by James Frey
Brother, do you hear what you’re saying?
Yes.
It’s crazy.
What’s crazy is living your life according to some book written by someone who couldn’t imagine what your life would be like.
I respectfully disagree. I feel the world is very much the same.
Do you live in a two-thousand-year-old mud hut with no electricity, no heat, no running water, pissing and shitting in a hole in the ground? Do you go to an open-air market in a wooden carriage with stone wheels, being pulled by an ox? Do you pay for your food in trade with whatever you’ve grown in your backyard? Do you cook your meals over an open fire made of wood you collected and started using a flint? Look around you. This world is not that world. That world is dead. Those books were written for that world. Those books are dead. They should be taken out of every church on earth and recycled, so at least they might do some good in this world. The oldest and most beautiful copies are historical curiosities and should be put in museums.
There was silence at the table. We were all shocked. Brothers and sisters, it was beyond shocking. It was blasphemy. Straight from the mouth of the Lord and Savior himself. Ben sat calmly, waited for one of us to say something. Nobody said a word. It felt like the moment after someone dies, and just before everyone in the room starts wailing. Heavy, brothers and sisters, extremely heavy. Finally, Jacob spoke.
And this is what God tells you?
God tells me other things. This is what common sense tells me.
Common sense is nothing when placed against the word of God.
And you think the word of God is found in the books of the Bible?
I know it is.
Did God write those books?
They are his word.
They are the word of writers. Men telling stories. No different than writers today who craft mystery stories, or adventure stories, or war stories, or stories of the apocalypse. Biblical stories were written decades, and sometimes centuries, after the events they supposedly depict, events for which there is absolutely no historical evidence. There is no such thing as God’s word on earth. Or if there is, it is not to be found in books.
Then where is it to be found?
In love. In the laughter of children. In a gift given. In a life saved. In the quiet of morning. In the dead of night. In the sound of the ocean, or the sound of a car. It can be found in anything, anywhere. It is the fabric of our lives, our feelings, the people we live with, things we know to be real.
I have faith the books are true, and I believe I will be rewarded for that faith.
That is your choice.
I have faith that the stories in the books are true.
And that is also your choice, but it is the choice of fools.
Faith is something for fools?
Faith is the fool’s excuse.
Faith is a gift from God.
Faith is what you use to oppress, to deny, to justify, to judge in the name of God. Faith is what has been used as a means to rationalize more evil in this world than anything in history. If there were a Devil, faith would be his greatest invention. Get people to believe in that which does not exist, and have them use that belief to destroy everything of value in the world. Get them to buy into an idea of something false, and use that idea to create conflict, violence, and death. If you opened your eyes, you would see that the end is coming, that our world is going to end. And it is coming, and it is going to end, because of faith.
It is coming because God has forewritten it.
Because man will cause it.
Because you have been sent to hasten it.
I will announce it, but not as the consequence of a false prophecy, or the wild imagination of a man, or many men, writing a book in a stone age society. I will announce it because I see it before me. Because all of the conditions for it exist. There is hate, aggression, pride, a lack of love and patience, a lack of understanding, and there are weapons, weapons that can end it all, weapons that can kill millions of people in a second, and there are men, leaders of nations, who are willing to use them. Apocalypse will happen because of man, not because of a nonexistent God.
So you are not the Messiah of the Bible? You are not Christ returned?
Do you believe I am?
I do not want to believe you are, but you have been given gifts. You claim to speak to God. You are Davidic. Born under circumstances which indicate divinity. Born circumcised. You survived the unsurvivable. You are able to speak the ancient languages. You know all of the words of the holy books without having read them. And I have heard that you perform miracles. Ben looked at him, same as he always was, simple and direct, calm. Jacob waited for a response and got none. He spoke.
Is it true?
Yes.
Then show me.
I don’t think you’d like the miracle I would perform here.
Let me tell you one I’d like to see.
If that makes you happy.
He held up his glass.
Turn this water into wine.
And after, I’ll walk on water, or make my face glow, or turn the food and drink on this table into my flesh and blood.
If you can.
Those are parlor tricks, not miracles.
Christ did them.
He did, or so your holy book says. And every casino magician in Las Vegas can also do them. A miracle is changing someone’s life. Freeing them from whatever bonds tie them. Giving them the gift of being able to live the way they dream of living.
So show me.
Ben smiled. He looked around the table. He stayed on each of us, like he was trying to decide what he was going to do, and who he was going to do it to. We were all nervous. One of us was going to be changed forever. I believed one of us would be blessed by the Lord with a miracle from Heaven. Graced by the power of God Almighty, through his one and only Son. I wanted it to be me. I wanted to feel the beauty of the Heavenly Father inside of me. I wanted to be changed in whatever way God, and Ben, wanted to change me. I silently prayed for deliverance into God’s hands. I had never wanted anything more in life.
He stood and pushed his chair out and walked around the table. We were all watching. We were all waiting. And we were, brothers and sisters, all hoping. He stopped in front of young brother Jeremiah, who was the last person I would have thought he would choose. Jeremiah was looking up at him. I could see his lips quivering and his hands shaking. He looked terrified. He was about to be given the greatest gift a man could ask for in this life. He was about to be given a miracle. Ben reached out and put his hands on Jeremiah’s cheeks. Jeremiah smiled. Ben stood with his hands on his cheeks and stared into his eyes. He didn’t move. He just stared at him. Stared right into his eyes. Did it for what must have been ten minutes. Not moving at all. Just staring. And we waited. And it should have been boring, but it was beautiful, and fascinating, and I swear on my life, brothers and sisters, as Ben stared at him, Jeremiah changed. His skin became flush. His posture improved. It was like he changed from a kid to an adult, from a boy to a man. We all knew something more was going to happen, though. We just didn’t know what. Frankly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Ben and Jeremiah had risen from the floor and started flying. That’s not what happened, brothers and sisters. Not even close. Ben stood there staring, and then he started leaning down. He leaned very slowly, staring into Jeremiah’s eyes the entire time. There was no hesitation and no uncertainty. He went right in there and kissed Jeremiah. Kissed him right on the lips. And it wasn’t the kind of kiss you give your grandmother. It was a real kiss. It started slow but got real heated, real fast. Within a couple of seconds, they were making out like drunk teenagers. Ben put his hands on Jeremiah’s shoulders and pushed his chair back and sat down on his lap. And they were just going at it. We were all too shocked to do anything. At the time, I didn’t understand what was happening or why. To me it was just a shocking and disgusting display of homosexual perversity and deviancy. One man in another man’s lap, kissing lik
e they were in love. Like the Holy Bible, the word of God, the truest of the true, the most divine of the divine, said was wrong.
I heard a fist slam down on the table. It was loud, brothers and sisters, sounded like a gun. Everybody turned except Ben and Jeremiah, who didn’t seem to notice and didn’t stop what they were doing. Jacob was standing up. He yelled stop at the top of his lungs, but they didn’t stop. In fact Ben’s hands were now running over Jeremiah’s chest, and moving down to parts inappropriate for a dining room.
Jacob yelled stop again, and Ben pulled away.
He turned towards Jacob and spoke.
Your miracle, brother.
You’re a pervert.
If you say so.
Jacob started coming ’round the table.
You’re not divine. You’re not a man of God. You’re a foul pervert who is going to burn in Hell. Ben stood and turned towards him.
If you say so.
Jacob moved towards Jeremiah, who was still sitting. And you. I pulled you out of a den of sin, out of the depths of Hell, from the grips of queers and sinners. I saved you. Brought you into the loving arms of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
The closer he got the angrier he looked. His jaw was clenched and his veins in his neck were bulging. How dare you faggots? Disgusting perverted freaks. He rushed Jeremiah, hit him like a football player. He knocked him straight back over his chair and started choking him and slamming his head against the floor. Esther and Mrs. Avrohom started screaming. Caleb and I stayed where we were. We knew there was no stopping Jacob when he got something in his head. And for a second I thought Jeremiah was a dead man. That Jacob was going to kill him. Then Ben grabbed the back of Jacob’s shirt and pulled him off. He dragged him a few feet back and pushed him down. Jeremiah was bleeding and had choke marks on his neck and stayed on the ground. Jacob got up and started after him. Ben pushed him back. Jacob screamed at him.
Do not touch me.
Ben looked at him, very calm.
Do not touch him.
I’ll do whatever I want to him.
No.
Jacob went after him again, and Ben pushed him back.
You want to hurt someone, hurt me. He’s walking out of here to live the life he was born to live.
Jacob pushed Ben. Jacob was breathing heavy, raging. He’s going to die of AIDS and burn in Hell. You both will.
Love’s going to kill us?
Jeremiah was up, crying, bleeding, breathing heavy. Esther and Mrs. Avrohom were tending to him. I looked to Caleb and back to Ben and Jacob, as if we should do something. Caleb shook his head. Jacob took a step towards Ben. God’s gift to you and the rest of your kind will kill you. He pushed him. Ben just smiled.
You can’t hurt me, Jacob. No matter what you do.
Jacob pushed him harder. Jeremiah was on his feet, still crying. Esther and Mrs. Avrohom were moving him away. Ben spoke again.
You’ve always hated me. This is your chance. Let Jeremiah walk out and I won’t resist. Take out what you feel about him on me. Unleash your mighty God’s wrath.
Jacob pushed him harder. Ben glanced back, saw Jeremiah being led from the room. He looked back at Jacob, smiled. Jacob pushed him again.
That’s it?
He did it again, and harder.
That’s not much from a powerful man of God.
And again, harder.
Seems more like a faggot’s push. You sure you aren’t …
And Jacob attacked again. He threw Ben on the ground and climbed on top of him and started punching him in the face and on the head and on his body. Ben did not resist at all. From what I could see, he almost looked like he was smiling. Jacob was screaming faggot at the top of his lungs, and just kept hitting him. Caleb and I both stood, knowing we’d have to stop Jacob at some point or Ben would die. We came around the table and Ben was clearly out. His body was limp and his face was covered in blood. It was also all over Jacob and all over the floor. And Jacob kept hitting him. Brothers and sisters, a man can only allow so much. A man can only watch so much. Whatever Jacob was doing wasn’t about God anymore. I didn’t understand or endorse gay behavior. Frankly, I found it sickening and wrong. But Jacob was killing his brother over a kiss. And kissing, and loving, whatever kind it may be, is not something the Holy Father would condemn someone to death for doing. At this point in my life, I believe—actually, brothers and sisters, I know—that God believes love, even between men and men, and women and women, is still love. And it is something beautiful, the most beautiful thing there is in this world. Let more of it exist. In every form. I say hallelujah. So we pulled Jacob off of him. His hands and face and shirt were dripping. He was still screaming, and we were struggling with him. He was yelling he deserves to die, I am God’s soldier, he deserves to die. We took him out of the room and to his bedroom and convinced him that the best thing for us to do was pray to the Lord above for guidance and strength. I knew Ben was going to be needing a doctor. So I left the room to use the telephone. Caleb and Jacob were on their knees, holding hands, praying. The phone was in the kitchen, and I had to walk through the dining room to get there. I was going to check on Ben, make sure he was still breathing. When I came into the dining room, it was empty. There was a silhouette on the floor. And where the feet would have been, there was the ankle bracelet. I picked it up and it was still functioning. Wasn’t broken and hadn’t been cut. It was supposed to be impossible to remove it. But it was removed, brothers and sisters, it was lying there on the floor. I started to go back towards the other rooms to see if Ben had gone into one of them. As I did, I glanced at the table. And brothers and sisters, I am telling you, brothers and sisters, I am telling you because I saw it with my own two eyes, every glass on the table, glasses that had been filled with water a minute before, were filled with wine. They were filled to the top, and they were filled with deep red wine.
II MARIAANGELES
I was at home. Mercedes was watching TV. I’d just got back from the hospital, where my momma was dying. Alberto was in Rikers for killing some motherfucker. I heard a knock on the door. Figured it was the cops or some bitch from child services. Either way it’d be the same thing, some white person making threats on me and my baby, some white person saying they had the authority to tell me how to live my life and raise my girl. Like they could do better. With all their power and government money. Look what they done to the world. They couldn’t do no better.
I opened the door. Ben was standing right there. Or some fucked-up version of Ben. I hadn’t been seeing him for over a year. When he left we was wondering what happened. One day he was there being drunk and playing his video games, coming in to the club all fucked up, the next day he was gone. We didn’t know where he went to. Figured he got tired of living with black folks and took off. It happens. People get tired of living with people that ain’t like them and they go back to their own. And sometimes it’s best. Sometimes I be thinking black folk and white folk ain’t meant to be together. And you can give all the motherfucking speeches you want, it ain’t gonna change.
He smiled at me. Said hello. Some of his teeth was broken and he had blood all over him. His face was all cut and swollen, his eyes turning purple all around them. And underneath the blood and swelling, I could see there was scars everywhere, like he’d been in a knife fight with twenty men. And his clothes was nasty, something I didn’t even see ’round here with people who can’t afford clothes. He reached up and put his hand on my cheek and said it’s nice to see you, Mariaangeles. I had men’s hands on me all the fucking time. Men grabbing my ass, my titties. Men trying to put their fingers everywhere inside of me. Never had a man put his hand on me like that. Just being gentle. Just being kind. Most men looking for some pussy and someone to take care of them, cook their meals and do their laundry. That’s what they think love mean. Ben just touch my cheek and say it’s nice to see you, Mariaangeles. Nicest thing any man had ever done for me.
I was wondering what he was doing. His apartment w
asn’t his apartment no more. After he left it stayed empty for a few months. My brother broke in and stole the TV and the video games and all the beer in the fridge. Said he’d give it back if Ben came ’round again and ended up selling it all to buy a gun. After a while white people with clipboards and phones on their belts came ’round and opened it up. Some old man moved in and died like two months later. Went to sleep and didn’t never get back up. Then some family moved in. Woman and six kids and her husband, who didn’t do nothing but yell and beat the shit outta all of ’em and blame all his own shit on the Jews. He got arrested for something, don’t even fucking matter what, ’cause he just another brother in the pen, and the woman and them kids went back to Puerto Rico, where they from. Now there was some girl like me. Eighteen and three kids with three different daddies, none of them giving a shit. Didn’t think she’d want him coming in there, and she could have pro’ly whooped his ass, specially looking like he was looking. I was thinking what to do when he smiled and spoke.
I need somewhere to stay.
And you wanna stay here?
Yes.
Why you thinking I’m gonna let you stay here?
Because I love you, and I can help you.
What the fuck you talking about, Ben?
Trust me.
I looked at him. More than anything, I was feeling sorry for him. He was clearly fucked up. More fucked up than me, more fucked-up looking than anyone I’d ever knowed. He was all beat-the-fuck-up and skinny. I wasn’t worried about him hurting me. And I was feeling a little guilty about taking all his money that time at the club. So I opened the door. He smiled and said thank you and stepped inside.
My place was bad. When I wasn’t working, I was getting high. When I wasn’t working or getting high, I was trying to be taking care of Mercedes. I didn’t have no time for cooking and cleaning. I tried sometimes to straighten up, but it didn’t happen.
There was dishes in the sink, trash in the kitchen. Didn’t have nothing but milk and water and old macaroni and cheese from the deli in the fridge. I kept my drugs and my pipes in Momma’s old room, and kept it locked so Mercedes couldn’t get at it. Me and her was sleeping in the bedroom I used to be sharing with Alberto my whole life. I hadn’t done no laundry in a long time so there was clothes everywhere. Mercedes was sitting on our couch, watching some TV show about crime, which she was doing all the time. Ben walked in and went to the couch and kissed her on the forehead. She didn’t pay him no attention. He turned to me and asked if there was somewhere he could sleep. I told him he could sleep wherever he wanted.
