“No, don’t!” I hiss at him fiercely, the very thought of his death pierces my heart, “please don’t talk like that, it’s not over…”
“Ah, but it is,” he replies, smiling sadly, “it is, and we cannot change what’s to be. But please, Mary, just be happy, and continue to make others happy with your music. Be as beautiful as you always have been…”
I can’t help the sob that tears from my throat. It’s just so cruel, and to witness it is almost unbearable. “There’s always hope,” I argue, “something can happen, you never know…”
“I do know,” he maintains in a soft voice, “and nothing will happen, everything is ordained, you know that. Maybe next time…maybe there’ll be more time to get the message across. Every time we get closer, you know?” I brush away the tears that fall upon my cheeks. “This time isn’t over,” I say stubbornly, “right, Mary?” as I try to enlist his mother in my cause. She merely smiles at me enigmatically, although I can see her own eyes are wet with tears.
“What will be, will be…” she says.
If she knows something, I really wish she’d let us in on it. But for now, I’m just going to take what I can get, and spend what time I can with him. God, this is so painful, please, please, help your son. For once, please do something for him, as a person, as your beloved son, and don’t worry about the rest of us. We’ll get by.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Jesus
I had to send him away tonight. I just had to. It was for his own good, difficult as it was. If it had been left to my own desires and wants, I would’ve gladly allowed him to stay here with me, but I knew I couldn’t. Not for any sort of moral reasons, or because I’m afraid of what anyone will think of me or us—I would’ve shared my cot with him, and held on to his warmth all night, gladly, were such a thing permitted. But the truth of the matter is that I couldn’t even consider doing so for there is something I must do this night, something he cannot witness. Someone I must talk to, about him. And if Judas knew what it is I plan to do, he’d try to stop me, and that I cannot have. I’ve given this matter much thought, and many prayers, and I’ve decided what I need to do, what I shall do.
It was good to see my mother and Mary, and yet heartbreaking at the same time. They are both so very brave. I wish there were more I could do to comfort them in this time of their need. I know how my death will affect them, how it has affected them in the past; despite the fact we’ve been through it all so many times, it doesn’t really get any easier. Preparation, although good in theory, doesn’t really mean a whole lot when you’re faced with the reality of the situation. I know they love me very much, just as I’ve always loved and shall always love them. An amazing thing, love. But painful, too, when you’re faced with losing the one you love. And there’s nothing that can make that any easier to bear or any less painful.
The knowledge we’ll be together again in just a matter of years is some small comfort, even if it doesn’t appear so now, and reminding them they both will continue to live and have rich and fulfilling lives even without me doesn’t seem to ease their burden any, either. My mother gives me words of encouragement and love all afternoon; she’s being very enigmatic about something, but I’m not sure what it is, and I know better than to ask. I have a feeling she knows about Judas and me—and not only does she understand, but she approves. At least that’s the sense I get from her. We haven’t discussed it yet. And if we don’t talk about it soon, then we won’t have a chance to discuss it at all, time limitations being what they are. But I’m sure she’s noticed the longing glances I send his way, and he mine; it’s not like we’re attempting to hide anything. As if we even could. I think it’s written all over our faces now, for everyone to read.
Watching him hold that child so tenderly was priceless. He is a tender and loving man, if only more people realized that. The little girl woke at some point, and never seemed to mind she was behind held by someone else. She smiled at him, and then at us, before she whispered to Judas confidentially, “He’s Jesus,” pointing to me. Judas whispered back to her, “I know, honey.” She rewarded him with a big hug, which warmed my very heart. But all too soon the mother and child were gone, leaving to attend to errands of their own. And once they were gone my Judas began to pace, back and forth, to and fro, inside the cell and out, like a captive tiger on a very short leash.