“I think we need to wait until Jesus wears himself out, then we can cut the cake,” Jessica said in response to the inquiry.
“Damn,” Rex said. “In that case, I’m gonna go buy another tub of those chili cheese fries.”
Outside, an unexpected double-bounce caused Jesus to under-rotate in one of his frontward flips, and his top half hit the vinyl while his back half continued to rotate. Jessica and Destinee cringed in unison at the scorpion pose, but Jesus was quickly back on his feet and laughing as he shook his finger playfully at the ceiling.
“You got a birthday coming up,” Destinee said.
“Not for three months.”
“Yeah, well, twenty-three is a big age.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s bigger than twenty-two.”
“Not bigger, just older.” She glanced down at the cake again and swiped a finger of icing from a spot that no one would notice.
“I just think you could use a little celebration. Pardon me, but as your mother, I kinda wanna celebrate the life of my child. And you ain’t been a barrel of sunshine and bluebonnets lately.”
“I have work to do.”
“And how’s that comin’?”
Before Jessica could answer, Rex returned with his tub of food substitute.
The first whiff hit Jessica’s senses, and she was transported back to the homeless kitchen and the vat of soup that smelled like diarrhea. The second whiff didn’t smell much less like that, but now she was craving the stuff despite it. She didn’t wait for Rex’s permission before she skimmed a soggy fry off the top.
“I was just asking Jess how her work’s coming,” Destinee said, giving Rex a significant look. Had they discussed this beforehand?
“Oh!” Rex sat up straighter. “Great. Yeah. I fully support working women. How’s it coming?”
Outnumbered, Jessica ignored the freshly scalded spot on her tongue and said, “Not great. I don’t know how I’m supposed to change God into a woman when I don’t even know what it means to be a woman.”
Rex nodded gravely. “Gender is a complex subject with a lot of historical baggage.”
Destinee also nodded along, then suggested, “Can you, I dunno, give God a vag?”
Jessica grimaced. “Don’t think I haven’t already considered that solution.”
“It’s tricky,” Rex mused, “because womanhood is just a social construct. One can be any way one chooses and simply call oneself a woman, and suddenly that’s it. Poof! Woman.”
Jessica treated herself to another one of Rex’s fries, considering it Gibberish Tax. “I just need the majority of Americans to start thinking of him as her, then, if he’s not full of infinite shit, that should restore peace to the United States.”
Destinee shoveled some of the sludge into her mouth and took a quick sip of her Diet Dr. Pepper to counteract the scorching grease. Once she was able, she said, “He might be full of infinite shit, baby.”
“I appreciate the support, Mom, but I’m hoping that’s not the case.”
“If you just need the majority of the population,” Rex said, “then why don’t you figure out what the majority of the population associates with womanhood? Then you push that.”
“That’s what I’m leaning toward, but … I don’t know how to get started.”
Destinee sat up straighter. “Well, why don’t we get started now? You can start by polling us!”
“Um, okay. What do you think makes a woman, Mom?”
Destinee shut her eyes pensively and inhaled deeply, presumably summoning maternal wisdom from the divine source. “What it means to be a woman is to have tits and a hooha.”
Before Jessica could respond, Rex was already on it. “You know I respect your opinion, D. But what about women who have had to have full mastectomies?”
“Fine then. Just a vag.”
“And what about transwomen? Many of them choose to live as a woman but maintain their male anatomy.”
Rather than defend herself, Destinee merely squinted at her lover. “The hell you learn this?”
He blinked. “ESPN.”
Jessica jumped in. “What about you, Rex? What do you think makes a woman?”
“Hmm …” He leaned back in his chair and intertwined his fingers, resting them on his large beer belly. “I’d say it was the embracing of goddess energy, the harnessing of the divine feminine, and the integration of …”
“You learn that shit on ESPN, too?” Destinee snapped.
Rex nodded.
While Jessica wondered when sports shows had become so woke, she wasn’t able to ask the question before the party room door opened and the high-octane music from outside burst in like a thunderclap. Jesus was giddy and drenched in sweat as he led the way inside. Behind him followed Jeremy and two of the kids Jesus had been jumping with. “This is Clint and Garth. We’re friends now. I told them we had plenty of cake to go around.”
The boys couldn’t be older than ten, and yet they were savvy enough to eye the unicorn cake with suspicion.
“Why does it say you’re turning two thousand and eighteen?” asked the boy with shaggy blond hair half an inch over his eyes. He shook his head as a tic, but the sweaty hair stayed stuck on his forehead.
“Because I am, Garth!”
The boys didn’t ask any further questions, simply took their cake and wandered out.
“Aren’t children wonderful?” Jesus said, grinning. He missed the fact that as soon as they were both outside the party room, the blond boy slapped the cake out of the other boy’s hands, laughed, and ran off.
Destinee nodded absentmindedly then said, “What do you think makes a woman?”
Jesus paused with his fork hovering between his plate and his mouth. “Uh … I have no idea.” His eyes darted to each of them. “I mean, I had very different experiences with women back in my old life. We, um, we thought different things. It was a different time.”
Destinee waved him down. “Don’t worry, we know what you’re talking about. But we’re clean now, right, baby?”
Jessica nodded. “I’m menstruating at this very moment, and God wouldn’t mind if I touched you.”
Jesus nodded cautiously. “If you say so, sister.”
Then, before Jessica could stop her, Destinee turned to Jeremy Archer. “What about you? What do you think makes a woman?”
“Heightened levels of fluoride in an area’s water supply.”
“The fuck?” Destinee ignored her daughter waving at her to not inquire further, but it was too late.
Jessica sighed, cut herself a piece of cake. “Happy birthday, bro.”
And as Jeremy continued on about fluoride, Jesus grinned, rainbow icing already staining his lips. “Thanks, sis.”
Chapter Three
Jessica scratched the square-jawed mutt behind the ears one last time before slipping out of his kennel and latching the gate. This was always the worst part of volunteering, having to leave. At least, this was the worst part about volunteering at an animal shelter. When it came to other types of volunteer work, leaving was usually the best part.
She shuddered, thinking about the vast array of used condoms she’d picked up on the side of the highway the last time she’d naively volunteered for a roadside clean-up.
It had been Wendy’s suggestion, the whole community service thing. Until Jessica was officially off the hook for the smiting outside her former bakery, which continued to baffle both law enforcement and the legal system alike, working on her public persona was a must.
Especially since she couldn’t work a real job, or rather, was unsure where she should work and where her life was going, and so on. Spending her time volunteering not only helped make the case that she was an upstanding citizen, but it was also a good way to keep her from growing neurotic and prowling circles around her condo like a caged animal.
She hung the shelter leash on one of the hooks leading out from the kennels and went to sign out at the front desk. She would have stayed
longer if she could, but they were about to close, and she had a check-in with Cash Monet in half an hour.
Sherri, a lovely woman with large bosoms she seemed more than happy to hide underneath leopard-print scrubs, nodded and smiled at Jessica from behind the front desk. “Everything good?”
“Of course. Are you sure you have enough volunteers for tomorrow?”
Sherri smiled. “All full up for the next two weeks.”
Damn. She’d have to go do something no one in Austin wanted to help with, like something human-related. Would it be the government run retirement home, or feeding the homeless again?
She shivered at the prospect of either. The last time she’s visited the nursing home, she’d had to press the emergency button for an orderly to rush in after an elderly lady, who she strongly suspected was a demon, cornered her while shouting “Get behind me, Satan!” No matter how much Jessica whispered to her that she was not in fact Satan, but she knew who was, the woman continued wielding a Precious Moments figurine over her head, ready to bring it down upon Jessica with all the force of righteous indignation.
The pen in Jessica’s hand froze, hovering an inch above where she’d just written her sign-out time. An idea had occurred to her. She went for it before she chickened out. “Hey, Sherri, I know this will sound weird, but what do you think makes a woman?”
To Sherri’s credit, her smile didn’t falter. “Hmm … I guess it’s the ability to have babies.”
Wow. That was so simple. It was completely wrong, of course; however, Jessica couldn’t help but admire someone who was able to see things so clearly.
“What about women who can’t have children?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Sherri slid the clipboard back toward her. “I think any woman can have a kid if she just tries hard enough and really wants it.”
Jessica waited silently for the woman to laugh at her own perverse joke. But there was no laughter. “Oh. You … you really mean that.”
“Yuh-huh,” she said brightly.
“What about after a woman is too old to have children?”
Sherri shrugged. “I just read about a woman who was in her seventies and had her first child. I don’t think women are ever too old for it.”
“That doesn’t …” Her stomach slowly dropped lower in her torso as it dawned on her that Sherri was no longer someone she could like. “What about women with hysterectomies? They can’t have kids anymore. But they’re still women.”
“I wouldn’t agree with that. They’ve given up their claim to it, haven’t they?”
“… No. No, I don’t think it works that way.” But already, the conviction in Sherri’s words was starting to make her wonder.
“The Bible says so.”
Jessica paused, felt around in her head … Yep, there He was.
IT DOES NOT SAY THAT.
“Okay,” Jessica said, wondering if there were a way for her to forget this whole conversation. “I’ll see you next time.”
Minutes later, once Jessica was safely in the comfort of her own vehicle, she exhaled. “Is that it? Is it just babies?”
YOU HAVE NOT ASKED MANY PEOPLE THIS QUESTION YET, HAVE YOU, DAUGHTER?
Not yet.
THEN KEEP ASKING AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE.
Receive what?
YOU’LL SEE.
By the time she made it to the coffee shop where she and Cash held their monthly meetings, the shock of Sherri’s response had taken a back seat to Jessica’s agony over leaving all the dogs behind in their cages. She’d been well into her daydream about freeing them all with a miraculous wave of her hand and having them follow her into the wilderness where they would enjoy simple yet fulfilling lives as a pack, when she’d found herself turning into the small shopping center.
Cash already had Jessica’s triple espresso waiting for her when she entered.
“You smell like you rolled in something,” Cash said, crinkling their nose.
“What makes a woman?”
The white-haired pixie arched one transparent eyebrow at her and their lips parted. “Is this, like, a neurological thing? Did you have a stroke? You can tell me if you did. I’ve found a way to spin worse.”
“No. I have to figure out how to make God a woman.”
Cash’s eyebrow remained arched, but they apparently decided to play along despite concern. “And you think the sole genderless person in your life will have the answers you seek?”
Jessica sighed and leaned forward, “Yeah, and about that… Why can’t I just make God genderless? That seems like the better solution.”
Cash chuckled, and their eyebrow finally lowered. “If we’d never met, and you were just seeing me for the first time, what gender would you guess?”
“Male.”
“There’s your answer.”
“Huh? Am I wrong? Is female the right answer?”
“No. There’s no right answer. My gender is nothing. But even knowing that, you think that there are only two options. Sure, imagining God as a woman is going to be tough for a lot of people, but there are plenty of models for it throughout history. Hell, there’s even a word for it: goddess. But you’re crossing into uncharted territory when you ask people to make God genderless. And let me just tell you, it ain’t gonna happen. I’m standing in front of you right now telling you I’m genderless, and you’re still trying to figure out if I’m a man or a woman.”
“Am not.”
She was.
“So, to answer your original question, I couldn’t give a crap less what it means to be a woman.”
As unfulfilling as the response was, at least it wasn’t outright crazy.
She sighed. “What are we meeting about again?”
Cash steepled their fingers underneath their chin and chewed on their bottom lip in nervous anticipation. Once the drama of the moment had crested, they said, “Great news, Jess. Your Twitter analytics make it clear that the time is ripe for you to take the next step. The groundwork has been laid, and the world is ready to hear it straight from you.”
“Hear what straight from me?”
“That God is a woman.”
Jessica shut her eyes and wished she was anywhere else. It was an emergent theme in her life, always wishing she were anywhere else but where she was. “I don’t even know what that means, though.”
Cash scoffed. “Since when does anyone understand what they’re talking about before they say it? Come on, Jessica, get with the times. Knowledge and expertise are dead. Long live the attention economy. Now, I’ve spoken with Wendy, and I have a campaign of memes that I think will set up this announcement so it’s well received …”
Are you there?
WHERE?
Don’t do this right now.
FINE. WHAT DO YOU NEED?
I can’t do this. I can’t talk about something I don’t understand.
THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T TALK AT ALL.
Will you be this cruel when you’re a woman?
ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT.
She sighed, tuned back into the physical world, and tried to follow along as Cash ran through the list of top captions they would use alongside a recent paparazzi photo of her eating a donut on a bench.
God had a point. She didn’t understand much about anything.
Chapter Four
It was a beautifully sunny day at the tail end of April, clear skies, not yet so hot that the green grass of the park was flecked with brown despite the city’s best watering efforts. Jessica couldn’t have asked for better weather, really. Or a better turnout. Of course, almost none of them were here for her, but she would do her best to hijack their attention for a brief time anyway.
She wasn’t sure if it was the familiarity or the newness of this situation that made her more nervous. When was the last time she’d held a press conference? High school?
But she’d never participated in one quite like this, so relaxed, unofficial, and with so many off-leash dogs running around.
W
endy Peterman straightened Jessica’s collar in the shade of a large oak. “You remember all the talking points?”
“Yes, I remember all the talking points.”
“Stick to them. As if your life depends on it. Do not screw this up.”
Because the publicist was usually intense and tightly wound, Jessica had always found it tricky to gauge when she was especially stressed. But little snips like that were warning flares. This needed to go well, that much was obvious.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stick to the points.”
Wendy stepped back and took her in from head to toe. “Good. Now, are you ready to smile and wave to the crowd?”
“There’s a crowd?” The small podium was at the top of a hill, out of sight of where Jessica had spent the last half hour preparing herself in the shade of the oak. When she’d last checked, there hadn’t been a crowd so much as a few dozen of uninterested millennials on their lunch break letting their dogs get a good off-leash romp.
“The news started arriving about twenty minutes ago.”
“Maria and Gabrielle?”
“Yep, they’re among them.”
Jessica let the air whoosh out of her lungs. At least she had allies here. She knew all too well how wrong local stations could get a story like this—or like anything—and that was when they weren’t intentionally twisting it.
She rolled her shoulders back and climbed the hill.
Wendy had insisted that they host the junket somewhere with a beneficial backdrop. Since Jessica no longer owned It is Risen, that parking lot was out. Which pretty much left public parks.
One stood out among the rest, precisely for this hill and the backdrop of the downtown Austin skyline, which the publicist insisted would trigger a sense of Austin pride in anyone watching. That, she said, would remind them that Jessica was theirs, and as such, they would listen to what she had to say.
Or so the theory went.
As Jessica reached the podium, a slobbery Great Dane galloped over, making straight for her.
She tried not to panic, but what was she supposed to do? Wendy had just spent the last thirty minutes making sure Jessica was dressed sharply, rolling her black slacks with a lint roller (“Do you live with thirty cats?” she’d asked testily), and making sure Jessica’s boring, lifeless hair had enough body without “looking like you’ve just gotten lucky in the back seat of a Ferrari,” which was obviously a reference to a specific event in Wendy’s own mysterious life.
The End Is Her Page 2
