The Reluctant Jesus: A Satirical Dark Comedy

by Duncan Whitehead

  “Ok? Ok?” she shouted. “Of course he is ok; I left him in the garden with that damn pipe in his mouth!” I hoped she didn’t mean underneath the garden, but a quick check of her hands and clothes indicated that she had done no digging that afternoon. “Oh, he’s ok, but he won’t be, believe me, he won’t be.” The old adage about a woman scorned took on a new meaning when applied to my mother; I wondered what she had in store for poor Ely.

  “You haven’t told me what has happened, what’s he done?” I asked again, continuing my act of ignorance.

  “What’s he done? What’s he done?” for some reason Mother was feeling the need today to repeat everything I said twice. Once again, I didn’t think there would be an appropriate juncture for me to mention this, so I let it drop.

  “He’s only been sleeping with your aunt Marla, the evil whore!” Mother was obviously not holding back, “He’s been at it for years, the two-timing, lousy, no-good, philandering fool.” According to Dad, his tryst with Marla had ended years ago. I guessed Mother was adding her own dramatic vibe to story.

  “He told you this?” I asked, suddenly aware that if he had admitted his affair with Marla, he could have also added the line, “and Seth knows all about it,” which would mean I needed to prepare myself for Mother’s rage to turn on me once the anger directed at Ely had subsided.

  “Yes, he told me all matter-of-fact like, as if he didn’t care, as if he was getting something off his chest, as if he was telling me he had just got a parking ticket!”

  I presumed that Ely had admitted all to Mother because he assumed that by confessing to me it would be easier. I wished he had consulted me first; the last thing I needed was Mother’s dramatics. It was then I noticed something that made my heart miss a beat. I had missed it at first when she had barged into my apartment screaming and shouting, but it sat by the door. Obviously, she had dropped it as she entered. It was a suitcase! Mother looked me straight in the eye.

  “You didn’t know, did you? About your dad and Marla?” She walked toward me. Despite the coming onslaught in the Space Invader arena of death and the ensuing pit, nothing filled with me more dread than my mother in a rage.

  “No!” I shouted. I had never lied to my mother directly to her face before, but the circumstances warranted drastic action. Mother seemed to relax, albeit temporarily, obviously pleased that I was in no way involved in the conspiracy. Her calmness didn’t last long.

  “That bastard has been screwing her for years!” she screamed once more. “He even told me God said it was ok!” She stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Can you believe he would say such a thing? As if God would condone such an act of betrayal!” Once again, she screamed the last word of the sentence. If only she knew that God had indeed not only condoned it but had suggested it. Lucifer would be the least of his problems. The ringing of the telephone interrupted Mother’s tirade. I grabbed it quickly before she had the opportunity to tell me not to answer it. As I raised the receiver to my ear, she whispered:

  “If that’s him, tell I am not here.”

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Yo, dog, your Momma is in da house, and she is pissed, jacked up on crack or something. I tried to stop her, man; well, at least stall the bitch, but she is one fiery hoe.” It was Harvey, warning me that Mother was on her way. I appreciated his call, but a few minutes earlier would have been better. Usually, referring to my Mother as a bitch and a hoe would provoke a reaction, but bearing in mind the circumstances, I let it drop. I thanked him and replaced the receiver.

  “Was that him?” said Mother, pointing at the phone.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Ely!” she screamed “Was it Ely, looking for me?”

  I told her it wasn’t, which brought me to the subject of her suitcase. “Where does he think you are?” I asked, nodding at the bag by the door.

  “Newark,” replied Mother, “at my friend Denise’s house.”

  “Is that where you’re headed then after you leave here? Do you need me to call a cab, organize a car?” I hoped I was not too obvious. Despite her being my mother, there was no way she was going to be staying with me, not during my last week on Earth, oh no.

  “I am staying here dear,” said Mother, “with you. At least until the divorce.” This was totally unacceptable, and I needed to think fast.

  “But wouldn’t this be the first place he would look?” I asked. “Once he realizes his mistake, and he wants to work it out?” I said, hoping Mother would take the hint.

  “I doubt it,” said Mother, “he never comes into the city alone.” Actually, Ely did venture into the city on his own; this would be the first place he would look for Mother, and she knew it. That’s why she was here. She was bluffing. There was no way she was going to divorce Ely. She would want to make his life a complete misery, and divorcing him would be the easy way out for him. No, I knew what she was doing. She wanted him to come look for her, grovel for forgiveness, and then she could make his life even more miserable than she had for the last thirty or so years. I decided to play the double bluff.

  “Maybe your right,” I said coyly, “and he would never come here. He would never think of coming here to look for you. To make sure he doesn’t, I could call him, pretending I had no idea of all this and ask for you. That would make him think you were at Denise’s.” I watched for Mother’s reaction. She contemplated what I had said. I went for the deal breaker. “You are dead right, Denise’s is the first place he would look, and when he realizes you are not there, he’ll probably stop looking; you know how he is. You never know, he might even start the divorce proceedings himself.” Actually, I wasn’t exaggerating; if Ely did look for my Mother (if he had any sense, he would take this opportunity to get the hell out of Dodge,) he would probably stop looking after his first failure. I could see that Mother hastily rethought her course of action. She needed one final push.

  “You know, he believes everything you tell him. Look how he was about God and the virgin thing. He trusts every word you say. If you told him Newark, he is going to think Newark is where you are going to be.” I said, then smiled pleasantly at my mother and put on my “yes, you are right, you are always right” face.

  “Well, maybe he shouldn’t trust me. Maybe he shouldn’t believe every word I say,” said Mother. “Maybe I have a little secret that he doesn’t know about.” I had no idea what she was talking about, and I blamed it on her emotional state.

  “He isn’t your father anyway,” said Mother as if this was meant to be a shock to me.

  “I know,” I said. “We’ve been through all that. I know who my real Father is.” I said, my eyes fixed firmly on her suitcase that still remained by the door.

  “You do?” she said, sounding surprised.

  “Yes, remember? God?” I said, my arms outstretched. Had she forgotten that I was the Son of God? Had she already forgotten that she was talking to the Messiah? “Virgin? Immaculate Conception? Ring any bells?” I said, nodding, waving my hands, and pointing at my chest. Mother put her hand to her mouth as if she had just realized she had left the oven on and was miles from home.

  “You believed all that?” she asked. She sounded surprised.

  “Not at first, but a lot has happened since I saw you last. We’ve been in contact. My Father and I—God—things have gone a little faster with him than I would have hoped, but of course, I believe you now.” I was little dumbfounded, I had to say, that Mother had asked me if I had believed her. I would have thought that had been obvious. Mother sat down on my sofa and forced a smile.

  “Oh dear,” she said, “oh dear.” Once again, she was repeating herself. She looked at me, and then shifted her gaze to the floor, tilting her head to one side. “Oh dear,” she said again.

  CHAPTER

  27

  “I DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD go this far,” said Mother rather meekly. She was no longer ranting or shouting; in fact, she was rather subdued. She raised her handkerchief to her mouth as if she we
re worried. I had never seen my mother act this way. Something was definitely wrong.

  She beckoned me to join her on the sofa by patting the seat next to her. I was inclined to bolt; the last thing I wanted to do was get close to Mother. She was liable to turn back into the raging monster she had been not five minutes ago.

  “I think I will stand thanks,” I said, still shifting the odd glance toward Mother’s suitcase that remained by the door.

  “I think you may want to sit,” said Mother gently. I compromised and took the easy chair that faced her. “I think there might have been a little mix-up,” said Mother once I was seated. I stared at my Mother, urging her to elaborate.

  “To be honest, I am very, very surprised God let this go this far.” She blew her nose on her handkerchief. I found it odd that with all her sobbing, none of Mother’s makeup had run; in fact, on closer inspection, I noticed her mascara was fully intact. As I had suspected, her sobs had been crocodile tears though I did not doubt the authenticity of her rage. I had a feeling that she was not heartbroken by Ely’s confession of adultery. I pulled myself from inspecting Mother’s makeup and returned to the conversation.

  “Let what go too far?” I said, referring to her previous comment.

  “The Messiah thing. I would have thought he would have realized by now,” said Mother.

  “Who would have realized what?” I asked.

  “God realized about you,” she answered.

  “Realized what?” I was becoming annoyed. Why this woman could never get straight to the point, I did not know.

  “Realized you weren’t his son,” said Mother as she returned her handkerchief to her purse from where it had originated. I had no idea what she was talking about. We had been through all this before. Maybe she was confusing things.

  “We are talking about God, not Ely,” I said “I do know that Ely is not my Father. I know my Father is God,” I said, hoping that she realized what she was saying.

  “But that’s just it, dear; neither of them is your father.” It took a couple of seconds for this announcement to sink in. “That’s what I meant by your father—Ely, your dad—being foolish, believing everything I told him. You see, I didn’t want him to find out.” I noticed now that her mascara was running. It was a hideous sight, watching my Mother’s makeup dissolve before my eyes; it was like having a deranged clown with a half-melted face sitting opposite me.

  I shuddered as she delved back into her handbag and reproduced her handkerchief. Those were genuine tears, I knew; there was no way she would have let me see her looking like a member of the rock group Kiss if her tears hadn’t been real. I was still confused but gave her a moment to compose herself. I was conscious that her dripping makeup might stain my sofa and my carpet, and I did consider collecting some old sheets to cover my furniture.

  “You didn’t want Ely to find out what?” I asked my Mother once her tears had stopped.

  “About the truth,” she answered; she looked up at me, her face caked in dripping makeup which now gave her the appearance of a melted waxwork. I had to do something to help her, so I left my seat and collected a towel for her, which she used to wipe her face. Once I returned to my seat, I spoke.

  “What is the truth, then? If neither God nor Ely is my father, then who is?” I asked. My Mother smiled to herself as if reminiscing about another time and place. I should have known what she was going to say. I really should have guessed.

  “Jacob, your Uncle Jacob.”

  CHAPTER

  28

  IT SEEMED THAT WHILE MY father was fooling around with my mother’s sister, Aunt Marla, my mom was fooling around with my dad’s brother, Uncle Jacob, and neither one had any idea that the other was cheating. It seemed that Uncle Jacob had always had a soft spot for my mother, and their affair started before Ely and Irma even married. In fact, it turned out that Jacob had been the first to spot my mom, but his naval duties had meant he was unable to start a romance. When he returned home on leave one summer, he discovered that his younger brother had snagged the woman he secretly yearned for. He confessed his love for my mother two nights before her marriage. Overcome with lust and guided by a far more sexually experienced man than Ely, Irma succumbed to his advances. Of the two brothers, Jacob was considered by far the most handsome. He looked like a movie star, and many likened him to a young Charlton Heston. It was really no surprise that a young and naïve woman, despite her self-assurance and hard-nosed exterior, would fall for his charm, especially if he was wearing his naval uniform.

  Unable to break his younger brother’s heart, Jacob urged Irma not to cancel her wedding to Ely despite his own desires for her. So, after one night of passion, they put their relationship on hold. God came to Mother on her wedding night, and, unable to deny that she was a virgin, especially as Ely would discover she had been unfaithful, she became the willing carrier of God’s child. But there was one problem, one secret that only she knew: she wasn’t a virgin, and, according to her, she was already pregnant before God’s seed entered her womb.

  All along, it would seem Irma had never been convinced that she was ever carrying the son of God inside her, and she managed to avoid any sexual encounter with Ely by maintaining the virgin ploy. He never knew his wife had had sex with another man. When God didn’t claim me after my birth, my Mother presumed that he had discovered her dalliance with Jacob, and, knowing the child was not his, God had simply moved on.

  When God called her a few weeks ago with the news that he was back on the scene and that it was time I found out who my real my father was, it was too late to tell the truth. For one thing, Ely would have discovered the affair between his wife and his late brother, and Irma was sure that God would be none too pleased either, so she had said nothing and hoped God would realize that I was not his son by my total inability to perform any of the tasks that were likely to be set for me.

  It explained why when I was a child Uncle Jacob had such a great affinity for me. The affair between Jacob and Mother continued until his death and was in full swing whilst Ely and Marla enjoyed their illicit affair. One thing confused me after Mother finished explaining the complexities of her adulterous life. How did God not know? How could God not realize that the son he thought his own, me, was, in fact, the bastard son of a naval commander?

  Once Mother had completed relaying her sorry tale of infidelity, lies, and betrayal, we both took a deep breath. This changed everything. Despite my mother’s readiness to accept that I was Jacob’s son, I was still not convinced. There was no guarantee that she had conceived from her pre-marriage romp with her future husband’s brother. What was beyond doubt and beyond any refuting was the fact she was not a virgin. When God claimed to have inserted his seed into her through Immaculate Conception, a method, I hasten to add that I was still none the wiser as to its workings or mechanics, she had already lost her virginity.

  No matter what, the news was good; no, scratch that, the news was fantastic. It surely meant that the whole thing was null and void. There was no way I could represent God in the final conflict, and with no opponent where did Lucifer and God go from here? For one of the few times in my life, I felt like hugging and kissing my mother. However, I refrained from doing so, not entirely undue to the fact she looked like a dripping multi-colored candle.

  “What must you think of me?” said Mother as she rose from the sofa and moved toward the window. It didn’t matter what I thought of her. I was elated, and I was more concerned as to her future sleeping arrangements as once again I glanced at her suitcase sitting ominously at the door.

  “I think you need to be alone,” I said, not thinking that at all, “or at least with a friend, someone out of the family. Denise, for instance.” Mother agreed, and I called her a cab to take her to Newark. I needed time to think, and I needed to consult my disciples. The news I had received was monumental. There was just one thing: how was I going to tell God?

  CHAPTER

  29

  AS SOON AS MOTHER LEFT, I
called both Bob and Maggie and told them to meet me at my place immediately. I did not elaborate but told them it was a matter of the utmost urgency. I released Walter from the kitchen, but before he ventured outside, he peered precariously around, checking that Mother had left. I looked at where she had set her suitcase to confirm that it had indeed departed with her. Despite her revelation, I was more concerned that she had even suggested she stay with me. I needed to brief Harvey on the need to alert me quicker should an event like an unannounced Mother visit occur again.

  I toyed with the idea of calling Ely to let him know where to find Mother and to ensure that he kept the fact that I knew about him and Marla quiet, but considering I now knew about Mother and Jacob, I supposed it was all irrelevant. I decided the one thing I would do was visit Jacob’s grave at the cemetery in Brooklyn where he was interned. I would buy him some flowers and place them on his tombstone. If he was my father, I owed him that much, but it didn’t change anything. No matter who my father was, Ely would always be Dad.

  Bob arrived first, and I told him everything. Just as I was finishing the sordid tale, Maggie arrived, so I repeated it all over again for her benefit.

  “So are you or are you not the Son of God?” asked Bob once he had heard the story twice.

  “Good question,” I replied, “but I do not know the answer.”