Then the most dulcet, the most beautiful tones in the world reach my ears.
“Jude, oh Jude, you’re back.” I look toward my hand, which is still being held by my lifeline, and to my utter amazement—but it should be no surprise, who else could my lifeline be?—I discover my sweet Jesus there, and he’s calling my name.
Why’s he crying? I don’t understand. Why am I crying? At least that makes more sense. He’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here. Together. That has to mean…
“I’m alive?” I sound like a damn frog, and I can barely croak the words aloud.
But he understands, and he’s covering my hand with kisses, and I can feel his tears raining upon my flesh.
“You’re alive, Jude, yes,” he half laughs, half cries.
“Don’t cry, please don’t cry.” I attempt to make myself heard, but my throat hurts, and it feels like I haven’t spoken in forever. But that doesn’t make any sense.
I was just talking to God. I try to sit up but damned if I’m not bandaged to within an inch of my life. “What the fuck?”
Laughter. Close by. I turn my head just enough to see Mary M standing there.
For once, she seems happy to see me. “Here,” she says, holding a straw to my lips,
“take a sip, just a little one…” I don’t know what it is, but I don’t argue. I do as I’m told, and the liquid is both cool and soothing, although it hurts a bit going down. I turn back to Jesus, clear my throat a little. “Jesus, what happened?” And I can’t stop saying his name, it’s my mantra, and my prayer, and my life.
Another voice. I recognize this one as his mother Mary’s. She bends over me, lays a gentle kiss upon my brow. “Welcome back, Judas.” She smiles at me, but where’ve I been, and how did I get here, wherever here is? “I knew you could do it, I had faith in you.” She motions to Mary M, and then toward the door, and the two women seem to be leaving. It’s only then I realize that Jesus is seated in a wheelchair beside this bed I’m in, which only adds to my confusion. His mother pauses to put her arms about him, and he hugs her in return. “Thank you,” he murmurs. They quietly close the door behind them, leaving us alone.
I can’t believe I’m back, but obviously I am. Yet how? We aren’t allowed to do that, to come back from the dead, never had it happen before. I so don’t get it, what’s going on. But right this moment, I don’t give a big fuck either.
“Are you all right?” I have to know, and he nods.
“Yes, this is more for show, hospital regulations they say…” Hospital. Okay, I guess that makes sense. But first things first.
“Kiss me,” I fairly beg him, but he’s already halfway there as the words leave my lips. Maybe more, ’cause I can’t seem to move far enough to do any good. But it doesn’t matter, I taste his lips and I’m home again. I’m with my heart again.
“I thought I lost you,” he whispers, stroking my hair, pushing it back from my forehead, and away from that damned bump, which is back again, even if it’s a bit smaller than I last remember it being. Before I died, that is. I know, I’m confused, too.
“You did,” I said, perplexed. “I went back there, like always. I talked to your dad. He told me you weren’t there. I thought for sure they’d killed you. That’s what…the others said…” I don’t want to say their names, don’t even want to think about them. With reason. It hurts a bit to talk, but it hurts more not to talk. Like if I stop talking, something bad will happen. I know, that’s illogical. So sue me.
“No, the Sheriff came, just in time.” Jesus weeps. “But they didn’t know, they thought…they thought I was dead. I’m so sorry, Jude, so very sorry…” He’s sobbing now, brokenly, his head upon my chest, and his weeping is breaking my heart.
“C’mere, love, please,” I beg of him, my own tears spilling over. “Hold me, please.” Maybe it isn’t the best idea we’ve ever had, and maybe we’re not showing a lick of common sense, but he crawls beside me in that hospital bed and we cling together and cry ourselves out until we’re both too exhausted to cry any more.
“How did you get me back?” I ask, apprehensively, once we are spent, and are content to simply hold onto one another. “That lummox beat me to death, I felt it…”
“Not to death, no, but you’ve been in a coma for several days, we weren’t sure if you’d be able to come out of it.” He peppers my cheeks with his kisses. How good that feels, so soothing.