawned.

"No, I mean serious. He gonna come soon, you think?"

The minister looked at him with his eyes wide, and then walked over to his coffee machine, which was percolating. "You want a cup of coffee?"

"We have time for that?" Daniel asked.

"Why not?"

"What if Christ came?"

"Where two or more gather in my name, I will be there, or something like that. That's what Christ said. So if we gather in his name, he'll be with us, he is with us. He came. Anyway, this coffee is going to feel like an earthquake, like the world's ending. You like it strong, don't you? Milk and sugar?"

"No, thank you."

The minister poured three spoonfuls of sugar into his black coffee and slurped, his eyes closed. "All right, now I'm ready for the second coming of Christ." He walked over to his desk and turned on his computer. Windows '95 came on. "You play chess?" the minister said. "You must, considering you come from Yugoslavia."

"Croatia," Daniel said. "Yes, I play."

"Here, I got a program that's almost as good as Deep Blue. You want to check it out?"

Daniel stared in disbelief. Clearly the minister didn't worry about the second coming of Christ. It was ten in the morning, and he was only waking up. Cushy job, being a minister. "No time for games. Not now," Daniel said and walked out.

LATER, WHEN His hangover wore off and his guilt about the hangover vanished, and the impression the Biblical verses made on him diminished, Daniel went back to work. There he met a blond Romanian with a black mustache. He knew the guy from before; he too was a Baptist and a construction worker. They talked in a mixture of languages. "Hey, it gets old working like a dog for a living, nicht wahr nicht wahr?"asked the Romanian, Nikolai.

"Yes, konyeshna konyeshna, "said Daniel.

"Let us organize business, together, and find young blood to do rabota rabota for us." for us."

"Sounds good, but how to zdyelat zdyelat?"

"l tell you over a gla.s.s of wine."

While they were still planning the joint venture, Nikolai visited Daniel, and as the two of them sat and discussed real estate, Mira served them orange juice and hot dogs. Daniel stealthily gave hot dogs to Saint Dalmatian, who, Daniel believed, was still filled with Greek letters. Mira sat down in the armchair and joined in on the discussions, speaking clearly without mixing any of the other languages, and for the first time in a long while Daniel noticed that she was stylish. He wondered why they made love only once a week. Now he could notice her through someone else's eyes and imagine what impression she was making. Her dress was short, and she sat comfortably, crossing her legs, so that her thighs-in thin black stockings that shaded the curves-were as visible as if she were an actress visiting David Letterman's show. Her tight cashmere white sweater made her b.r.e.a.s.t.s slope with milky and hazy fullness. Scarlet lipstick luridly accented and exposed her allure, as though her fresh blood had surfaced and spoken, ready to be licked.

Daniel commented, "You could sit up straight, so you wouldn't display yourself."

Nikolai sat stiff, his eyes focused on a cup of rose-hip tea steaming on the wooden table in front of him.

"You're making your visitor uncomfortable," she said.

"Sorry about that," Daniel said to Nikolai, and then to his wife, "At least you look comfortable."

"Why don't you invite me into the partnership? I'm a licensed realestate agent," she said.

AND THEN, ALL evening long, while Mira worked after hours, Daniel daydreamed of sleeping with the Hyde Park woman. I shouldn't think like this, he thought. Christ will be here soon. But that thought now, as he was possessed by l.u.s.t, drove him to a different conclusion. The end of the world will come, and I will not know what it is like to sleep with another woman, other than my wife. Who knows what I am missing, maybe a true ecstasy. I'll probably go to h.e.l.l anyway, for I have l.u.s.ted in my heart, and I have quit reading the Bible, and I have drunk, so what's the difference? At least let me go out in a spasm of ecstasy.

In the morning, around eleven, he called the woman from Hyde Park. Yes, he was welcome to visit, after she came back from her art lesson in the afternoon.

Daniel went to Walgreen's to buy aspirin. He bought a Cincinnati Enquirer Cincinnati Enquirer and read, in the store, about the heat wave that had gripped the continent, beating all records. When he stepped out of the store at one o'clock, the temperature was above 107 degrees, humidity nearly 100 percent. Daniel could barely breathe, and the air stung his nose and bronchi. He coughed. His eyes watered. He drove downtown to Over the Rhine, an old German neighborhood that was now a ghetto, with gentrified pockets, where white folk could go to their breweries, restaurants, music clubs, and cafes. He drove past Kaldi's cafe; on the other side of the street was a Baptist church, named John 3:16. He knew the verse, of course, what Baptist didn't? People sat on shaded steps, sweating, drinking water and beer. A window pane cracked all by itself, and Daniel thought it did so from sheer heat. Down here with all the asphalt and cement, the temperature was unbearable. He stopped to have iced tea at Kaldi's. As he drank it, he thought he noticed that the waitress-who crossed her legs in a masculine fashion, ankle over knee-wore no underwear. Maybe her underwear was black, so he couldn't tell there was any. He strained to see, hoping she wore none. Maybe that's how she fought heat; maybe she liked to shock people, tease them. Why should he notice, he wondered. Why? Because he was possessed; l.u.s.t pulled him by the nose and fixed his gaze in search of flesh everywhere. and read, in the store, about the heat wave that had gripped the continent, beating all records. When he stepped out of the store at one o'clock, the temperature was above 107 degrees, humidity nearly 100 percent. Daniel could barely breathe, and the air stung his nose and bronchi. He coughed. His eyes watered. He drove downtown to Over the Rhine, an old German neighborhood that was now a ghetto, with gentrified pockets, where white folk could go to their breweries, restaurants, music clubs, and cafes. He drove past Kaldi's cafe; on the other side of the street was a Baptist church, named John 3:16. He knew the verse, of course, what Baptist didn't? People sat on shaded steps, sweating, drinking water and beer. A window pane cracked all by itself, and Daniel thought it did so from sheer heat. Down here with all the asphalt and cement, the temperature was unbearable. He stopped to have iced tea at Kaldi's. As he drank it, he thought he noticed that the waitress-who crossed her legs in a masculine fashion, ankle over knee-wore no underwear. Maybe her underwear was black, so he couldn't tell there was any. He strained to see, hoping she wore none. Maybe that's how she fought heat; maybe she liked to shock people, tease them. Why should he notice, he wondered. Why? Because he was possessed; l.u.s.t pulled him by the nose and fixed his gaze in search of flesh everywhere.

He drove toward Hyde Park. He stepped out of the car on the edge of Eden Park and watched the thick brown layer of smoke choking the city around the Ohio River, and the river itself foamed, as though it were a cauldron of water boiling over. He couldn't see clearly across the river, into Covington, Kentucky, for the thick brown smog. High up, the clouds were pink and orange. He'd never seen colorful clouds in the middle of the day before. When he walked back to the car, his soles sank into the glossy black asphalt. One of his shoes stayed in the asphalt. He pulled it up with his hands, and as he bent over, the heat from the road scorched him.

Daniel thought that what he saw was not natural. G.o.d hadn't created the world to be so dirty-and then it occurred to him: G.o.d was choking the world. It was the end of the world. It was happening already. Maybe it would be over in several days. He panicked, suddenly certain that the temperature would continue to rise, and rise. G.o.d said he wouldn't flood the earth again. G.o.d even said, I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake (Genesis 8:21).Yes, it says, "the ground," and doesn't say anything about the air. So He could do it with air. He probably wouldn't burn the earth either. But He could just suffocate the earth in its own stench, sending the heat through the ozone holes. This is it, Christ is coming, and I am choking in the l.u.s.t of my own eyes. (Genesis 8:21).Yes, it says, "the ground," and doesn't say anything about the air. So He could do it with air. He probably wouldn't burn the earth either. But He could just suffocate the earth in its own stench, sending the heat through the ozone holes. This is it, Christ is coming, and I am choking in the l.u.s.t of my own eyes.

He rushed home-drove as fast as he could-to tell his wife to get ready for the end of the world.

But at home, his wife was gone. Green beans were simmering on the stove, so she must be somewhere near. Yet he couldn't find her anywhere. He couldn't even find his Saint Dalmatian.

He recalled the verses (Matthew 25:40-41): Then shall two be in the field; the one shall be taken, and the other left.

Two women shall be grinding at the mill- the one shall be taken, and the other left.