Two bad things happened during the Chinese New Year of the Rooster. The first happened on New Year's day. That was the day Gil went crazy. The second happened a month later and is really what this story is about. But Sean could never remember one without the other so both need to be told. He came home early. As a public holiday there was no classes but he had gone into the Taipei Courier newspaper offices to tidy up the article on Taipei Hostel. The editor of the features section had told him he liked it. That made him feel good. When he returned to the Boa Shen apartment, there was a small gathering in the loungeroom. As well as Charlotte and Gil there were Albert and Margie Zheng, the Taiwanese couple who employed Gil at their children's Bushiban. They had never visited the apartment before. All of them wore concerned faces with the exception of Gil who alternated between glowing looks of enlightenment and covert glances of suspicion. Sean placed his daypack and helmet on the floor near the front door and took off his boots. It might've been a gwailo pad but at least they were civilised enough to observe certain sensible customs such as taking shoes off inside the home. "Gong xi fa cai.., he said."What's up?"
"We're all fine," said Albert doubtfully with a fake smile.
"Fit as a fiddle," said Gil with an inane grin. "The cat's whiskas.In fact I have never felt better."
"Finally, you're arrived home," Charlotte said accusingly. Sean had spent New Year's Eve dancing and drinking at Revolver! until 4 am,after which he breakfasted at a street stall selling Soya Milk and fried pastries. Afterwards he walked back to the hostel where he simply rode the lift upstairs to the sixth floor and walked into one of the dormitories and flaked onto an empty bed. It wasn't his home anymore and it certainly wasn't luxory accommodation but he had the small satisfaction of getting a free night's lodgings from Pippy.
Charlotte grabbed Sean by the arm and pulled him over to the kitchen that was adjacent to the lounge. "Gil's gone ga-ga," she said dramatically. She must have worked out the alliteration during her pensive wait.
Albert and Marge walked over and whispered loudly. "He's been acting strange for the past couple of days but yesterday during classes, he went haywire.he thinks he's Jesus Christ," said Marge as if that explained everything.
"Maybe he is," said Sean unhelpfully and then noticed Albert's pained expression. Albert and Marge were Baptists. They were also decent, hardworking people, however, who treated Gil as a friend, not an employee. Gil tried very hard at his job but he wasn't a particular effective or popular teacher. He was too strange in both appearance and manner. Albert persevered with him out of loyalty. The least Sean could do was show the same friendship.
"What can I do to help," he said.
"Just keep an eye on him," said Marge, "for a day or two. Hopefully by then, it will have passed. Whatever it is!"
Gil sat erectly on the chair facing them and beamed around the room like a human lighthouse. He was scarcely three metres distance from the conversation concerning his mental stability.
Charlotte grabbed her cardigan and started towards the door. "Where the hell are you going," said Sean. "I thought we could do shifts."
"I'm going to sleep at Kent's place tonight. I did my shift last night and one was enough for me. Now I'm going to shift my booty outa here for a while," she said and walked out the door to ask Albert and Marge for a lift downtown. Sean watched her walk out with a puzzld look on his face. Kent at the hostel he wondered. Sweet Charlotte is sleeping over at kent's place. His room on the balcony. He never guessed. Taipei really is a strange place and strange places are often full of strange couplings. Sean turned to his housemate, deciding to act as normal as possible. After all, it couldn't be that bad.
"Just the two of us here tonight, Gil. I might go and fetch something to eat and do some reading."
Gil slowly rotated his neck towards the sound of the voice. He then rose and strode over to where Sean was standing and imposingly laid a hand on his shoulder.
"You know I am St Francis of Assissi. I have the ability to talk to animals," he said.
"Good," said Sean. "Tell those barking dogs across the street to shut the fuck up then."
"If you like, Sean Michael, said Gil in a deep voice, "I can communicate your wishes to them.But you should understand that they bark loudly to tell the neighborhood about their harsh treatment. They deserve our respect as well."
Sean stared at Gil. He wasn't going to get involved in a conversation about the hurt feelings of the mangy canines in Yung Ho City. Not in the early evening anyway. He would need a few drinks before he embarked on a discussion of that nature.
"Gil, sit down for a minute and relax, he said leading the lanky American by the arm to the sofa. "Its like this, you're obviously having a spell of something. I don't know what it is but its giving you imaginations...delusions I guess. I do know that they won't last for too long. Probably a day or so. The fact is you're not St Francis or Dr Doolittle or any of those guys. You're Gil Fosdick from St Louis, Missouri. You're living with your good pal, that's me, Sean, in our apartment in Yung Ho city in Taipei and we're going to stay home tonight and have a quiet night."
Sean felt quite proud of himself. He always thought he would have been a good psychiatrist. He figured it was all about direct communication. Being positive. During this piece of positive reinforcement, Gil's expression had changed several times. From wondrous joy to grave uncertainty to covert malice to someone who has woken from a bad dream. Catching him during a moment of lucidity was like spinning a prize wheel and hoping to win the car. Sean could almost see the turmoil in his friends mind as the phantom moods struck at him.
Gil laid his hand serenely upon Sean's. "I can help you, I have special powers."
"Like what, Gil. What special powers have you got?"
"I have been raised from the dead," he said. "I am the son of God, Lord Jesus Christ," he said and then recited: "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."
While listening stony faced to the intoned scripture, Sean observed that whenever Gil pronounced himself to be a famous person, he would say it very carefully or repeat it as if to convince himself as well as the listener. He had read about people who believed they were Jesus Christ. Enough newspaper accounts to observe it seemed a relatively common affliction among those suffering the wraiths of mental illness. More common than what he would have otherwise thought. Gil was the first person he had met however who claimed to be Jesus. Why did crazy people choose historical figures like Jesus or Rasputin or Napoleon. Was it some kind of compensation for their own ordinariness? Perhaps helplessness was the catalyst for such delusions of grandeur. Did mad Moslems believe they were Mohammed, he wondered.
"Jesus Gil, he said regretting the expression immediately as he saw Gil cock his ear in the optimism his claim was being seriously entertained, "Gil, you were St Francis 10 minutes ago.you can't be every major religious icon."
"The Lord travels in many cloaks," he replied in explanation.
"Listen to me, Gil. You are not Jesus Christ. In fact, you of all people, a student of the bible, should be ashamed of yourself for such a blasphemy."
Gil was hurt by this suggestion. "I wouldn't take our Lord's name in vain," he said holding his head in his hands. He started to sob.
"That's it, said Sean somewhat hopefully. "I can see you have moments where you know who you are and where you are. Try and hold onto them. Tell yourself that you are having some form of chemical induced psychosis, but that it will pass..and it will pass quicker if you struggle to keep a clear mind."
Sean was guessing about the chemical catalyst. He thought the episode may be linked to the severe form of epilepsy Gil suffered from.Once Gil had a seizure during a game of ball that Sean had suggested they join in with some local youths at the nearby school court. A scary scene.
Gil had fitted violently for a couple of minutes. He had felt it coming on and had walked over to the metal post holding the goal. He had asked Sean to hold him so he didn't hit his head on the asphalt. Sean had held Gil close to him as his body spasmed and shuddered like an animal enmeshed in an electric fence. The convulsions had been inordinately strong. Sean gripped him hard and held him like a dying conmrade in arms until his friend's body fell limp. But he had never heard of epilepsy bringing on such a hallucinogenic episode. Perhaps this whole incident related to LSD flashbacks that his Missouran friend had told him he had experienced in the past. Either way, perhaps it was a chemical induced psychosis. Be it natural or artificial. One that would hopefully work its way through his system.
Gil suddenly looked up with a peculiar sneer on his face. "What's in it for you..Whose paying you to keep me locked up like this."
Sean was taken aback. His friend's face had taken on an evil complexion for a brief while. He realised that this illness wasn't some kind of joke. Gil was really sick and suffering and Sean didn't know what to do to help him.
"Right, that's it, said Sean. "Lets go for a walk and get some dinner at the night markets. The fresh air may do us good," he said with a wry smile.
The two men quickly got ready and walked into the still humidity of the early evening in Yung Ho City. The traffic and the pollution were lighter than usual due to the public holiday but as always the air hung dank and dirty. As they walked along Boa Shen street towards the market, Gil would furtively glance sideways and then deliberately lag behind or dart ahead. He literally went into jungle combat mode which was no easy matter given the straggly greenery which populated the paths along Yung Ho in defeated clumps.
The first time Gil moved over to shadows, Sean thought he had dropped back into the bushes to take a leak at the side of the rough rubbled footpath. Guy then crept along in the dark edge of the shrubbery and jumped out at Sean unexpectedly from behind some sparse bamboo yelling 'YAAAHH' as he did so. The tired Australian caught in utter surprise. Sean's nervous system bolted upright. His hair shot up on end. Thereafter Sean kept a close eye on Gil to know where he was going to launch himself from. They passed a local pool hall and Gil said he wanted to play a few games of eight ball. Sean agreed thinking the activity might occupy his friend's flighty mind. Like everything else, it was an abject failure as Gil deliberately knocked into the players on the next table, trying to pick a fight, as they were taking their shots. He nearly succeeded before Sean apologised and dragged the mad Missouran away. After that, Sean took Gil to the crowded night market. They bought some salted fruit on a stick and Sean yelped in pain as Gil drove the pointy stick into the palm of his hand drawing a red dribble. As he rubbed his dented palm and more dented composure, he seriously considered calling Miranda to ask her to meet him at a MTV parlour where he would get some blessed respite and escape from all this bullshit. Instead he took Gil back to the apartment
"Look. I've had enough, said Sean. "I had a big night last night and I need to rest. What I'm going to do is have a bath. I want you to stay in the loungeroom and relax. Here's a copy of a Time magazine I stole from Global Village. There's an article about the American Drug Enforcement Agency efforts to combat Columbian drug gangs I know you'll be interested in.ok?" said Sean immediately regretting the offer. Gil reading about narco-terrorism might turn him into a frightening hybrid of J. Edgar Hoover and a Don from the Cali drug cartel.
Sean busied himself for the next 20 minutes running the bath and laying out fresh clothes. He was dead beat. He had less than three hours sleep the previous night and this night was not proving as restful as he had hoped. Still he loved baths and Yung Ho was the first apartment in Taipei he had lived that had one. He didn't count the baths at various love hotels he had visited. He luxoriated in the warm water with his lesgs resting on the porcelain ledge at the top end. It was an oddly positioned bathroom. It lay in the middle of the house with a sliding glass window that opened up to the lounge and kitchen area. The bath was directly below the window. While bathing, you could talk to a person in the next room if you so liked. A conversation with someone reading or watching television or cleaning, although this last one was a rarity. Sean laid his head back on the edge and relaxed feeling the beautiful loss in gravity and the soft caress of the water as he lay half immersed in the tub. He closed his eyes.
"WHOA SEAN!!" yelled Gil as he slid the glass panel across and stuck his big shaggy, mental head through the space. The Australian woke with a start. His head shot forward and then dropped back in half sleepiness and he cracked it on the top of the bath.
"Owww..SHIT!"
"Hey Sean, continued Gil with a more moderated and cheerier tone. "What would happen if this electric fan fell into the bathwater," he said touching his lips with his right index finger in mock deliberation. In his left arm, he lifted up the cheap white box fan that normally lay on the dining room table as the housemates sat on the sofa or at the table.
"THAT WON'T HAPPEN," said Sean firmly and tried to hide a tinge of fear. "TAKE THAT FAN AWAY FROM THE WINDOW RIGHT NOW GIL." Sean quickly stepped up out of the bath as he said this. He didn't think Gil was serious but the very suggestion was mad and Gil was many different famous people tonight. Sean didn't want to be in a position of vulnerability when he adopted the Boston Strangler mode. Fortunately Gil did as he was told and moved away. He kept up a cheery façade as well chuckling in his mountainman manner, saying, "Man oh man, Sean Michael, you really thought I was going to drop that old fan in the bath, didna ya'.didna ya.' "
Wrapping a towel around his midriff and dripping wet, he walked out of the bathroom and over to Gil. "Take it fucking easy, ok." So much for the amateur psychologist. He wasn't cool anymore. He was angry. But he was still direct. Sean stood staring at Gil to show him he was serious. The Missouran stared back for a while but his mind was too confused to keep at it. Eventually he looked away.
"Look at me, Gil. I'm going to bed now and I'm going to get some sleep. I don't want you to come into the room, ok. You're a bit fucked up. Try and work your way through it, ok."
Entering his bedroom, he dried off and put on his cotton trousers and a Rainbow brand white cotton singlet. He needed to sleep and despite his housemate's temporarily insanity, he still intended to get some. He grabbed a wooden chair from his writing desk and placed it awkwardly beneath the door handle. It wasn't a tight fit as the chair wasn't big enough to achieve the right angle for firm support. Nonetheless the chair stayed in position and Sean reckoned it would create some noise at least and perhaps impede Gil if he came in during the middle of the night. He didn't think this was the probability but it seemed a sensible precaution given the evening so far.
Finally before he got into bed, he got out his unused aluminium tennis racquet he had bought at Toys R Us for NT $250. He laid it next to the bed. While not a club or baseball bat he reckoned he could do some damage with it, if required. A chop on the cranium or slice across the cheekbone. "This can't be bloody happening," he murmured audibly to himself and fell into a deep sleep.
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