The Reluctant Jesus: A Satirical Dark Comedy (16 page)

What was he doing? This guy was determined to make sure I would not be having sex that night. He was doing his best to dampen the ardor that still remained, which wasn’t much, considering we were both half-dressed and talking to a cat when we were thirty seconds away from getting laid.

“Ok,” said Maggie. “I will sleep on the couch.” My heart sank.

“Good,” said God, “then that’s settled.” And then Walter meowed.

“Has he gone?” said Maggie as she turned to face me.

“Yes, he’s gone.” I had a sudden urge to kick Walter but decided he wasn’t to blame. “Look, you take the bed,” I said. “I’ll grab a blanket, and I will take the couch.”

Maggie thanked me and kissed me on the cheek. When I returned with a blanket, Maggie had already found my bed and was sleeping soundly. I closed the door and made a bed on the couch. Now fully sober, I was annoyed that God had ruined my night of passion. I considered the situation for a minute and, being extremely frustrated at being so close to getting laid, I thought, to Hell with Mother Teresa and my file, this one is an emergency. I was asleep three minutes later.

CHAPTER

I AWOKE, AND, FOR A
split second I was confused as to why I was curled up on my sofa. I was also confused as to why I could smell coffee and breakfast being prepared. Then I remembered Maggie, and I remembered that today I was due to perform my second miracle. My heart sank, and I pulled the duvet over my head.

“Good morning,” said Maggie, as I tried to forget about the events ahead of me.

I peered up from under the duvet. “What time is it?” I said as Maggie handed me a cup filled with coffee.

“Six thirty,” she said. I noticed she was dressed, and I could tell by the towels strewn on the bedroom floor, which I could see through the open door, that she had also showered.

“Six thirty?” I cried and rubbed my eyes. “It’s the middle of the night!” My usual Saturday morning entailed a lie-in, a leisurely stroll to a diner for a late breakfast, and a read of the weekend newspaper.

“It’s a busy day,” said Maggie. “You need to get ready.” And with that, Maggie snatched the duvet away from the couch, exposing my naked body. “Oops,” she said. “I didn’t realize you slept naked.” I usually didn’t, but my pajamas were in my bedroom, and so as not to disturb the already sleeping Maggie, who had been curled up in my bed, I had decided to forgo pajamas.

“Well,” said Maggie as she stared at my nakedness. “Seeing as though you are ready, we might as well get this over with.” Maggie grabbed my hand and led me into the bedroom. Walter sat curled up in a ball on the bed “Is that you?” asked Maggie to Walter. Walter didn’t move.

“Good!” we both said in unison.

Thus, my relationship with Maggie began. I won’t go into details, but let me say, it was well worth the wait. An hour later, I showered, dressed, and called Bob to confirm our meeting point. I didn’t mention I would be bringing Maggie with me; I thought I would wait until I saw him. I switched on the television and checked the news channels; there was no mention of the mayor, the Peruvian ambassador, or of any potential demonstrations. Maybe Nancy had got it wrong. I hoped so.

Harvey was not on duty that morning, so we were able to leave the apartment without any interruption or hold up. I wasn’t in the mood for Harvey’s comments this morning. He would want details, and even though Maggie would have been in earshot, it wouldn’t have stopped him asking. I felt I needed to review my relationship with Harvey; it was beginning to feel like he was trying to monitor my life. Maybe it was just me, but he was becoming as bad as my mother. We eventually found a cab after a twenty-minute wait, one disadvantage of no Harvey on duty, and I called up Bob on my cell phone to let him know we were on our way. He had questioned the “we,” and I told I would explain when we arrived at the harbor.

Bob was waiting for us as we pulled up to pier fifty-eight, two piers from where the mayor’s yacht was berthed. I could see as we exited the cab that a small crowd had formed around the pier. The demonstrator’s had arrived. I could see a few blue uniforms of the NYPD, one in particular that I suspected had taken a whole cotton field to make. It was Nancy. I also spied a local news channel vehicle, so the media was here. All that was missing was the mayor and the ambassadorial party. I paid the cab as Bob approached.

“Bob, meet Maggie. Maggie, meet Bob.” Bob looked surprised as Maggie offered her hand.

“Hi,” she said, smiling.

“Hi,” said Bob, looking confused as he weakly took her hand. He looked at me for an explanation.

“It’s a long story,” I said. “We will explain later.”

We all walked along our pier to get a better view of the adjourning pier. Bob seemed to accept this, shrugged his shoulders and led Maggie and I along the pier. “We need to keep out of view,” he said, referring to him and Maggie. “The last thing I need is for Nancy,” he turned to Maggie, “that’s my wife, to see me with you,” He looked over at the crowded pier sixty.

The mayor and the ambassador had arrived as we had proceeded along the pier, and we could hear the llama-loving demonstrators’ whistles and boos.

“Once they get on board, you should start walking toward them,” said Bob. “I have worked it out. The cameras will still be rolling, and the crowd and the press will all be focused on the boat and the water. They will see you appear from the distance, and hey presto, the Messiah is with us. I can see the headlines now.” I was not entirely convinced that Bob’s plan would work, but I did not have a better one. I looked at Maggie and she nodded, confirming she saw no problem with Bob’s idea.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”

I crept down the pier ladder pensively and onto the water. Yes, onto it, not into it. I felt as light as a feather; it was a strange sensation. I thought at any time I would sink like a stone, but I didn’t. I closed my eyes and then opened them to look down at my feet. I was definitely stood on top of the water. I clung to the pier ladder.

“Let go,” encouraged Maggie. I didn’t want to, though; I knew the railing was not preventing me from sinking. It was a psychological thing. I wasn’t ready to let go.

“Yes, let go,” shouted Bob. I couldn’t, despite the fact I was not sinking; I froze with fear and trepidation.

“I can’t,” I hissed back. Maggie leaned over and grabbed the hand that clutched the ladder rail. She pried my fingers open and loosened my grip. “Don’t do that!” I shouted, afraid I was going to plummet into the murky water.

“Oh, be quiet,” ordered Maggie as she twisted the final finger that clung to the rail.

“Hey!” I cried, “That hurt.” I looked at my hand and checked that my finger wasn’t broken. It wasn’t. Then I realized I was no longer holding the ladder rail. I stood, unsupported, atop the water. I hadn’t sunk. I couldn’t believe it.

“Try walking,” shouted Bob. I looked up and saw Maggie and Bob both peering down.

“Okay,” I said, and I took a small step forward, then another, and another. I was walking. I was walking on water, and it was easy! I was concentrating hard initially, but after six or seven steps, the nerves disappeared, and my confidence grew. Maggie and Bob whooped and cheered me.

“Go on,” shouted Bob, “they have arrived.” He motioned toward the adjacent pier. I looked toward pier sixty, which was about five hundred feet away, and the mayor’s yacht; I could see that all eyes faced the water. I headed toward the crowd.

No one seemed to notice me at first as I walked the first two hundred feet. As I approached closer, I could see hands pointing, and heads turning from the yacht toward me. I could hear people gasping, and I could see the flash of camera lights. There was a commotion at pier sixty. The crowds were trying to surge forward for a better view of the approaching Messiah. The people aboard the yacht were all staring too. I wondered what the mayor thought of this. There was no doubting it; it was a miracle; I was walking on the water, heading directly toward the yacht and cordoned of crowd of pro-llama demonstrators. I couldn’t make out her face, but I could see Nancy’s bulky frame, and her head was turned, facing me, as her outstretched hands blocked the crowd from rushing the pier. Ha! What a surprise for her this would be! Just as I thought I had cracked it, just as I thought that being the Messiah might not be as bad as I had thought, just as I mentally prepared myself for what lay ahead, just when I thought being the Son of God could actually be fun…disaster struck.

“Stop! I repeat, stop! Do not approach any further!” I looked around to see where the voice projected by the megaphone was coming from and to whom it was directed at. “I repeat, stop. This is an order.” It was the coast guard; they were in a little rubber speedboat, and they were headed my way. I hadn’t seen them earlier, and they had appeared out of nowhere. I could see a gun trained on me. Obviously, I did what anyone else would do. I turned back in the direction I had come and ran. Luckily, I had about three hundred feet on the coast guard patrol, and running on water was like running on land. I ran as fast as I could back toward pier fifty-eight and my disciples.

At first, Bob and Maggie looked confused as to why I was running so quickly to where they stood, but then they also spotted the rubber boat and the weapon trained on me. Maggie and Bob both urged me to run faster. The coastguard was gaining, but I had the edge on them. There was no way they would reach me before I got to safety, but that didn’t stop them from chasing or shooting. Luckily, or miraculously, their bullets fell short, and I reached the pier steps well ahead of them. Bob and Maggie gave me a hand up the ladder.

“Let’s get the heck out of here, now!” I yelled as my feet touched solid ground. Bob and Maggie didn’t argue, and we bolted along the pier. Just as we hit the sidewalk, a taxi appeared. We hailed it and sped off just as the coastguard vessel reached the end of our pier. I looked behind me out of the cab window and could see the police hadn’t seen our escape, and they were too busy escorting the mayor and ambassador to safety. We all slid down in the cab as a cavalcade of police cars sped past on its way to the pier. All three of us looked at each other. We instructed our driver to take us to Milligan’s where we needed to regroup and discuss the events that had just transpired. We were all in shock, not least of all me.

Luckily, our cab driver seemed totally unfazed by all the commotion at the pier and the speeding police cars headed in the direction we had just come from. In fact, he never said a word the whole journey. I thought his silence odd and his sudden arrival on the scene extremely convenient. It seemed God was watching over us, maybe.

Milligan’s was quiet. It was a Saturday morning, and only the hardened drinkers ventured there before noon. We found a booth, which ensured us the privacy we needed. I looked around the bar and saw only one other customer. A blind man with his guide dog sat at the furthest table from us. I felt safe that no one would recognize us. Sean took our orders and called me John, which suited me fine; Sean’s bad memory meant he couldn’t place us should the need arise. None of us spoke until Sean returned with our drinks: three straight up double scotches.

“Okay, then,” Bob was the first to speak. “Out of ten, how do you think that went?” The question was directed at both Maggie and I. I shook my head.

“How did it go?” I asked. “Bob, I was just shot at!” I couldn’t believe Bob was even contemplating it had gone remotely well. “It was a disaster! The whole thing. Did you not see what happened? I thought I was going to die.” I was shaking, and I took a swig of scotch to calm my nerves.

“I thought it was a success,” said Maggie. I nearly choked as the whiskey hit my throat.

“You are joking,” I spluttered. “How on earth can you construe what just happened as a success?” I remembered now why I had thought her crazy in the first place; maybe she was.

“I agree with Maggie,” said Bob. “We have to put that down as successful.” Maggie nodded as Bob continued to speak. “First of all, you walked on water. I saw it; Maggie saw it, and so did everyone else, including the cameras. Secondly, there is no doubt we will have publicity; not only was there a TV crew on the pier, but I am also sure I heard a helicopter overhead. They will have gotten shots also.” I wasn’t sure what type of shots Bob was referring to; gunshots or filmed shots.

“So, what, the cops spoilt the party?” said Maggie. “The thing is, people will see that on TV and make up their own minds.” Bob and Maggie seemed to be in total agreement, despite my animated objections, that the miracle had been a success. Granted, it had caused more of a stir than the fish sandwich fiasco, but really? Were they serious? The coast guard shot at me, for Dad’s sake! I was too nervous to argue, and maybe they were right. Maybe this would create the attention we needed, but the circumstances were not ideal.

I took the opportunity to explain to Bob Maggie’s presence. Bob seemed quite pleased to have Maggie on board, and though I hadn’t told him we had slept together, I knew he was dying to ask me if we had. Luckily, Maggie never left the table, so he couldn’t ask, but I knew he would want to as soon as he got the opportunity.

I took a deep breath and sat back in my chair. I was happy it was over. If indeed it had been a success, then I wondered what our next move should be. Once the TV stations broadcasted the images across the world, people would see that a miracle had occurred and that the only other known “walker on water” was Jesus himself. Therefore, we all presumed the multitude would rightly assume that only a Messiah could walk on water and would demand I reveal myself, thus beginning the process of saving the world.

Milligan’s did an excellent breakfast: Irish sausage, bacon, eggs— the works. Feeling a little better, I ordered us all breakfast, and we reverted to coffee now that our nerves, well predominantly mine, had settled. We discussed what we should do next, and the unified answer was to wait for the press and people to demand I reveal myself.

“Hey,” exclaimed Maggie as she shoveled a fork full of Irish sausage into her mouth, “we should really check the TV news to see what they are saying.” She was right. If we had made any impact, then we would be on the news. I had no doubts there would be some mention of the morning’s events. It wasn’t every day that the coastguard in New York City fired shots, even if they were just warning shots, Bob proposed whilst chewing on a piece of toast. Nor was it every day that the mayor and a visiting ambassador were driven away from a scheduled event at high speed under police escort. I, however, did not share my companion’s enthusiasm in seeing what the media was saying about the morning’s events.

I asked Sean if he would switch on the TV perched above the bar, which he did before returning to his newspaper. It seemed we were the only ones interested in watching television in the bar, as Sean was engrossed in the sports pages, and I doubted the blind drinker and his dog would be viewing.