Eggnog with Jesus' Son
Jack, the Son of the Son of God, took me to meet his Dad on Christmas.
"Please tell me we're going to the North Pole!" I begged with a smile.
"Sorry," Jack said, "Dad rented a place in the west burbs."
"Oh," I said, "Damn. I was really hoping all that Santa stuff was real."
"Of course it's real!" Jack said. "Santa, elves, reindeer, the whole lot. The real North Pole is just outside the globe—that's why none of the other north poles line up right. Christmastown is actually a major metropolis! But Dad likes to keep things simple for his birthday."
Normally, I would visit my parents over the holidays, but I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to meet Jesus in person. I mean, I no longer had any doubt that Jesus was Jack's father. I'd gotten enough proof for a busload of Thomases by that point. But, up until the moment Jack invited me, it hadn't occurred to me that I'd actually get to meet The Man Himself.
Still, it was an awkward conversation with my mother.
"Soooooo? What's his naaaaaame?" she asked me over the phone, fishing for details.
"Mom!"
"Oh, don't pretend with your mother, dear. You wouldn't miss being home for the holidays if it weren't for someone special. So, what's his name?"
"He's just a friend, ok?" I said, digging through my brain to find a way to shut this down. "But look, his Dad is really famous. So I can't say anything else because, you know, paparazzi..."
"Ok, well, if you're still friends with this young man next Christmas, you tell him it'll be our turn to host, alrighty?"
We were blessed with a white Christmas that year, but Chicago never gets just a little snow. Every sidewalk and driveway was now a two-foot deep ravine. Piles left by the plows towered to twice my height in every parking lot. Luckily, it was early enough in the season for there to be enough salt for the roads, but it was still slow going the afternoon of Christmas Eve as we made our way out to Brookfield in Jack's rusty van. Blue-grey clouds hid the sun as we rolled through the slush and puddles.
"The loft is bigger," Jack said as he drove.
We were having the same debate we'd been having for the past few weeks. We had been calling ourselves roommates, but I guess you could say we hadn't consummated that relationship yet. I still had my apartment, he still had his "loft" in an abandoned factory, and we had yet to choose where we were going to land. It wasn't an acrimonious conflict or anything, but neither of us were known for our decisiveness.
"Yeah, but there's zero privacy," I said. "The apartment has two bedrooms, we'd each get our own space."
"I really don't mind," Jack said, "You can decorate however you want, you've got a better eye for design than me, anyway."
"Yeah, well, I kinda mind," I said. Some of us need somewhere to wank.
"We could put up some curtains in another corner," Jack said, "like I've got around my bed. And we could get a door for the bathroom..."
I shifted in my seat. My back was killing me from sleeping on Jack's couch so much. When did I start getting old?
"The loft is really difficult to heat," I said.
"There's no way we're getting the big-screen tv up the apartment's stairwell," Jack countered.
We went back and forth like this for awhile, but didn't seem any closer to a decision.
Then Jack said, "I think this is the place!"
The house was a single-story, mid-century ranch made of sand-colored bricks, the sort of place that still had a wrought-iron railing going up the front steps. A string of Christmas lights with large bulbs in alternating colors lined the front gutter, partially obscured by snow and icicles. A plastic Santa sleigh and a couple plastic reindeer were perched on the roof.
Jack rang the doorbell. I was incredibly nervous as we stood on the porch waiting. All I could picture was the image of Jesus from my old children's Bible, with his long white robes, red stole, wavy long brown hair and sandals. I wondered if he'd be as hot as Jack was.
"Boys! Merry Christmas!"
The man who answered the door looked nothing like Jesus.
He was short—like, really short, especially for a guy. And he was fat. Not that anyone would have called him obese, besides maybe a doctor, but he was carrying the same luggage you'd see on most Chicago dads. He had a jolly round face and rectangular wire-framed glasses, and his dark brown hair was balding in a way that left him with a sort of natural tonsure. He was wearing a snowflake-patterned knit sweater, jeans, and for some reason, a flower-print apron.
Turned out, this was Jesus.
"Happy Birthday, Dad!" Jack said, bending down to give him a hug. Then he turned to me and gestured. "Dad, this is my roommate, John."
"Oh, yes, I've known you from the womb," Jesus said with a smile, shaking my hand. "Glad to finally meet you in person!"
My back stopped hurting.
"Nice to meet you too, uh...Lord," I said nervously.
"Please, call me Jesus!" he laughed. "The Lord is my Father. Come inside!"
The living room had a goldenrod couch, vintage wooden end tables that had lamps with fringed shades, and a small television shoved awkwardly into a corner, presumably displaced by the tree in front of the picture window. The tree itself was kind of scraggly, but classically decorated with a mismatched assortment of ornaments, multicolored lights, shiny garland, tinsel draped generously throughout, and a warm incandescent plastic star up top. A dark hall lead off in one direction, and on the other side of the room was an archway with mistletoe dangling in the center. That lead into a small dining room with an ancient-looking chandelier that had those flame-shaped bulbs folks used to think were fancy. The dining room table must have had all its leaves in, because it jutted out slightly into the living room. It had a nice white cotton tablecloth, a poinsettia centerpiece, and place settings for six. Burl Ives played softly over a small bluetooth speaker.
"Wipe off your shoes so you don't track," said Jesus, "and I can take your coats."
"Want my shirt as well?" Jack asked.
Jesus laughed.
"Oh, Son, that never gets old!" Jesus said with a simple sincerity, carrying our coats off down the hall.
"We're not ordering Chinese?" Jack called out, looking at the dining room table. "Who else is coming this year?"
"Oh, you know," said Jesus, coming back into the living room, "Your Uncle Jimmy, of course, and Uncle Paul should be here in a bit. Grandma doesn't want to leave her heaven, as usual..."
Jesus stopped and gave a big forced smile.
"...but your mother is going to be here!"
"What?" Jack gasped. "Why is Mom coming?"
"Well, I invite her every year," Jesus explained with restraint. "She is my wife, after all. And this year, she said yes!"
Jack stood in silent surprise. Jesus turned to me.
"Now, I really wish you boys wouldn't smoke, but I know you're going to, so please do it outside. I've got to get the pie out of the oven so it can cool and get the ham going."
Jesus waddled off to the kitchen.
Jack was still processing the news about his mom, but I really needed to ask something before I ended up putting my foot in my mouth.
"So, just to be clear, your Dad and your Grandpa are different...beings, right? Because if I remember, a lot of people make a pretty big deal about that..."
"It's a stupid argument," Jack said, snapping out of his daze. "We are all 'one-in-being', inextricably connected to everything that has ever lived in an eternal web of life, and we are each and every one of us utterly alone from our first gasp of air to our last dying breath. Two things can be true. Only monotheorists care about that shit, anyway. C'mon, I need a smoke."
I followed him to the kitchen. It was very small, and Jesus took up most of the space between the counters. On the other side of him was the back door.
"Can we get by?" Jack asked.
"Ope," Jesus said, backing up against the counter.
I was confronted with the awkward decision of whether to present crotch or butt when squeezing past the Son of God. I went with butt.
"Excuse me, Jesus," I said bashfully.
"No worries," Jesus said, "If I'd have known I was going to cook when I rented, I would've picked a larger place. But omniscience only goes so far, eh? Here, take this for the ashes." He grabbed an empty cranberry can from the recycling bin, shook it out and handed it to Jack.
We stepped out onto the concrete back stairs, which was as far as we could go; the tiny fenced-in back yard looked to be knee-deep with snow. I'd occasionally seen Jack smoke an old-fashioned combustible cigarette before, and he pulled one out now and lit it. Through the door, we could hear Jesus singing along to the carols that were playing.
"Hark! The herald angels sing! Glory to the newborn Me..."
I pulled out my weed vape, took a hit and offered it to Jack.
"No thanks, dude," he said. "Wish I could, but I probably shouldn't get too fucked up tonight."
"Understandable," I said, tucking it back in my pocket.
"So, your mom, huh?" I said, keeping my voice down despite realizing that Jesus could surely hear us if he wanted to. "When was the last time you saw her?"
"Idunno," Jack shrugged. "First Crusade, maybe?"
"Damn, dude," I said.
"Yeah. She's not exactly winning Mom of the Year."
"What did she do?" I asked.
"It was a long time ago, dude, and I've worked hard to repress the details. Suffice to say, I don't remember the years Dad was gone being happy ones."
"Oh."
Jack finished his smoke. Jesus cracked open the back door.
"Your Uncle Jimmy's here," Jesus said. "Come on in and say hello!"
Uncle Jimmy turned out to be a tall guy with a buzzcut and an aging football player's build. He was wearing jeans and a Chicago Bears sweatshirt, and he arrived bearing eggnog.
"Jack, look at you!" he said. "I swear you've grown two feet since I last saw you incarnate!"
"Good to see you, Uncle Jimmy," Jack said, giving him a quick hug then turning to introduce me.
"John, this is Jimmy, Dad's brother," Jack said.
"Half-brother!" Jimmy clarified, shaking my hand. "Don't want to go starting any religious wars today." He turned to Jesus.
"Best nog you can buy," Jimmy said, handing Jesus an oversized carton, "and I've got a flask of brandy for it when the time comes. Did Pauly get here yet?"
"No, I don't think he's going to make it until tomorrow," Jesus said. "He called and said he got delayed on the road. Which means we're just waiting for Lilith, I guess."
"Lil's coming?" Jimmy asked. "That's...nice. Don't think I've seen her since the Second Temple fell. How's she doing?"
"Not entirely sure," Jesus said, "I try to give her her space. Guess we'll find out when she gets here!"
They all chuckled half-heartedly, then stood in apprehensive silence.
"Mind if I watch the game?" Jimmy asked, pointing to the television.
"Sure, go for it!" Jesus said. He held up the carton of eggnog. "I should get this into the fridge."
Uncle Jimmy sat on the couch, grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. Jack sat next to him, in the middle, and motioned for me to join them on the other end. I pretended to watch sports for a few minutes, but when Jack pulled out his phone and started scrolling, I did likewise.
The doorbell rang. There was a crashing sound.
"Bless it!" Jesus cursed from the kitchen. "Jack, will you get the door please?"
Jack took a deep breath, pushed himself up from the couch and answered the door.
The woman who entered was tall for her sex. She wore a long black fur coat and a black fur hat over a raven-dark bob cut. She had big hoop earrings and wore heavy makeup.
"Oh my son!" she exclaimed as she entered, barely touching Jack's shoulders and giving him air kisses. "It's been too long! Why don't you ever call your mother?"
"I—uh, hi Mom," Jack grumbled.
"And James, good to see you," she said, waving to Jimmy on the couch.
"Hey Lil," he said, sort of saluting but then quickly looking back to the television.
"And you are..." she said, looking at me.
"Mom, this is John, my roommate," Jack said with an unusual level of reservation. I dragged myself to my feet and offered my hand.
"A roommate!" she exclaimed, grasping my hand lightly with three fingers and barely giving a shake. "Well, it's not a wife, but I guess it's a step in the right direction!"
She smiled like she thought I would find that amusing. I didn't know what to say.
"Where's your father?" she asked Jack.
"Hello Lilith," Jesus said, wiping his hands on his apron as he entered the room. He gave her a small wave. "You're looking well."
It was probably the most well-intentioned thing that had been said in that room since she entered.
"Boys," she said, barely acknowledging Jesus, "I'd like you to meet Baldur, my fiancé."
In walked a twink in a suit.
He was—there was no other word for it—beautiful, the most beautiful person I had ever seen. He had long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, flawless porcelain skin and eyes the color of sapphires. He looked like he was barely old enough to drink. His jacket was perhaps a size too large, but this did not detract from the overall sublime divinity of his appearance.
"Oh!" Jesus said, quite surprised. "Well...the more the merrier, I suppose!"
"He's a lawyer," Lilith drawled.
"Baldur Odinson, Idol at Law," the boy said enthusiastically, shaking hands with Jack and me. Then he turned to Jesus, started shaking hands and did not stop.
"Golly, it's a real pleasure to meet you, Jeez," he said. "Can I call you Jeez? I can't tell you how much this means to me. I specialize in wrongful rebirth litigation, you see. Accidental possession, unauthorized damnation, that sort of thing. Without you, I wouldn't have a practice—heck, I probably wouldn't even exist! I hope things won't be awkward between us, y'know, because of me and Lil. I'm really hoping we can be friends!"
Jesus clamped his other hand on Baldur's to stop the shaking and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, my child."
"FUCK!" Baldur suddenly shouted, diving back outside. He peeked in through the doorway and pointed with a quivering hand. "Hel's cunt, Lil, are you trying to get me killed?"
Everyone's eyes followed to where he was pointing.
"Oh, my apologies, let me get that," Jesus said, reaching up to take down the mistletoe. "I'll just take this straight out to the dumpster. No harm intended! If I had known Lil was bringing a friend..."
Jesus walked out back through the kitchen. Baldur came back inside and composed himself, and Lilith took off her coat. Underneath she wore a low-cut tight-fitting jade dress.
"Jack, honey, where is your father putting the coats?" she asked.
"In the bedroom, I think," Jack said.
"Would you be a dear?" she said, handing her coat to him. He rolled his eyes and stomped off to the bedroom with it.
"I really do have to say," Lilith said, turning back to me, "It is such a relief to hear that Jack's made himself a friend. He was always such a solitary soul, even as a child. The other boys would be off playing ball or throwing rocks at centurions, and there he'd be, making little dolls out of wood scraps from his father's workshop and telling the most elaborate stories about them—"
"They were action figures, Mom!" Jack said, re-entering.
"Oh, I love action figures!" said Baldur. "I'm quite the collector, actually. Avengers, Gundam, G.I. Joe, Star Wars—new and vintage. What's your favorite?"
"I don't own any," Jack growled. "I was five."
"All taken care of!" Jesus announced as he came back into the house and returned to the living room. He was no longer wearing the apron. "Threw that old sprig in the trash and cursed it to wither, just to be safe. And on my way back through the kitchen, I made all the knives promise not to kill anyone tonight!"
Jesus was smiling, but no one laughed. He gave Baldur a couple pats on the shoulder.
"Just making a little joke!"
"Heh, yeah, good one Jeez!" Baldur said, rubbing his shoulder.
"Hey Jimmy!" Jesus said.
"Huh?" grunted Jimmy, still watching the game.
"Thought you'd like to know there's a bigger screen tv down in the basement. Want me to show you?"
Jimmy looked up gratefully and said, "Thank you, Jesus!"
Jesus took his brother down the hall. Lilith walked to the couch, brushed off the center cushion and took a seat. Baldur sat to her right, and she beckoned for Jack to join at her left.
"Come sit by your mother, Jack," she said. "We've got a lot of catching up to do!"
Jack begrudgingly walked over and sat by her side. As unobtrusively as I could, I pulled a chair out of the dining room and had a seat myself.
Jesus returned from the hallway. He was now wearing a trench coat and red scarf, and was in the process of pulling on red knit gloves.
"I'm going to evening Mass at St. Luke's," Jesus said. "The kids are doing a nice play about me, and I promised them I'd be there. The ham is in the oven and should be done by the time I'm home. Everything else is keeping warm on the stove top and ready to go, I just need to pop in the crescent rolls as soon as I'm back, and it'll be time to eat. Now I'd ask you boys to join me, but I know you'd rather stay here and get high."
I wasn't sure what to say, so I looked at Jack.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," he grumbled. "Have fun. Tell the little children I say hi."
"Thank you, but maybe another time, Jesus," I said, trying to be polite.
Jesus looked at Lilith and Baldur, and shook his head.
"I'll pray for us all," he sighed, walking to the door. He turned back to look when he was halfway out.
"I love you!" he said to everyone, smiling slightly, but no one said anything.
His face sank with dejection, and he left.
"You shouldn't be smoking that devil's lettuce," Lilith said to Jack. "And there's no reason to pout. I know this is going to take some getting used to for you and your father, given that Baldur here is a few centuries younger than you both. But age is just a number, and just because a pantheon is on the younger side doesn't mean it lacks worshippers." She turned to Baldur. "Tell him how many worshippers you have, dear!"
"Mom, why are you here?" Jack asked tersely.
Lilith put her hand on her chest, feigning offense. "Do I need any other reason than wanting to spend Christmas with my only son who I haven't seen in—"
"You only ever show up when you need something!" Jack said, sitting up to face her. "So what is it this time, huh? Money? Some place to hide? Did you piss off the Vatican again?"
"No, I..."
She looked over at me, as if sizing me up and deciding I was of no consequence, then turned back to face Jack.
"If you really must know," she said, "I need your father to sign the divorce papers."
"HA!" Jack yelped, jumping up from the couch. "I knew it had to be something! Dad isn't going to sign the papers, Mom. He hasn't signed them for two thousand years, I don't know why you think he'd sign them now."
"Listen, son," Baldur said, standing. Jack's look alone could have killed him just then. Baldur cleared his throat and continued.
"The Law is the Law," he explained. "Your mother can't marry me until her divorce from your father is finalized."
"You don't need to get married!" Jack shouted. "You think you're the first fling Mom's had since they split? Dad doesn't care! He'll even buy you a card! Best wishes on a happy affair with my wife!"
"It's not like that!" Lilith said, rising and taking Baldur's arm. "This isn't a fling. We're in love. Baldur is the man I want to spend all the rest of my lives with."
"And marriage is the only way we can ensure Lil goes to my heaven," Baldur explained. "That's the Law."
"Unmarried couples end up in heaven together all the time!" Jack protested.
"But it's not guaranteed," said Baldur.
"Not everyone has the power to choose where they go the way you and your father can," Lilith said. "I don't want to end up on the other side of eternity from my Baldy-bear."
I filed that factoid away for later.
"This is FUCKED!" Jack yelled, storming away.
I wasted no time following him.
He was out on the back porch, seething and trembling, but not crying.
I tried putting a calming hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.
"Can I just have the weed, dude?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure," I said, handing the weed vape over.
He puffed, and I sipped on my nicotine vape, and neither of us said anything for a very long time. Slowly, he calmed down. Snow started softly falling.
"This happens every time," he said eventually. "I can't believe it's been a millennium, because she makes me feel like I'm fucking twelve again. Every. Time."
I didn't say anything, I just listened as he told his story.
"That's when Dad left. It was only three years. Three years, out of two thousand! It's not like he ran out for cigs and never came back. We both knew he had a mission. He was literally dying for the world's sins, for Christ's sake! I never held it against him. But she certainly did. It was always, your father this and your father that—and it was never anything nice. They lasted less than a month after he rose from the dead. She was out the door before he could even ascend."
"That had to be really rough," I said.
"Actually, having her gone was great," Jack said. "Those early years after Dad came back were probably some of the best in all my lives. All of his followers back then were really nice. I wanted for nothing. I was glad she was gone. And I'll be happy enough if I don't see her again for another millennium after tonight. Or, how about never? Never would be fine, too."
I said nothing. We listened to the silence of the night and watched the snow fall, passing the weed back and forth between us. In my heart, I said a prayer of gratitude for my own mother.
Eventually we heard Jesus puttering around in the kitchen, putting the final touches on the meal. We stayed outside until he stuck his head out and announced, "Dinner is prepared!"
Jesus sat at the head of the table, with Lilith to his left, then Baldur, then Uncle Jimmy on the far end. I sat across from Baldur, and Jack sat between me and Jesus.
"Anyone else want to lead us in grace?" Jesus asked, but there were no volunteers. "Just wanted to be sure. I can do it. Let us bow our heads and pray for this family's blessing."
Everyone joined hands. Lilith held Jesus' hand between her thumb and her first finger.
"Dad of heaven, may your name stay secret and safe. By your will, may all the world become heaven. We thank you for this meal. Forgive us for our mistakes, as we forgive the mistakes others make, because everyone makes mistakes. Don’t bring us to trial, but deliver us from evil. Thank you, Dad."
"Thank you, Dad," Jack and Jimmy said.
"Ok," Jesus said. "Let's eat!"
The food was...not great. The ham was a little dry. I don't think the mashed potatoes had anything in them besides potato. There were limp canned green beans and mushy canned asparagus, also unadorned. But at least there were crescent rolls and cranberries, and Uncle Jimmy's eggnog was fantastic. It helped that neither Jack nor myself really cared about the quality of the food, because we both had the munchies like crazy by that point.
"I see you're not keeping kosher," Lilith said.
"Now Lilith," Jesus said with pointed patience, "You know that it isn't what goes into a person, but rather what comes out that defiles."
"Yeah, well, the ham is burnt, anyway," Lilith said.
"I like the ham a little burnt," Jack said.
"Jesus never was a very good cook," she said, turning to Baldur and me. "If it weren't for me, poor Jack would have had nothing but tuna fish sandwiches for every meal growing up. Of course, it was even worse after Jeez left us."
"Lil," Jesus said.
"No, let me speak. I think it's only fair that young Gene here know my side of the story," she said, gesturing at me. "Nobody ever talks about what Jesus was doing for thirty years before his little quest, but of course he had a wife! He wasn't going to let any of his buddies think he was a faygele. He had a wife and a son and a moderately successful business, a whole life that he just dropped one day so he could go slumming to Judea and back 'preaching.' And let me tell you, it wasn't easy being a single mother, especially back in the twenties! A woman with a kid but no husband around was the lowest of the low. We were lucky we survived."
She looked at Jimmy, asking, "Remember that time Jeez came back to town with his throng? He looked your poor mother in the eye and said, 'Bitch, this is my family now.'"
"I—I don't think that's exactly—" Jimmy stammered.
"And after all that I went through, not even a mention in the Bible! My story has been entirely lost. I might as well not exist! People hear my name, and they think I've got something to do with that dumbass Adam. If you talk about Jesus' wife, they think you're talking about that Magdalene whore. Where's my book, huh? Where's the Gospel of Lilith?"
"Is that what you want?" Jesus asked quietly.
"I WANT A DIVORCE!" she yelled, pounding the table.
Uncle Jimmy threw two crescent rolls on his plate, picked it up and hurried to the basement.
"I want a divorce," Lilith said again. "That's all I've wanted for two thousand years. I want you to just let me go, Jesus. Let me go, so I can get on with my life. My lives. So I can stop being Jesus' wife, and see what I get just being Lilith. Just being me."
Nobody said a word as Jesus sat, elbows on the table, fists clenched against his head, eyes shut, thinking. Or possibly, praying.
"Y'know what?" he finally said with a small laugh. "Fine. I've given you everything else you've ever asked for, Lilith. I have died...so many times. Every day of the year except this one and Easter, I die. Because I love everyone. Every single human being ever born, I love enough to give my life for. And that includes you, Lilith. That has always included you. But fine. If this is what you really want, fine."
I knew there were stories about Jesus getting angry in the Bible, and I supposed this was Jesus at his angriest. But he wasn't really angry. He just seemed frustrated, sad and tired.
"It is, Jesus," Lilith said quietly, almost with compassion. "This is what I want."
"Where are the papers?" Jesus asked.
Baldur reached into his suitcoat, removed a folded stack of papers and a pen, and handed them to Lilith, who passed them to Jesus. He flipped through them quickly, barely skimming, then signed. He pushed the pen and papers away in disgust.
"Thank you," Lilith sighed, folding the papers and handing them back to Baldur. She looked at me and Jack.
"Well, boys," she said, standing up. "I'm sorry you had to see all that. Baldur and I should be going now, I think. Gene, it was very nice meeting you. Jack, keep an eye on the mail, you'll of course be invited to the wedding. Tell James I said—"
Suddenly she froze, bent halfway over. There was a look of sheer terror in her eyes. She began to breath heavily. Her face contorted into a horrifying grimace. She screamed in agony.
Lilith was consumed by flames right there in front of us, and not even a pile of ash remained.
Baldur stood in stunned bewilderment for a moment, then ran for his life out into the cold winter's night.
Jesus stood up, walked to the front door and slowly shut it.
"No matter how much you do, boys," he said with his back turned to us, "some people just don't want to be saved." Then he shuffled off down the hallway, and we heard the bedroom door shut.
Jack looked at me, wide-eyed with shock.
"Go on," I said, reading his mind. "Go talk to your Dad. I'll be on the back porch."
"Thanks, dude," he said, his voice cracking.
I refilled my eggnog and headed out back.
I was probably out there for an hour or two, I wasn't really paying attention. I could catch glimpses of Christmas lights on other houses, and I watched the snow float down under the porch lights. I thought about my own Christmases past, how magical it all seemed when I was a kid. Now that I was getting older, I valued it more as an opportunity to see my family than as a gift grab. I hoped my parents were having a good one. Of course, getting baked, eating lots of goodies and looking at pretty lights were still high up there on my Christmas list as well. I poured myself another couple cups of eggnog, and waited.
Jack eventually rejoined me.
"How's your Dad doing?" I asked as Jack lit a cigarette.
"He'll be fine," Jack said. "Mom was far from the first person to reject him. He'll bounce back. He always does."
"How are you doing?" I asked.
Jack shrugged. "Guess I got my Christmas wish?"
I wasn't going to press, but as far as I could tell, Jack was handling it all pretty well.
"So, what exactly happened to her, anyway?" I asked.
"She turned down Dad," Jack explained. "I've told you, that's really the only way the devils can get you. Dad will bend over backwards to give you every chance. He doesn't even expect you to take anything on faith, he will show up in person if he has to. But like he said, some people are just stubborn. Baldur maybe should've known this was going to happen, but I suppose there isn't much caselaw on divorcing Jesus. Anyway, Mom's burning in hell now, I guess. I wish them luck with her."
"Damn," I said, and Jack chuckled at the unintended pun.
Moving on, Jack said, "Uncle Jimmy took off. Dad is downstairs watching tv. He offered to order Chinese, but I told him we were good. But he insists we have a slice of apple pie before we leave, or he says he's not letting us out of the Garden."
"Oy," I groaned, "there's a dad joke if I've ever heard one."
Out of nowhere, Jack gave me a big hug.
"Merry Christmas, John."
I was a bit taken off guard, but then I hugged him back tightly.
"Merry Christmas, Jack."
He stood back and gave me two firm pats on the arm, the way men do when they need to extract themselves from unexpected emotions. Then we headed back into the house to find some pie.
Next: Doing Lines with Jesus' Son
Doing Drugs with Jesus’ Son is always free.