January 6 - The Hand of God

When Peter got back from his trip to Denver, Sarah made him sit down on the chair in his study and stood in front of him. Then she slowly removed the floppy Green Bay sweatshirt she was wearing and stood before him, topless.
Peter was speechless. Sarah had expected this, so she explained as best as she could, just like she'd rehearsed it. When she finished he was still speechless, so she explained again. But it still didn't make sense because the change in Sarah was so dramatic, so profound, so impossible, that his brain couldn't process it. Finally he began to speak.
"And so when you woke up this morning . . . " he began.
"I had this," she finished.
"This" was a functional human hand between her breasts. Not a tattoo of a hand, but an actual hand, pretty much identical to the hands at the end of her arms only this one was attached at her sternum. Like any other hand, it had four fingers and a thumb. It waved shyly at Peter and then rested.
"And," Peter began, but he didn't know what he was going to say, so Sarah explained it again.
"Like I said, I was in the middle of doing a million things. I had burgers burning on the stove, I was talking to Megan's homerun teacher on the phone, the doorbell was ringing, I was trying to clean up a spill before it left a stain and I just said, 'God, I wish I had another hand.'"
Peter was silent for a moment.
"And so you just woke up . . . "
"Yeah."
"And you had an extra hand."
"Yes."
"Ah."
"Yeah."
"So, what do we do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, like, shouldn't you see a doctor?"
"Probably, but what am I going to tell him?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what am I going to tell him? I can't just show up and tell him I asked God for an extra hand and he gave me one."
"Even though that's what seems to have happened."
"I know, but I mean. I'm going to sound crazy."
"Well yeah, it sounds crazy. But I mean, you do have an extra hand. Whatever the doctor thinks about your story about how it came about, he'll have to admit that that is in fact a hand and it wasn't there before."
"Yeah, I guess so, but I just feel weird."
"Yeah, I would imagine."
"Thanks."
"No, I mean . . . " Yes, Peter. What do you mean? He didn't know, so he kept quiet for a minute.
"Does it work?"
"Does it--Yeah. Well, kind of. I mean I didn't ask for an arm, so he just gave me a hand. If I'd known he was going to be so literal about it I would've asked for an arm, too. But yeah, I guess it works. It can hold stuff. Here, watch."
She handed it her hairbrush and it gripped it just like a normal hand would.
"God, that's so fucked up."
"Thanks, Peter. I'm glad you think so."
"No, I mean. Jesus, Sarah. You've got a freaking hand between your tits. I'm sorry, but that's fucked up."
"Yes, I know, Peter. I'm the one that's been dealing with it and hiding it for the last 36 hours."
"Why didn't you call me? You could've called me."
"Oh, Jesus, Peter. Why didn't I call you. And what would I say?"
"I don't know. The truth?"
"Yes, the truth. Hi Peter, how's Denver? Oh, great. Nice. Super. Oh, here? Well, Megan's feeling better. Went back to school today. Snow's starting to melt. Oh, and yeah. Here's something odd: I woke up with a third hand between my breasts."
She had a point.
"So," he began cautiously. "Are you going to keep it?"
"Am I--"
"The hand. Are you going to keep it?"
"Jesus, Peter. I don't know. I'm still kind of processing this too, you know?"
"Well, I mean. You can't . . . I . . . Like, what do you wear? Did you go out at all?"
"I had to pick up Megan from school."
"And, like, what did you wear?"
"It's cold. I wore my parka."
"What about Megan? Does she know?"
"No. No, she doesn't. Not yet. And I have no idea how we're going to tell her but I hate having her not know. I don't like us keeping secrets from her."
Peter nodded, unsure what to say next. "Does it hurt?"
"Why would it hurt?"
"Well, I don't know. But. Like. OK. So. Like, what are we going to do?" The hand kept moving nervously.
"I don't know."
"OK, are you going to keep it?"
"Well, I kind of have to keep it, don't I?"
Peter looked at her in a way that made it clear that she still had the floor.
"Well, don't I? I mean, I asked God for this. In a way. I mean, I didn't really mean it. I didn't literally want an extra hand, like if God had somehow materialized and asked me if I really wanted an extra hand and was all final answer and everything, I would've said no. But that's not what happened. What happened was in a busy moment when I was totally flustered and trying to do a million things at once I said I wished I had an extra hand. And then, well." Her extra hand finished her sentence for her with a kind of ta-da motion.
Peter still didn't say anything.
"And so, I can't get rid of it. I mean, for starters, technically, I did ask for it. And he gave it to me. And it feels totally weird to say this, but it would be, I don't know, rude of me to get rid of it. There's also the whole thing about not wanting to offend God."
Peter tilted his head to the side as if to say Yes, there is that.
"Plus, I mean, it's kind of a miracle, right? I mean, technically, doesn't this pretty much qualify as a miracle? I asked God for something and I got it. I was going to look it up earlier, but I didn't get around to it."
"Look what up?"
"The qualifications for miracle-dom or whatever. Don't roll your eyes at me. Seriously, I don't see how this isn't a miracle. I mean, this pretty much proves the existence of God."
Peter wanted to object, but then realized he couldn't, not really.
"And so, I don't know. I can't just get rid of it. It wouldn't be right. Besides..."
"Besides?"
"Oh, God. This is going to sound crazy."
Peter wanted to tell her that in light of the existence of a hand between her breasts--a hand that hadn't been there the last time he'd seen his wife without a shirt--the normal rules of what sounded crazy didn't apply anymore, but she continued before he had a chance.
"Maybe I'm meant to have this. I know, I know. Believe me, I really don't want to think that, but, you know, mabye this is some sort of sign?"
"Of what?"
"I don't know. But it has to mean something, right? Otherwise it just means that God can be, I don't know, kind of a dick. I mean, in his infinite wisdom, he had to know that I didn't really want an extra hand. Or if he did, I'd want it to come with an arm or be detachable or . . . something. But to just randomly answer this one--I don't want to say prayer because it wasn't one--wish? No. It must have some sort of significance."
Neither of them said anything for a few minutes.
"So now what?"
"Well, I guess we should go tell Megan."
"And then?"
"I don't know. Maybe she'll have some ideas."
"Sarah."
"Well, I don't know," she said and for the first time since it happened she let herself laugh a little.
"But we'll figure it out. Come on," she said, putting on her sweatshirt. And they held hands and went downstairs to tell Megan about mom's new hand.