The Mirror Apocalypse

by John Ayang

  “’Hey, buddy. Are you awake’? He pushed the door wide open at my grunting response to the fact that I was awake. ‘I figured coming such a long ways from Texas, you needed the sleep. So, I allowed you to sleep while I rushed to the station to return the truck before anybody noticed it was missing’.

  “’The truck’? I asked, barely understanding what he meant.

  “’Yeah. The one we used in the chase? I borrowed it from the local station because I still had the spare key from manning it last year before it changed hands’. It was then that he told me he was on probation for manhandling a suspect in a case he was investigating. He was put on leave with pay, and was not supposed to use any of the police cars. He borrowed the truck anyway, according to him, because he needed to get to the convenience store that evening. His personal car was low on gas and he figured he could use the police tow van, which people rarely used. That way, he would save the gas in his car. Unfortunately, he ran into me and the car thieves and got involved in the chase before he could ask himself what he was doing.

  “’If they knew I took out the police truck without permission, I could be canned, man, for violating my probation’.

  “That explained why Michael was so shy of the accident scene. But there I was in his guest room, with no clue of what I was going to do without my driver’s license and without anybody’s phone number in my head to call. I had stored all my contacts in my phone, and always dialed them by name, not number. So, all your numbers were lost to me. Not knowing what to do next, I got up and stretched.

  “’Okay, I guess you’re going to do your morning routines first. After that, we’ll have breakfast and then try and figure out how to contact your folks. By the way, my name, again, is Michael Parker’.

  “’I’m Cletus McCarthy’, I said, and we shook hands again.

  “’Come out for breakfast when you’re ready’. With that, he closed the door again.

  “I rushed through my toilet routines because I was eager to get Michael to help me establish contact, either with you here in Houston, or with Dr. Horacek in Norfolk. As I entered the dining area, which was a small kitchenette instead of a full-fledged kitchen, I saw breakfast things were already laid out. A pretty young woman, looking late twentyish, was scrambling eggs in a saucepan on the stove. She slung a baby in a pouch-like backpack on her back with its head, legs, and hands sticking out, making it look like a turtle with its appendages sticking out of its shell. Michael was playing with a little girl who looked no more than five.

  “’There you are, Cletus, looking quite fresh and lively for a dead person’, he said, smiling impishly.

  “’What do you mean, “a dead person’?” I inquired.

  “’This is my wife, Terese. She prefers it spelt T-E-R-E-S-E, and pronounced that way, too. And this is Eileen, our daughter, and Michael, Junior, on his mom’s back. Honey, this is our guest I brought home last night. Eileen, honey, say, “Good morning” to Uncle Cletus,” he rattled through his intros as though he was afraid I was going to interrupt, which I did.

  “Why did you say I’m quite lively for a dead man?”

  “’Good morning, Sir’, Terese greeted me very sweetly. ’Pardon me. I was already in bed when you came in last night, so I couldn’t see you. Welcome to our place. Thank God you were not really involved in the accident/.

  “Michael pushed a stack of papers in front of me and urged me to read. The front-page caption jolted me: FIRST IVF-CONCEIVED PRIEST MEETS DEATH IN INFERNAL ACCIDENT.

  “A picture of the previous night’s blaze followed. I looked at it for several seconds before I started reading. The story was told to the effect that I had set out from Houston to visit the man who admitted to fathering me, Dr. Josef Horacek, in Norfolk. Unfortunately, I met my death when I ran into a natural gas tanker that fell on Highway 58. My vehicle burst into flames and I was charred beyond recognition, except for the remnants of my driver’s license, a piece of my wallet, and fragments of other documents which were pieced together. Dr. Horacek was able to make a positive identification of me from those fragments, indicating that one of the vehicles that ran into the fallen tanker and burst into flames was my car and I was inside at the moment of the accident. It went on to lament what a loss I was to the Catholic Church, even though I had gone into the lay state of life. The paper almost deified me, calling me a hero of the ethical soundness of human reproductive technology. One of the Norfolk tabloids that Michael had also bought that morning carried the same story with my picture in it.

  “I read through the stories a second time and I did not like the tones of them. I resented their making me into a banner for the justification of the IVF procedure, though at that time, I had nothing against it. When I put down the paper and my host urged me to eat my breakfast before it went cold, it dawned on me that, as far as the world was concerned, I was dead and gone. Cletus Nicholas McCarthy, the first IVF-conceived Roman Catholic Priest of Houston, Texas, was dead and gone. What remained of him in the minds and hearts of people was the story.

  “It might have been then that the idea to remain dead to the world started forming in my mind. I cannot really tell now. All I can remember is that I figured that if I resurrected myself, falsifying the story in the papers, I would begin another storm of publicity that would add to my stress and continue dogging me through life. If I were to start anew, living my life with the public glare off me, I would fare much better. Yet, the question remained how. First, I had to battle with what it would feel like refusing to call and indicate that I was alive and nobody should worry about me. Then I would figure how to get a new set of documents and, maybe, change my name. The latter was going to be somewhat easy, but the former was going to be a tough act to pull off because I would have to contend with the thought that I was being insensitive to the feelings of my loved ones.

  “After breakfast, when my host asked me where I wanted to start, and suggested that I start from Dr. Horacek’s end, I pulled him aside and confided in him my thoughts. Maybe I should not have sought his opinion on it because he jumped at the idea with the excitement of a toddler with a new toy. And so, what was just an idea in my mind to toy with as a possibility, started becoming a reality as Michael practically and alternately cajoled, coaxed, and blackmailed me into bringing it to fulfilment. All my identification cards had gone up in the flames of that accident. I couldn’t use the only credit card I still had on me without blowing my cover. Michael knew all the places and the persons who would supply me with my new identity. My driver’s license came from the Norfolk Department of Public Safety. My health and dental insurance cards came from the Norfolk Aetna Insurance Company. He insisted I have two credit cards: an Amex and a Visa. All these items took a period of three weeks to gather, and they came with my new name.” Cletus paused for effect, took a deep breath and exhaled.

  “And what’s your new name, if I may ask?” Jennifer inquired, curiously.

  “Not very different from my real name, especially in sound,” Cletus replied. “Clarence Victor McCarty. That’s my new name.”

  “Clarence Victor?” Jennifer asked, looking incredulous and amused at the same time.

  “McCarty,” he replied. “You don’t seem to like it. Do you?”

  “I don’t know,” Jennifer said, still looking amused and confused.

  “That’s what he told us to call him from now on,” Hannah chipped in. “And I said, ‘To me, you’ll always be Cletus Nicholas McCarthy. Since we were about to get into a fight, we settled for a compromise: C. McCarthy.”

  “C. McCarthy?” Jennifer asked again.

  “Yes. For him, C. will be Clarence, and for me, C. will be Cletus.”

  Jennifer broke out laughing and everyone else joined in.

  Thus, Cletus/Clarence was adamant on breaking with his past in some way, even if he was not sure he was doing the right thing. Within one week, he had depleted whatever money he had on him and
needed a job. Michael wasted no time finding him a job in the local grocery store. He stayed on it, marking time until he should have his new identity in place. After the third week, when all his particulars were in, he applied for and got a teaching job with the local community college, teaching Literary Studies and Contemporary History of the United States. He also got a one-bedroom apartment for himself and started his new life in full swing. The Parkers remained his closest friends and allies. He made acquaintances among the locals, but stayed very guarded, not allowing them to get too close to pry into his real identity.

  “My one aim was to make enough money to be able to come and get you to live with me in Norfolk. So, that’s why, after I had established my new identity, I did not immediately try to contact you. Besides, I figured it was good to let you get over mourning me and heal completely before I made my appearance. I was planning for the time when I would come in person. I cannot tell you how many times I googled your names on the Internet to get your phone numbers, and just at the moment when I should have call any of you, I would lose the nerve, for fear you might get so excited and blow my cover before I could control it. As I sit here telling this story, I cannot belief how I made it through for a year and two months without going nuts. I had to pray a lot. I prayed as I had never prayed, even when I was a priest. I am still teaching at the community college and the salary is good. So, I figure if you get a job with any of the health systems there, we won’t do badly with our new life.

  “So, what about the Horaceks? I hope you know Barbara and Crystal moved to Norfolk?” Jennifer asked.

  “We told him about the Horaceks,” Hannah said. “But my question is: Are you going to hide your new self from them? What are you going to do?”

  “No, Mom,” Cletus replied. “I can’t do that to them. That would be too callous, though it is not like they have the right to know.”

  “We became family with them,” Hannah said. “I want us to continue that family tie.”

  “I think your mom is right, son,” Stephen McCarthy chipped in for the first time. “Better more friends than privacy.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. We will figure out how to reveal myself to them …”

  “…’how to reveal myself to them…’ Gosh! He’s still thinking he is Jesus Christ risen from the dead,” Jennifer mimicked, looking at Stephen and Hannah.

  “There you go,” Stephen said, chuckling.

  “I should have let you cry out that Rabouni at the cemetery,” Cletus rebutted.

  “Now! Now, before you guys continue your war, how long are you with us for?”

  “Only tomorrow. I am flying back early the next day because I have lectures in the afternoon. Jennifer will resign from her work here and join me,” Cletus said, standing up to stretch.

  “I won’t do any such thing unless you come back for us.”

  “Why?’

  “That’s the only way I will be sure you are real,” she said, pouting defiantly.

  “Real? What are you talking about?” Cletus asked, confused.

  Jennifer stood up and appraised him up and down and said, “Everything about you now is fake: You have fake driver’s license, fake health cards, fake credit cards, fake clothes, fake names… Now tell me what else is fake about you. And give me one good reason why I should trust you. One concrete evidence why I should believe that you, Cousin, standing here, are you.”

  Hannah and Stephen McCarthy started laughing, knowing that Jennifer was warming for her mock fight.

  “You already have the concrete evidence with you,” Cletus replied, casually.

  “With me?”

  As if on cue, the baby in the stroller stirred and went back to sleep.

  “Yeah,” Cletus said, nodding toward the stroller. “Him. I didn’t fake that.”

  “Good talk, son,” Stephen McCarthy shouted gleefully and earned a slap on the shoulder by Hannah.

  Jennifer also started slapping Cletus on the chest several times, alternating with both hands.

  “Jesus Christ of Nazareth! Pop, the ladies have declared war on us poor menfolk!” Cletus said and grabbed Jennifer by her two arms, pulled her into a bosom embrace, and kissed her. Jennifer went limp and molded herself pliantly in his arms.

  “Hey! Get out of here, you two. Get a room!” Hannah McCarthy said.

  Jennifer slapped Cletus one more time and took off, running up the stairs with him in hot pursuit. The bedroom door banged and Jennifer giggled. Hannah rolled her eyes and sighed in longsuffering resignation.

  “Oh, God! I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “What?” Stephen asked.

  “Send them to his room,” Hannah replied, giving her husband a concerned look. “I literally sent them to his room for baby number two!”

  Stephen looked at his wife for a fraction of a second, broke out laughing, drew Hannah toward him, and kissed her.

  “Honey, relax. Let them do what we couldn’t do. Let them make as many babies as possible. We have switched from being adopters to being begetters,” Stephen McCarthy said and kissed his wife again.

  Hannah looked at her husband and then at the stroller with baby Cletus, Jr, sleeping soundly. She started laughing and he joined her and they fell onto the couch hugging each other and still laughing. Then, Stephen suddenly stopped laughing and wondered aloud, “Who, in Heaven’s name, did the entire Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston bury on April 6th, 2013, with full priestly honors?”

  “I don’t know,” Hannah replied, then added, “Probably the thief who stole our son’s car.”

  “Very uncanny how thieves always get lucky enough to secure their salvation at the moment of their death,” Stephen McCarthy said, looking at his wife. Hannah looked back at him, and both started laughing again, falling back on the couch.

  Glossary

  Meetingitis – illness condition contracted as a result of attending too many meetings.

  Donum Vitae – “The Gift of Life”: Vatican document on the sanctity of life.

  Humanae Vitae – Of Human Life:” Paul VI’s Encyclical on human reproduction.

  In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti – In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

  Gratia Domini nostril Jesu Christi, et caritas Dei, et communicatio Sancti Spiritus sit cum omnibus vobis – The grace of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you.

  Et cum spiritu tuo – And also with you.

  Fratres, agnoscamus peccata nostra…. – Brethren, let us acknowledge our sins….

  Hoc est enim Corpus meum – This is indeed my body.

  Lava me, Domine, ab iniquitate mea – Wash me, Lord, from my iniquity.

  Novus Ordo – The New Order.

  Ferende sententiae – Punishment that is effective only when imposed.

  Latae sententiae – Automatic penalty or punishment.

  Porque…. – Because….

  Hablas Espanol, Padre? – Do you speak Spanish, Father?

  Un poquito – A little.

  Lo siento mucho – I am very sorry.

  Ave, Maria, ora pro nobis – Hail, Mary, pray for us.

  Ecce in peccatis meis. Peccator homo sum – I (was born) in sin. I am a sinner.

  Sanatio in radice – Radical sanation or cleansing.

  Va bene, che peccato – It’s ok (alright), it’s a shame.

  Grazie, signore – Thank you, Sir.

  Haba! – (An exclamatory expression of protest).

  Buongiorno, Padre – Good morning, Father.

  In loco patris – In place of the father (a stand-in as father figure).

  Ex opere operantis – Efficacy dependent on the holiness of the Church, not by merit of the act.

  Mio fratello…benvenuto. Mi aspettavo – My brother…welcome. I was expecting you.


  Grazie, Santita. Sono lieto di essere in vostra presenza – Thank you, Holiness. I am delighted to be in your presence.

  Certamente, Santo Padre – Certainly, Holy Father.

  Bravo, Santito! – Bravo, Your Holiness!

  Ex Cathedra – From the Chair (Catholic Doctrine pronounced from the Chair of St. Peter).

  De fide – As an article of faith (to be believed mandatorily).

  Movimiento Familia Catolica – Catholic Family Movement.

  Dies irae, dies illa, Solvet saeculum in favilla, Teste David cum in Sybilla – Day of wrath, that day of doom. When eternity merges with Earth, David’s testament with Sibyl’s.

  Ingemisco, tamquam reus. Culpa rubet vultus meus. Suplicantis Parce Deus – In moaning, I pour out my guilt, my blame in anguish I accept. Spare thy supplicant, O God.

  Salve, Regina, mater misericordiae; vita, dulcedo et spes nostra, salve. Ad te clamamus exules filii Hevae. Ad te suspiramus gementes et flentes in hac lacrimarum vale. Eia ergo, advocate nostra, illos tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte. Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui, nobis post hoc exiilium ostende. O Clemens, o pia, o dulcis Virgo Maria.

  Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of mercy, our life our sweetness and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping, in this valley of tears. Turn, then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us, and after this, our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus. O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.

  About the Author

  John Ayang hails from Ukana Iba, in the southeastern part of Nigeria, and he studied philosophy and theology at Bigard Memorial Seminary in Eastern Nigeria. After moving to the United States and being ordained as a Catholic priest for the Society of Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity (1998), he studied theology and Christian ministry at the Franciscan University of Steubenville, Ohio, and bioethics and health policy at the Neiswanger Institute for Bioethics at Loyola University, Chicago.