Necessary Heartbreak

by Michael J. Sullivan

  The noise around them escalated to a fever pitch when a new man, not the high priest but a noble-looking man—a true Roman—strolled out before them. He was escorted by several soldiers to the edge of the stairs, where he stood, surveying the scene. He watched as more soldiers came marching in from the right, their spears and armor gleaming in the early-morning sunlight. The crowd parted quickly for the soldiers, who quickly surrounded Jesus.

  “What crime has this man committed?” the Roman shouted to the crowd of soldiers.

  “He has claimed to be the Son of God,” one of them replied.

  Michael grabbed Leah’s arm tightly. “Leah, is that man at the top of the stairs named Pontius Pilate?”

  Leah nodded.

  “He’s the man we saw at the parade on Palm Sunday, Dad,” said Elizabeth.

  Michael reached down to hold Leah’s hand, and she grabbed it tightly. Pilate called out to the crowd, asking them which prisoner should be released as a gift from the Romans. Michael stood transfixed, horrified at the cries around him.

  “Barabbas,” they cried. “Barabbas!”

  Elizabeth looked at her father in disbelief. He rubbed her back quickly to reassure her. The atmosphere was chaotic and confusing, making it hard for them to follow the proceedings.

  The crowd began to shout again. “Crucify him, crucify him!”

  Leah turned to Michael and whispered fiercely, “This is unbearable.”

  Stunned by the scene, Elizabeth leaned her head against Leah’s shoulder.

  Michael looked at them. “Elizabeth, you must stay with Leah at all times. If we get split up, go back to the house.”

  Elizabeth and Leah nodded as the crowd grew louder, swelling up closer to the stairs.

  “Would you crucify this man who has done nothing wrong?” Pilate asked the crowd again. “Shouldn’t he be the one set free?”

  “Barabbas! Release Barabbas!”

  Pilate motioned to his guards, who brought Barabbas out to the cheering crowd. Their howling overwhelmed Pilate, and he relented by freeing Barabbas. Then Jesus, with his hands tied, his legs badly bruised, and bloodstains on his torn clothes, was led down the stairs into the courtyard.

  “Go now,” Michael urged.

  But swarms of people had entered after them, blocking their exit. Michael could feel the thrust of the crowd propelling him backward. He heard the soldiers taunting Jesus with lewd cries—“Our king, our king!”—but Michael was unable to see what they were doing.

  A Roman soldier stood on the marble stairs to the far right with a whip in his hand. Michael realized with horror that the soldier was stretching, loosening his shoulders much the way a baseball player does in an on-deck circle. A moment later, Michael saw the soldier run down the stairs to join the others beating Jesus.

  The sickening sounds of leather striking flesh knifed through his ears. Elizabeth was openly sobbing under her veil while Leah held her. It seemed to go on and on. Michael couldn’t imagine how anyone could endure it.

  “No more! Please!” Elizabeth screamed before Leah could push her face back into her chest.

  The smell of blood was thick around them.

  “Stop! Please!” Michael howled.

  A soldier ran through the crowd toward Michael. When he was near, he thrust his spear toward Michael’s stomach. He fell backward into the crowd, his head slamming against the stone ground.

  “Be quiet!” the soldier shouted.

  Elizabeth and Leah helped Michael back to his feet. He was dazed.

  “It’s too dangerous here,” he said to them. “Go!”

  “Dad, I’m not leaving you. Are you okay?”

  Michael nodded weakly. “Yes. Please, you need to go. I’ll be right behind you. Please.”

  But just then the beating stopped, and the soldiers broke into the crowd, creating a path. One of the soldiers brushed against Michael.

  Looking out behind them as they passed, he could see Jesus’ limp body lying by the stairs on the ground. Michael turned away, covering Elizabeth’s face with his hands.

  “Don’t look!”

  Michael watched the soldiers pull Jesus to his feet before placing a big wooden crossbar on his back. They began to push him forward.

  “Stop!” Michael screamed.

  Jesus staggered a few steps, unable to keep his balance, and tumbled back to the stone pavement. The beam bounded off the ground and lay at his side while the soldiers surrounded him, laughing maliciously.

  “Stop this!” Elizabeth yelled.

  “Take her home,” Michael pleaded over his shoulder to Leah. But Leah pushed forward with the crowd, trying to get a look at Jesus.

  “Who will help him?” shouted a soldier.

  Leah released her hand from Elizabeth and stepped forward. “I will!”

  “No!” Michael yelled. He yanked her back toward Elizabeth, but she resisted. “You can’t do this. They’ll hurt you if you fall. Let me do it.”

  He paused, grabbing her shoulder to make her look into his eyes. “Your place is with my daughter,” he said to her.

  Leah stared back at him, her face blank. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek while Elizabeth grabbed Leah’s arm. Michael turned from them and stepped out from the crowd toward the soldiers, his hand raised.

  “Pick it up!” one of them commanded.

  Michael bent down on one knee, bracing himself to pick up the heavy crossbar. As he tried to get a grip on it, he looked over and saw Jesus on his knees. Their eyes met. Michael wanted to look away but couldn’t.

  “Are you here to lift your burden or to help me with mine?” Jesus whispered to him.

  Michael stared.

  “Get up!” a soldier commanded.

  Michael looked at the crossbar and then again directly into Jesus’ eyes. The other man stared back with total understanding and empathy, and Michael was dumbfounded. How could Jesus be worrying about him—about Michael Stewart—at a moment like this? The sudden realization made him weep.

  Jesus looked at him forlornly. “Heartbreak is necessary for one to understand how great God’s gift of time truly is.”

  Michael’s body heaved a couple of times as he tried to regain his composure.

  “Don’t look too far, Michael. Your daughter can lift your burden,” Jesus said.

  The soldier grew impatient.“I said, get up!”He kicked hard into the softness of Michael’s back.

  The blow rattled him, throwing him off-balance. But he quickly planted his feet again and lifted the heavy beam. It was rough in his hands and he felt tiny splinters dig into his skin as he hoisted it up onto his shoulder. His knees buckled but he regained his footing and walked slowly out of the courtyard. Michael could hear Jesus as he, too, was kicked to his feet. But with the crossbar so heavy and the crowd so tight around them, Michael couldn’t turn to see him.

  “Follow me!”the soldier demanded, leading them out onto the road.

  Michael wasn’t sure if it was a drop of rain that hit the top of his head or a tear from heaven.

  “I’ll stop when I want to stop,”Vicki teased, looking at him with a smile.

  Michael looked straight ahead, occasionally wiping the front of the car window as he identified the Queens storefronts they passed. Just after the movie theater, he said, “Okay, slow down now and park on the next block.”

  “There?”

  “Yes, in front of that little hill.”

  Vicki found the curbside vacant. “This is easy,”she said as she parked the car underneath a streetlamp in front of a baseball field.

  “Come on. Let me show you this statue.”

  “Here?”Vicki looked outside. The rain was pelting the top of her windshield, which had fogged up again. She wiped it clean and looked out. “It’s pouring out there. Can’t you just tell me what the statue looks like?”

  Michael was frustrated. “No, I need you to come out and see it with me. It’s fantastic.”

  Vicki looked at Michael as if he were crazy. “Is this going to
make you happy?”

  “It could.”

  “Well, if I’m going to get soaked on a baseball field looking at some dumb statue, you better be happy.”She laughed again, flipping her hair off her shoulder with exaggerated flair. “I hope you understand I don’t do this for every boyfriend.”

  “Oh, you have others?”

  “I may,”Vicki said with a sly smile as she reached for the door handle, “but today you will do.”

  Michael opened the passenger-side door, leaping over a huge puddle before meeting her by the front of the car. “Come on,”he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the slippery grass over the hill.

  Vicki glanced around through the pouring rain. “So where is it?”

  He pulled her toward second base. “It’s way out there,”he said, indicating center field.

  “I can’t see it!”Rain was dripping off her hair into her eyes. Vicki took a few steps but felt Michael pulling her back.

  “Mike?”she said, turning to look at him curiously.

  Michael’s face was peering up at her and he was on one knee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.

  “Vicki, you make me happy and you make me believe in love. Will you marry me?”

  Vicki stood stunned with her mouth wide-open.

  “Hey, Vick, I’m getting drenched here, so I’m going to need an answer soon,”he said with a laugh.

  “This is it? This is really it?”

  “Vicki, this is definitely it,”Michael said. “So, will you marry me?”

  “Yes!”

  Michael stood up, and Vicki jumped into his arms.

  “Let me do this right.”He got back on his knee and placed the ring on her finger.

  Vicki dropped to her knees and hugged him, knocking them both over. They lay there on their backs near second base, watching the falling rain glisten in the streetlights illuminating the field.

  After a few moments, Vicki began waving her hands in the ground over her head.

  Michael laughed, watching her. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m making a mud angel,”she said, laughing.

  “Cool.”Michael replied, before making his own.

  Vicki rolled over to Michael, resting her head on his shoulder. “Mrs. Michael Stewart. Wow.”

  She held her ring above them through the pouring rain. Michael thought it looked like a star in the sky. Catching him watching it, she rolled over and kissed him.

  “Keep me safe,”she whispered.

  “I will,”he promised. “I will.”

  Was that a raindrop?

  He looked up at the sky. The sun was bright overhead. Michael’s right shoulder ached with the weight of the crossbar. They had only traveled about twenty to thirty yards.

  “Move!”one of the soldiers yelled to Michael when he briefly stopped to shift the beam on his shoulder. His knees buckled again.

  “Over there!”yelled another soldier.

  Michael could see a hill in the distance with three huge wooden posts planted vertically in the ground. But as he began to walk again, the crossbar skidded awkwardly behind him, catching on the uneven stone road. Its weight vibrated through his shoulder, slowing him down.

  As he neared the hill, Michael heard a commotion behind him. Two soldiers grabbed the crossbar off his shoulder and pushed him away.

  “Go now,”one soldier ordered him.

  Michael looked behind him. The soldiers had grabbed Jesus and were tearing off his bloody cloak. Then they pushed Jesus down. Michael leaned forward to try to catch him, but the guard blocked his way. He saw Jesus’ head slam against the ground.

  Michael was pushed back into the small crowd that had assembled on the hill. Many women were softly crying under their veils. Grief overwhelmed him.

  What have I done?

  The clink of nail hitting bone shook him. In horror, he saw the soldiers huddled over Jesus. He didn’t need to see what was happening. Michael turned away. The sobs grew louder around him. He could hear the crossbar bearing Jesus being anchored to the post.

  Michael turned in time to see the soldiers placing Jesus’ feet one over the other and nailing them to the wood. His face, battered and bruised, sloped downward. Blood dripped from the crown of thorns around his head, falling to the ground.

  Looking up at the cross, Michael went numb. What have I done? Oh, Lord, I’m so sorry. He fell to his knees and started to wail.

  A wooden decoration depicting Jesus, his father, and his mother sat atop the Christmas tree. It nearly touched the ten-foot ceiling. Presents were piled all around, with glitter and gold ribbon wrapping several big boxes. A bright blue bicycle, with shiny black tires and a sparkling bell on the handlebar, stood nearby. On the stairway leading up to the second floor, garlands and poinsettias circled the wooden banister, and Christmas cards were strung through the railing. The aroma of a roasting turkey filled the air.

  Michael sat in the living room with his eyes closed, just letting his senses drift.

  “You okay, sweetie?”Vicki asked as she rubbed his shoulder.

  “How could I not be?”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  “I was thinking one thing,”he said, placing his hand on her belly and smiling. “It’s perfect, so perfect.”

  Vicki gently touched Michael’s wedding ring and he felt a rush of love.

  “Okay, lovebirds,”Samantha said as she walked in from the kitchen. “Time to break it up. Ken’s almost done with dinner. He’s making it extraspecial for the future Miss Stewart.”

  “That’s Elizabeth Stewart,”Michael proudly boasted.

  Samantha looked into Vicki’s eyes. When Vicki nodded, Samantha squealed, “Oh, I love that name! I can’t wait to meet her! Are you guys excited?”

  Michael and Vicki looked at each other.

  “She’s excited but really nervous now that we’re so close,”he said.

  “Oh, don’t worry, everything is going to be great.”Samantha smiled. “Just make sure you have the anesthesiologist in the room at all times!”

  Vicki smiled, giggling. “I guess so. Sam, you’ll be there for me, right?”

  “You betcha!”

  Watching his nephews reach into their stockings, Michael began laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”Vicki asked.

  “I remember this one time when we had our stockings in the basement. I couldn’t have been more than four or five years old. I woke on Christmas morning before everyone else and snuck downstairs to the stockings. I looked at all the stockings and decided that Santa wouldn’t know if I moved all the presents into my stocking.”

  Vicki started to laugh.

  “So I reached up as high as I could. I was pretty small so I had to get a chair. I stood on top of the chair and started pulling out the presents from everyone’s stockings. Then I moved the chair over to my stocking and jammed in as many presents as I could. It was overflowing. Then I snuck back upstairs and pretended to be asleep. My mom almost caught me in the hall.”

  Vicki turned in her seat. “What did your parents do?”

  “Well, they told me years later that they heard me get up. After I got back into bed, they went downstairs to survey the scene. They told me they laughed a lot and took a picture. Then they returned the presents to the rightful owners. Here I thought I could trick Santa, but I couldn’t trick my parents.”

  “My goodness!”Vicki giggled. “I’ll have to keep Elizabeth’s and my stockings away from you from now on.”

  She paused. “You know, you laughed just now when you were talking about your parents. It’s important to remember the good times. It’s what life is all about.

  “Hey, do you want to open your present?”Vicki handed Michael a small box, neatly wrapped with red paper and a bright green bow. She always put green bows on his presents because it reminded her of the color of his eyes. Inside the box was a silver bowl with the engraving for mike only.

  “Gee, thanks?”

  She laughed. “Don’
t you get it, you ice cream fiend? Your pregnant wife can’t steal your ice cream any longer.”

  Michael squeezed her hand and kissed her gently on the cheek. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small box, also tied with a green ribbon.

  “For me ?”she inquired through raised eyebrows and a huge grin.

  “For you. . . . Don’t expect me to get down on my knees for this one.”

  “Ooh, this one might be better than I thought.”Vicki slowly untied the ribbon, smiling up at him one last time before she opened the box. Hanging from a delicate gold chain was a panda mother holding her baby.

  “Let me put it on you, Vick.”He lifted the necklace from the velvet insert, unclasped it, and fastened it around her neck.

  Vicki reached up, covering it with her soft, delicate hands. “It’s beautiful. I love the way it feels. Thank you.”

  Michael placed his hands on top of hers, feeling the warmth of her skin. She leaned down, gently brushing his knuckles with a kiss.

  Looking then at the bowl on the table in front of them, Vicki smiled. “Oh, my gift was so silly.”

  “No, I love it.”

  “Well, I hoped it would make you laugh.”

  “It does,”he reassured her. “So, does this mean that you’ll run out and get me ice cream whenever I want?”

  “Of course. Once, maybe?”

  “Wow, did I get the better end of that deal or what?”he teased, laughing.

  “Hey, everybody, dinner’s ready,”Ken called from the dining room.

  “C’mon, lady, let’s get you to the table,”Michael said as he helped Vicki to her feet.

  Throughout dinner, Michael kept rubbing Vicki’s hand gently, unaware of the numerous conversations around him. He loved her so completely and was delighted that they were soon going to be parents together. She was his world. Toward the end of the meal, he noticed she was speaking less, preoccupied and anxious again.

  “Are you okay?”he whispered. “Maybe we should have gone straight home after visiting my dad.”

  Vicki shook her head. “No, don’t worry about that. I just need some air.”

  Samantha noticed them talking quietly. She got up from the far end of the table and walked over to Vicki. She whispered a few words and Vicki nodded.