The Gargoyle

The scene in the basement did not repeat itself any time soon after that, and we quickly developed a routine. When I woke in the morning, she’d inject me first and scrub me second. Following this, there was a series of exercises that Sayuri had prescribed. In the afternoon I’d take a nap, and while I slept, Maria

At the end of most evenings, Maria

The Gnaden-vita was fascinating even though, for reasons I couldn’t fathom, the writing included several occurrences of gender reversal. Sunder would be writing in the proper masculine sense and then-whoops!-he’d be a woman. These mistakes might have been inserted by female editors after Friedrich’s death, or by various female scriveners over the years, or even by Maria

A particularly striking example is in Father Sunder’s description of his marriage to Christ. The idea of such a union seems-to my modern mind-strange, but apparently “marriage” to Christ was common among men of Friedrich’s position. Even allowing for this, however, there can be no denying the enormously erotic nature of the bridal imagery. The marriage is consummated in an ornate bed covered with flowers, in the middle of a court, and watched by many figures from Heaven, including Mother Mary. Sunder writes that Christ embraces him and kisses him, and that they take their pleasures with each other. (You read that correctly.) When Christ is finished with Friedrich, He tells the angels to take up their instruments and play them with as much pleasure as He has just played His beloved spouse. Jesus even claims that through this consummation a multitude of souls has been freed from Purgatory, which really does suggest that it was quite a wedding night.

It crossed my mind that Maria

As interesting as that is, more notable to me is the fact that the Gnaden-vita includes no mention of a Sister Maria

“I know that you don’t like the idea of going out in public,” she said, “so let’s go now, under the cover of night.”

I resisted nominally, but was too curious about where a midnight excursion with Maria

Maria

I laid my head in her lap and she told me about the great wolf named Skцll that chases the sun every day, trying to eat it. It is said that at Ragnarцk, the battle at the end of the world, he will finally succeed, devouring the sun while his brother Hati eats the moon, and the stars will disappear from the sky. She told me about the terrible earthquakes that will rip the earth apart as Miрgarрsormur, the Midgard Serpent, twists his immense body in the ocean and causes towering tidal waves. All the gods will be involved in a tremendous war, and eventually fire will be flung in all directions. The world, Maria

She hopped up from our blanket and started stripping off her clothes. “I’m going swimming now.”

Though I usually accepted her idiosyncrasies, I was shocked by this a

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “People do it all the time, you know, in polar bear plunges.”

I had heard of such events-people jumping into the freezing ocean for a few minutes, usually for charity-and knew they were closely monitored by dozens of volunteers, not to mention doctors. Any one of a hundred participants could help to pull out a swimmer in trouble, but here, she would be alone.

“I love that you’re so worried about me,” she said, “but I’ve done it plenty of times before.”

“Yeah?” I challenged. “When? Where?”

“Finland. Often.”

Finland. “That doesn’t make it a good idea today.” We weren’t in Finland.

“You’re sweet. I’ll only stay in for a few minutes, and I won’t swim past where my feet can touch bottom.” Her clothes were now off, heaped in a pile on the beach, and I asked her one more time not to do it. “Only a few minutes. Not in deep water.”

I’M SURE IT’LL BE FINE.

“I really am touched by your concern,” she added, “but you needn’t be worried.”

She headed out into the ocean, calmly. The moon cast a splintered glow over the waves. She did not pause, nor shiver, nor splash, nor scoop up water to smooth over her stomach to acclimate to the cold. No, she just walked out until she was up to her chest and then leaned forward to slide THERE SHE GOES into the water.

Down the beach, I heard some of the teenagers laughing about the fact that anyone was stupid enough to go swimming at this VERY COLD time of year. I watched the small wake that formed behind her as she headed away from me, but parallel to the shore. At least she was keeping her promise not to head into deeper water. I followed her progress, hobbling along the shore to keep abreast, although I didn’t know what I could do if she encountered trouble in any case. SAY “BYE BYE.” Yell to the teenagers, I supposed; since my accident there was no chance that my body could handle the chill of a winter ocean.

She cut the surface smoothly; it was apparent that she was good at this and, despite her smoking, her body was strong from the physical labor of carving. Occasionally she would look towards the shore, towards me. I thought I saw her smile, but she was too far out for me to know for sure. I nervously clutched at my angel coin necklace until I saw her turn around and start back to where she had entered the water.

When she started returning to the shore-to my relief, only a few minutes after leaving it-she exited the water the same way that she went in. She did not rush out, or shake her body to dispel the wet. She just calmly emerged and walked to me, shivering from the night chill, although less than I would have imagined.