The Midsummer Miracle Play

Brother Francisco looked up from his hoe. What had been that sound? The highway wasn't terribly far away, but only in the stillness of the night could any activity be heard, and semis mostly then. This had been different, like a small musical measure not terribly unlike ... plainsong. Brother Francisco hadn't heard plainsong in a long time, not since seminary, when the old crank of a choirmaster had insisted sheets of such mouldy stuff get onto their music stands at least one Sunday a month.

Brother Bernardo suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere. They stared at one another in typical silence for a moment, then the odd noises came again.

It was a vehicle's horn, and rhythmically: "Shave and a haircut: two bits."

A white van appeared, heading toward the monks, up the dirt road. The 'music' came again. It was the most noise they'd heard in months, since the day Francisco had knocked down all the iron cooking pots. A woman was driving the van‑she looked somehow familiar to Francisco‑and beside her could be seen two dirty hairy bare feet on the dashboard. The van slid to a stop and the driver got out, smiling, waving, and saying: "Hello, Uncle Bob!"

Bernardo turned to Francisco and raised an eyebrow. Francisco nodded briefly, saying: "My silence must end." It was the first sentence spoken in two weeks for five miles around.

Bernardo quietly said: "I will be hospitable too. 'Bob.'"

Francisco shook his head‑brotherly love can only go so far‑and stepped forward with a smile, saying: "Ángela. What a treat it is to see you."

As Ángela and her uncle embraced, out the passenger side of the van came what can only be described as a 'hippie', who waved his hand at the two religious and said: "Hello." He was wearing torn dungarees and a plaid shirt and he had a notable beard. While we're at it, the two brothers were dressed not too differently, but of course they had an excuse. What purpose did they have in putting on airs? However, the young man, accompanying the delightful niece Ángela as he was, should have shown her a little more respect, I should say, by dressing half-decently. Ángela herself was in a decent yellow dress ready for any summer gathering (which, I suppose, this encounter counted as being). Meanwhile, there was another couple in the back of the van, who then got out. The he was dressed similarly to all, while the she was in a green dress. Honestly, they would all have looked like decent folks if they'd been at a casual country-fare picnic.

Ángela said: "Uncle Bob, this is Jorge. My boyfriend."

Francisco said: "Welcome, Jorge. I must introduce my brother-mate, Bernardo."

Bernardo nodded and said: "Good day, such is the day we've been given."

Ángela continued: "And these are our friends Audrey and Ricardo. They're very good friends of ours."

"Welcome to you both," said the brothers together.

"Well, so," said Ángela, clapping her hands together. "It's been a while, huh?"

"It's been a couple years," said Francisco, then he checked himself. "I don't mean to be selfish. It's only that I care for you."

Jorge was looking at the building nearby, which was a long and low structure, colour brown, with nothing in the way of ornamentation save for a white cross affixed to the wall beside the entranceway. He said: "That's rather a nice building. Looks ... roomy."

Bernardo, who best knew the history of the building, said: "There's twelve cells, a common room, a kitchen, and a chapel. As you can see, we're currently, as one might say, understaffed."

These words were given time to sink in. Then, Francisco asked: "So, are you passing through? Thought you'd stop to see what your mom's brother was up to way out here, far from the madding crowd?"

"Not ... really," said Ángela. "We're here on a, let us say, a mission."

Bernardo quipped: "You've come to the right place then."

Jorge put in: "We're here to stay for a while. Ángela said you'd let us."

From the back, Ricardo said: "We can pay you plenty. Or to your order, or whatever."

Meekly, Francisco replied: "You're welcome to stay, as long as you like. Believe me. But I must say, I'm interested in learning exactly why you're here; but, really, I'm not required to know. Come inside, you must be hungry."

The brothers lead the quartet into the St. Paul Priory, into the common room, where they all sat down around a long clean oak table. Brother Bernardo left for the refectory while the others started talking.

Ángela tapped her hand on her uncle's hand and said, quite seriously, "We're here because we had to get out of the city."

"Oh?" replied her uncle. "Is this ... an exile of some sort?"

Audrey spoke, for the first time: "No, it's just that there's something really ... weird ... going on."

"In the city?" Francisco knew all about the weirdness of the city, but he sensed she meant something else.

"There's, like, a mass hysteria happening. People are avoiding one another all over the place."

Jorge said: "Businesses have closed down, and all the restaurants too. Everyone is afraid of everyone else."

Ángela said: "The whole place is falling apart. Everyone's so lonely and in despair, and crime has gone way up, including murders and such."

"Suicide too," said Ricardo.

"My goodness!" said Francisco. "There must be a cause for it."

"Is there some sickness going around?" Bernardo said as he returned with a plate of breads and cheese.

"No-one knows," replied Ricardo. "And the crazy thing is it's happening all over the world. Every country has been affected."

"Sorry, I'm starving," said Audrey, who dove like a bird of prey into the comestibles.

"It sounds like there's a plague on," said Francisco.

They all looked searchingly at one another. Since no-one had anything to offer, Francisco continued: "But, there's no plague?"

"No plague," offered Ricardo, with a raised eyebrow: "At least no plague that can be quantified by any measure."

Ángela turned to the brothers. "Ricardo thinks there's something in the water."

"Best explanation. Occam's razor. Some people somewhere wanted us all frightened, so they put paranoia drugs in the water supply."

Brother Bernardo said: "That's a pretty serious charge. Why would whoever want you all afraid?"

"It probably has to do with the upcoming election."

Since Bernardo and Francisco had no idea there was any upcoming election, they maintained silence.

Ángela returned to reason, saying: "So we'd like to stay for a while. Can we do that, until things settle down?"

Francisco smiled. "So long as you've left your paranoia and fear behind."

"I think we have."

"Then, feel free to stay as long as you like. There's a meadow and s stream behind the house. My brother and I, I'm afraid, will have to tend to our works."

Jorge was fiddling with a box. "There's no signal." He fiddled some more. "Don't you guys have Internet access?"

Bernardo said: "Probably not."

"So, we're completely cut off?"

"Except for the weekly letter from our order h.q., yes, I suppose."

"Oh! Can I see it?"

"I don't see why not. How's your Latin?"

Jorge didn't respond.

Francisco said: "Let us show you to your rooms. They're spic and span. Then we two have to work. As for you four? Do what thou wilt."

 

That night, Audrey couldn't sleep. The air was too silent and still. The room was unnaturally dark, save for a lighter darkness that was the square of her narrow window. She knew there was a desk perpendicular to it, some distance from her narrow bed, and she reached out, to be reassured by the desk's touch. She batted her hand around, up and down, to left and right, knowing it had to be there. It couldn't have moved, after all. She slid herself a little closer, three inches should do it, but still: no desk. Now she was getting annoyed. She slung her feet off the bed, leaned to where the desk had been just three hours before, and, waving her arm wildly, rapped her thumb hard against its spruce underside. She shook away the pain and, believing the light switch was over the desk, fumbled across the rough surface of the wall. She found the switch almost immediately, which evened out the odds, and flicked it up.

The narrow room was henceforth illuminated by forty watts. She looked at her clothes on the floor, her suitcase in the far corner, the plain white cross looking down upon her, the desk, and the door. She needed some re-assurance, and she needed it from Ricardo, who, she knew, was sleeping in the cell but three doors down.

She pulled on the shirt she'd been wearing during the daylight hours and, with that and her panties, went out into the hallway, leaving her door ever-so-slightly ajar so she could see her hand in front of her face in this goddam countryside darkness. She let her hand trail the wall, counting doors, one, two, then three. She quietly opened the door and slipped into the pitch of her boyfriend's cell.

Knowing as she did that all the cells were exactly alike‑equals, you might say, with neither high nor low to divide‑Audrey stepped forth until her knee contacted the rough bed. She put her hand down to discover the rough bedding on its horizontal surface. She moved towards the black window rectangle, her hand sliding along carefully. Having found the top of the blanketed sheet, she quietly pulled it down and slipped herself under it. A warmth in the darkness; deep sleeping breathing; sweat smell. She slid her hand over, under the sheet and supporting it, until she sensed the waves of heat below. She was familiar with the terrain. She set her hand down, gently, upon where she knew a hip bone lay.

The hip bone connected to the thigh bone, the thigh bone connected to the knee bone, the knee bone connected to the ankle bone, and the ankle bone connected to the foot bone, and all together in harmony these bones jerked and thundered, nearly knocking Audrey to the floor. A startled gasp, not too-too loud, and she knew then that she had gone into the wrong room.

A voice said: "You're not where you think you are. Please return to your own cell, God willing."

She got up quickly and pawed her way through the nothingness until she hit a wall. She slid around this wall until she discovered the door and she slid around the door until she discovered the doorknob. Out in the hall thankfully there was the light from her ajar door to get her back to her room, where she sat down on the edge of her bed to shudder about what a travesty had taken place.

It had been one of the Brothers, either Ángela's uncle Francisco or the other one, Bernardo. How awful! She'd molested a friar! and even though she didn't believe in any of the stuff they believed in, still!

She lay down again, shuddering, trying to sleep, but sleep didn't come. She recognized the mistake she had made: Ricardo's room was three doors down‑but on the other side of the hallway.

What is it with lust? It can drive anyone crazy. Maybe with the paranoia epidemic and all, she had an excuse. The world had gone mad, but she hadn't, and neither had Ricardo. Maybe they were the future of all humanity.

With this rationale as her shield, she got out of bed again. Now she was quite certain where he was, and furthermore how to get there. Leaving her door ajar, again, she crept down the hall to the door which she'd erroneously entered fifteen minutes before, made a sharp right, and thus opened the door of the cell across from the cell of either Francisco or Bernardo.

Knowledge is a dangerous thing. In moonless darkness she quickly slipped under the tough blanket-and-sheet and moved her hand across the occupant's midriff as if to be in proper position for a reach-around, when the proposed recipient quietly said: "Uh, No."

History does not record how quickly she got back to her bed, but it has noted she got back there in 'record time.' She curled herself up into the smallest ball you could ever hope to find and tried to understand what was the matter with her. Was she a carrier of whatever illness they had escaped? Had the madness somehow evolved? Was that why she was having so much trouble thinking straight? Who had that been in that bed? Was it the other brother, or maybe had it been Jorge? There was also the possibility that it had been Ricardo, and that he had rebuffed her, probably because performing the nasty in a house of religious simply isn't something that should be done.

Her narrow bed moved as if on its own. She hadn't heard anyone enter the room, but surely someone had, and that person was sitting beside her. Whoever it was put a gentle hand on her hip, or should I say loins or flank? The hand playfully stroked Audrey's hip. What with everything she'd been through, the strokes were well appreciated. It had finally worked out right‑and she hadn't needed to do anything in the first place. Ricardo was with her.

Or ... was it, in fact, Ricardo? She didn't want to speak, and it was so dark there was no way to know. At that point, however, it didn't really matter. It could have been anyone laying there behind her. It didn't matter, because finally she felt content, and that was all she'd been after in the first place.

The hand moved further around her. She parted her legs slowly so as to not rebuke the hand. The hand moved around her pelvis cautiously, as if expecting a refusal, which did not come. She put her thumb in her mouth, there in the absolute darkness, and tasted the salt she subtly swam within. She heard, or believed she heard, the sound of fingers passing over hair, and maybe it was just the sensation, translated into something like sound.

There was then a different kind of pressure upon her body, and Audrey suddenly knew for certain was that the person behind her certainly wasn't Ángela. One fewer possibility to ponder....

 

Francisco and Bernardo were in the third part of their day, outside in the herb garden they tended, when Ángela and Jorge stepped forth, holding hands.

"Ah, here you are," said Francisco. "Lovely day."

Ángela said: "Yes, it is, mon oncle. A nice day to explore the area."

"Yes, head on down to the meadow and the stream. It's all very private."

Jorge said: "We hope you don't mind, we made ourselves some breakfast."

Bernardo chipped in: "Perfectly fine. It's all one. Any sign of your friends?"

"We heard them stirring; they should be along soon. Here they come now."

Audrey and Ricardo, both with their hands in their pockets, came walking up, Audrey shyly.

"Morning," said Ricardo.

"Good morning to you," said Francisco. "Did you both sleep well?"

"All night long, a fine sleep. Quiet and oh-so-dark."

Audrey slowly said: "I didn't. I was out, up, sleepwalking. It's something I do." Then, with a serious note: "I hope I didn't disturb anyone." She looked from Bernardo to Francisco to Jorge.

Bernardo said: "Isn't that a serious condition? Aren't you afraid of getting hurt?"

Audrey laughed flippantly. "No, I've never hurt myself. Or anyone else, for that matter."

Nope, thought Audrey, no-one's going to make any statement. I will never know. I'm surrounded by gentlemen.

Jorge said: "So, this meadow and this stream. Where are they?"

Francisco pointed to the building. "Go around the building to the right, and you'll find a little stone pathway. About a quarter-mile on, you'll find our little bower."

"I know the way," said Ángela.

"Locus amoenus," said Ricardo.

"Yes, a locus amoenus," agreed Bernardo agreeably.

The four visitors, chattering away idly, went around the building and easily found the stone pathway, which twisted slightly here and there, past immeasurably tall trees and low shrubs that seemed to go horizontally forever.

Ángela stopped them all and said: "Listen."

They all listened to the distant murmuring of a steady stream.

"Isn't it nice?" she continued. "Come on now, for the big reveal."

Further along, the woods opened up on a running steam that became a deep pool directly in front of them. It looked good enough for swimming, if any of them had the courage to do so. Rather, each kept it in mind for further exploitation, possibly by moonlight, or possibly by dawn. Across the river, beyond a small footbridge, was a vast meadow of yellow flowers swaying gently. It was as Ángela had remembered it, as Jorge had envisioned it, as Ricardo had imagined it, and as Audrey felt she had dreamed it. They sat themselves down on a conveniently-located grassy bank, took off their shoes, put their feet in the water, and silently contemplated, feeling an almost religious feeling, as if they were actually believers.

After a time, Ángela said: "Hear that?"

Jorge, Audrey, and Ricardo listened.

Ricardo said: "It's something humming."

"Could be ... bees?" offered Audrey.

Jorge judged: "It's like people singing together."

The sound was coming from the meadow, which was glowing. Someone dressed in white appeared in the middle of all the flowers, someone androgynous, who floated to the opposite side of the river-pool, and didn't stop until it was more or less directly over the deepest part, and there it hovered. The quartet was quiet, and almost ashamed.

The figure called: "Fear me not! I bring you joyous news!"

It looked at the foursome one by one, smiling.

It continued: "You are the ones for whom the world has been awaiting. You, Audrey. Audrey. You. You are now nine hours though the creation of the world. Be humble above all, and thus all will be well. Again: you must not have pride, though you carry in your womb the redemption of the universe."

It hovered there for some time, awaiting some kind of a response. Finally, Audrey asked it: "How did this all come about?"

It said: "You were chosen for your innocence, and for your time."

"I'm not sure I've been chosen for anything. I'm not even close to being as innocent as I look."

"Ah, but you are pure where it truly matters, though you may not know it."

Jorge interjected: "Sorry we're all so disturbed here that we can't talk straight. What creation of the world are you talking about? It looks to me to be pretty created already."

It smiled indulgently. "There are many worlds, my son; but primarily there are two. Overnight, an old one started to die, and a new one started to be born."

"And somehow this all has to do with ... Audrey?"

"Very much so. Entirely so. During the night, she was visited by the Holy Spirit, and she is now with child."

Ricardo looked at Audrey and asked her: "Is this true?"

Audrey was blushing. "I thought it was you. Really!"

Jorge put his hand to his philosophical chin to say: "Hey, guys. It looks like this is really happening, this visitation that is to say, so why are we taking it all so calmly? Shouldn't we be running around screaming, faced with this transcendent being before us? Shouldn't we be all fear-and-trembling?"

Ángela replied: "Maybe our decidedly subdued reaction to a visitation by an angel, who is informing us that one of our party is now pregnant with the second coming of Christ, means that we've actually been quite comfortable with the divine all along, albeit without being cognizant of this fact at all."

"Fascinating."

"I've read some books."

It interrupted: "As much as I, having all the time in the world for having no time in the world, would love to continue this discussion, I have nothing more to tell you. Audrey, you carry the seed of God Divine within you. You must nurture it and care for it. I shall visit you again, in your second trimester. Farewell, farewell."

It floated away the way it had come, to the field of flowers, vanishing gently as it went. The humming choir faded off, too, and the quartet were left alone again in the quiet of a river's burbling pool.

"I've never experienced anything like that," said Jorge.

Audrey said: "Tell me about it."

Ángela looked at her. "You're like a second Virgin Mary."

"Well‑the 'virgin' bit isn't at all true."

Ricardo said: "I can vouch for that."

"I guess lightning never strikes twice," said Jorge. "Wasn't there some joke about that somewhere? Oh yes, Andy Warhol's Dracula. The count has to go to another country because there's no virgins left in his own."

Nobody bothered to respond. They all believed what they'd experienced and heard. It was all, to them, undeniably true. How many times can it be said? Audrey had been impregnated by the Holy Spirit. She would be birthing a second Son of God in three-quarters of a year. There were no ifs ands or buts about it.

Audrey said: "I think we should head back now. You uncle should know about this, and so should the other brother."

"Bernardo," said Jorge.

"Yes. They should know about it. I wonder how they'll respond. I'm sure they'll be surprised. I don't think pious Catholics believe in the Second Coming. Do they?"

 

"Of course it was a hallucination!" said Brother Francisco to Brother Bernardo. "They're all under the influence of whatever malaria has struck the cities!"

They were in the chapel together. The urbanites were outside, having told the brothers everything about what had occurred. Francisco paced, for his niece was involved in the matter, while Bernardo stood still, for he had no nieces.

Bernardo objected: "But it doesn't sound like what they describe as happening in the profane world. It doesn't fit with the rest of it at all."

"Don't you recall your biology classes? Microbial infestations do not follow a set pattern. Each entity has a unique genome to which certain viruses are attracted."

"Okay, fine. But maybe what they're describing is actually what happened."

"Ridiculous! It's our moral duty to disabuse them of their fiction. What would Christ be doing, coming back to this world? Didn't He do enough the first time? What, here He is: 'Uh, guys, there's a little bit more to add to My story.' What's he going to do? Provide errata?"

Bernardo looked back at the door, fearing someone was listening in. He turned back, having sensed no one, to say: "So, what do you suppose we do?"

"You have to confess to a weakness. Last night you couldn't help but go in to make love to the lissome Audrey."

"But, I'm gay."

"They don't know that. So, then, they'll have to admit that the whole crazy vision-at-the-water's-edge thing was simply not a real experience. There. In one fell swoop, the whole 'experience' falls to pieces."

Fifteen minutes later, all six characters gathered in the great outdoors, at a picnic table in the afternoon shade. The four city-folk‑Ángela & Jorge, Audrey & Ricardo‑were seated, when the two Brothers (Francisco & Bernardo) came out of the building looking quite distraught. They came up to the table and stopped. Francisco was the one who spoke next, as a sort of an introduction.

"Friends," he began: "I'm afraid you've all been mistaken. Though we cannot account for your encounter at the stream, we‑or rather Bernardo‑can account for the events of last night."

Bernardo pulled at his abashed shirt and he pulled at his blushing pants. "Well, it's this way. Audrey. This is for Audrey. Audrey, last night, in your bed, the person who crept in and, you know, did the deed, was no other person but me."

Audrey cried: "Oh my God!"

Bernardo got down on his familiar knees. "Please, I beg you, I was weak‑the flesh is so weak‑and since you had already come into my room, I thought ... maybe I was a bit hasty to reject you so."

(In the scene I skipped [for dramatic purposes], Audrey gave the whole tale of seeking out Ricardo in the night. Just so you know I've not made some kind of a mistake.)

Audrey said: "But that's so gross! You're old enough to be my father!"

Bernardo said: "I thought that maybe...." He stopped there, having nothing but theoretical psychology to go forth with, and knowing whatever he said would probably be wrong.

They argued it all through nonetheless, the ethics and stuff, but for some reason they couldn't come to a conclusion. Audrey would not forgive Bernardo, quite naturally, and they talked for quite some time before coming to something of a détente. They were all pretty much trapped there, albeit for different reasons, and no conclusion had to come hastily. If this all seems highly unlikely, let me tell you that I'm as surprised as you are at the events which I am here narrating.

Here's how it moved along. The détente got broken. Audrey, after some time spent thinking, said: "I think I have to leave. Can I leave? How can I leave?"

Jorge said: "I'll come with you."

"I may want to talk to the cops, you know."

"I'll go wherever you want to go."

Audrey stood up and faced Brother Bernardo, to spit in his blank and emotionless face. He didn't like that one bit, but he took it stoically, as he made a mental note to discuss with Francisco a different approach they could have taken, and could take, given a day or two.

Audrey and Jorge walked slowly, holding hands, into the building, and Bernardo walked off, with his fingers entwined behind his back, around the building and to the other side.

Ricardo said, to remainers Ángela and Francisco: "Maybe this is the end of the world after all. Do you thing this Second Coming business has to do with it?"

Ángela managed to say: "There's no Second Coming coming. We must have suffered a collective hallucination. I feel like I can't really recall what happened exactly, down there at the stream."

Ricardo agreed. "I don't think it actually happened either. Maybe we've got the bug from the city, and we don't know it."

Francisco felt the need to console. "I'm very sorry everything has turned out like this."

The two young people shrugged in unison, as if connected by an invisible thread. The girl said: "It's a strange situation, but nothing surprises us any more."

"Will you be leaving with them?"

"I don't know. No, maybe tomorrow. Audrey probably needs some ... space or something."

Ricardo said: "I think we should go down to the brook right now. A chance to be alone, and there's something I want to check out."

"What?"

"I want to take a look at the field with the flowers. There may be some clue, like some strange flowers or something like that."

"Strange how?"

"I don't know. Hallucinogenic. Psychedelic. It's not impossible."

Ángela shrugged. "Don't see why not."

The couple got up from the picnic table and walked off, to go around the building to the path behind, around the side which was not the side Brother Bernardo had gone around. They were moving slowly, and talking quietly and intimately. Undoubtedly, they were puzzling through things, and trying to figure out what to believe and what not to.

This left Francisco all alone, and he took the moment to take in his surroundings, having not had the time to do so for some eighteen hours or so. He could hear the birds chirping, and the wind blowing through the trees. All in all, absenting its occurrences, a fine day. He managed to think of nothing for a good fifteen minutes.

Bernardo came back. He said: "I ran into your daughter and her boyfriend back there. They've decided to leave with their friends, to go back to the city."

"I figured so," said Francisco. "I guess it must have been Ricardo with Audrey last night after all."

"Logic tells us so."

"It wasn't you, and it wasn't me, and it wasn't Jorge. That leaves Ricardo."

Bernardo shook his head. "Your niece has rather a bad guy for a boyfriend, then."

It was Francisco's turn to shake his head. "She'll find out, in time."

Not many words were spoken as the foursome got into their white van. It rolled off in the mid-afternoon heat, back south to the city, where they'd vanish into the crowds, undifferentiated, anonymous, and ignored.

Nine months later, the world ended.

 

[Translated from the original Spanish, ©2020]