Verse (14 page)

Chapter 60

Faye’s mom sends me up to her room. I open the door.

She’s at the window and looking out of it, sitting on the arm of the couch. She turns. “Hey. You’re here.”

I nod and close the door. I walk over to her and sit on the couch next to her.

She shifts around and puts her legs over me. “You don’t want me to get an abortion, do you?”

“No. You don’t want one, do you?”

“No.”

Okay. That’s settled.

She says, “We could tell them we got married. In secret, a few months ago. We could get one of the ministers to say he did it.”

“How long do you think it would take before the secret got out?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a few days.”

“It wouldn’t matter anyway. I’m not supposed to have sex.”

“I could say it was someone else’s.”

“I don’t want you to. I don’t to want lie. Any more. I want to stop lying.”

“Okay. Then what do you want to do?”

What do I want?

I don’t know what I want.

Do I want her not to be pregnant?

I say, “I want to get married.”

“You do?”
“Will you marry me?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

I put my hand up behind her head and she bends down and we kiss.

I rub her butt and we move to her bed.

Chapter 61

She’s fallen asleep, but I can’t. I feel awkward lying on my side with her and I haven’t slept in the same bed as anyone since Mom when I was a kid.

I extricate myself and she rolls over, pulling the blanket closer.

I go to my pants lying in a heap on the floor and pull out my phone.

32 Messages

“Hey,” Faye says and I put it down.

I turn and look over at her and say, “Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

Uncertain.

Anxious.

Scared.

“Good,” I say.

“Good,” she says. “Me too. That was amazing. Way better than the first time.”

“Yeah, for me too.” I come over and sit next to her. “I’d never done that before. I mean before the first time, I mean.”

“I figured.”

“You too?”

“Yeah. That’s what the blood meant.”

“Oh yeah.” I brush her hair back from her forehead. “Were you okay?”

She nods, “Yeah. It’s normal.”

I say, “I’d never done anything like that before.”

She says, “Not even fooled around with a girl?”

I shake my head.

“Masturbated?”

“No.”

“Wet dream?”

“No.”

“Wow.”

I say, “Have you? Masturbated?”

She nods.

She looks shy so I say, “I have too. I mean, I did it after.”

I wonder if… I smile.

She says, “What?”

“Did you think about me?”

She laughs and says, “Yes,” looking down when she says it.

I say, “Cool,” and we both laugh. “I thought about you too,” and we both laugh again.

I just look at her. I rub her cheek with my thumb, brush her hair back. She is beautiful. More beautiful than…

I climb under the covers and snuggle with her.

I say, “I need to go back to LA and talk to the Scheffields.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, stay here.”

“I’m your fiancée, I want to come, I want to be there for you.”

My fiancée. “Okay,” I say.

Chapter 62

Faye stays at my apartment and I go to the office. There’s a ton of letters and papers built up on my desk and I shuffle through them quickly, but there’s nothing interesting.

I pick up the phone and dial Scheffield’s extension.

He answers, “Hello?”

“Mr. Scheffield, it’s Manuel. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Do I need to?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

I say, “I’m coming to your office.”

“Okay.”

I hang up and stand up.

I open my door, cross the hall, and open his door.

He’s at his desk and I take a seat in front.

“What’s up?” he says.

“I’ve deceived you.”

“What?”

I say, “I did something.”

“What is this?”

“I… I got a girl pregnant.”

He leans back in his chair then stands up and comes around his desk and takes a seat on top of it in front of me. “We’ll take care of this, son.”

“What?”

“We’ll take care of it. You know, I had a child out of wedlock myself. But you never heard about that, did you?”

“Uh, no.”

“So, I know about these things and we’ll take care of it.”

“But I don’t want to take care of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to lie. And I don’t want to do anything.”

“Then you’ll be in breach of contract. There’s a morality clause in your contract, are you aware of that?”

“I don’t care.”

“Things are finally going right around here for once and you want to fuck that up!” He gets some spit on me.

I wipe my face. “I don’t want to… fuck anything up, sir, I just, I don’t want to lie.”

“We finally have the ratings up! Things are finally going well! Viacom put in a call last week! They’re making inquiries about purchasing! Do you realize how much money you’ll be costing us? We will sue.”

“Okay. I don’t know how much money you can sue me for, I only have as much as you’ve paid me.”

He’s practically vibrating with anger. “Take a few days to think about this. Consider it.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need a few days.”

“Please.”

“I’ve taken a few days. This is the decision I’ve come to.”

He slams his fist on the desk. “Fine. If that’s what you want, that’s what you get. Let’s call Pamela.”

He goes back around his around his desk and presses the intercom. “Sweetie, could you come in here a moment?”

Pam comes in, sees me, and sits in the other chair. “What’s going on?”

I say, “Pam…”

“Yes, Lord?”

“Mrs. Scheffield…”

“What is it?”

I got a girl pregnant.

I’m not who you think I am.

I think you may have got the impression that, you know, I’m God himself personified.

I say, “I let you think that I’m the, uh, that I’m a perfect man and that’s not true. I, uh, have flaws. I’m capable of sin. I have sinned. I’ve made mistakes.”

She says, “We all go through periods of doubt.”

I say, “This isn’t— You don’t understand…”

She says, “Because you’re not just fully divine, you’re also fully human.”

“So I’m as capable of sin as anyone?”

Pam says, “Capable yes, but you have the divine strength. Jesus… you… didn’t want to take the cup God offered you, but you did. Because it was necessary to redeem all mankind. You made the right choice, the one none of us were capable of. The self-sacrifice. To defeat sin.”

I say, “But I did sin.”

“No, no you didn’t.”

“I, uh, yeah I did.”

“No.”

“Pamela. Do you consider premarital sex a sin?”

“That’s… what do you mean?”

We were already married.

We got married in secret months ago.

Surprise!

I say, “I had premarital sex.”

“What?”

“I got a girl pregnant.”

“I… I…” She’s shaking her head. Gripping the armrests. She turns to Scheffield. “Did you do this?”

He says, “What?”

She turns to me. “Are you taking the fall for one of his whores again?”

“No, he doesn’t even know the girl.”

She turns to him. “You want to make him as bad a you, don’t you? Well I don’t believe you!” She turns to me. “I don’t believe you!”

I stand up and put a hand on her shoulder, “It’s true, Mrs. Scheffield.”

She grabs my hand and hugs it. Caresses it against her face. “No. No. I know who you are. I know the truth, I know you wouldn’t do this, I know your heart.”

I pull my hand free. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Scheffield.” I go for the door and she’s up and on me, hugging me tightly. “Don’t go, don’t go, tell me the truth, it’s not true.”

I pull open the door and try to wriggle out from her. “Mrs. Scheffield… Pamela… Please…”

The secretary and another couple people in the hall are staring at us.

I say, “What should I do, Mr. Scheffield?”

He yells, “You made your bed!”

“I know but…” I put my hands on Pamela’s shoulders and push, but she squeezes tighter.

Scheffield says, “You contract is terminated! I want you out of here immediately!”

Pam says, “No! Stay! We’ll work it out, I know it’s not true!”

I say, “Please, please, Pamela!”

She’s still grappling me. “No no no no no no no.”

I finally push her off and wriggle free and run down the hall. I go into my office and close the door.

I lean against it.

I take a deep breath and let it out.

Chapter 63

A press release from the Christian Network has confirmed that Manuel Kadur is no longer associated with the network. Sources inside the network indicate that it may be related to an illegitimate child fathered by Kadur.

“I haven’t technically fathered the child yet,” I say.

Faye comes out of the bedroom and says, “What?”

“Nothing. Just talking to the television.”

This is a picture of the mother, we are told her name is Faye Cheng,

“What!” Faye yells and runs over as they show last year’s yearbook photo of her.

she is a former classmate of Kadur’s.

She says, “How did they find out so quick?”

I stand up from my chair and go hug her from behind. “They were gonna find out eventually anyway.”

“I know but gosh.”

Here’s a clip from
Cross Talk
, John and Pamela Scheffield’s daily morning show, where the initial announcement was made.

It cuts to Scheffield practically spitting on himself.

Manuel Kadur has deceived me. Satan has deceived me. He is not the messiah. Reverend Falwell said the antichrist is probably a Jew living in Israel today. Well, he was wrong. He wasn’t in Israel, he was right here in America. He is the devil.

Chapter 64

I slide the last box of my stuff into the back seat, wiggle it a little to make sure it’s okay, and shut the door.

I take a breath and wipe the sweat off my brow with my sleeve. I hate the way LA air tastes. Like it’s been left out in the sun too long.

Good riddance.

I look over the car at Faye, standing next to the passenger door. “Ready?” I say.

She nods and we get in.

I pull onto the 405, which is pretty jammed, and so is I-5 till we get out of LA and down the hill out into the desert.

Faye doesn’t like the AC so we roll down all four windows and let the hot, dry air blow into the car.

We stop for gas at a station out in the middle of nowhere, the only stop for miles.

I slide my debit card into the machine as Faye goes into the minimart for the bathroom and some snacks. I hit the button with the

89

on it, and take the pump, twist open the gas cap and slide the pump in, squeeze the release and flip the latch to lock it.

My phone rings.

Erwin Yakobson

I move my thumb over the red button.

It rings again.

I push the green button and put it up to my ear and say, “Hey.”

He says, “Hey. I just called to see how you’re holding up.”

“All right. Fine. How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

I say, “You’re not calling to tell me I betrayed you?”

“For what?”

“You know for what.”

“Come on, I’m not like them. I don’t give a damn about your sex life. That was never why I was mad, I was mad because of who it was. And we already made up for that.”

“Everyone else seems to care.”

“That never had anything to do with why I believed in you. Why I believe in you now.”

“Thanks.” My throat is a little choked up and I clear it. “That means a lot.”

“Yeah, of course.”

I say, “I’m on my way back to Seattle now, I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

We say goodbye and I hang up.

The gas clicks full and I put the nozzle away and close the tank. I decline the receipt and head for the minimart.

Faye is coming out crying.

I run over to her and hold her as the door swings shut behind her.

“What happened?” I say.

“This woman…” Gasping out her words through sobs. “In there… recognized me… from the tabloids. Called me… a…” she cries harder.

Slut skank whore whatever I shouldn’t think those things.

I look inside. A woman behind the counter. A man selecting some Jerky. A woman by the candy bars. The cashier or the customer? Probably the customer. I should go in there and yell at her.

She sees me, we lock eyes, and she glares.

Faye calms down a little and we walk back to the car.

She says, “I’ll drive.” I’m not about to argue, I get in the passenger side.

We pull back onto the highway. Two lanes in each direction till the horizon.

Chapter 65

I walk into the synagogue and head to Cohen’s office. The door is open and he’s at his desk, peering at the computer through reading glasses. I knock on the door and he looks up.

“Immanuel! Have a seat. Give me a minute, let me finish what I’m doing.”

I sit in one of the plush chairs facing his desk.

He’s hunting and pecking out something on the keyboard.

He clicks with the mouse, takes off his glasses, looks up at me, and says, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

I say, “I’m looking for a place to get married and I thought of you.”

“I see.” He turns his chair toward me and leans back. “This girl, Faye Cheng? She’s a not a Jew.”

“No.”

“We’re not a reformed temple, Immanuel. Look at my payos, look at my hat. I may not
talk like this
,” in an over the top Yiddish accent, “but I’m Orthodox, I don’t do intermarriages.”

I nod. “All right.”

“I suspect you knew that, am I right? Maybe you’re here for another reason?”

Uckh. He’s so annoying. “Like what?”

“I suspect this might be a difficult time in your life? Maybe you’re looking for a little spiritual guidance?”

I sigh. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Good, let’s talk. I’m a rabbi, what else am I here for? So you’re planning to get married.”

“Yeah.”

“And where are you living at?”

“I rented an apartment down the street.”

“And what about a job?”

“I signed a four-year contract with the network and since I didn’t technically break the morality clause after signing, they have to honor it.”

“Show business!”

“Yeah. Hey I heard the rabbi business pays pretty well too.”

“Better than the priest and the minister business. Or so my friends from the bar tell me.”

I laugh.

“He laughs! I’m glad all this business in the news hasn’t made you a complete mope.”

“No. It’s not that bad. I mean I don’t like the attention on the streets these days. Not that many people recognize me actually, I wasn’t that well known, but it’s really not that bad.”

“Good. But where do you see yourself in five years? Or even next year?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you still believe you’re the messiah?”

I laugh.

“He laughs again. Why?”

“I don’t believe in God any more.”

Cohen laughs.

I say, “What?”

“I don’t believe in God myself some days. What does that matter? It’s your actions that matter.”

“Well, look at my actions.”

“It’s the Christians that think belief is so important. That they can sin all they want, if only they believe. But their beliefs are idolatrous.”

“Idolatrous?”

“They believe in an idol made of flesh, but an idol nevertheless. That idol was you for a while, for some of them.”

“Yeah.”

“And that was your first sin. Worshiping yourself as an idol.”

“You’re right.”

“God isn’t flesh, he isn’t anything. It’s better to not to believe, to say he doesn’t exist, than to say he’s something, a statue or a man. Because he’s everything.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, you made mistakes, but we all make mistakes. They’re a necessary part of the journey. The question is, have you learned from your mistakes?”

“I think I’m learning a lot, yeah.”

“Good. But it’s a long road, you have a ways to go. And in order to do the right thing you need to atone, Immanuel.”

“Atone? How?”

“Have you asked God for forgiveness? Have you prayed?”

“No.”

“When was the last time you prayed?”

I shrug.

He says, “Pray.”

“All right.”

“But that’s not enough. Like I said, it’s not your thoughts that matter. It’s your actions.”

“So what will be enough?”

“Enough for what?”

I laugh. “What are we even talking about, Rabbi? Are you trying to confuse me?”

“I don’t know, are you confused?”

“Stop playing games with me, Rabbi. Why did you ask me if I still believe that I’m the messiah?”

“It’s an important question.”

“But why?”

“Let’s talk about your father.”

I look down.

He says, “Was he a descendent of David or not?”

I look at him. “Rabbi, you know that anybody claiming that, it’s impossible to verify. But it is possible.”

“From David to Jesus to you, no doubt.”

I laugh. “Jesus wasn’t supposed to have any kids. And his father was supposed to be God, not a descendent of David. So no.”

“You have all the right answers, don’t you?”

“Would you rather I had all the wrong answers?”

“I might.”

“Rabbi Cohen, what are we talking about here?”

He says, “If you truly believed you were Mashiakh, how could you give that up? Our people need Mashiakh. They need someone to take up the burden. You know the situation in the Holy Land, the endless conflict with the Muslims. We’ll never find peace without him. We’ve seen the democrats’ and the seculars’ attempts to fix the situation. And if you truly believe it’s you, then you must do what you were born to do.”

“I failed. I sinned.”

Cohen says, “The
Talmud
tells us there were four men without sin: Benjamin, the son of Jacob, Amram, the father of Moses, Jesse, the father of David, and Kilab, the son of David. And they accomplished nothing of importance. Moses sinned. So did David. He took his servant Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba, and sent Uriah to battle to die. HaShem would have struck down David’s kingdom, as he did Saul’s, but David confessed his sin and his line was preserved for eternity. Through Solomon, a son from Bathsheba. That is the line you claim to be the heir to. Sin is a necessary part of life. Those who reach the greatest heights by necessity sink to the lowest lows. Are you Mashiakh or not?”

I look down at my lap.

I look up at him.

“Yes I am.”

“Now what will you do as Mashiakh?”

“You’ve seen what I’ve done already. I… I started with nothing and created a following, thousands of people…”

“You convinced a bunch of simple-minded goyim to worship you. That’s nothing new.”

I say, “I was born of a virgin, my name is Immanuel. My birth was foretold by the prophet Isaiah.”

“Yes, I saw your speech. But read your
Nevi'im
again. That passage about Immanuel is a reference to the Syro-Ephraimite War. It calls the mother ha’alma, which means young woman, not virgin. Christians have merely mistranslated it to be messianic. That doesn’t make you Mashiakh.”

I don’t know what to say. There’s a lump in my throat.

He says, “The gentiles may have convinced you your life was some inevitable destiny and that the messiah will unite the world through faith alone, but Mashiakh isn’t about faith. Now what will you do?”

I get it.

I say, “War. You want war.”

“I don’t want war, it’s a burden—”

“Just like being Mashiakh’s a burden? Of course it is. But you still want war, just like I want to be the messiah. You’re tired of the compromise of Israel today. You don’t want peace, not the way the secular Israelis do. You want the final peace and to get that you want the final war. I will give you what you want. That’s why I’m the messiah.”

Cohen looks away and then back at me and nods. “You know my name, Cohen. That makes me a priest. One of the kohanim. If you agree, I will go to Israel with you. I will anoint your head with oil, as your high priest.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“But…”

“What?”

He says, “The Asian girl. If you truly are the messiah, you can’t marry her.
Ezra
tells us we put aside our gentile wives after the Babylonian Exile and if you can’t do that, then you’re not Jewish, you may as well be dead, and you’re not our messiah.”

“But I can’t do that.”

He shrugs. “That’s unfortunate. For everyone.”

I stand up and say, “Goodbye, Rabbi Cohen,” and put out my hand.

He shakes it, “Shalom, Manuel.”

I leave.

I step outside into that perfect Seattle air.

What was I thinking?

I’m the messiah?

Ridiculous.

No way.

I’m getting married.