Gabriel

Tears began to form in Gabriel's eyes as he remembered Heloise. He had been in so much pain back then, trying to prove himself. Why had it been so important that he prove himself to women? It was because he wanted to be a man. There was this great wall that he was trying to tear down. Perhaps it was impossible to tear such a wall down.

Here he was, years laters, running a Korean grocery store. It wasn't much but it paid the bills. He had wanted to be a great writer, a writer like Dostoyevsky. He had wanted so much to explore people's souls. What was he doing now? He was running a grocery store.

He stared at the ceiling. It was blank. He looked around the room. There was his underwear, draped over a chair. There were his socks, lazily loafing on the carpet. There were Budweiser beers crowding around the lamp. Cigarettes lay on ashtrays.

"Was he going to work today," he wondered?

The telephone rang.

"There's a woman sneaking an apple into her pocketbook," the employee at his grocery store whispered, "Should I call the cops?"

"Just kindly ask her to put the apple back," he heard himself responding. "If she doesn't, tell her never to come back into the store."

Was he alive or dead? He could feel something? Was it a hangover? No, it was the prostitute next to him.

"Where am I?" she asked.

Gabriel looked over at her, and tried to remember her name. Then, he tried to kiss her.

"You didn't pay for that," she snapped as she pulled away.

It occurred to Gabriel that they did not even have sex. He had paid for the sex, but perhaps she was right, he hadn't paid for the kiss.

She walked around the room, somewhat clumsily, and picked up all the good cigarettes, full beer bottles, and money. She eyed Gabriel's wallet for a second, then looked at Gabriel.

"There's nothing in there," Gabriel blurted out.

"Am I coming next Saturday?" she asked.

Gabriel didn't know what to say. Did he want her or not? Gabriel looked at her. She was attractive. Her long, black hair. She could strangle him with that hair. Her small black eyes betrayed a bit of contempt.

"Yes."

He was alone now. He turned on the TV. He channel-surfed. "This culture is so full of shit," he thought. What have we come to? If he could just get up. That would be half the battle. It was important that he show up at work, wasn't it? It was Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. He could get up! He would get up. He walked to the refridgerator and opened it. He took out the water and drank it. It felt good. Then, he went to the restroom and peed. That felt good. The hangover, however, would not leave him. It was holding him so hard. His head really ached so he drank more water. He was feeling better.

He walked into the shower. He shampooed his hair for a long time, really messaging his hair. That felt good. The hangover was leaving him little by little.

Gabriel entered the church with a smile. He prayed to God for forgiveness of his sins. He tried to pray genuinely although he did not believe in God. It made him feel good to go to church. Somehow, it comforted him. He really did not know why he sinned. To him, sin was a compulsion. He smiled at the other church-goers as best as he could.