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Rain (part 2) "Mr. Gottfreid?" his secretary spoke over the phone. "Yes?" he shouted, the excitement of the morning in his voice. "Your wife called and left a message. I didn't want to disturb you, you seemed quite engrossed in your project." "Oh, no problem," he said with a slight laugh. "Does she want me to call her back?" "No, she just wanted you to pick up some things from the store." "I'll get the list and go out during lunch." --- The rain had cleared up, and the sun shone bitterly in the sky, jealous of Jonas' new gift. In the office, in the sanctuary of his world, he had been standing on a mountain top with his face to the wind, but now the outside air was poison in his lungs, stealing his initial exhilaration and leaving him wishing again for that thrill. "Jonas, Jonas," he thought. "What are we going to do with you?" He shook his head. "Change, mister?" a raspy voice broke into his thoughts. He turned to see an old man, squatting on the sidewalk with a withered, open hand outstretched. "Sorry, no change," Jonas lied. "Please, sir," cried the old man. "God has forsaken me. Please don't leave me without anything." Jonas started at what he said. "Do you believe in God?" Jonas tested him. "God has forsaken me!" the old man rasped, realizing he had someone's attention. "Don't worry," Jonas said, pitying him. "If you believe, things will soon change for the better." "Why do you taunt me?" the old man shrieked. "Well," Jonas chuckled proudly to himself. "I've got an inside source that says those who believe will be out of here soon. Then there will be no more suffering." "I don't believe in God!" the old man yelled. "I don't believe! I've been forsaken! Look at my filth! Give me money, not preaching!" Jonas backed up and walked away. "Self righteous bastard!" cried the man. "May God forsake you, too!" He continued down the street, looking around apologetically for someone who may have seen what had just occurred. His eyes darted among the passing people. Something was happening. The crowd on the street was no longer a crowd. Each face in front of him stood out, the image of each person he passed burned onto his retina. He stopped and closed his eyes. Distinctly he could remember the faces of the men and women he had just passed. The man with the dark mustache, defined features, and concerned look in his eyes. The woman with the blood shot eyes and lines ingrained on her face. The young couple with their lonely glances. He felt as though he knew them, as though he had met each of them once, and now his brain was making the connection across the pavement. "It can't be," he thought as he shook his head and continued on. "There's no way I've met all these people." He walked on, absorbing all of this. He walked past a TV store, and in the window dozens of screens screamed at him, hurling his way images of a green throne in a spectacular palace of glass. He stopped to study it, but all the TVs cut to a commercial break in sync. As he turned to continue down the street, he realized how quiet it was. No one talked to anyone else. But as he looked out over the crowd, he saw the faces distinctly again, each one crying out to him. He shook his head and marched on through the thickening crowd, his eyes to the concrete, determined to make it to the store. --- "Sinners! The time is near! Repent!" a man cried out. He had climbed halfway up a lamppost across from a Catholic cathedral, and was handing out pamphlets to anyone who would look at him. Jonas stopped to watch this street preacher, just one of the faces who cried out to him. "Excuse me," Jonas stopped an angelic woman who was walking past him. He didn't know why he stopped her, and, embarrassed, he began to glow slightly. He tried to think of something to ask her, and pointed to the street preacher. "What do you think of him?" "What?" she asked. She looked in the direction of the street preacher and angrily winced at Jonas, at the invasion of her thoughts. "Why the hell do they do that?" Before Jonas could answer, she was gone. He shook his head, but her face held tight to his memory. He ran into the shelter of the cathedral and knelt down in a side chapel displaying a gilded, timeless Mary. He wasn't praying, though. The faces from the street haunted his thoughts and drowned out his prayers. Any words he did have for God disintegrated before he could speak them. Instead, he studied the icon in front of him. A voice spoke to him in German. Instinctively he tightened, and then relaxed when he turned to see a man a long, dark coat kneeling next to him. The man's face was young but his eyes were piercingly wise. He again spoke in German. Jonas turned back to the statue of Mary, offering her hands of peace to the weary-hearted. "Are you Catholic?" the man tried this time in English. Jonas turned to look at him. "No." "It's a beautiful place of worship, isn't it?" the man inquired. Jonas nodded. The probing was innocent enough, but he squirmed under the microscope. "Do you read the scriptures?" the man asked him. "It is written that in heaven 'Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat upon them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.'" "Yes," Jonas said. "I've read that before." "Remember also," the man said, getting up, "There was only one in heaven and on the earth and under the earth; he who was worthy to open the scroll and look at what was written on it." "Why- " Jonas began, but the man vanished out the door. He finished his thought, "why so enigmatic? And why was he telling me that?" Back on the street, Jonas trudged to the store. He was doing all he could to refrain from looking at people directly. Their faces were too heavy for him, and these feelings surprised him. In the store, he gathered the items on the list, and stood in line behind a young woman reading a book. "Have you ever read this?" she turned and asked, flashing the cover at him. He avoided eye contact and shook his head. "Hmm," she pondered. "Can I ask you a question anyway?" He shrugged. "What do you think he's getting at with this line?" she asked, then read, "'What an absurd thing it was to expect happiness in a world so full of misery.'" "I'm not sure," he said. He looked up and saw her looking back at him. Her mouth didn't move but her eyes cried out to him. "What do you think it is?" "I think there's happiness in the world." He pressed her on his convictions. "What about heaven?" "Well I guess you have to believe in heaven first, right?" Jonas nodded. "And isn't heaven more of what we picture a perfect place to be? I mean, yes, as humans we really mess a lot of things up. So if there is a heaven, why would I want a creature who messes this world up to design a perfect place?" "You don't think heaven's a real place then?" "Do you?" "Yes," he said. "Oh yeah?" She closed the book. "Why?" "Well," he started, but the words escaping him. He tried the first thing that came into his mind. "What else would I have to live for if I didn't believe that there's a better place." "But heaven?" "It's where God is," he said. "God, huh?" she smiled. She gave him the knowing look one gives a child when it relates afternoon adventures spent with a fairy. "Next please," the woman behind the counter called. The young woman turned and put her things on the counter to be checked. "Hey, could you do me a favor?" the woman asked as she wrote out her check. "The next time you talk to God, tell him to drop me a line sometime. I've been waiting for him to get back to me since I was eight." She smirked as she left. "Next please." |
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