Verse (11 page)

Chapter 46

I can’t sleep, this hospital room is so stuffy. I get out of bed, put my jeans on, and head down the hall.

It’s so brightly lit at 3 a.m. but quiet other than the humming from a thousand machines. I need some fresh air.

I take the elevator up and then the stairs to the roof deck. It’s empty and I go out to the railing and lean on it. All my followers are gone to their homes or hotels. I like the view of downtown at night.

I walk back to a bench and take a seat.

The door clicks open and a Jew, one of those with the hat and beard and wool coat, walks out and over to me. He recognizes me. “The boy from the news, the ‘messiah.’”

“Manuel,” I say.

“Judah Cohen.” We shake hands. “Mind if I sit?”

“No, please.”

He does so. “I’ve been visiting with a family, their father is dying. Leukemia. It takes a long time and it’s very painful. For everyone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Old men die, that’s what we do.”

I nod. “You’re a rabbi?”

“What gave me away?”

I half-laugh and say, “Can I ask you a question?”

“I’m a rabbi, aren’t I? What else am I here for?”

“Okay. You don’t think I’m the messiah, do you?”

“Well as a rabbi, I’m obligated to answer a question with a question, it’s in the job contract. So, are you Jewish?”

I shrug, “Why?”

“Ah, you’re learning quickly. Now I know you’re Jewish.”

I laugh.

He says, “Well, the messiah is the king of Israel and heir to the throne of David. So whether he’s Jewish or not matters, wouldn’t you say?”

Mom said Grandma or Grandpa was Jewish and I am the messiah for all religions. I guess— “Yeah, I am Jewish.”

“Do you know what Lenny Bruce said about why God made goyim?”

“Uh, no.”

“He said, ‘Who else would buy retail?’”

Huh?

He says, “Tough crowd. Okay Immanuel, you asked if I think you’re the messiah, but why do you think you’re the messiah?”

“I drowned a few years ago and before the swim coach could revive me, I had a vision. God told me I was supposed to save the world, that I was the messiah.”

He says, “First drowned, then shot, and still he lives? I don’t know if you’re the messiah, but maybe you’re some sort of un-killable superman?”

“If I was, I wouldn’t get hurt so much.”

“Be careful of self-pity. HaShem has spared your life, shouldn’t you be grateful?”

“I am. But you still haven’t answered my question. Do you think I could be the messiah?”

“The messiah is a new Davidic king of Israel, so will you be king?”

“That’s my destiny.”

“That was a rhetorical question. But maybe I’m underestimating you. So tell me, your highness, how are you going to do that?”

“You’re the rabbi, you tell me.”

“Well, messiah or mashiakh literally means anointed, to have one’s head rubbed with oil, which was done by the kohanim, the priests in Ancient Israel, as a way of appointing the king.”

“Sure, I read
Samuel
and
Kings
.”

“So there’s your first step. As for ascending the throne of Israel, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Okay, can you recommend a priest?”

He laughs and shrugs.

I say, “But the messiah isn’t just king of Israel, right? He’s king of the whole world. And he’s supposed to save the world.”

“Yeah, just like James Bond. Okay you’re too young for Lenny Bruce, don’t tell me you don’t know James Bond.”

“They still make James Bond movies.”

“I know, but Roger Moore is the only true James Bond, am I right?”

I shrug.

“Not a
Moonraker
fan? I might have a heart attack right here on this hospital bench. At least I’d be in the right place, am I right?”

I laugh. “I guess so.”

“Well you’re right, the messiah is the savior, not just of the Jews, but of the whole world.”

“Well do you think my vision could be real? Do you think God really did choose me?”

“Only you and God can know for sure. And at least one of you might be crazy.”

I laugh.

He says, “The world needs Mashiakh. So if your vision was real, then I truly wish you luck.”

“Thank you, Rabbi.”

He stands. “I’ll be getting back to the family.”

He puts a hand out, I shake it, and he leaves.

Chapter 47

Mom says, “They said you’re doing much, much better. Doctor Ennis has agreed to let you come home tomorrow.”

“I don’t think I’m ready.”

“What do you mean? You look good. You know… You look much better.”

“I don’t feel better.”

“Just yesterday you said you felt better.”

“Well… now I don’t. I feel worse.”

“Do you know how much this is costing?”

“I thought I was covered under your insurance.”

“Yeah you are, you wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t. But they don’t cover everything, it’s a PPO. And once the doctor says you can go home, they stop coverage.”

“So let’s talk to her, tell her I still need more time.”

“But you said you were feeling better. And the doctor says you are better.”

“Okay. Fine.”

“Well, are you not feeling better?”

Jesus. “No, I am.”

“If you need to stay, you should stay.”

“You just said… I just agreed with what you wanted. What do you want from me?”

“Well if you need to stay…”

“No, I want to go home.”

“Okay. Are you sure?”

“What do you want me to say? No I’m not sure.”

“Well, then stay for a few more days.”

“No, it’s costing you a lot of money.”

“I don’t care about the money.”

“Yeah.”

“What? You think I care more about money than my son?”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

“I’ll come home tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good. I want you to come home. You should get out of this place. It’s terrible. I think hospitals are full of disease.”

“All right.”

“Okay, get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She puts a hand on my forehead, takes it off, kisses my forehead, and leaves.

I turn on the television, but a nurse comes in with a phone, and I shut the TV off. She says, “Call for you.”

“For me?” I take it and answer, “Hello?” The nurse leaves.

“Hi, Manuel?” A man with a faded southern accent.

“Yes?”

“This is John Scheffield.”

“John Scheffield?”

“Do you know who I am?”

I know that name. That voice. “Of course.”

“You watch
Cross Talk
?”

Cross Talk
?

Cross Talk
!

I say,
“
I’m a big fan of
Cross Talk
. Of yours. Of your whole network.”

“You watch the Christian Network?”

“Yes sir, you know,
God Cops
and
Cross Talk
. Of course.”

“I’m happy to hear that. I see you’ve made quite a little stir for yourself up there in Seattle. I’m sure all the sharks in suits are circling you now, throwing you all kinds of offers.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Well I just wanted to throw my hat in the ring, see if you’d consider an honest operation.”

“Um, of course. I might.”

“You know we can’t offer what CNN would for an interview, but I think you’d love our little network down here.”

“Absolutely.”

“Great, when do you want to come see us?”

“See you?”

“Here in Los Angeles? You’re in the hospital, right?”

“I’m just checking out.”

“Terrific. I’ll have the jet fly out and we’ll have a limo pick you up.”

Chapter 48

I walk across the airfield to the private jet and follow the pilot up the staircase car and inside. I take a seat in one of the big plush chairs and the stewardess hands me a hot towel. I rub it all over my hands and face.

We take off.

I grip the armrests and lean back and shake with a silent cackle.

Oh my god.

I cannot believe this.

It’s happening.

It’s really happening.

We land and it’s hot walking across the runway and I take off my jacket. They take me to a limo and I’m driven from Van Nuys through heavy, miserable traffic to downtown Los Angeles.

It’s so barren. There are plenty of skyscrapers, but hardly any people around. Just decrepit storefronts and beat-up cars.

The limo drops me in front of the network’s building. A sheet of paper is taped to the inside of the door that reads

Tours 11am-3pm

I go in.

In the lobby are John and Pamela Scheffield.

Mrs. Scheffield rushes to me, taking my arms in her hands, squeezing them, rubbing me. “Oh Jesus! Oh Lord! It’s you! It is you. I knew I’d see your baby blue eyes before I died. I knew you’d come again.”

Mr. Scheffield walks forward and shakes my hand, studying me. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

I look around. The lobby is painted white with red and gold. Gaudy plastic Greek-style columns line the room. The receptionist is crying and sobs when she sees me looking at her.

The Scheffields give me a tour of the first floor. It’s all grey offices, nothing like the lobby. Everyone cries and comes to hug me as I pass through.

They take me into the elevator and Mr. Scheffield pushes

14

the top floor. There’s no 13, so I guess the 14
^th
floor is actually the 13
^th
.

They take me to a conference room with a bunch of people and there are more tears and hugs.

They clear out and it’s just the Scheffields and me.

They’re looking at me, expectantly.

Say something.

I say, “Do you have any questions for me?”

She says, “We expected you to descend from heaven.”

Um… “And so I have. Not in the way you expected, but I have.”

She says, “And why is there so much suffering in the world?”
I say, “Man’s folly is his own. The lord has blessed us with free will.”

He says, “Do you have any questions for us?”

I say— No, wait, you should say, “Tell me why you’re worthy of me.”

She says, “We’ve fed the hungry. We clothed the naked. We housed the homeless. We visited those in prison and the sick. We’ve, um…”

“That’s good, Mrs. Scheffield.”

She sighs, “Thank you, Lord. Please, call me Pamela. Or Pam.”

“Thank you, Pamela. And you, Mr. Scheffield?”

He says, “You’ve seen my show, you know of my network and its work spreading the Word. Serving God and the marketplace.”

“But you’re skeptical.”

He’s taken aback.

I say, “What did I say to Thomas?”

He lowers his eyes, “You’re right, I have my doubts.”

“There’s a place for Thomas in heaven, as well.”

He nods and turns to Pamela, “Honey, could you excuse us for a moment?”

She hugs me and leaves.

The door closes behind her and he laughs and shakes his head. “Well, you certainly have a way with them.”

“Thank you.”

“I know I asked you down here to talk about an interview, but let’s talk about something more.”

“More?”

“Yeah. What kind of thing were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?”

“Yeah. If you just wanna do the interview on
Cross Talk
, we usually can provide a four-figure fee. I know the all the networks are trying to get that first interview with you.”

“Yeah.”

“So if it’s an exclusive, we can raise that a bit. But I’m thinking a show, your own weekly show. In addition to the exclusive on
Cross Talk
, of course. We could consider maybe low six figures.”

“Six figures?”

“Or if you want to consider an exclusive contract with us, no appearances on any other network, no interviews at all with anyone else. That would mean maybe some
Cross Talk
appearances, maybe your own show, maybe a few movies, we could maybe go up to high six figures.”

“High six figures?”

“Yeah, what were you thinking?”

Um…

He says, “I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?”

“You want to call your agent, see what he thinks, consider other offers, but you know I’ve always considered myself a straight shooter and I think you’re the same, am I right?”

“Absolutely.”

“And lawyers just ruin this business, don’t they?”

“They sure do.”

“So if you would consider a hand shake agreement, right now, and I know your word is as strong as mine, I’ll have one of my guys draw up the papers. You tell me, how much are you thinking? For an annual contract with us. Say four years to start.”

“How much per year?”

He nods.

More than high six figures.

That would be…

But not too much more.

I say, “A million.”

He cackles loudly, “All right!” and puts out his hand and I shake it.

Chapter 49

I take the jet back to Seattle alone except for the pilots.

I cannot freaking believe it. I keep cracking up.

“What the hell, Manuel?” Mom says from the kitchen as I walk in the door. I go in and she says, “You checked out of the hospital without me?”

I shrug. “You went to work.”

“Where were you all day? I got there and they said you were gone all day!”

“Los Angeles.”

“What?”

I nod.

“You got to LA and back in day? What are you talking about? You can’t go places without my permission!”

“Can I go to the bathroom without your permission?” and I head down the hall.

I close the door. She’s left the bottle of Contin on the sink, so I take two, take a sip from the faucet to swallow them, and then splash some water on my face.

I look in the mirror. I was feeling so good, but a couple words with her and I remember the pain. I fix my hair.

I turn the faucet off and go back out.

She’s looking at me.

I just look back at her.

She says, “Two questions: what’s in Los Angeles and why didn’t you tell me you were going? And how could you go without my permission?”

“The Christian Network is in Los Angeles.”

“Okay so?”

“They hired me.”

“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said.”

“They made you a what, like a…?”

“Like an on-air personality, I guess. But I’ll have creative control. The largest independent network in the US. The ninth largest network overall. Worldwide distribution.”

“Why would they do that?”

“The owners believe in me.”

“They believe in you, so they just hired you.”

“That’s all it takes.”

“So they just hired you.”

I shrug.

She says, “How much are they paying you?”

“Of course that’s what you care about.”

“Manuel…”

“It’s fine. We’re rich. You can quit your job tomorrow. Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

She pulls out a chair from the dinner table and sits down. It creaks in strain. “Jesus,” she says hoarsely.

I shrug.

She says, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Is this for real?”

“Yeah. It’s real.” I rub my face, my eyes are burning. “I haven’t slept in days. I’m going to bed.”