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Helen tapped him. “Listen to me. God told me He wants you to forgive. Kenny has an immortal soul just like you.”
Helen’s claims to supernatural knowledge seemed stale. He attributed this to the fact that they’d screwed, and she was still married. After enjoying adultery, he felt less sympathetic toward her preaching. “I don’t believe God speaks directly to anyone in modern times, especially not today – in this self-important city of all places.”
Helen’s folded her hands with zeal. “If you can’t forgive, you’ll never have peace. Let the rage go, or it will burn you up inside. Trust God’s love; believe His power; be His hands.”
He fought the urge to shake her. His mood shifts around this woman reminded him of a sudden storm over the ocean.
He remembered noticing how so many Gospel accounts of Jesus’ life and resurrection seemed to contradict each other. He remembered how threats from Jesus in the gospels used to make him feel despised and rejected by God. He imagined Jesus whipping the money lenders and rejecting sinners, like a shepherd who separates sheep from goats or someone who spits out lukewarm water. An all-knowing God would certainly recognize many of Jesus’ demands were impossible. Hadn’t Jesus told a would-be follower to leave a parent unburied and told sinners to amputate body parts that might cause occasion for sin?
He thought of the married couple who fell dead after trying to hide money from Peter in Acts of the Apostles. The self-proclaimed apostle Paul seemed even more severe, condemning whole categories of humans to hell, including fornicators, adulterers, sodomites, thieves and drunkards. He wished he could stop feeling so guilty for having so many doubts about religious authority and books based on oral tradition.
Helen lit another cigarette. “You said you wanted God’s help, but He won’t force you to open your heart.”
“We’ll get my license, but I’ve heard enough of your Bible thumping.”
Chapter 6: “Mrs.” Miller
They called Kenny from Helen’s cell phone, and he told them it “would be acceptable” if they came by before he went to work. At 8:30 AM, Ed found himself making phony chitchat in Kenny’s living room, pretending to have no hard feelings about his eviction. The short, brown love seat where Ed had slept was gone, along with all photos of Amy.
Helen introduced herself as “Helen Miller, the soon-to-be-ex-wife of Congressman Jonathan Miller,” and she called Ed her “new lover. Ed tried more than once to signal with his eyes that this was too much information.
An amused smile spread across Kenny’s face. “The chairman of the House Appropriations Committee?”
Helen spoke with a singsong voice: “That’s the one.”
Ed cringed at her new mannerisms. Then, he blamed himself for being too critical of her. After all, wasn’t she helping him rebuild his life?
Kenny chuckled. The D.C. insider seemed to know something they didn’t, but he also seemed to be digging for more dirt: “So Ed found a new love bird? Wow.”
Ed tucked the license and passport in his coat pocket. “Where’s Amy?”
Kenny stammered for a second. “I broke up with her and told her to move out.”
Ed couldn’t imagine that Amy had wizened up enough to move out on her own, but he didn’t buy Kenny’s version of the story, either. He imagined her body frozen in pieces in the basement’s deep freezer.
Kenny rose to his feet. “I’ve got to get to work. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Miller.”
Kenny seemed to stress the word “Mrs.,” but Ed decided not to probe, fearing he might go berserk on his former landlord. When the door slammed behind them, Ed had little doubt that Kenny would gossip about this meeting, but he knew asking Kenny not to say anything would only trigger more avoidable headaches.
As they climbed into the cab, Ed squeezed his passport. He pressed his forehead against the leather seat in front of him.
“How long will Kenny take before telling your husband? I wish we hadn’t told him so much.”
“Don’t worry about what my husband thinks, and forget Kenny. In the cosmic scheme of things, Kenny’s a louse compared to you. We all are. You just don’t realize it yet. Nothing happens by coincidence. One day, you’ll think back on this conversation and understand what I’m saying.”
Ed wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Kenny is pretty worthless, but I’m no better.”
“Give yourself credit for convincing Amy to move on with her life,” Helen said.
Ed wanted to be happy for Amy, but he still worried about her safety. He imagined Kenny hacking her to pieces with a machete. Then, he pictured Kenny burning the love seat in a field to hide blood and other evidence of the crime.
Helen closed her eyes. Ed watched her lips move in silent prayer, and the sight reminded him of a televangelist preacher who speaks in tongues, telling little blue-haired ladies to touch their television screens and mail in their checks if they want God’s graces to flow into their barren lives. Again, he blamed himself for being so critical of Helen. Why should he look down on her if her faith gave her comfort? He realized he felt jealous of her consistent ability to believe.
She leaned into him until their noses almost touched. “What are you thinking?”
He struggled to say something impressive. “In college, I wrote a paper on Fredrick Douglas. He wrote that ‘human nature is so constituted that it cannot honor a helpless man, though it can pity him, and even this it cannot do long if signs of power do not arise.’ Before I met you, I was that helpless, pathetic man. Now, I still know I’m far from perfect, but at least I want to improve. You gave me reason to hope.”
“I told you things would improve. After we get back from the cruise, I want you to call your parents again. We should fly down for a visit.”
