person of dire conflict and instability. But nothing seemed farther from the truth. I found her almost unfathomable.
She was as alien to me as my mortal friend Nicolas had been so many, many decades ago, not because she was like him. But because his cynicism and sneering and eternal rebellion had contained an abnegation of self which I couldn't really understand. My Nicki-so full of seeming eccentricity and excess, yet deriving satisfaction from what he did only because it pricked others.
Abnegation of self-that was the heart of it.
I turned around. She was merely watching me. I had the distinct feeling again that it didn't matter much to her what I said. She didn't require my understanding. In a way, she was one of the strongest people I'd encountered in all my long life.
It was no wonder she took me out of the hospital; another nurse might not have assumed such a burden at all.
Gretchen, I asked, you're never afraid that your life has been wasted-that sickness and suffering will simply go on long after you've left the earth, and what you've done will mean nothing in the larger scheme?
Lestat, she said, it is the larger scheme which means nothing. Her eyes were wide and clear. It is the small act which means all. Of course sickness and suffering will continue after I'm gone. But what's important is that I have done all I can. That's my triumph, and my vanity. That's my vocation and my sin of pride. That is my brand of heroism.
But, cherie, it works that way only if someone is keeping score-if some Supreme Being will ratify your decision, or you'll be rewarded for what you've done, or at least upheld.
No, she said, choosing her words thoughtfully as she proceeded. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Think of what I've said. I'm telling you something that is obviously new to you. Maybe it's a religious secret.
How so?
There are many nights when I lie awake, fully aware that there may be no personal God, and that the suffering of the children I see every day in our hospitals will never be balanced or redeemed. I think of those old arguments-you know, how can God justify the suffering of a child Dostoevsky asked that question. So did the French writer Albert Camus. We ourselves are always asking it. But it doesn't ultimately matter.
God may or may not exist. But misery is real. It is absolutely real, and utterly undeniable. And in that reality lies my commitment-the core of my faith. I have to do something about it!
And at the hour of your death, if there is no God . . .
So be it. I will know that I did what I could. The hour of my death could be now. She gave a little shrug. I wouldn't feel any different.
This is why you feel no guilt for our being there in the bed together.
She considered. Guilt I feel happiness when I think of it. Don't you know what you've done for me? She waited, and slowly her eyes filled with tears. I came here to meet you, to be with you, she said, her voice thickening. And I can go back to the mission now.
She bowed her head, and slowly, silently regained her calm, her eyes clearing. Then she looked up and spoke again.
When you spoke of making this child, Claudia... when you spoke of bringing your mother, Gabrielle, into your world ... you spoke of reaching for something. Would you call it a transcendence When I work until I drop hi the mission hospital, I transcend. I transcend doubt and something . . . something perhaps hopeless and black inside myself. I don't know.
The Tale of the Body Thief249
Hopeless and black, yes, that's the key, isn't it The music didn't make this go away.
Yes, it did, but it was false.
Why false Why was doing that good-playing the piano- false?
Because it didn't do enough for others, that's why.
Oh, but it did. It gave them pleasure, it had to.
Pleasure?
Forgive me, I'm choosing the wrong tack. You've lost yourself hi your vocation. When you played the piano, you were yourself-don't you see You were the unique Gretchen! It was the very meaning of the word 'virtuoso.' And you wanted to lose yourself.
I think you're right. The music simply wasn't my way.
Oh, Gretchen, you frighten me!
But I shouldn't frighten you. I'm not saving the other way was wrong. If you did good with your music-your rock singing, this brief career you