“I will wipe out the human race I created from the face of the earth.”

Noach Genesis 6:9 - 11:32

“That’s one thousand dollars, one thousand square feet, two bedrooms, cute little breakfast nook, and a view of a tree.”

I gave Emmi a look.  A “maybe it’s time to say yes” look.  She sighed a little.

“I think we’ll take it.” she said, looking to me for confirmation.

“It’s beautiful.  Sign us up.”

We had come down from Appleton to Los Angeles mostly because Emmi had an irresistible job offer, but also because we wanted to see what it was like to live in a real city.  We chose West Hollywood because people told us that this was a place where you could just get out of your apartment, walk around, and go to clubs and hang out.  We were suffering from sticker shock when we saw some of the high prices, but we’d been living out of a hotel for a couple of weeks and this place was actually not bad.  We wanted to get started with our lives.

I’d never lived in an urban apartment building before.  Back in Appleton we rented the “house in back” from a family and we never heard from anyone. I didn’t quite know how to relate to neighbors that I’d pass in the hall or down the staircase.  I’d give them a wave or a smile or a grin and hope to just end it there.  We knew that West Hollywood had a lot of homosexuals, and maybe a third of our neighbors… so I tried to give them a slightly bigger wave or smile or grin to show that, well… I felt like an ambassador from the Midwest, and I wanted to appear open minded. 

But a week in, when Emmi and I woke up at one in the morning to hear two guys really going at it, we shared an exasperated laugh together.  “I think we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto!”

The next night, when Emmi and I were watching Cheers, we both got a little jolted by the sharp rap on the door.  I peered through the viewer and immediately heard his voice.

“Welcome Wagon!”

I recognized him from the hallway.  Maybe early fifties, a longish beard, just starting to gray, but no mustache. He looked like some kind of sea captain, and he wore a rumpled white shirt.  He was holding a tray of food.  I opened the door.

“Hey, neighbor!  I’m two doors down in apartment 307.  Mind if I come in?”

It would have taken more effort to say “no” than to just deal with him.

“I brought you some goodies from Pat’s Mediterranean.  If you haven’t tried it – you got to.  Pat’s hummus is the best.  I got the hummus, I got eggplant, I got flatbread. By the way, I’m Marty.” 

He struggled a little as he set the tray on our counter and put out his hand… it seemed as though he wanted to shake my hand just as an excuse to put the tray down and anchor himself in our apartment.

“Actually, I’m Marcin, but nobody’s heard of that name.”

“I’m Nathan, and that’s really my name.  My girlfriend is Emmi, but her real name is Emmeline.”

Emmi made less of a charade of being welcoming. She looked up, raised her eyebrows to say hello, and went back to watching TV.

“I can tell you’re not from here” Marty bragged.

“We moved here from Appleton, Wisconsin” I said.

“Ahhh.  And you’re not married.  I’ll bet that didn’t go down too well in Appleton, eh?  Well, it probably didn’t take you too long to figure out that anything goes here.”

“We were actually okay.”

“People didn’t mind you two shackin’ up in Appleton?  I’m a Wisconsin man myself.”

Now he put his hand out for another shake and there was no refusing.  Even Emmi tried to appear gracious.

He continued, “And I’ll tell you, none of the stuff that goes on in this building, not in the whole city of West Hollywood, would be tolerated for two minutes back in Milwaukee.  And we’re talking Milwaukee, not Appleton.  But I’ve been out of there for twenty years, so who knows what it’s like now.”

He went on. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here” as he pushed a piece of flatbread over to me.  “It’s not just about food.  I could tell… well not that you were from Wisconsin, but that we had something in common.  And we both live next to that pair in 305.  If you try to tell me that you didn’t hear what was going on last night, I know you’re lying.  They moved in just before you did.  And believe me, things have changed.  So, I have a favor to ask.”

Emmi couldn’t take it anymore.  “Marty, it’s been nice spending time with you, but I have to get up really early tomorrow for a meeting.”

“This won’t take a second.  And you can keep the snacks.”

“I don’t eat before bedtime.  But I get it, you want us to speak with the landlord” Emmi told him curtly.

“The LANDLORD!” Marty laughed.  This is bigger than the landlord.  Nathan, Emmi, I can tell you’re both righteous people.   What I need for you to do is pray.  Because we need for a disease to befall these people.  And if you are truly righteous, and you pray, I guarantee you will be protected.  I have already been praying, and the power of good over evil is insurmountable.”

“I’ll keep that in mind” I offered.  “What do you want us to pray for?”

Emmi was livid.  “It’s very late Marty.  Thank you for the snacks but you need to go now.”

“If you won’t pray for this evil to be taken from the earth, then at least pray to be protected from God’s anger.  Because I can tell that you are righteous people, and you deserve protection.”

Emmi got up, looked Marty in the eyes, and dumped his food tray into the garbage.

I wanted to leave things on a positive note, so I shook his hand and said “Goodnight, Marty.”

“No hard feelings” he said as he closed the door behind him.

And it seemed that at the very second the door closed, the “Cheers” theme came to its final moment.

“You want to go where everybody knows your name.”  “Right”, I thought.

“That guy’s weird, but he’s harmless.” I tried to assure Emmi.

Emmi shut the TV off.  “Well he scares me.”

It wasn’t a good thing that the guys in 305 woke us up again later that night.

“Go back to sleep” Emmi pleaded.  “You’ll learn to tune them out.”  She waited for a response from me.  “And if not, well, I know how to get you to fall asleep.”

“With THEM?”

She had no patience for me. “Lighten up, Nathan.  We’re not in Kansas anymore.  We’re not even in Milwaukee.”  And she turned to her side and was out in seconds.

The next day I was in the lobby, returning from Sal’s Mediterranean, when Marty buttonholed me.

“Hey!  Is your girlfriend around?  If not, I want to talk to you.  Can I talk to you?  Come over to my place.”

But I felt that by having him over at my place I might assuage him and still let me feel a little more comfortable about it.  Emmi wasn’t due for another couple of hours.

“Did you hear last night?  You know, they’re not the only couple like that here.  Half this building.  It’s not the noise.  You think it’s that, but it’s the whole… disgustingness.  Did you pray like I asked you to?”

“I never pray” I told him.  “I don’t believe in prayer.”

“You don’t believe in prayer?”  He seemed disturbed.  He started looking me over like I was some sort of alien.  And then his face lit up.  “That’s okay!  As long as you’re righteous, you can pray any way.  You can pray right now.  And if you don’t believe in prayer, what’s the harm?”

He kinda had me.  I needed to get back to my business. And I was hungry.

“But I can tell that you believe me just a little.  You know how I know?  Because I see you bought more from Sal’s.  I was right about that, yeah?”

“They do have good eggplant.”

“They have FANTASTIC eggplant.  So do me a favor, it’ll cost you nothing, and I’ll leave you alone.  You can go back to your eggplant.”

And he took my hand.

“Repeat what I say.  God, deliver a plague to the homosexuals, one that will cleanse the earth, and that will leave none but the righteous.”

“I’m not going to say that.”

“You don’t believe in prayer, right?  Then just say it and eat your eggplant.”

I tried saying it in my most deadpan voice, to drain the words of their meaning.  “God deliver a plague… to the homosexuals that will cleanse the earth and only leave the righteous.”

“May God spare you” he said, as he relaxed his grip.  “You will see.  Enjoy your eggplant and stay safe.”

When Emmi came home, I felt faint and pale.  I could not tell her about the incident with Marty, but I felt sick at holding back the truth from her.  I tried staying away from her.  I read.  I showed no interest in TV, or sex, and I just hoped that by tomorrow I could forget the day had ever happened. 

It was over a month later before I heard from Marty again.  There was a knock on my door, and it seemed excited and insistent.

“Nathan!  Nathan!  Have you read this?”

I opened the door and invited him in.  “What is it, Marty?

“The L.A. Weekly!  It’s happening!”  He opened to a page in the middle. 

“Gay cancer!” he shouted, tapping at the article.

It made no sense, but I looked at the newspaper.  It claimed that gay men were unexplainably coming down with a rare form of cancer.  I tried thinking about what this all meant, and Marty’s crazy desire, but the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that there were hysterics coming from all sides.  Marty’s sick wish.  The article.  Cancer doesn’t affect people just because they’re gay.

“The storm’s a comin’!” and then, he looked around.  “Where’s your girlfriend?  Does she know?”

“She’s working late.”  She had been working late a lot these days.  I just wanted Marty to leave.  I remembered Emmi telling me how Marty scared her, and now he was scaring me.

“And you never believed in the power of prayer, did you, Nathan?  I bet you may have to think on that a bit, eh?”

“Marty, I think I do need to be alone, to think about it a bit.”

As he left, he pointedly left the newspaper behind, on my counter, open to that article.

I did indeed read it carefully.  It was a rare form of cancer.  It hardly existed before.  And it seemed to be only affecting gay men who were often dying.  The cancer was obviously real, but no one could explain it, or why it should choose certain people just based on… nothing.  It made no sense.  There was an explanation I could think of but that made no sense either.  So, alone, I did something which… made absolutely no sense. None.

I prayed that my prayer had no power.  That it never had power.  Not in the past, not in the future.

When Emmi came home, I showed her the article about “gay cancer”, but I told her nothing about the prayer ceremony from a month ago.  I told her that Marty had brought it over for us to see.  She looked over the article intensely.  I can’t remember seeing a more serious face on her.

“Why did he bring this to you?  WAS HE HAPPY ABOUT THIS?” She looked right into my eyes.

I forced myself to keep looking into her own eyes with the answer.  “He just brought it here to show me and then he left.”

“I don’t want him in here.”

Over the next few months, I found myself not wanting to go out much.  I’d keep my eyes down in the hallway and staircase.  I’d get in my car, go to work, and come home.  I avoided restaurants.  I let Emmi do the shopping.  I stayed away from newspapers, but I followed the TV news.  There was never any mention of gay cancer.  Maybe it was all wrong.

Then one Sunday evening there was again a knock on the door – but it couldn’t have been Marty.  It was quiet, almost timid and apologetic.

I recognized the man from the building.  Barrel chested, muscular, and with a thick brown beard, he was one of my neighbors from 305. One of the guys I had heard at one in the morning. He had a bunch of flyers in his hand.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”  His sheepish manner seemed so at odds with his bearish stature.  “I’m Stuart, your next-door neighbor. You may have noticed some of your other neighbors missing lately.”  He paused.  “Or maybe you haven’t. But several of the residents here have died in the past months of something we don’t understand, and now it’s taken a friend of mine, Mark who used to live in 202.   This Saturday evening, we’re holding a little memorial for him in the common room.  My partner Brandon and I will be there.  We’re trying to get as many of the residents together as possible, and I hope you’ll join us.” He called over to Emmi.  “You’re welcome too.  Everyone is.”

I took the flyer and assured him I’d be there, even though I wasn’t sure I could bear to.

As the days in the week passed, I dreaded the memorial, even though I felt I needed to attend.  Then on Wednesday night, when Emmi was out with friends, I went over to apartment 305 and knocked.  Stuart opened the door and he seemed very pleased to see me.

“I hope you’ll be coming Saturday night.”

“I have to tell you something” I insisted.  “Can I come in?”

He gestured me over to the sofa and offered me a beer, and some olives in a little container from Sal’s, but I was not in the mood for accepting anything.

“You know that guy Marty in 307?” I asked.

Stuart smiled with some amusement.

“Yeah,” he said.  “Marty’s a bit of a character.”

“I wouldn’t invite Marty to your memorial.“  I looked at him for some sense of recognition, but he just waited to hear me finish.

“Did you have any idea that he was praying… for you to die?  That he was praying for all homosexuals to be just like… wiped away.”

I was amazed to see Stuart actually smile when I said this.

“That crazy son of a bitch.  What makes you think that?”

“He told me.”  But I said nothing about his reaction to the noise, because I didn’t want to bring up anything embarrassing, and I was also afraid that it could lead to talking about the prayer session that Marty pulled me into.

“Crazy son of a bitch” Stuart said, with an amused growl.   “You may have given me one of the more lighthearted moments I’ve had in the past six months.”

I had a question I had to force myself to ask.  I was afraid of the answer.

“So – how are you feeling?”

“So far, I am feeling totally fine, thanks for asking.  And Brandon seems totally fine as well.  You know, Marty is Marty, and whatever is causing this plague, it ain’t Marty and it ain’t his praying.  Brandon and I are still here, and I’m sorry to disappoint Marty.”  He clicked his thumb and forefinger together to make a circle.  “But I have zero concerns that prayer or God had anything to do with this.  So if you’re worried about me worrying about Marty and his sick crazy prayers, you can stop your worrying now.”

In that moment I felt a curtain of tears being taken off my shoulders.  If Stuart didn’t believe that Marty had anything to do with this, then I felt that everyone in all of Los Angeles had told me the same thing: that they knew I had nothing to do with it as well.  And I didn’t.  And I wondered why, or if, I ever really believed it myself.  I felt I could indeed accept his offering, and so I took an olive to show my graciousness.  And yeah, it tasted great.

The next three days I felt like finally coming out of my apartment, just to get out.  I was saying hello to everyone I passed.  I’d stand outside, lean against a tree, and just look at the beautiful blue sky.  Emmi and I went out to dinner on Friday, and I started to even think about maybe getting married.

At the memorial for Mark, it was almost all men, maybe twenty of them.  Emmi was there, maybe a couple of other women I barely recognized were there, and a lot of guys.  I realized how many of them I had just passed in the halls, or seen at the mailbox, and they were barely people.  But they were here for another person who was nothing more than a neighbor who happened to have died.  Died young.  I was glad to have a chance to start meeting some new people.

And after people had said their nice things about Mark, and some of them cried, Marty came in.  Did any of them know what I had told Stuart about him?  That he had prayed for their death? I looked around, and no one seemed to pay attention.  I don’t think Stuart had told anyone.  But I could see that Stuart had changed.  He stiffened and immediately turned his head away and buried his eyes in Brandon’s.  Brandon knew too.

Stuart turned back to Marty and was obviously making an effort to transform himself.

“I’m so glad you could make it to Mark’s memorial, Marty.  I know that you must be sorry to learn that one of our neighbors died so prematurely.”

Brandon was not so patient.  “What are you doing here Marty?”

“I’m just here to pay my respects.” Marty stood his ground.

“Pay your respects?  Or check to see that he’s really dead?  Mark is dead, Marty.  You’re not so lucky with Stuart and me.  We’re still here.  Maybe you came to see if we’re dying but I have bad news for you, because we’re not.  We’re going to be here a long time, Marty.”

Stuart was uncomfortable.  He put his arm around Brandon and pat him on the back. 

“What’s your problem, Brandon?” someone called out.

Stuart looked at the ground.  I could tell that he wished he’d never talked about this with Brandon. 

Brandon wasn’t about to nicely stay calm for Stuart’s sake.

“I don’t have a problem.  Ask Marty about his problem.  Ask Marty about why he prayed for a disease against gay people.  Marty prayed that three quarters of you would die.”

Stuart tried to calm things down.  “Brandon doesn’t really think that Marty has any power.  I don’t think Marty does either.”

Marty should have just walked out, but he didn’t.

“Of course I don’t have any power!” Marty shouted.  God has the power.  I’m NOTHING.  It’s God who decides who is righteous and God who sees the wickedness of man and has the power to stop that wickedness.  My prayer has no power.  If you don’t believe me, ask him…” Marty pointed to me. “Nathan doesn’t believe in prayer; isn’t that right, Nathan?  But you prayed the same prayer that I did when I asked you to.”

Stuart stood up.  “Is that right, Nathan?”

“I was just trying to get him out of my apartment.  You know Marty.  ‘Marty is Marty’.”

“BUT YOU PRAYED WITH HIM?”

“Stuart, you don’t believe in the prayer.  I don’t believe in the prayer.  It makes no difference.”

“It’s not the fuckin’ prayer, Nathan.  It’s YOU.”

And then Brandon started walking over to me, and I thought he was going to belt me.  But Brandon was actually just holding Stuart back, and I suddenly saw Stuart’s beefy fist come from the side and I felt a ball of flames fly through my skull.

Somehow, I stayed on my feet.  I think Stuart actually held back; he could have knocked me to the floor.  But for a minute, I was just alone with my memories of the past months, from when I first heard my neighbors growling next door, and Marty’s first knock on the door, and that crazy prayer session, and meeting Stuart for the first time.  And by the time I realized where I was, I saw that the room had emptied out.

I made my way back to the apartment.  Emmi wasn’t there.  I couldn’t sit.  I couldn’t stand.  I couldn’t watch TV.  I couldn’t go to bed.  I couldn’t go out. 

Then I heard a knock on the door that had to be Marty’s.

“I brought a peace offering.  Have you ever had Sal’s salami?  I probably shouldn’t have spoken up down there, Nathan.   But I wanted to let them know.  I can’t do anything.  You can’t do anything.”

“Of course we can, Marty.  Everything we do matters, whether we believe it or not.  It matters to us.”