I’m not allowed to name names, but one begins with an O, the other an E. The boys will be very happy, not to mention surprised. She’s kept the details hush hush from them, and she’s promised me a full report of this night and what it brings in the morning. Little does she realize the chance to discuss it with me will never come.
Sarah sits on Mary’s lap. They’re clearly at ease with one another. I have to smile every time I look at them. There’s no one in the other cell now, the previous occupant having been released some time ago for good behavior. Would that it were so easy for me. The child alternates between us as the mood strikes her, and every so often her mother pops in and asks if she’s bothering us, to which we reply no, please let her stay. I think Sarah doesn’t know who Mary is, but it’s obvious she likes her. When she isn’t on our laps, she’s drawing pictures for both of us. The walls of my cell are covered in her artwork.
“Please, be gentle with Jude,” I plead with Mary. I know, I can’t stop thinking about him, and worrying about how he’ll get by once I’m gone. “I know he doesn’t make it easy to like him. He never has.”
“You can say that again!’ She laughs easily, before turning more serious. “I won’t lie. I’ve never liked him a whole lot. Or at all. Most of the time I think he’s just a stupid son—” She catches herself in time, mindful of small ears, and amends that to, “stupid guy. And I know he’s always hated me, too, no love lost there.” I certainly can’t argue with that. Judas isn’t an easy man to love. But he doesn’t show that side of himself to me. He’s a thorny, beautiful rose, but once you get past the thorns, you can see the beautiful blossom that he is.
“But,” she continues, “on the other hand, I’m starting to see a change in him, much as I hate to admit it. All right, maybe he’s not so bad. Quit smiling like that, it’s just as bad as telling me I told you so.” I can’t help it; her words are so very pleasing to me that I have to smile. “He’s just a rock head. A very stubborn one at that. And he loves you more than anything, Jesus. That much I know.”
“Told you,” Sarah mutters to herself, a complacent smirk upon her young lips.
I’m unsure if she is seconding the sentiment or if it’s the realization that someone else knows who I am and that she’s right about me. I can’t help but smile at her precocity.
“I know he does,” I agree with Mary, “and I love him, too, more than I ever thought possible. I just wish I’d realized it sooner.” I bite back my next words, for they’re far too close to the truth for comfort, and I won’t let this particular cat out of the bag for anything.
Mary envelops me in a sympathetic hug, sandwiching Sarah between us, producing giggles from the girl. “Maybe next time.” She winks at me, as she rises from her chair, setting the child upon her hip. I don’t tell her that after this time he may not even be speaking to me, much less love me in the next life. Who knows what rules will have been imposed upon us by then? I’m not even sure how my father will feel about what I’m doing, but I can’t let that stop me. Not now.
“I’m going to get these guys back, we gotta show to do.” She grins. My apostles realize she’s getting ready to leave, and they all begin to cluster excitedly near the door, waving to me. I return their farewells, smile affixed to my face as Mary hands Sarah over to her mother. It’s going to be quite a night for them, one I know they won’t soon forget. Mine will be, too, but in quite a different way. “I’ll give you a full report in the morning,” she promises, before she kisses me sweetly.
She’s always been a good friend to me, and I feel a bit hypocritical when I can’t tell her that won’t happen, but I manage a smile that’s hopefully not too stiff as I keep my secret from her, knowing this is actually good-bye.
“Be careful,” I murmur, and I mean both tonight, and with crossing the line outside—although there’ve been no outward signs of violence, there have been words exchanged, threats made. Surprising threats considering they profess to be gentle people, my father’s spokesmen even. Sometimes I wonder if Lucifer contains them or incites them. Knowing him, it’s impossible to say.
“I will,” Mary promises. “Just don’t worry about a thing. Concentrate on yourself tonight. For once.” She gives me one of her looks, the one that says “and I mean it, mister.” I smile, despite myself. “Just be happy. Love him—while you can.” Her prophetic words ring in my ears, and then she’s gone, disappearing with the boys through the door, and out of my life. I hear cries of “Whore!” and