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God has been in my head since I was ten and playing with
rabbits. Sometimes He is quiet and merely gives me mental head nods,
but most of the time God is downright chatty. I spend the bulk of
my days analyzing numbers in a tiny office tastefully decorated
with a picture of my Mother and a crucifix that watches over me.
Not many people come to visit, which is fine by me, because I use
that time to think - an art most people have forgotten. Even still,
my vocal chords like to get up and dance so I often find myself
two-stepping with the Almighty.
I fish through my pockets for a pack
of cigarettes but come up with two empty boxes. Keeping an eye on
traffic, I reach over and pop open the glove compartment. A herd
of Starbursts tries to leap to freedom, but I grab them and shove
them back in. As I do, though, I catch a glimpse of a battered box
of Marlboro Reds pressed up against a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. "Okay
God, this is my last shot. How about helping me out here?" And even
before I snatch up the pack and shake out the last one, I know.
God is always by my side.
|
|
Suddenly, a white Nissan slits through the vein of traffic
on my left and cuts in front of me. I slam on my brakes and the rosary
hanging from the mirror smacks into the windshield. My cigarette somersaults
out of my hand and onto the dashboard.
"God dammit!" Spittle peppers the windshield
and I am left fuming and furiously rubbing it away. I take a mental
note of the license plate, then yank the cigarette out of the crevice
it is hiding in. It's head bends sickeningly to the left so I salvage
what I can and push the lighter in. I
hear God cough. It is the kind of cough that a choking girl spits
up after being allowed one last breath of air. She swallows it like
shards of glass and then tries to force it out.
There was a time when I was a kid and
had taken a pack of smokes out of want instead of need. To remind
me that my hands were meant for His work, God made me return them
then cut both palms from web to pinkie. I hope this isn't the same.
"Roy." His voice is slow and
measured. "You have sinned." |
