The Prosperity Gospel |
Issue 5
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I believe if Jesus were alive today, he’d be on TV.
My mother is a fanatic about a particular televangelist. We weren’t even Evangelical. Truthfully, I wasn’t much of anything, but she was something or another. Happier days, we’d spend our mornings watching soap opera re-runs together with café y pan dulce. Now, she sits by herself in the living room listening to Josiah Baker, as her thick glasses reflected the preacher’s only light in the darkness. His image in her frames looked like TV static to me. She pressed time and time again that all she wanted was to attend his Cathedral all the way in Pennsylvania for the Christmas morning sermon. That was tomorrow at 6 AM – as if I’d consider enabling her unhealthy fixation any further. My mom wasted my college refund donating to his Cathedral. I stupidly trusted she would repay her medical debt since her failed chemo. “Mi vida, we’ll get it back tenfold. What’s money in the Church of God?” Josiah wasn’t even his real name. It was Robert. A millionaire scam artist boomer named Robert had my college refund. My measly $700 refund that I’d been looking forward to since my statement reflected it a week prior... Gone in seven days. Mami’s only moment to herself was when she showered because every other moment I heard his voice in his house. Even as she slept he sermoned her dreams, and his voice slithered in my ears from her mind on our shared twin-sized bed. I fluffed my pillows every morning, smacking his religious mottoes out of the cushion. Josiah was striking evil out of a worshipper on a live show that morning. It was Christmas Eve, and he’d be healing people today and tomorrow in celebration of Jesus’ birth. Demanding I watch this fake exorcism with her, my mother held my hand tightly, and if I’d try to wiggle out of bed, her grasp tightened. Josiah approached the possessed man in the audience of his arena, yelled threats against Satan, and the man began convulsing as people gasped. Josiah brought out an anointing oil he’d been advertising, (it was ‘blessed from the Holy Land’) and when he splattered it against the man’s forehead, he hissed as if it were a chemical burn. I tried to stifle my laugh and keep it in my belly, but it grew legs and jumped out of me. I laughed so hard. Offended, my mother released me, and I jumped out of her reach in case she’d dare change her mind. “Keep laughing at Josiah. He makes miracles happen. You’ll see.” The possessed man leaped off his seat and ran through the Cathedral, full-sprint. His jaw hung open as he wailed, but his pain was overpowered by Josiah’s followers applauding. His wretched eyes – pained. Two noisy car honks came from outside. I peered my head out the kitchen window to see a familiar Honda Civic and Michael waving up at me. He honked again, and my flats almost tripped down the stairs of his impatience. “Why are you honking at 7 in the morning?! Jesus.” “You want to be late for work?” “I didn’t ask you to pick me up. Why are you here?” I buckled my seatbelt. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. Unsatisfied, he turned my chin with his thumb and forefinger and planted a sweet one on my lips. “Just wanted to surprise you...” He muttered. As we pulled out from the street, I stared at my living room window. My mom had probably moved there from the bedroom by then with Josiah Baker following closely behind her. Michael wore a poignant cologne, artificially citrus as if bergamot were injected with nail polish remover. It would have been fine in a smaller spritz, but I’m convinced he showered in it. It was only a Tuesday morning. No way he’d want to smell so nice for me. I rolled the window down and stuck my nose out for clean, untainted oxygen. “Are you sure you don’t want to come to my family's Christmas party tomorrow?” He asked. “I don’t want to leave my mom alone now that I’m back home.” “She can come, too.” “She can’t.” Michael sighed as he turned the corner. Smooth on the steering wheel. “Don’t be embarrassed by your mom.” “Embarrassed? When have I ever said that word, embarrassed?” “Don’t have to say it to show it.” Pissed me right off. I hadn’t been sleeping well since being home over break, so I was already cranky and quick to anger. Josiah Baker haunted my nightmares, and in them, he forcefully exorcised me as his followers watched, cheering on my pain. Instead of the demon releasing my body, it took my soul hostage permanently, and I grew eight legs. I gazed out into the street, envious of everyone walking to work in this cold weather. Better than Michael lecturing me about my own Mother and shit he doesn’t even understand. I took off my seatbelt and gripped the door handle. He reached his arms over my thighs like a faux seatbelt so I wouldn’t jump out. “Stop, stop, stop! Okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to spend Christmas alone in your apartment, baby. I know you’re having a hard time, but in no time, break will be over, and you’ll be back in college.” “I wish you joined me.” “I can’t afford that.” “And I can? You know what my mom did with my refund?” Michael paused, and then the wheels in his head turned. “She didn’t.” “Yeah.” “Josiah Baker?” “Yeah.” My eyes were tearing up, and I tried to hold them back. Michael’s stunned expression softened. He laid his hand on the back of my head and brought me into his neck, as I let it out. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch. Ever since I left, she’s had no one to talk to. She’s all alone, and that stupid preacher was there on TV, 24/7. He’s a predator for people like her.” “She shouldn’t have spent your refund like that.” “I hate her for it.” “No, you don’t...” “How am I going to buy my textbooks next semester? Working at Walgreens?!” On the touchy subject of my job, Michael went quiet. He’d been caressing my hair but dropped his hands to my shoulders. “So, what about your work party? No one’s doing anything for Christmas?” “Yeah, it’s tonight at Will’s house, but I’m not going.” “You should, though. Have some fun.... I can always go with you if it helps.” We arrived at the Walgreens parking lot. The store would open at 7:30, in ten minutes. A few of my coworkers were already outside, collecting their last few moments of sleepy freedom before clocking in. Retail during the Holidays was brutal. One of my coworkers, Elena, turned her head towards our car as if she’d been looking for us. I bit my cheek to contain my temper, but a gritty, bitter scoff forced itself out of me. “Exactly why I didn’t want you driving me to work.” “Huh?” “Nah, nothing.” Customers flooded in, buying last-minute presents on good old Christmas Eve. Me, Julissa, Will, and Elena were on register. I mentally checked out as my hands scanned, bagged, and collected change. Elena’s elbow bumped her matcha latte, and the green drink spilled on my register. The screen went black as I was almost finished processing a three-hundred-dollar transaction. The customer had already put his card in, too. That’s the absolute worse because then they’d accuse us of charging them twice. I snapped out of autopilot like a torn sleepwalker. You know you should never wake up a sleepwalker, right? They become so startled that they might turn violent. One reverts to baseline fight or flight. My mother made me promise that if I ever caught her sleepwalking to never wake her. She believed our souls momentarily leave our bodies as we slept and turn into empty vessels. Thus, a sleepwalker is a foreign entity possessing it, desperate for a short loan of human life, or even better — to be woken up and keeping it, deliciously cohabiting with the owner. “Why would you leave a drink by the register?!” I screamed, “Who’s going to ring all this shit up again?!” I grabbed Elena’s Starbucks cup and threw it down between us. It gave a violent recoil, and her coffee slapped her face. Will grabbed me and brought my arms together like they were dangerous weapons. I received a verbal warning at most. Slap on the wrist, really. Inside the office, Will quietly disclosed he wasn’t going to write me up because of how significantly I came through for him in the summer with all the callouts. Favoritism. Regardless of this ‘favor’ by him, I distrusted all management equally because their authority is easy to abuse, when truthfully? They have nothing, and there is no one above me. It wasn’t even 9 AM and I was sent home for the day. Julissa called out to me as I was halfway out the door. She was taking her fifteen early because she wanted to talk to me. We went to high school together, in fact, she put a word in for me when I needed money for college. “A lot’s changed since you’ve been at Oneonta,” She sported a burgundy leather coat and coffin acrylic nails designed with Santa hats. With her polished nail, she pointed at a Colombian Botanica which had just opened up on the way to my house, a spiritual store with candles of Jesus, statues of saints, and displays of potions on the window. “Ohh, let’s go. Real quick,” She insisted. The shop was cramped and filled to the brim with items, like a hoarder’s home. Elixirs for money, love, good luck, career, fertility – so many colors of potions lining shelves and shelves. My eyes fell on the green candle for money, and I cynically danced with the idea that I could get my college refund back with it. “Fuck this,” I assumed I was only thinking it, but it came out of me. “What?” Julissa held a cleansing lavender bath mix in one hand and bagged sage in the other. Decisions, decisions. “Nothing.” “You do that a lot. Just say it.” “Okay: fuck this.” She looked down at the little satchel with herbs and salts. The sage was wrapped inside it in a shimmering golden twine. “You think?” “Kind of.” “Hm, maybe.” Placed by the crystals was a small bottle that professed its oil with healing properties. It reminded me of Josiah Baker’s anointing oil, “blessed from the Holy Land.” Pffft. I smirked at the striking similarity and snatched it off its stand. “Don’t you think that’s bullshit?” Julissa asked, convinced. “Definitely bullshit,” I handed the cashier five dollars. Julissa’s break was almost up, so she made it quick right before we parted ways. “It’s about Michael.... And Elena. Girl, they’ve been together while you were gone… He’s cheating on you. She bought Plan B with her employee discount during her own shift. She’s not even hiding it. Everyone’s too scared to tell you...” I had a feeling. Before I left for college, Elena would call out in the summer all the time, and I heard she’d be with Michael. And then me, like a dumbass, would get called in and agree to work her abandoned shift. I never approached Michael about it. Maybe that’s how he picked up the awfully rude habit to honk outside my apartment building while he waited outside. All of Elena’s neighbors were well out of earshot.... while I lived in a crowded, weathered apartment building that, at best, was a convent in its prime. “Okay, thanks for telling me.” Detached. “Girl... Break up with him. Please. He’s not going to stop.” “I know,” I said, “But who the hell’s going to kiss me on New Year’s?” |
LORNA REAUX won 2nd Place of the Fiction Writing Contest. She is an English language teacher born in Westchester, New York. She spends her days reading Dostoyevsky, working at the library, and dreaming of Scandinavia. Her writing is greatly influenced by her bilingual upbringing and on matters of hereditary trauma and familial pain.
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“I prophesize, many will be freed from the chains of their pain with this anointing oil. From the power of the most high, God Almighty. What comes from here, only the truest of true believers will understand. Straight from the Holy Land, Jesus had visited me Himself and I relay this message to you, His people!”
Josiah sermoned the hallway. Walking into our building meant simultaneously stepping into his Cathedral. She really should’ve kept the TV down as a courtesy to our neighbors, but anything I told her about that televangelist scammer went in one ear and out the other.
“Hey, Mami, I’m going to a Christmas party tonight. Work people.”
“Huh? You’re gonna leave me on Christmas Eve–?”
“It’ll look bad if I don’t. Look, I got you something.” Boom. The healing oil from the spiritual store. Just, after a quick print at the library, I replicated Josiah the Messiah’s healing oil. It was ‘his.’
Her face lit up like a sparked match, and she hugged me, weakly. She didn’t have much strength left in her. The chemo was too painful, so she never completed the clinical trials. My mother was plagued with emotional burdens all her life, but physical pain was where she drew the line. She resigned her remaining lifespan up to God’s will, and, when the time came, ultimately leave me for Heaven. A ticking clock that I was well aware of. I hated God for nearly having her.
For the party, I dressed in a slim, black dress – what I wore on my first date with Michael. He’d be coming with me. However, this time my collarbones protruded sickly, and it distracted from my figure. I tightly pinched them by my throat, squeezing and squeezing. My sharp nails pierced the skin, and I yearned to rip my bones out.
“This isn’t the water!” Mami yelled, barging into our bedroom. “I swear to God if it was from that witchcraft store–”
“It was.” Detached.
“Mija... What did you do? I’m a Christian,” She was terrified of whatever she had just anointed on her body, like it was radioactive, like she was going to meet the same fate as that man faking an exorcism on TV this morning.
“Mami, what I gave you is the same thing Josiah sells, just much cheaper.” “Why can’t you just respect my beliefs?!”
“They’re not beliefs! They’re lies! He just wants your money – all preachers do!”
My mom threw the bottle on the floor, and it violently recoiled, hitting me in the eye. The water sprayed in my mouth, and it tasted so bitter, so rancid and chemical and unnatural, like perfume or sanitizer. Something deep inside me turned, and my gag reflex triggered. I ran into the bathroom and threw up, kneeling on the cold tiles as the ends of my hair dipped into the toilet water. I pulled away from the toilet bowl and wiped my lips. I vomited blood.
Michael honked twice. My mother prayed on her knees by our painting of Jesus. She asked Him to forgive me. I left the apartment, paranoid that all my nosey neighbors were staring at me through their peepholes. The walls were paper thin. So thin. They must be judging us when we fight.
“Hey,” Michael leaned in for a kiss. I moved my head to spare him the taste of vomit, and his lips crashed onto my ear. He sucked his teeth, sighed, and switched the gear into drive. “What did I do now?”
The aftertaste of that fake healing water she threw still flooded my mouth, mixed with vomit and the iron of blood. I could’ve thrown up right now — again, in his car. Elena was probably just sitting in this very seat moments before me. I think it’s warm. Yeah, it’s warm. How would he clean up the vomit? Would be funny, honestly. Would be well-deserved.
“You didn’t even visit me,” I said.
“This again... You know I can’t drive to Oneonta. My car is a piece of shit.”
“It was my birthday.”
“I FaceTimed you.”
“Is it because you were with Elena?”
Something shifted. Michael was not expecting that, and every cell of his body froze – I could tell. We ran the red light.
“Because you can,” I spoke, confidently so, “You can be with her, but swear you won’t leave me. I need you, Michael.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. It’s scary not knowing what someone is thinking, especially right after you pulled a wildcard. No, it was more than a wildcard. It was a desperate attempt. A final plea and Hail Mary. The ones right before the credits roll.
“I think we should break up,” He said.
Michael dropped me off alone in front of Will’s house. He had asked if I felt like going home instead, but seeing my mother, especially now, was out of the question. Julissa welcomed me with a tight hug. Will passed me a Modelo. I didn’t recognize so many of my supposed coworkers. New people were hired left and right so there was no chance for familiarity. I couldn’t identify any of these strange faces in Christmas hats greeting me and wishing me a Merry Christmas Eve, back-to-back to back.
“You okay?” Julissa asked, “You’re... off.” “Yeah, I just... need the bathroom.”
“It’s over here. Do you need to talk?” “Yeah, later.”
I splashed cold water on my burning face and the back of my neck, but it wasn’t enough. I gagged as the putrid taste of that healing water resurfaced. A cold drop of blood fell from my lips, again. Whatever was in it destroyed my insides. I might be having a deadly allergic reaction. I should go to the hospital. I need Michael to drive me. I need Michael. I don’t know anyone around me.
“If a man commits adultery with another man’s wife–”
His unforgettable voice echoed in the small bathroom. Josiah Baker was in the mirror’s reflection, staring right at me with his clear aviator glasses and suit and tie. His blue eyes turned to tiny slits because of his unnaturally wide smile. The light-up bathroom mirror made him appear to be glowing, as if under a Heavenly ray. As his lips moved, I heard his voice not from my ears, but solely in my mind.
“–both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death.”
“Leviticus 20:10,” I said to him.
“Leviticus 20:10,” He confirmed with a nod.
The bathroom door opened. Elena held her phone mid-text, and jumped, startled at the sight of me. Stammering, she collected herself.
I kept my grip on the cold, porcelain sink in front of me and glared at her, feeling something inside me turn yet again, and from the pits of my heart crawl out on eight legs. The taste of the healing water burned my throat as it crawled up.
“What the hell was that at work today?” Her voice shook like partially regretting this confrontation, yet she stood her ground. “You need help, you know that?!”
Saying nothing, I passed her, halfway out of the bathroom.
“I guess I’d hate me, too.” She let out a little laugh behind me.
The eight-legged monster inside me crawled up to my throat. I darted back into the bathroom and forced her into the sink as her head hit the mirror – hitting Josiah’s satisfied reflection. Her thumb’s fingernails pierced into my eyes, but for the life of me, I couldn’t feel pain. I couldn’t feel anything. She pushed me off of her and tried to make a run for it to the hallway. Before she could make it, I grabbed the cross of her necklace and pulled and pulled. She descended as I choked her, and I went down with her, pulling the silver crucifix with all my might until she stopped fighting. Until her eyes rolled back. Until I gently laid the back of her head on the tiled floor.
Her phone buzzed with several text notifications.
Michael: hey
I broke up with her. she lost her mind
gonna look like the bad guy cuz its Christmas eve but oh well at least i don’t have to worry anymore lol.
it was a long time coming tbh
call me to pick you up. you’re coming to my family’s Christmas party tmrw right? :p
Josiah sermoned the hallway. Walking into our building meant simultaneously stepping into his Cathedral. She really should’ve kept the TV down as a courtesy to our neighbors, but anything I told her about that televangelist scammer went in one ear and out the other.
“Hey, Mami, I’m going to a Christmas party tonight. Work people.”
“Huh? You’re gonna leave me on Christmas Eve–?”
“It’ll look bad if I don’t. Look, I got you something.” Boom. The healing oil from the spiritual store. Just, after a quick print at the library, I replicated Josiah the Messiah’s healing oil. It was ‘his.’
Her face lit up like a sparked match, and she hugged me, weakly. She didn’t have much strength left in her. The chemo was too painful, so she never completed the clinical trials. My mother was plagued with emotional burdens all her life, but physical pain was where she drew the line. She resigned her remaining lifespan up to God’s will, and, when the time came, ultimately leave me for Heaven. A ticking clock that I was well aware of. I hated God for nearly having her.
For the party, I dressed in a slim, black dress – what I wore on my first date with Michael. He’d be coming with me. However, this time my collarbones protruded sickly, and it distracted from my figure. I tightly pinched them by my throat, squeezing and squeezing. My sharp nails pierced the skin, and I yearned to rip my bones out.
“This isn’t the water!” Mami yelled, barging into our bedroom. “I swear to God if it was from that witchcraft store–”
“It was.” Detached.
“Mija... What did you do? I’m a Christian,” She was terrified of whatever she had just anointed on her body, like it was radioactive, like she was going to meet the same fate as that man faking an exorcism on TV this morning.
“Mami, what I gave you is the same thing Josiah sells, just much cheaper.” “Why can’t you just respect my beliefs?!”
“They’re not beliefs! They’re lies! He just wants your money – all preachers do!”
My mom threw the bottle on the floor, and it violently recoiled, hitting me in the eye. The water sprayed in my mouth, and it tasted so bitter, so rancid and chemical and unnatural, like perfume or sanitizer. Something deep inside me turned, and my gag reflex triggered. I ran into the bathroom and threw up, kneeling on the cold tiles as the ends of my hair dipped into the toilet water. I pulled away from the toilet bowl and wiped my lips. I vomited blood.
Michael honked twice. My mother prayed on her knees by our painting of Jesus. She asked Him to forgive me. I left the apartment, paranoid that all my nosey neighbors were staring at me through their peepholes. The walls were paper thin. So thin. They must be judging us when we fight.
“Hey,” Michael leaned in for a kiss. I moved my head to spare him the taste of vomit, and his lips crashed onto my ear. He sucked his teeth, sighed, and switched the gear into drive. “What did I do now?”
The aftertaste of that fake healing water she threw still flooded my mouth, mixed with vomit and the iron of blood. I could’ve thrown up right now — again, in his car. Elena was probably just sitting in this very seat moments before me. I think it’s warm. Yeah, it’s warm. How would he clean up the vomit? Would be funny, honestly. Would be well-deserved.
“You didn’t even visit me,” I said.
“This again... You know I can’t drive to Oneonta. My car is a piece of shit.”
“It was my birthday.”
“I FaceTimed you.”
“Is it because you were with Elena?”
Something shifted. Michael was not expecting that, and every cell of his body froze – I could tell. We ran the red light.
“Because you can,” I spoke, confidently so, “You can be with her, but swear you won’t leave me. I need you, Michael.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. It’s scary not knowing what someone is thinking, especially right after you pulled a wildcard. No, it was more than a wildcard. It was a desperate attempt. A final plea and Hail Mary. The ones right before the credits roll.
“I think we should break up,” He said.
Michael dropped me off alone in front of Will’s house. He had asked if I felt like going home instead, but seeing my mother, especially now, was out of the question. Julissa welcomed me with a tight hug. Will passed me a Modelo. I didn’t recognize so many of my supposed coworkers. New people were hired left and right so there was no chance for familiarity. I couldn’t identify any of these strange faces in Christmas hats greeting me and wishing me a Merry Christmas Eve, back-to-back to back.
“You okay?” Julissa asked, “You’re... off.” “Yeah, I just... need the bathroom.”
“It’s over here. Do you need to talk?” “Yeah, later.”
I splashed cold water on my burning face and the back of my neck, but it wasn’t enough. I gagged as the putrid taste of that healing water resurfaced. A cold drop of blood fell from my lips, again. Whatever was in it destroyed my insides. I might be having a deadly allergic reaction. I should go to the hospital. I need Michael to drive me. I need Michael. I don’t know anyone around me.
“If a man commits adultery with another man’s wife–”
His unforgettable voice echoed in the small bathroom. Josiah Baker was in the mirror’s reflection, staring right at me with his clear aviator glasses and suit and tie. His blue eyes turned to tiny slits because of his unnaturally wide smile. The light-up bathroom mirror made him appear to be glowing, as if under a Heavenly ray. As his lips moved, I heard his voice not from my ears, but solely in my mind.
“–both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death.”
“Leviticus 20:10,” I said to him.
“Leviticus 20:10,” He confirmed with a nod.
The bathroom door opened. Elena held her phone mid-text, and jumped, startled at the sight of me. Stammering, she collected herself.
I kept my grip on the cold, porcelain sink in front of me and glared at her, feeling something inside me turn yet again, and from the pits of my heart crawl out on eight legs. The taste of the healing water burned my throat as it crawled up.
“What the hell was that at work today?” Her voice shook like partially regretting this confrontation, yet she stood her ground. “You need help, you know that?!”
Saying nothing, I passed her, halfway out of the bathroom.
“I guess I’d hate me, too.” She let out a little laugh behind me.
The eight-legged monster inside me crawled up to my throat. I darted back into the bathroom and forced her into the sink as her head hit the mirror – hitting Josiah’s satisfied reflection. Her thumb’s fingernails pierced into my eyes, but for the life of me, I couldn’t feel pain. I couldn’t feel anything. She pushed me off of her and tried to make a run for it to the hallway. Before she could make it, I grabbed the cross of her necklace and pulled and pulled. She descended as I choked her, and I went down with her, pulling the silver crucifix with all my might until she stopped fighting. Until her eyes rolled back. Until I gently laid the back of her head on the tiled floor.
Her phone buzzed with several text notifications.
Michael: hey
I broke up with her. she lost her mind
gonna look like the bad guy cuz its Christmas eve but oh well at least i don’t have to worry anymore lol.
it was a long time coming tbh
call me to pick you up. you’re coming to my family’s Christmas party tmrw right? :p
~
I stood under streetlights. Somewhere. It was a matter of time before they find Elena and realized what I did. I don’t remember if I left her in the bathroom or not. She could be rotting in the Hudson River for all I know. Maybe she’s still breathing. I hope she feels everything.
Like a miracle, the metro bus drew near. I waved it down, even though I wasn’t anywhere near a bus stop, but Josiah Baker was the bus driver, and he tipped his driver’s hat at me. He opened the door.
“I... I don’t have money for the fare.”
“Darling, it’s Christmas.”
Somehow – midnight. Right. It’s Christmas. Where did the last six hours go? I looked down at my hands and realized I still had the crucifix of Elena’s necklace in my palm. The inflamed cross shape of it infected and reddened my skin by how tightly I gripped it. Like a burn mark. Dazed, I arrived home. My right heel was broken, and all my toes were bruised or bleeding. The soles of my feet were absolutely filthy, coated in pure black. My mother was asleep on our bed with a rerun of Josiah Baker on TV. There was an empty box of tissues knocked over and crumpled, wet napkins cluttering around her. Softly, she felt me, and she woke up. “Mija..?”
“It’s at 6 am, right? Josiah’s sermon? If we drive now, we can make it.”
Like a miracle, the metro bus drew near. I waved it down, even though I wasn’t anywhere near a bus stop, but Josiah Baker was the bus driver, and he tipped his driver’s hat at me. He opened the door.
“I... I don’t have money for the fare.”
“Darling, it’s Christmas.”
Somehow – midnight. Right. It’s Christmas. Where did the last six hours go? I looked down at my hands and realized I still had the crucifix of Elena’s necklace in my palm. The inflamed cross shape of it infected and reddened my skin by how tightly I gripped it. Like a burn mark. Dazed, I arrived home. My right heel was broken, and all my toes were bruised or bleeding. The soles of my feet were absolutely filthy, coated in pure black. My mother was asleep on our bed with a rerun of Josiah Baker on TV. There was an empty box of tissues knocked over and crumpled, wet napkins cluttering around her. Softly, she felt me, and she woke up. “Mija..?”
“It’s at 6 am, right? Josiah’s sermon? If we drive now, we can make it.”
~
My mother found God in a 24-inch television when her Messiah foresaw a Holy Water that cures all ailments. Diseases were creations of Satan, and thus only the creations of God could heal them - not man. Not chemotherapy. I wondered if God would ever meet me in a TV like that, because why should I seek Him out? I found religion in my first love. Michael was more than a boyfriend, but a purpose. To be loved by someone else was prayer. I realized my mother never loved me much, loved me so intensely as Michael... or perhaps, as intensely as I loved Michael. But he left me, just as she will, too, and I felt like I was wandering a vast, uninhabitable desert alone.
I drove our old car to rural Pennsylvania, a sleepy countryside on Christmas dawn. We were both surprised the car made the trip. It always broke down.
“It’s because we’re meant to be here,” My mother urged in a hushed, raw voice, “It was part of His plan.”
The Holy Cathedral of Our Lord was like a political rally. Josiah Baker’s presence was enormous, to breathe the same air as him felt like a privilege. However, he didn’t seem human enough to even need oxygen. He emerged from the altar, holding his bible close. The choir sang gospels. The soundwaves of the organ vibrated in my heart. Tremors. My mother was moved to tears before he even began speaking. Crying just being there. She reached my hand on the chair beside her and squeezed. We got seats in the Cathedral on pure luck. It was packed on Christmas. We were put on a waiting list in case people with tickets didn’t show up, and we got in. Because we’re supposed to be here. It’s part of His plan.
Josiah modeled a pure white suit. Worshippers with ailments lined up to be healed with the power of the Holy Spirit through him.
“This athlete who has rheumatoid arthritis – God heal her today!” Josiah preached into his headset. A woman approached the start of the line, he put his hand out, and she fell backward like a loose domino. Two security guards grabbed her so she gently hit the floor, guiding her down. Like how I guided Elena.
“Lord, may her tumor disappear!” An old woman came forward. He put his hand up, and she fell back, into security’s arm.
“A stroke three days ago! All the pain and paralysis – gone!” A man in his 50’s -– fallen.
“She had a stomach condition all healed! And her husband with chronic pain gone – today!” Like a mystic healer, Josiah Baker raised his arm, and the pair fell back.
When the line was cleared, Josiah announced there was time for a few more healings, all pre-determined and chosen randomly based on the seating arrangement. A random selection of worshippers. Security went to collect the lucky few, and he stopped before my mother. Her seat was chosen.
“Me...?” My mom, with surprised eyes by this message from God Himself was rendered speechless. Finally, her cancer would be healed by the mystic Messiah himself.
She turned to me. Kissed my cheek. “God sanctify you.”
My mom took my hand and gave it to the security guard. I went limp like I had left my body. Vacantly sleepwalking, I let him pull me off the chair, and as I blinked, I saw the arena from the stage. I was one of 12 lucky followers, last in line.
“Go be anointed! Holy, holy! Yes, sir! Yes, sir! All the pain is gone!” Distorted voices combined.
The eleven chosen believers fell one by one, and finally, it was my turn. Josiah Baker towers when you’re right in front of him. His dominant presence so close was threatening. He raised his hand. My legs gave out due to my nerves. Or I was pushed by him. Or the security guards pulled the back of my black dress. Or all of these things, because I felt a gust of wind everywhere. Something leaped out of my mouth. Something colored like blood and with eight legs. It fell on its back with its hairy arachnid feet twitching upwards, dead.
I hit the floor, and the security guards picked me up. I stared at the cathedral of worshipers, praising us. I woke up. Woken up finally, like I’d been sleep-walking the past 12 hours, but the state of urgency and confusion hit me like a needle in my veins. I felt my blood pressure shoot up. The bitter taste of the healing oil resurfaced. I clenched my beating heart. Tense and cramping. A heart-attack. I had no idea what I was fucking looking at, but I was in the gut of the beast. The fanaticism. The screaming praise. The overpowering organ. I screamed, anguished. My long-unhinged jaw, wide-open, but no one could hear my yells over Josiah Baker’s sermon.
I drove our old car to rural Pennsylvania, a sleepy countryside on Christmas dawn. We were both surprised the car made the trip. It always broke down.
“It’s because we’re meant to be here,” My mother urged in a hushed, raw voice, “It was part of His plan.”
The Holy Cathedral of Our Lord was like a political rally. Josiah Baker’s presence was enormous, to breathe the same air as him felt like a privilege. However, he didn’t seem human enough to even need oxygen. He emerged from the altar, holding his bible close. The choir sang gospels. The soundwaves of the organ vibrated in my heart. Tremors. My mother was moved to tears before he even began speaking. Crying just being there. She reached my hand on the chair beside her and squeezed. We got seats in the Cathedral on pure luck. It was packed on Christmas. We were put on a waiting list in case people with tickets didn’t show up, and we got in. Because we’re supposed to be here. It’s part of His plan.
Josiah modeled a pure white suit. Worshippers with ailments lined up to be healed with the power of the Holy Spirit through him.
“This athlete who has rheumatoid arthritis – God heal her today!” Josiah preached into his headset. A woman approached the start of the line, he put his hand out, and she fell backward like a loose domino. Two security guards grabbed her so she gently hit the floor, guiding her down. Like how I guided Elena.
“Lord, may her tumor disappear!” An old woman came forward. He put his hand up, and she fell back, into security’s arm.
“A stroke three days ago! All the pain and paralysis – gone!” A man in his 50’s -– fallen.
“She had a stomach condition all healed! And her husband with chronic pain gone – today!” Like a mystic healer, Josiah Baker raised his arm, and the pair fell back.
When the line was cleared, Josiah announced there was time for a few more healings, all pre-determined and chosen randomly based on the seating arrangement. A random selection of worshippers. Security went to collect the lucky few, and he stopped before my mother. Her seat was chosen.
“Me...?” My mom, with surprised eyes by this message from God Himself was rendered speechless. Finally, her cancer would be healed by the mystic Messiah himself.
She turned to me. Kissed my cheek. “God sanctify you.”
My mom took my hand and gave it to the security guard. I went limp like I had left my body. Vacantly sleepwalking, I let him pull me off the chair, and as I blinked, I saw the arena from the stage. I was one of 12 lucky followers, last in line.
“Go be anointed! Holy, holy! Yes, sir! Yes, sir! All the pain is gone!” Distorted voices combined.
The eleven chosen believers fell one by one, and finally, it was my turn. Josiah Baker towers when you’re right in front of him. His dominant presence so close was threatening. He raised his hand. My legs gave out due to my nerves. Or I was pushed by him. Or the security guards pulled the back of my black dress. Or all of these things, because I felt a gust of wind everywhere. Something leaped out of my mouth. Something colored like blood and with eight legs. It fell on its back with its hairy arachnid feet twitching upwards, dead.
I hit the floor, and the security guards picked me up. I stared at the cathedral of worshipers, praising us. I woke up. Woken up finally, like I’d been sleep-walking the past 12 hours, but the state of urgency and confusion hit me like a needle in my veins. I felt my blood pressure shoot up. The bitter taste of the healing oil resurfaced. I clenched my beating heart. Tense and cramping. A heart-attack. I had no idea what I was fucking looking at, but I was in the gut of the beast. The fanaticism. The screaming praise. The overpowering organ. I screamed, anguished. My long-unhinged jaw, wide-open, but no one could hear my yells over Josiah Baker’s sermon.
~
That night, the twelve people chosen for Josiah’s blessing received a fifty-thousand-dollar check from an anonymous believer. The donor wrote in a note that Christmas was a time of giving to bless others – that they saw it in a dream last night, and that we were the Twelve Apostles reincarnated. They called it the prosperity gospel.
We moved to Pennsylvania to a city nearby Josiah’s Cathedral. My mother and I go to his sermon on Sundays. We paid her medical bills off with the money. I transferred from Oneonta to a community college nearby. My mother had a change of heart and decided to go through with her chemotherapy. She didn’t agree to go against nature, but she didn’t want to leave me so young. I shaved her head for her, delicately and carefully as I bent the eclectic razor around her ear. She looked like a newborn.
Days before we moved, the police stopped at our door on Christmas night. They investigated what happened to Elena – she alleged I had attacked her. Furthermore, my disappearance crossing state lines into Pennsylvania was suspicious. I simply denied everything. They then asked if I knew where her gold, cross necklace was. Apparently, her jewelry was precious, and she told them I’d likely still have it to sell it. I clenched my right fist behind me, concealing the imprint of a scorched crucifix, and answered no.
Michael called me up and begged for another shot. I refused. Told him I had a change of heart. That I wanted a faithful Godly man. One who’d patiently await his seat in Heaven with me and would not leave me to die in the Judean desert.
We moved to Pennsylvania to a city nearby Josiah’s Cathedral. My mother and I go to his sermon on Sundays. We paid her medical bills off with the money. I transferred from Oneonta to a community college nearby. My mother had a change of heart and decided to go through with her chemotherapy. She didn’t agree to go against nature, but she didn’t want to leave me so young. I shaved her head for her, delicately and carefully as I bent the eclectic razor around her ear. She looked like a newborn.
Days before we moved, the police stopped at our door on Christmas night. They investigated what happened to Elena – she alleged I had attacked her. Furthermore, my disappearance crossing state lines into Pennsylvania was suspicious. I simply denied everything. They then asked if I knew where her gold, cross necklace was. Apparently, her jewelry was precious, and she told them I’d likely still have it to sell it. I clenched my right fist behind me, concealing the imprint of a scorched crucifix, and answered no.
Michael called me up and begged for another shot. I refused. Told him I had a change of heart. That I wanted a faithful Godly man. One who’d patiently await his seat in Heaven with me and would not leave me to die in the Judean desert.