“I love my son, too, very much.” He pauses, as if considering just what it is he wishes to say to me. “I don’t like seeing him get hurt any more than you do. You have no idea how difficult it is for me to see him in pain. Even knowing he understands why I do it. He’s without sin, you know.”
“I know, he’s perfect.”
“Completely so. And yet he was willing to commit a sin for you Judas, he loves you that much. He didn’t consider it a sin, but an act of the love he bears for you.”
Dammit, now I think I’m going to break down and cry in front of Him, and I swore I wasn’t going to do that, no matter what. Me saying I was going to do the same doesn’t mean anywhere near as much, ’cause face it, I’m far from perfect, what’s another stain on my record, right?
“Judas, I don’t think you truly understand my big plans for my son.” I must have a skeptical look on my face, or perhaps it’s that eye rolling thing. Kinda hard to overlook. “You think it’s only about mankind, about the lessons Jesus preaches, the ones that must be learned by them?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. What else is there, if not that?
“I’ve been watching him for a very long time. Watching you both, actually.
There was always something else I wanted for my son. I wanted him to learn about an aspect of love he had no familiarity with, something he’d never experienced or completely understood…before you.”
I’m not sure I know what he means, so I remain silent. Although I have an inkling.
“To put it simply, Jesus couldn’t completely understand love in all its glory until he experienced it. I knew he was in love with you, but I couldn’t do anything.
He had to be the one to do it, but he didn’t know how to express what he felt.
Without that, his understanding of the concept was flawed. You’ve shown him love, Judas, you’ve given him your love, and that’s something more precious to me than anything else.”
I’m so confused, so very confused. If this is all kosher with him, then why is He calling me down on the carpet like this? And why are we going through all this? All right, maybe He isn’t yelling, is He? He’s being rather calm and rational about the whole thing, considering He must know I slept with his son. And would do it again in a heartbeat.
My thoughts are spinning in my head. In fact, they’re making me dizzy.
“The thing is, Judas, I wanted Jesus to think for himself, and to make his own decisions. He’s come a long way from the young man he was when we first began.
In many ways. He’s always had the ability to change the script, but until he fell in love with you, he never tried to do it. You’ve made him complete.” All right, this isn’t funny now. I’m having trouble focusing on His words. Not that I can believe He actually just said that to me, either, but it’s more than that.
I’m having trouble thinking. And my entire body’s beginning to ache. But it shouldn’t. I’m past that. What the fuck is wrong with me?
He rises from the pool table, steps closer to me, and murmurs, “Be good to him, Judas, and love each other for a long, long time.” He reaches into his pocket, draws out something which he pushes into my inner breast pocket, straightening it for me in the process. “And remember this. I’m a stricter father-in-law than a father. And I’ll be watching you.”
Oh my dear God—and I mean that sincerely—what the hell is this pain? The room has gone black suddenly, and without warning my legs have been knocked out from beneath me. I’m falling backward and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself from falling. I’m incredibly nauseous to boot. Between this nausea and this dizziness, I just want to vomit, very badly. “Jesus,” I mumble, “Jesus...” As if I’m incapable of uttering anything other than his name.
Voices. Do I really hear voices? I can’t be sure, everything is just so damn muffled, like my head is swathed in cotton. Was He putting me on, just having fun at my expense, and this is His punishment? I find it hard to believe he could ever be so sadistic. Maybe it’s Lucifer, come to collect my end of the bargain? I take a deep breath, try again. “Jesus...” I feel like I’m burning up, on top of everything else. What the fuck is going on here?” A hand squeezes mine, grasping it tightly. I squeeze it in return, holding on for dear life. Will this fall never end? “Jesus…” That hand, I can’t let go of that hand, it’s the only thing keeping me in place. I just know if I let go, I’ll be lost.
I open my eyes all at once, and I can’t help blinking at the sudden brightness before me, but at least the darkness is gone. That has to be good, right? I guess that depends on what the fuck is going on, ’cause I’m sure not where I was before, so where the hell am I now? More importantly, where’s Jesus?