“He loves you,” Quentin insisted.
“And you love Miranda, but you don’t move out to California to be with her. What, they don’t have tech firms out there?”
“She doesn’t—” He pulled up short, snapping his mouth shut. “No, you know what?” He stood and pulled his phone from his pocket, his pointer finger flying across the screen.
Was he calling Miranda? Had she actually said something useful?
A momentary flicker of hope warmed her chest against the December chill until Quentin said, “You’re my friend, Jessica. And I know you’re going through a lot. More than I can imagine. And that’s why I’m going home before you push me too far and I have to stop being your friend.” He tucked his phone into his pocket. “Your ride will be here in three minutes. His name is Leo, he drives a light blue Honda Fit, and he has a four-point-nine-star rating, so you shouldn’t be murdered.”
And with that, Quentin grabbed the ball from the ground and marched off the field.
For a moment, she considered apologizing, asking him to stay and help her figure out how to move forward, where to go from here when everything seemed ruined. She was all out of ideas and Quentin always knew what to do.
But she remained silent and watched him go, suspecting that the request would only cause her loyal and longtime friend to stubbornly shit his angelic pants and keep walking.
Chapter Fifty-Four
“… Happy birthday, dear Jesus. Happy birthday, to you!”
Jesus feigned annoyance with a roll of his eyes, but his grin gave him away, and he blew out the candles eagerly.
The dining room at Destinee and Rex’s home was larger than that of the old McCloud doublewide because it existed. Otherwise, it was tiny, cramped, and hardly qualified as a room. It was more of a hallway between the kitchen and the living room with large alcoves on either side. Once the dining room table was added, there was hardly enough room to get through. And yet, Rex, both the McCloud women, Jesus, and his manfriend Jeremy managed to squeeze in for the birthday celebrations.
“You make a wish?” Destinee prompted.
“Was I supposed to?”
“Yeah. You close your eyes, make a wish, and then blow out the candles.”
“I wish for world peace.”
Destinee cringed. “You’re not supposed to say it or else it won’t come true.”
“Ah.”
Jessica watched the exchange through a fog. It had been a month since her career—and life—came to a screeching fuck you, and though she was surrounded by her family—and Jeremy—she still couldn’t access the happiness she knew she should feel on such an occasion. Add it to the list of emotions her mind denied her access to now.
The debate over what sort of a birthday cake to bake for Jesus had been a prolonged one. First and foremost, Jesus had insisted he didn’t need one, since it wasn’t technically his birthday. Destinee wouldn’t hear it. “Plenty of people don’t celebrate their birthday on the actual day. They wait until the next available weekend for it.”
Rex had posited the notion of a menorah cake, since Jesus was Jewish after all, but the son of God had politely explained that wasn’t how it worked. Jessica had vetoed the fruitcake after Destinee had suggested it and Jesus had agreed that it sounded delightful. Eventually, they settled on a simple Texas Sheet Cake.
The question of how many candles to put on it was decided more quickly. Though the sheet cake did provide a large surface for candles, even if it had been enough to hold over two thousand candles, the collective smoke would have set off the detectors in the rental house immediately. In the end, they went with five wax letter candles: J-E-S-U-S. He approved even though he explained that was not the correct spelling.
“I shoulda told you about the wish first,” Destinee said. “That’s my bad. Guess we’ll just have to have another celebration for you on your real birthday.”
“I’d like that. Then I can wish for world peace again!”
Destinee flinched. “Nope. Spoiled it again. Just in advance this time.”
“You said yourself it couldn’t exist,” Jessica grouched, hating herself for cutting through the jolly mood but unable to stop herself from doing it.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t wish for it,” he replied sulkily.
“Peace itself is a fantasy,” added Jeremy, though she wasn’t sure if he intended it as consolation or not. “So long as there are men who feel entitled to controlling others, peace can never exist.”
“That’s not true,” said Jesus. “After all, Jessica has been tasked with bringing peace to the United States. And God wouldn’t assign it to her if it was impossible.”
She felt the gravity of the room shift toward her, felt eyes on her from all around the table.
“You never mentioned that,” said Destinee. “Is it true, baby?”
Jessica mean-mugged Jesus. This was the last thing she wanted to think about. “That was a long time ago.”
“You were fifteen,” said Jesus. “I remember it well.”
“Yeah, but who cares? It’s impossible. Just like everything I’m asked to do is impossible.” The self-pity wrapped around her like a warm blanket and she nestled into it. “Cut the damn cake.”
Rex and Destinee shared a concerned look, and then Jesus grabbed the knife and carved up a piece. It was nearly a quarter of the cake, and he plated it and handed it to Jessica. “Eat of your feelings, sister.”
She didn’t need his blessing to do so, but she appreciated the support all the same and dug in without a fight.
“How about some TV?” asked Destinee once the remaining cake had been divvied out.
They settled into the living room, which was far more spacious. Rex had splurged on a new L-shaped couch with his pleasantly large football stipend, and Jessica perched in the crook of it. Rex and Destinee cozied up under a blanket further down the wing, and Jeremy claimed Rex’s favorite recliner, while Jesus, as usual, opted to sit on the floor.
Much to Jessica’s annoyance, Destinee turned to the TV stations rather than finding something to stream and settled on It’s a Wonderful Life.
The angel Clarence was already on screen, showing George what his life would be like if he’d never been born. Clarence needed to keep his nose out of other people’s damn business. Let George kill himself if he wanted to. Who gave a fuck?
As the scenes progressed, Jessica struggled against her impulse to point out all the factual inaccuracies of Clarence. The only reason she fought the urge was because she hadn’t forgotten what Quentin had done. He’d left her. She’d pushed an angel to his limits and driven him away. She doubted she could drive Destinee, Rex, and Jesus away, but that was somehow worse because it meant they wouldn’t leave her when they should. If she didn’t watch it, her mere presence would become a form of torture they couldn’t escape.
It’s just fiction. The movie can have whatever angel rules it wants.
For fuck’s sake, even she was getting sick of her moodiness.
The holidays provided her a slight break from her lingering misery, as everyone was too busy and seasonally depressed to keep pushing her on the question of “what now?” Judith had found holiday employment easy enough. Same with Destinee, who’d administered hundreds of flu shots in the last two weeks alone, working long hours while Rex, who was already on Christmas break, held things down around the house. Wendy had agreed to wait until after the new year to broker the break-up between Jessica and Jameson, and Chris …
She still hadn’t heard from him, outside of a text to let her know the transfer was going through and she could expect her money in one business day.
His knee was better, and he was back on the active roster. One more regular season game, and then he would begin the playoffs.
At least someone’s career is going as planned.
OH GOOD. I THOUGHT I’D MISSED THE PITY PARTY.
Oh look. The family’s all together now. How touching.
YOUR CAREER IS GOING BETTER THAN IT EVER
HAS.
Oh, shut up.
THE LORD SHALL NOT.
I have no career. How is that better than having a career?
YOU HAD THE WRONG CAREER.
Not this again. Professional messiah isn’t going to pay my bills.
AND THE BAKERY DID?
Too soon. Besides, it was within a year of making a solid profit.
NO, IT WAS NOT. BECAUSE THERE WAS NOT A YEAR LEFT IN IT BEFORE THE DEVIL BROUGHT ABOUT THE END.
But if the Devil hadn’t put a stop to it—
IRRELEVANT. SHE DID. THE SOONER YOU ACCEPT THAT, THE HAPPIER YOU’LL BE.
I can’t imagine how accepting that the Devil stole my business and my brand would ever make me happy.
THAT IS OKAY, FOR YOUR IMAGINATION IS EMBARRASSINGLY LIMITED. THANKFULLY THE REALM OF POSSIBILITY IS NOT LIMITED TO IT.
Did you wish your son happy birthday?
IT IS NOT HIS BIRTHDAY.
God, you’re obnoxious.
She felt Him leave her head, and a second later Jesus grinned and whispered, “Thanks, Dad.”
The movie cut to a variety of holiday-themed commercials—one with a child brushing his teeth with Crest toothpaste to impress Santa, leaving Jessica wondering who thought Santa ought to get close enough to sleeping children to smell their breath, one about how Tide is the best brand to remove the inevitable grease stains from your Christmas ham (Jesus gasped when he learned that consuming pork was a part of his birthday celebration), and one mind-numbing Old Navy commercial that simply showed a mixed-raced family in matching reindeer footy-pajamas break dancing around a Christmas tree.
“So many strange heathen traditions,” muttered Jesus.
The screen cut to Connor Wallace, Austin’s long-time bearer of bad news, grinning into the camera. “Season’s greetings! Join us at ten to see how Austin has kept Christmas weird. And later: What we know about the breaking abuse scandal in one of Texas’s fastest growing churches.” A picture of Jimmy Dean appeared above Connor Wallace’s shoulder … followed by stock footage of a pig rooting in the grass.
The image disappeared and the movie returned, leaving Jessica gaping at the TV. “Was that pig supposed to be there?”
“That was a little weird,” conceded Destinee.
“Probably a practical joke,” said Jeremy. “They told the new kid to queue up a picture of the female accusers, and he was bitter he had to work on Christmas and put up pigs instead. Maybe even a White Light member. You’d be shocked to know how often that sort of thing happens on the local news.”
Jessica was already googling it, though, ignoring the movie completely.
“Holy … shit.” She stared down at the headline then scrolled up to make sure she was on a credible news site. She was. Without anyone asking, she read it aloud.
“White Light Church Accused of Covering Up Widespread Bestiality.” She glanced up, met her mother’s eyes, and said, “Pigfuckers.”
Destinee’s face lit up, giving her the appearance of a long-scorned woman opening a giant gift of schadenfreude on Christmas, which was exactly what she was. “Praise be,” she whispered.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!
“There’s more,” Jessica said, ruining the line God had clearly meant to close on. She read the article aloud in full, both delighted it existed and horrified by what it said.
“That is … yucky,” Jesus declared at the conclusion.
“Does it surprise anyone, though?” Jeremy asked.
“Yes,” said Jessica, Destinee, Rex, and Jesus.
“I honestly didn’t expect the pig fucking,” Destinee added.
“Oh. Well, it shouldn’t. Think about it. He’s basically created a religion that is, to use a metaphor, a pig in a blanket, and not a kosher one,” Jeremy added darkly. “The sausage is our supposedly porcine nature, and the blanket is the repression and shame he wraps each of his followers in. If I tell you not to think about a pig in a blanket, all you’ll do is think about a pig in a blanket.”
“Dammit,” said Destinee. “Now I’m hungry again.”
Rex jumped up from the couch quickly. “I think we have some kosher pigs in a blanket in the freezer, Des. Would you like me to heat up—”
“See?” said Jeremy, pointing.
Rex lowered onto the couch again as Destinee straightened her spine and pointed a sharp finger at Jeremy. “Now hold up, you. We’re talking food here. I could listen to someone talk about fucking pigs all day and not want to fuck one myself.”
Jeremy shrugged as if he weren’t so sure.
“Is it too much to hope that this will ruin Jimmy Dean?” Jessica asked.
“Probably,” said Destinee. “Who needs a drink?”
Everyone did.
LOOK AT YOU, DARING TO HOPE FOR THINGS AGAIN.
Has Jimmy Dean been having sex with pigs?
TECHNICALLY IT WOULD BE RAPING PIGS SINCE THEY CANNOT CONSENT, AND NO. JIMMY HAS NOT RAPED PIGS.
Did he know what was going on in his congregation?
IT IS AMAZING WHAT A HUMAN CAN KNOW WITHOUT KNOWING HE KNOWS IT.
Have you been drinking?
IF ONLY.
By the time the movie ended, God was the only one in the room who wasn’t drunk or well on the way to it. Jessica was perhaps the most sober, having spent too much time alternating between the movie and her phone as she scrolled through one breaking news post on White Light after another. Jesus was the second soberest, but only because he drank beer in small sips, making a satisfied noise after each, or as Destinee described it, “like a little bitch.”
As Destinee began flipping around for something else to watch, Jessica said, “I forgot how awful the end of that movie is.”
“I think it’s nice,” said Destinee.
Jeremy said, “Is it the horde of people entering into his home uninvited or the fact that George is clearly having a manic episode?”
“Probably both,” Jessica said.
“Aw, hell to that,” said Destinee. “I wouldn’t be pissed if everyone I’d ever met decided to bust down my front door and shower me with money.”
Rex adjusted his belt to compensate for his expanding gut. “Shame it doesn’t pass the Bechdel test. I used to like that one a lot.”
“You can still like it,” Destinee said. “I ain’t gonna hold it against you.”
Rex issued a conflicted grunt. “I don’t know. Is it right to give the patriarchy a pass?” He sounded as if he honestly wasn’t sure but would like to know the definitive answer so he could stop worrying about it constantly.
Jeremy nodded. “Everyone always does.”
“And you know,” Rex said, “Mary gets no credit in that last scene. Potter does all his bullshit, George takes a vacation to find himself, and in the meantime, Mary is the one actually doing everything, going around town, calling George’s brother to come home. And somehow we’re supposed to buy that George’s angel vacation and personal journey is what made everything happen!”
“Dammit, Rex,” said Destinee, smacking him on the thigh. “Why can’t you just enjoy things?”
“Men always get the credit,” said Jeremy. “It’s true.”
Jesus turned away from the TV to stare up at his roommate. “This conversation is making me a little uncomfortable.”
“It should!” Rex said. “It should make all of us uncomfortable. I mean, look at Des—she raised one hell of a girl all on her own, and you know what they call Jessica? The daughter of God. Not the daughter of Destinee. But that’s what she should be called.”
“Sounds a little melodramatic,” Jessica said, ignoring the fact that giving credit to God for her achievements thus far in life wasn’t saying much.
“And daughter of God isn’t?” asked Jeremy.
“Who raised you up?” Rex asked Jesus. “Was it God?”
“No, but—”
“Was it Joseph?”
“Definitely not. He was a dimwit, bless his heart.”
(Destinee
high-fived him for correctly using the idiom she’d taught him over dinner.)
“So, Mary raised you?”
“Yes.”
“And how often are you called the son of Mary?”
“Very rarely, and only by Catholics.”
Rex raised an eyebrow to drive home the point through moderately slurred speech. “You know, sometimes I think it’d be better if God were a woman. Take all us men down a peg, ya know?”
Jeremy squinted at Rex, chewing his lip and nodding slowly. “Yes, that has interesting implications …”
“If the Devil can be a woman, and God’s child can be a woman, then why can’t He? What’s He so afraid of?” Rex looked like he might fight God if the deity were to walk into the room at that moment.
“Women aren’t exactly perfect either,” Jessica said.
Rex shrugged it off. “I’d take a different kind of bad at this point, wouldn’t you?”
Jeremy tapped a finger to his mouth, or at least he meant to, but the beer softened his aim. “There may be something to that. Can men fix the gross mistakes that our own blind spots created? Or do we need a fresh perspective to bring solutions to the table?”
It was all ridiculous drunken jabber, obviously. But then Destinee said something that gave the idea its wings: “It sure would make Jimmy Dean poop those white pj pants of his to find out Deus Aper was a woman.”
The statement was objectively true. And it might be the only thing that could send Jimmy into a panic.
The claims from the women hadn’t. The pigfucking scandal probably wouldn’t. But if he found out that God was actually the thing he detested most in this world …
You there?
OH YES.
I remember once, when I asked if you were a man, you said it was complicated. What did you mean?
JUST THAT. IT’S COMPLICATED.
Does that mean you’re not a man?
NO. I AM A MAN.
But didn’t you exist before there were men and woman?
AND BOOMERANGS, YES.
So why did you decide to be a man?
I DID NOT.
Okay, I see why you’d said this is complicated.
MY GENDER WAS ASSIGNED BY THOSE IN POWER DURING THE EARLY AGES. IT WAS, BY AND LARGE, AN EPOCH OF BRUTE FORCE, AND EVOLUTION GAVE THE EDGE TO MEN. AND IN THEIR HUBRIS, THEY DESIGNED ME IN THEIR IMAGE.
In the Details Page 39
