Jimmy’s eyes narrowed in a moment of genuine confusion. “Who?”
“Leslie. Eugene’s source. The rat who undoubtedly told you I was having an existential crisis. Or rather, told Eugene who told you.”
He continued to squint at her for a moment longer before something behind his eyes changed and he nodded slowly and emphatically. “Ohhh … Okay. You think Eugene asked me to come down here?”
She nodded.
“For what, a photo op?”
“Yeah. Duh.”
He held up a finger to stop her. “Not duh. Look around you, Jessica.” He allowed her a moment to comply. “Do you see any news cameras? Any smartphones, even?”
“Uh, no, I guess not.”
“Do you think Eugene Thornton would allow me to come meet with you in a way that could put both of us in frame together at the same time without him or one of his minions present to exploit it?”
“Well,” she hedged, “I guess that doesn’t sound like—”
“He would not. No, I was called here because someone who cares about you was worried. They thought that if I came down, being one of the only people in your life who has seen and spoken with God Himself, and validated some of your experiences, you might get back on track. And despite your pitiable treatment of me whenever I call and ask for even the slightest of favors—after all I’ve done for you—I decided to put that behind us, clear my schedule, and render aid. So here I am.” He held out his arms to present himself. “A fellow witness of His Holiness, the one I call Deus Aper and you call Dad. And I need you to know, Jessica: You are not alone in the burden you bear of having spoken directly to Him. Your sole partner in holy responsibility is with you now.” He extended his arms toward her for an embrace.
But, uh, no, obviously. She stepped back. “Wait, what?”
“Well, sure, your mother would have come if asked, but you know what a hurricane she can be. Frankly, out of the two of us, I’m the clear best choice.”
“Hardly.” She was getting derailed. “Wait. Who called you down here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Not only was it not obvious, but Jimmy seemed to know it wasn’t obvious and enjoy that Jessica didn’t have a solid guess. “No, Jimmy, it’s not obvious.”
“Think about it, Jessica. Who not only loves you and has been severely affected by your crisis but has stuck out his neck for—”
“Chris?!”
Jimmy smiled serenely. “Young love. Like nothing else in this—”
“I’m gonna murder him.”
“Huh?”
But she was already storming off, away from the Quad, making a beeline for where she might find him at this time of day: the all-you-can-eat dining hall.
“Wait!” Jimmy hollered after her. “I have one small favor to ask!”
Of course she ignored him.
Messing around with boys in vehicles was nothing new to Jessica, but it was usually a larger vehicle, one where she could shift her weight from one knee to the other without getting a steering wheel or stick shift right in a soft spot.
But Priuses, it turned out, were not designed for messing around.
There was something about all this that didn’t sit right with her. First of all, she wasn’t sure why she was making out with Quentin, letting him manhandle her like this. Sure, he was a good friend, and they’d made out before, but she’d never wanted to date him. And then there were a couple other problematic parts about this; namely, Chris and Miranda. But somehow she’d forgotten that Miranda and Quentin were dating until she was already tangled up with Quentin, and while she felt guilt about Chris, she remembered, just as Quentin grabbed a handful of her ass, that they had broken up. Or more accurately, she’d ended it in their argument outside the dining hall, after he’d called Jimmy down from Midland or up from the depths of Hell or whatever.
But she still wasn’t completely into it. She should just stop. There was no point.
“Before you give up on the idea all together,” a man’s muffled voice shouted from just outside the car, “a word?”
For the first time ever, Jessica didn’t mind her half-brother’s interruption.
She turned to Quentin. “Rain check?”
He nodded vaguely, his mouth lolling open slightly as he stared at Jesus. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Only if you think it’s Jesus,” Jess said, rolling down the window.
“I always imagined him as black.”
That got her attention. “Really? Black?”
Quentin nodded. “Yeah. I mean, what’d you imagine him to be?”
Jessica shrugged. “I guess I expected him to be white.”
“Race is a manmade construction,” Jesus interrupted casually. “And I prefer ‘brown,’ just so you know. But it doesn’t really matter in Heaven; we all just kind of glow and wobble.” He waved it off. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Okay, why are you here?”
“The same reason I usually visit you. It’s time to stop messing around and focus.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “On what? Please don’t say I have to use my miracles anymore.”
Jesus nodded like duh. “Of course you do. And you need to keep discovering them. If you don’t get out of your little bubble, you’ll never find them.”
“But the last time I got out of my little bubble, I woke up in a cow pasture.”
Jesus pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, it’s really not one or the other. You can get out of your bubble without acting like a lunatic. I mean literally, a lunatic. I believe you were howling at the moon at one point that night.”
“It sounds like you’re judging me.”
“Because that’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s part of the job.”
“Miracle Management?”
Jesus sighed. “Kind of. I mean, I have a new title.” He couldn’t meet her eyes.
She chuckled. “You got demoted.”
“Nooo. You think you’re so smart. The job was combined with another job, so I have a new title.”
“Is Heaven having to tighten the belt a little bit? Is there such thing as a Heaven recession?”
Jesus crossed his arms. “I was simply given more responsibility. Now my job includes miracle management and morale.”
Jessica cringed. “Oh man, they must have been all out of options, if they gave that to you.”
“Listen, you meanie, I’m great at motivating people. You know how many people have done things in my name without me even asking … or sometimes wanting them to?”
Sighing, Jessica waved for him to get on with it. “So you want me to …?”
“Get over this existential crisis and start moving forward. You have a lot of ground to cover.”
She asked him the question that had been coating her brain like Saran wrap for the past couple months. “What’s the point?”
He laughed kindly. “Oh, there are all kinds of points. But I think what you’re asking is whether you behaving one way or another will change the fact that you’re doomed in the end. And the answer is no. You’re doomed to a gory end no matter what you do.”
“Jesus. No, that’s actually not what I was asking. And I feel like you might be projecting a little bit.”
“Says the girl who thought perhaps one of the most famous Middle Eastern men of all time would share her skin color.”
Jessica held up a hand to stop him. “Okay, in my defense, everyone around here thinks that. Well, almost everyone.”
She glanced back at Quentin, who was still staring openmouthed at Jesus.
“But my point,” Jessica continued, “is that I’m not going to meet the same end as you because I won’t put up with that shit. You just laid down and took it. In no scenario can I imagine myself standing for that.”
“We’ll see,” he said, and Jessica resented his smugness. “Stakes can be raised.”
“I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds like a threat, Mr. Morale. Will you leave now?”
“So you can get back to making out with him?” He nodded at Quentin, who Jessica turned to glance at as well.
Quentin studied Jesus like he was a chemistry equation.
When she turned back around, Jesus was already staring at her. “Will he remember this?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Yep?! Don’t tell me we’re having the same dream.”
Jesus blinked three times. “Okay, I won’t.”
“Uh …” Jessica narrowed her eyes at him. “But are we having the same dream?”
Her half-brother smiled mockingly. “You asked me not to tell you.”
“For Christ’s sake! Just tell me.”
“Yes. You’re having the same dream.”
“Shit!”
Quentin snapped out of his stupor, but only slightly. “I’m in a Jesus sex dream?” He turned to Jessica. “Is that right? I finally made it into one of your Jesus sex dreams?”
Jessica gurgled a growl and turned to Jesus. “Can we just end this thing?”
“You can end it at any time, sister. That is, if you had any control over your thoughts whatsoever, which it’s obvious you don’t.”
“Does anyone?” Jessica asked defensively.
“Plenty of people. But it takes practice. Practice you haven’t even bothered with.”
“There’s that judgment again …”
“Fine. I have places to be anyway. But seriously, pull yourself together. You’re not a child anymore. ” He lifted his hand into the air and then paused to add, “Oh, and happy birthday.” Then he snapped his fingers and was gone.
Jessica turned back to Quentin. “Hey, sorry to cut this short.”
He sat up straight. “Nah, it’s good. I didn’t realize this was a Jesus dream.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of the whole bit, that you don’t realize it till he’s there.”
“Hey Jess?”
“Yeah?”
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Can we maybe never mention this to Miranda or Chris?”
“Oh for sure not.”
And now to wake up.
Where was the rip cord on this dream? She tried looking at her hands, remembering that Emma had once explained how fool proof that method was for escaping a dream (like the ditz knew the first thing about anything). Jessica looked at her hands. Yep. There they were. And here she was, still in this stupid dream.
Then she had a better idea. She raised her hand and snapp—
* * *
Jessica wondered at how boring television could be. She had an impulse to call Quentin and see what he was up to, then quickly squashed that notion. Stupid Jesus dreams always left her a little muddled in the brain the day after.
She was almost two months into her excruciatingly long summer and regretted coming home rather than staying in San Marcos to get a job. But with all that had happened at the end of the semester, applying for jobs hadn’t made it onto her radar until even the minimum wage ones at the outlet mall had all been snatched up.
Destinee walked into the living room holding a small tray, Rex not far behind her. Stacked on the tray was a pile of wrapped food, which Jessica identified by sight almost immediately and by smell immediately.
“I know you said you didn’t want us to do anything for your birthday, baby, but you know I can’t do that. So I figured you might be okay with some Gordon’s.”
Jessica considered it then laughed. “How did you even get those in here without the reporters seeing you?”
Destinee set down the tray on the coffee table and threw her hands onto her hips. “Baby, I was born and raised in this house. You think I don’t know how to sneak in and out of it undetected?”
“I guess I hadn’t thought of that.” Jessica leaned forward and grabbed a burger from the stack, unwrapping it.
Destinee snatched it out of her hands. “You think my mama was letting me leave the house with all kinds of boys? Hell no.” She pulled a small candle from her pocket and stuck it in the top of the bun, and Rex produced a lighter and lit it. Destinee grinned as she handed the birthday burger back to Jessica. “Turns out best decision I ever made was to sneak out. Never woulda gotten knocked up by God and you never woulda been born if I hadn’t. Make a wish, baby.”
What if nobody’s listening?
I’M LISTENING.
You don’t count.
THOU HAST WOUNDED ME, DAUGHTER.
Cram it.
She cleared her mind of all dreams, wishes, and hope, and blew out the candle.
Destinee’s loving smile melted from her face when there was a knock on the front door.
“Reagan Chopper, Thornton News!” a man’s voice shouted from the front porch. “Just a few words with the birthday girl, please.”
Destinee whipped around to look at Rex. “I thought I made myself clear to those vultures,” she hissed. “Rex, you either run him off or you get me my gun.”
Rex nodded and headed across the living room to the front door. But before he opened it, he turned around and waved for Jessica and Destinee to get out of the room. “Pictures,” he whispered.
Good thinking. Jessica jumped up. She couldn’t give anyone remotely associated with Eugene Thornton and his horrible website even a half second to snap a picture.
She waited silently at the kitchen table, and pulled out her phone. She had a text waiting for her. Would Chris text her for her birthday? She couldn’t decide if she wanted him to or not, but it seemed unlikely that he would, given how hard she’d come down on him when she’d finally dumped him for good.
The message wasn’t from Chris, though, but from Judith. Happy birthday, Jessica! Hope it doesn’t suck too bad, but it probably will because the world is cruel and selfish. Call me if you feel down.
Wow. She hadn’t talked to the girl all summer, and it’d been months prior to that since she could remember having an actual conversation beyond waving as they passed in the Quad. She replied with, Thanks. Of course it sucks. Let’s get lunch when school starts back again and I’ll tell you about it. Or not tell you about it.
The situation outside was clearly escalating, and Rex was busting out his coach voice on the reporters, who had been parked outside the McCloud home since late last night.
“Mom, can I ask you something and you promise you won’t get mad?”
Destinee nodded. “You can ask me anything, baby.”
“And you promise you won’t get mad?”
Destinee’s head tilted slightly and one of her eyes twitched. “I promise I’ll try not to get mad.”
Good enough. “How do you know God exists?”
Destinee jumped in her chair like Jess had just tossed a glass of water at her. “Because I felt him inside me.”
Jess struggled to suppress her gag reflex. “No, but I mean, how do you know it wasn’t actually Ross Hawthorne you were with instead of God?”
That seemed to give her mother pause, and she sat silently for a moment. “I’ve never had to think of it in logical terms. But I guess if there were any way for me to believe that I banged the actual Ross Hawthorn, my brain would’ve grabbed onto that and held on for dear life. But there was never a doubt in me, at least once he told me who he actually was, that it was God. I’m telling you, baby, at that age, if given the choice between having Ross Hawthorne’s baby or God’s, I would have picked Hawthorne’s, no contest.”
“Huh.”
“I’m not gonna lie to you. God wasn’t the first man I’d rolled in the hay with. Well, first man, sure. Or not man? What I mean is I’d been messing around with boys in my high school left and right, and that was fun, but not very satisfying, if I’m being honest. But that night with your father, I’d’ve had to be a fool not to realize that was different. It wasn’t my brain so much that understood it as it was my body.”
Jess grimaced. “Okay, I think that’s enough.”
“No, not just because of the way he was touching me—but boy, he knew. I guess he’s all knowing, so.” Jess didn�
�t bother correcting her. “I mean, it was the kind of knowledge you feel in your body. You close your eyes and you can just feel certain things. And it’s the kind of feeling that happens all throughout you, not just right behind your eyes.”
“I think I understand.”
Destinee hesitated, then asked, “You been having your doubts?”
Jessica nodded.
“Well, I was wondering when that would happen.”
Jess’s gaze shot up from the tabletop to her mother. “You thought this would happen?”
“Of course! You’re too smart to take my word forever. I may not have gone to college myself, but I had friends that did. I know what happens there. You meet new people, you doubt yourself. Sometimes people find God, but mostly they find things that they hope are better than God. And those things usually aren’t. My friend Sharon took a few philosophy classes and started working the pole. She used to be in the choir at St. Bartholomew’s. My friend Asher went off to A&M and I think he’s a hedge fund manager, which, far as I can tell, is about as far from God as a person can get.”
Knotting her hands together in her lap, Jessica inhaled deeply. “For a while I was sure he wasn’t real, that I was crazy. But then I smote that statue, and that sort of helped. And then talking with Jimmy actually kind of helped too, once I stopped wanting to smite Chris for inviting him.”
Destinee nodded along. “So where are you now?”
Jess shrugged and sighed. “I guess I’m pretty much back where I used to be. Jesus appeared to me in a dream again last night and was yelling at me to get my ass in gear. I just don’t know if I’m ready to go whole hog”—she shut her eyes and reset—“one hundred percent into this when I’m only eighty percent sure I’m not crazy and that God really does speak to me.”
Destinee stood and walked around the table to stand behind Jessica’s chair. She placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and started kneading. “If you’re eighty percent sure you’re not crazy, you’re already about thirty percent more certain than anyone else is about themselves.”
Nu Alpha Omega Page 18
