!A fire in Galilee --- by Anna @ 2004 --- Chapter II: Cassie Wheeler's think lines --- Cassie Wheeler hates the blacks. They had cut her daddy when she was real young, and then they shot him dead when she was sixteen. A black would kill you over fifty dollars, over the color of your shirt. It was no wonder the government was trying to appease them with affirmative action and white women. Emperor Augustus even picked blacks to be judges and put them in government. Cassie Wheeler knew what the government was doing with the blacks. They already outlawed the free market. Now they was making them into government slaves with welfare and judgeships and all this Socialist shit. If the government can give you something good, they can take it away too. Keeping the blacks scared they could lose their rights, the government can use them to control regular Galileans. Don't think race policy only affects them. The tyrants running the show'll probably use the blacks to take away people's guns when they get ready. The water in the shower was turning cold, but Cassie Wheeler stood steady under it, determined to follow her thoughts to their conclusion. She didn't know why they went messing in blacks in the first place. Didn't they have enough decent people willing to work hard they didn't have to get the blacks from Africa and Jordan, bring them over here? And now the government giving them welfare checks and guaranteed jobs and spots in white schools, flying over crack and heroin to keep them under control. As far as Cassie Wheeler was concerned, the blacks weren't people so much as a kind of biological warfare. She didn't know what to do about them, but here they are, dropping litters of babies. Cassie Wheeler got out of the shower and fixed her- self for work. In the mirror she saw her face, too deeply creased for a Galilean woman under forty. She called the creases her think lines, because she thought a lot more than she let on. The only way someone would know is if they looked and saw her think lines. It didn't matter none if wouldn't nobody listen to her. When she figured out what to do with the blacks, she would go ahead and do it, nevermind that she's a woman. Let any man try to stop her. Once she got of a mind to do something, she want and did it. There was no two ways about the thing. "C'mere darlin'," Earl called from the living room. He wrapped his big arm around her and held her butt with his big hand. She bent down and kissed him. "See you tonight sweetie," Cassie Wheeler said, her face creased up. Earl was watching the fishing show past her. It was two miles give or take to Cassie Wheeler's job and her feet was always dusty when she got there. She thought the whole way. As she came in sight of the Sea of Galilee with the fishing boats out on it she wondered why Earl couldn't just start his own operation if wouldn't nobody hire him. He was getting so he was like the blacks, waiting on the government to fix his predicament. But the government wasn't trying to enslave whites, so he wouldn't get any assistance. What he needed was to get some initiative, like she had, and get those big arms he still had from pouring concrete moving. She pictured how those arms would flex pulling in a loaded net. She unbuckled her sandals and washed off each foot before going into the Galilee Regional building. The sign over the door said Galilee Regional Psychiatric Rehabilitation Services. The waiting area was plastered with notices about getting all your papers out, the values of medications, turning off your cell phone, locking up your valuables, and knowing your rights because it's the law. Most people didn't talk to Cassie Wheeler at work; she suspected they thought she was scowling on account of her think lines, even though she pulled back her lips and flashed her gums at them to indicate she was smiling. * * * After all the mental health consumers had sat down or been brought into the room and arranged in a circle, Cassie Wheeler stood up and introduced the levels system. "You get points for coming to group, you get points for participating, and you get points for clean urines. How many points you get determines what level you are. Each level up carries more privileg- es like going to the bathroom unaccompanied or getting chocolate at snack time, or getting to participate in games night. You lose points for sassing a staff member, breaking any of the rules, not taking your medications, or for not finishing all your lunch. "Level zero is what everybody comes in here on, and it's restricted for a probationary period. It is no privileges at all. Level fives get the most privileges." Cassie Wheeler pointed at a laminated chart on the far wall with colored bars in ascending order: black, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and white. Names were written by each bar in dry-erase marker. "If you look at the cahrt, you can see the levels for yourself. If you don't read, you can ask a staff person to read the privileges and responsib- ilities for your level to you. Those of you who ain't blind can see the black-colored level under level zero. That level's for punishment. Trust me when I say you don't want to go through that level. You all seen them when they come back after it, so you know we do not mess around." Cassie Wheeler rattled off her script without looking at anyone in the room. She liked her job because she could keep thinking the whole time she worked. She didn't expect any success stories. If people left the program it was usually just because they transferred to another one. When she showed up at her job interview, she shook her boss's hand, discussed her master's thesis with him, and he told her not to expect any success stories. "I don't expect any success stories," Cassie Wheeler said to the group, "but if you all follow your treatment plans and listen to the staff, recovery is possible. Recovery is exciting! You get chocolate bars and games nights when you recover." assie wWheeler pulled back her lips to flash her gums at the mental health consumers as she sat down, but she was not smiling inside. Inside her thoughts was blackened by thoughts of her daddy. Her daddy had been a real saint. He had fought and died in the arm service when sh was born, and then come back to nurture her with his love. She thought about what it said in the bible about saints. When the third angel in Revelation poured his bowl in the rivers and springs they became blood, and the water-angel talked about the saints. The water-angel said, "Because they shed the blood of saints and prophets, you have given them blood to drink. It is what they deserve!" On the outside though, Cassie Wheeler pulled back her lips to indicate a smile and said, "Why don't we begin winth introductions? Starting with the person to my right, everybody say your name and level. If you just got here, you're a level zero." Sheena was the person to the right, so she started. "I'm Sheena and I'm a level zero. I just got here." Cassie Wheeler's think lines deepened until she got home. What did it mean that the rivers and springs were blood? Did the good Galileans have to drink blood too? Was it blood that came out all the taps in all the sinks? Was it congealing blood stinking out the bowl of every toilet? Cassie Wheeler felt some little cramps down in her pelvis while she walked home. She was ovulating. She lay down in bed alone and slept. Earl woke her. It was almost dark out. They were going to spend Sabbath with Elizabeth and her children. They had to get there before it was you could see the evening star. Earl hardly talked as he lifted her onto the already packed donkey he had borrowed for the occasion. They arrived, lit the candle with Elizabeth and the children, drank juice and brushed teeth. Then Cassie Wheeler fell again to sleep. In her sleep Cassie Wheeler knew Earl was holding onto her that night. She suspected he had figured she was having a hard time of it lately. While he wasn't no saint like her daddy, he had a nurturing heart in him when you looked past the big arms and big hands. Her thoughts shifted away from Earl. "You come home to nurture me with your love," she had said. "You fought and died in the arm service to be sure I was safe, and you come home to nurture me with your love." "That's right, Cass," her daddy said. "You're my flesh and blood daughter. I have been all over and I know now as ever, you are one special kid. Ain't nothing as important as nurturing your own flesh and blood with your love." He tucked her in, his face in a shadow cast from the tree, a soft moon-shadow. He kissed her forehead. Out the window a goat lay down and slept. She looked for the other two, but the window was small. Daddy went out to do his business. * * * Cassie Wheeler woke when Earl got up to go outside. He came back and lay down by her again. Saw she was awake. "Earl," she said, "You have on your thinking face." He looked at her, both of them laying in the dark. All he could see was the shine of the wetness of her eye. "Earl," she said, "I know you want to nurture me with your love, but I can listen too." She put her listening face. Didn't matter he couldn't see it. Earl's face got so she could see something complex was going on. "I seen the doctor today," he said. Then quick, "while I was walking I mean." He went walking? But Cassie Wheeler put her thoughts aside. "There was a cloud by the sea. He was talking and faith-healing like I heard he did. I stood and watched in the back for a while. He didn't have any bodyguards I could see. His sandals wudn't new either. His teeth was bad." Cassie Wheeler got to worrying that fake doctor with his black self had tricked her Earl. She hung on, pushed the worry out, listened. "He talked about his movement and healed a while. I couldn't see too good. I didn't want to go closer. Then he got on a boat and went out on the Sea." Cassie Wheeler opened her mouth. "Ooh sweetie," she said. Her worry came back. "Did you believe in him?" She stopped herself. "Ooh go to sleep sweetie." She didn't feel safe. "Is the door locked? Earl looked worried, said "Yes." "Ooh go to sleep sweetie," Cassie Wheeler said again. "Lets go to sleep." But sleep is where dreams are.