by Chrys Cymri
All the God Greeters and lots of people in the hall start to cheer as the moment of Victory comes. ‘I give you the world’s wealth,’ Jesus says, ‘and you release to me all those who are baptised into the name of Jesus, Son of Man and Son of God. I claim Victory over you and all your dark works!’
Some people around me have got to their feet. The film has finished, and the lights are coming up. And there she is, the headline attraction, Mercy Peter herself. I remember the talk when she was appointed Peter, first time it’s gone to a woman and a woman from Africa as well. Mind you, the lights on the stage even make her look a bit pale. She probably thought she could get by without any make-up. Bad call.
‘Jesus has claimed the Victory!’ she shouts into a microphone. Some of the crowd roar back, ‘Jesus has claimed the Victory!’ But I don’t think I’m the only one who is scrunching back in her seat and wishing this whole thing was over.
‘Jesus has claimed the Victory, he ended the struggle over poverty and suffering!’ Mercy Peter is striding across the stage. Okay, yes, she has real presence. Her dreadlocks are quite fantastic, bouncing up and down like they have a life of their own. She even gets to wear something colourful, a black dress thing with the rising sun logo repeated over and over. ‘You can join in this Victory. Join God’s Gang, and you too will never again be hungry or be thirsty. You will never again be without a place to call home, or people to call family. And your name will go into the Lottery automatically every week. You might even win the Grand Prize of a healing from Jesus himself!’
Ugh. That’s what my mother keeps telling me. ‘And if you joined God’s Gang you’d get your name into the Lottery. I’m not getting younger, Corina. Look at Martha, she has five children and all their names go into the Lottery. What if I get sick?’
There are times I really, really hate being an only child.
Mercy Peter is still going on, telling us why we should convert. I’ve heard it a million times. Mum became a recruiter a few years after Dad died, which makes about thirty years of me hearing her talk to Seekers about God’s Gang. Join God’s Gang and all your troubles are over. Food tokens, accommodation, clothes, health care and the Lottery. Just sign everything over to God’s Gang. You might even get a token for a bottle of wine every week.
I can feel my liver suffering withdrawal symptoms even as I scribble. Maybe I should put it to a vote amongst my vital organs.
Here we go, a call to the front. A chance to convert in front of the Peter herself. Right hand woman of Jesus, second-in-command of God’s Gang. Maybe you get a special sticker? Oh, if you convert today you will get two additional entries into the Lottery! After you’ve gone through the process and been baptised, of course. Not before then.
The God Greeters whoop and cheer for each person who goes forward. They’re brought up on stage and get a hug from Mercy Peter herself. And second prize is two hugs…
This could go on forever. The God Greeters are moving up and down the hall, looking to see if any more of us are going forward. The guy on my right is hunkering down, not meeting their eyes. I wonder why he’s here. A pushy wife? Lost his job and wondering who’s going to feed him? Maybe he did it on a dare. I heard a stag party invaded one of these and threw things on the stage. Devil’s Due issued a full apology even though the men weren’t signed up members of theirs.
Okay, looks like we’re finally coming to an end. The new converts are being taken away for whatever they do to them. If any of them are local they might end up at my Mum’s house. She does mentoring as well as recruiting. Time to go.
Later--and the evening got even worse.
Traffic wasn’t too bad, and I found a space to park on the road near the HappyDaze complex. I decided to be lazy and took the lift up to my Mum’s floor.
At least the Concert meant that I’d avoided one of her meetings. I could smell some perfume in the air as I opened the door to the flat. So it was a mentoring group. Only new converts would still be wearing perfume. There was a bottle of wine in the fridge. I tried not to look at the label so I wouldn’t prejudge what went into my glass. The voucher might entitle you to wine, but Market Economy supermarkets have the best vintages. I’ve never been impressed with what you find in Kingdom stores.
I found Mum in the meeting room. She was watching ‘The Kingdom of God,’ that blockbuster movie which came out last year about the early years of the Kingdom. I hadn’t realised the DVD was already available, but I wasn’t surprised she’d rushed out to buy a copy.
The movie was about half an hour in. Jesus had already won the Victory in the desert and picked his original twelve Disciples in Galilee. They were riding into Jerusalem in gleaming horses, and the streets were lined with people cheering Jesus on as ‘Son of David, Son of God!’
Mum turned the sound down. ‘Did you meet the Peter?’ she asked. That was her way of asking whether I’d been converted.
‘No,’ I said. That was my way of telling her that I hadn’t.
‘Oh.’ Mum sighed. ‘But what did you think of her?’
‘She was interesting.’ That wasn’t entirely a lie.
On the TV screen the Hollywood actor portraying Jesus was marching up the Temple steps. The priests were out in force to welcome him as their new leader. The actor smiled at them, teeth rather too perfect for the time period. I’m also not convinced by the blond hair and blue eyes, but I suppose they wanted someone with international appeal.
I should have realised that Mum wasn’t going to let go of our earlier battle. ‘About meeting Ben--’
I hate the way my stomach does a sudden flip-flops when I hear his name. How can anyone feel excited, nervous, hopeful, and angry all at once? ‘Yes. Tomorrow evening.’
Mum was only angry. ‘After the way he’s treated you--’
‘But maybe he’s changed his mind,’ I said. The wine was shivering in the glass. ‘It’s only been a couple of months since he told me, maybe he’s realised he’s made a mistake.’ I wished Mum would shut up. The movie was getting to my favourite bit, where Jesus goes to see the Roman Emperor and convinces him that he is the Son of God. The miracle where Jesus heals the Emperor’s daughter is one of the best scenes in the whole film.
Another sigh. Sighs are Mum’s specialist subject. ‘Corina. I was here the last time he phoned. Remember? When he told you all the reasons why Helen was better than you.’
‘Only because I asked him to,’ I protested. I put the wine glass down to stop me from spilling any. ‘I thought you God’s Gang people believed in forgiveness.’
‘We do. We’re also strong on faithfulness.’ Mum leaned forward. Now that she’s let her hair go grey she can look really fierce when she wants to. ‘And even more so when it’s my own daughter.’
‘We were having a trial separation--’
‘A man who tells my daughter he’s not coming back to her after fourteen years of marriage is not the man I want for a son-in-law.’ Mum shook her head. ‘Have you forgotten that night, that weekend? I haven’t.’
Great, now we’d missed the controversial scene where Jesus persuades the Emperor to outlaw crucifixion. ‘After all,’ the movie had Jesus say, ‘in different circumstances you might have crucified me.’ That had caused all sorts of uproar last year. The idea that the Son of God might have died, when it was clearly God’s plan that he would live forever as the leader of the Kingdom of God on Earth! Even worse, that he might have died like the worst of criminals. People chanted protests outside of cinemas about that one.
‘This argument,’ I told her, ‘isn’t helping.’ So I picked up my wine and headed to my bedroom. Anyway, the movie gets boring after that. All the political stuff about setting up the Kingdom Economy and the first Disciples building their portfolios. Although the scene in which Jesus’ mother dies is quite touching. They had a whole bit where Jesus agonises that he’s going to live forever while everyone dies around him.
Anyway, I’m sitting here on the bed, wishing I’d brought the whole bottle of wine with me
and reading through my break-up journal. Or maybe it won’t be break-up. Lots of couples try living apart, even meet up with other people, then realise that they’re meant to be together, don’t they? And all those reasons he gave why Helen is better than I am. I’ve lost about twelve pounds over the last month, so I can’t think she’s much skinnier than me. We can talk about housework and holidays. We can make it work out.
Mmph. Got to get to bed. Work tomorrow.
17 February noonish
Lunch break. This isn’t a bad office, I’ve worked in worse. My first manager collected pigs and we often said he aspired to be one. The manager I work for now has been pretty good about being nice to me but not asking every five minutes if I’m coping okay. They all know about Ben. Well, it’s hard not to know when I had a major crying breakdown on the phone about two weeks ago. I’d just looked at our bank account on-line and saw a huge debit on our joint credit card from a jewellery store. I made the mistake of ringing Ben from my desk and he was just so logical about it. ‘We want to get married as soon as possible,’ he told me. ‘So of course Helen needs an engagement ring.’
‘Engagement ring?’ I’m surprised my voice didn’t break glass. ‘But we’re still married!’
Note to self: Don’t try to talk to your husband while at work.
All the talk today, between customer phone calls and doing paperwork, is about the Judas Disciple. We actually have a few God’s Gang people working at our branch. Most GG people who work in insurance choose firms like First Ethical, but we have some here at MidPro. They seem to work as hard as anyone for their bonuses, though I never understand why, when it all goes into the central God’s Gang account.
Anyway, it was after that engagement ring incident that another assistant, Jane, took me into one of the manager’s offices and told me that I had to file for divorce. ‘Is everything in joint names? Then you’ve got to get out. Corrie, look, okay, maybe this will fizzle out and he’ll realise what a mistake he’s made. But in the meantime he’s spending money like there’s no tomorrow, and you’re jointly liable for that debt. Get out before he cleans you out.’
‘But if we get divorced,’ I said, ‘then it’s harder for him to come back to me, isn’t it?’
Jane looked at me like I’d sprouted horns or something. ‘You still want him back?’
‘We’ve been married for fourteen years.’ I think I might have sniffled. ‘Doesn’t that count for something?’
‘You would think so,’ Jane replied in her best ‘don’t lie to yourself’ tone of voice. ‘I want you to promise me, you’ll go home tonight and order the papers to file for a divorce. Promise? You’ve got to look after yourself, Corrie. He certainly isn’t looking after you.’
So here we are, papers filed, and Ben wants to see me. Well, the papers can be stopped, can’t they? Maybe he’s remembered that we were pretty happy together. Well, until lately, the last year or so, when he started being so different. Mid-life crisis, that’s all it’s been. That’s why we decided to have some time apart.
Okay, back to work. My manager has a meeting to agree a large policy, and I have to be there to take the minutes. I need to think about something other than tonight.
18 February 9pm
Okay, all confused now. Don’t know where we are in all this.
I drove over to the house--our house--as agreed, and Ben answered the door. He looks well, although I can’t get used to the ponytail being cut. I liked his blond hair long. It was the first thing he got rid of when he moved out to a flat. Also not sure of his new, expensive clothes. Old sweatshirts out, smart jumpers in. Cashmere, I think. The wedding ring is gone, of course.
The house looked mostly the same, though it had that smell of a place which has been empty for awhile. As usual it was me who made the mugs of tea. Ben and I sat down in the lounge.
Ben took a sip of his tea. ‘Helen’s joined a reading group here in Daventry.’ At my look he added, ‘No, not a God’s Gang group. You know that stuff always turned me off. Anyway, she’ll be there for a couple of hours, so I thought we could meet up.’
‘Because?’
Ben leaned back into the armchair. ‘Work is such a bitch right now. They’re doing all sorts of cut backs in funding, and I’m supposed to run the marketing campaign on half the budget I had last year. And then yesterday Jack said--remember Jack, the Jackass?--Jack said that I was creative, I’d cope. And then I said--’
I must admit I tuned out around then. This is how we used to talk when we were still living together, when we still wore our wedding rings on our fingers. Finally we got a point when he took a breath and drank some tea, and I asked him, ‘Why are you telling me all this?’
Ben looked at me as if I were the weird one. ‘Corrie, you’ve always been the one I can talk to. I know things are a bit messy right now, but we’ve been friends for years. When things have settled I really want you to meet Helen. She’s such a great person, you’ll really like her.’
His ring finger was empty, but I still wear my wedding ring on a chain around my neck. I showed it to him. ‘Ben, you’re still important to me. Remember, if this doesn’t work out, the door is still open if you want to come back to me.’
Ben looked away. I think he wiped a tear from his eye. ‘I do love you, Corrie, you know. But you were right about us separating. And now I’ve met Helen, and I’m in love with her. You understand, don’t you?’
I left soon afterwards. Will this thing with Helen last? I hate waking up alone. I hate not being in our house and looking forward to him coming home to me. I hate going to bed alone. I miss Ben terribly. It wasn’t this bad when he’d had to travel with work. It wasn’t even this bad during our supposedly trial separation. I knew that he loved me from afar. We talked to each other every day. Seeing him like tonight is so hard, it hurts so much. But I still want him back. Am I being pathetic?
21 February
All the talk on the radio is about the Judas Disciple. I wish they’d just dedicate a separate channel for all the gossip so I could ignore the whole thing. Sooner or later Jesus and the Peter will sit down and pick someone. The Judas handles the money so they’ll probably pick someone from the finance sector. That would be fun, not, if it’s someone I know. Mum would be too excited to live with.
Jane was a volcano of anger when I told her about the talk with Ben. Good thing she’s not a member of God’s Gang, not with her swearing.
Devil’s Due are running a recruitment drive. I know all of us who aren’t in God’s Gang are part of the Market Economy by default, but they do like people to be signed up members. It’s a rather clever campaign. ‘Why be a Judas when you can be a devil?’ Just for the hell of it I filled out one of the cards shoved under my car’s windscreen wiper. You get a voucher for use in a Market Economy supermarket, and I’m getting tired of the cheap wine Mum gets in. Anyway, the voucher will come with lots of bumpf that I can just throw away. Or leave out to frighten Mum.
25 February
Just a regular blah week, couldn’t think of much to write. And now only one day to the weekend. I used to look forward to them. Ben and I would have a bottle of wine or two Friday night, sleep in Saturday, go out somewhere Sunday. No point getting up early on a Saturday, so many things are shut so God’s Gang people can go to Temple.
Ben asked me to meet him again. Looks like he plans to make this a habit on Helen’s book night. I make cups of tea, and Ben tells me how bad work is and what pressure he’s under.
Ben brought several bags of stuff from the cottage in Devon. ‘It belongs to my parents,’ he reminded me when we were drawing up the financial agreement. ‘Helen and I’ll use it, but you won’t now, will you?’ Tonight my spare clothes and toothbrush were in the bags. Ben gave me the stuff, then made a funny cough. ‘We had some good times together, didn’t we?’
If they were such great times, why did he decide to leave me for Helen? But I kept quiet. Maybe Ben will realise how stupid he’s being. That’s what I hope. Sometimes. And
sometimes I just want to cut his head off.
I remember once hearing a woman on the radio talking about when her husband left her. She said that when you’re in a relationship it’s like a third person is built up between you. This third person is built up out of all that you’ve shared together, all your memories, your special rituals, things which only you two know about. And when the relationship ends it’s like watching this third person slowly die. Ben and I had a whole story going with our lives, a story which we’d built up together over the years. All of that will die. The story will die, unless he and I get together again. People like Jane, like my mother, just don’t understand. As long as there’s still a hope, I’ll keep seeing Ben while Helen is doing her book stuff. There’s seventeen years’ worth of history at stake here.
26 February
I was so bored I actually went with Mum today. Yes, me, in a Temple. I used to go when I was a kid, had no choice really. That’s where Mum was and when you’re young you just get taken to places by your parents, don’t you? It wasn’t that bad, really. They always had separate sections for kids, and we got to hear stories about the patriarchs (I always loved the one about Elijah being fed by ravens) and colour in pictures of King David. Every so often we’d have a quiz to see if we could remember Jesus’ family tree, the one which proved that he could be traced back to David. Even when I was little I thought it was weird that the family tree ended at Jesus, that he’d never decided to have a wife and kids. But when I asked a teacher once she looked shocked. ‘He’s the Son of God,’ she told me. ‘He’s devoted himself to building the Kingdom here on Earth. He’s not here to have a wife and children.’ She did get a bit kinder. ‘And what would it be like, for him to watch his family grow old and die? He’s immortal, and they wouldn’t be.’
I do wonder what must it be like for Jesus, watching all of us grow old and die. Even the Disciples die eventually. The Lottery proves that he and the Twelve can heal lots of things, but we all wear out eventually. Even members of the Twelve die, and they have access to Jesus all the time. Maybe that’s why most of us see so little of Jesus. Maybe he prefers to only get close to a few people, if he’s always going to outlive them.
