Jesus bowed his head humbly. “Thank you.”
“They’re not a couple,” Jessica said. “They’re just friends.”
Destinee blinked at Jesus. “Oh. I though y’all were boyfriends.”
“Menfriends,” Jesus corrected.
“Nooo,” Jessica cut in again. She addressed her mother to clarify. “They live together and Jeremy is—” She caught herself just in time. Considering Jeremy didn’t even believe he was an angel, it was probably best not to go around convincing others he was. “Jeremy owns the condo, and Jesus just rents a room. They’re friends. Not romantic. Not that it would be wrong if they were romantic, just that it’s not the case.”
Destinee bit back a smile. “You mean to call him Jesus?” She chuckled when Jessica gulped in air. “Baby, if you wanted a sibling, you coulda just told me. It’s a little late for that now,” she kidded, “but I could give it a shot.”
Jesus stepped forward after glancing at Jessica for confirmation, which she was too shocked to provide. He set a hand on Destinee’s shoulder. “She meant to say it. I’m Jesus.”
Destinee narrowed her eyes at him. “Like hell you are. You’re way too sexy to be Jesus. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve had that book spoiled for me enough times to know he didn’t make it to his happily ever after.”
Jesus’s hand dropped from her and he took a slight step back, passing off the baton to Jessica, who begrudgingly took it. “No, Mom. It really is him. He’s in a different body. I”—where did she even start?—“he kept interrupting my sex dreams, so I told him to ask for a promotion, and God gave him a body.”
Destinee only squinted harder as Jesus added on, “Don’t worry. The man was already dead and—wait … Huh. I suppose there was a good chance God just killed him specifically for this purpose. Had not considered that. But, no, that makes sense. He was so freshly dead and I was assured his was a healthy body simply in need of a soul …” Jesus looked down at his hands. “Oh boy. This is awkward.”
HE WAS NOT LIVING A GOOD LIFE.
“Oh, I don’t believe that at all,” Jessica said.
Jesus shook the dead man’s head. “Neither do I. Father, why would you trick me?”
“Is he here right now?” Destinee demanded, but they both ignored her.
NO TRICK. I TOLD YOU HE WAS ALREADY DEAD, AND HE WAS. I KILLED HIM, JUST LIKE I KILL MANY PEOPLE. NOT ALL, MIND YOU.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jessica said, waving Him off. “Original Mistake. We know.”
“Hold on,” Destinee said, stepping between them so she wouldn’t continue to be ignored. “You’re really Jesus?”
“Yep.”
She looked over her shoulder at her daughter. “Y’all ain’t shitting me, right?”
“Nope.”
“Goddamn,” she breathed, taking in the sight of him. “I have a son?”
Jessica answered, “Nooo … You didn’t birth him.”
“But he’s your half-brother, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“And I’m your mother. So he’s my half-son.”
Jesus seemed happy to go along with that, so Jessica kept her mouth shut about the inaccuracy.
“Come here, son.” She threw her arms around him, and he nestled against her bosom, clasping his wrists behind her back.
Jessica looked at the clock. She still needed to pack before she left first thing in the morning, and they had more leftovers to load up.
When Destinee finally let go of him, she started gabbing. “You and your manfriend ought to come over to my place after you’re done with the homeless and a shower! We’ll have all kinds of delicious dishes since Jess won’t be there and I don’t want to do all the math on making smaller portions of what few dishes I make myself. Y’all can watch the game with Rex! Oh, he’d love that. You watch football? I think you’ll like it.”
“Oh football!” Jesus exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “I’ve heard about that! It’s what Christopher plays, correct?”
“Yuh-huh!” Destinee replied. “And you’ll get to see him play it!”
“How wonderful! Yes! Jeremy and I would love to come over to eat of your food and watch of your television.”
Jessica bagged up the rest of the food, setting aside a small stash to take on her road trip, and did the rest of the loading herself while Destinee explained to the son of God the importance of pecans in a Thanksgiving dressing.
Chapter Forty
Mrs. Thomas was right. There was something about a road trip that was simply magical. Jessica had only made it as far as Llano, but already she was feeling incredible. The weight of the bakery that had rested on her shoulders for over a year now was buoyed by the hope that when she returned from the retreat, she would know more and everything would be easier. She wasn’t sure how that worked, exactly, but both Mrs. Thomas and Caren had seemed sure it would be the case, and they had much more experience with this sort of thing than she did, considering she had none.
Only after she’d moved away from Mooretown did she realize how depressing the landscape was in comparison to almost everywhere else in Texas. San Marcos was a geographical smorgasbord, being located right along the fault line that separated the lush, green fields on the east from the rolling Hill Country on the west. With a spring-fed river running through the middle of campus, it was like a tropical paradise compared to her hometown. And she’d found Austin no less green and inviting.
It had all served to make her few and far between visits home less desirable than ever, but now that Rex and Destinee were in Austin, she had no reason to go back to Mooretown.
I guess some things do work out for me. She’d be turning off Highway 87 before she reached the exit for it. The drive up familiar roads felt different today, regardless. She had driven this route before plenty, at least this stretch of it, but it never felt like a trek so much as a death march.
Almost three hours later, she passed a sign on her left that she’d seen a hundred times before but never thought much about: Elbow 2 mi
Wow, was it really so close to home? Jimmy had spent so much time in Mooretown when she was younger and he hadn’t exactly kept a low profile in Midland only a short drive away. It seemed to her that if she had done something iffy like he had, she would lay low until she was a thousand miles away for the obvious reason of not getting called out.
But he hadn’t laid low. And he hadn’t been called out for years.
Why was this strange scandal happening with him now and not sooner? Some of the women were probably still in Elbow when Jimmy was only a half hour away, making waves. They had to have known about him, to have seen him on TV, on his obnoxious White Light billboards and realized that the man they knew as Jon Sonville was actually Jimmy Dean. What other aliases might he have gone by over the years? If his memoirs were to be believed, it was always a variation of Jimmy or John, but if she knew anything, it was that his memoirs were not to be believed.
Maybe the women are lying after all. She flinched, upset with herself for even entertaining the idea. She knew what it was like to be the focus of Eugene Thornton’s hit pieces. No one would subject herself to that abuse if she didn’t have a good reason to. Thornton News’s explanation was likely that the women were paid, but there were so many less unpleasant ways for a supposedly immoral woman to make good money — stripping, prostitution, politics …
So maybe that was why they’d spoken up now. They had reached a breaking point. They couldn’t stand to see Jimmy’s insanity granted legitimacy by the government. They were finally ready to do whatever it took to stop him.
Well, it hadn’t worked. Sixteen women hadn’t been enough. Perhaps Judith was right and twenty-four had been the threshold needed for credibility.
Or perhaps there was no threshold. Perhaps the voters believed the women but simply didn’t care.
That prospect was exponentially worse.
Her phone buzzed, and she suspected it was Mrs. Thomas.
She’d texted her former teacher
at her pit stop in Llano to tell her she was right about the trip and Jessica was excited to get going. After also thanking Mrs. Thomas for paying her way, she asked her to send over the most up-to-date version of the contract she had. While a major part of Jessica had expected Mrs. Thomas to outright refuse, there was just something about the day that washed away that skepticism and said, “Of course she’ll send it over! There’s no reason she wouldn’t!”
And when Jessica pulled up to the next stop sign just a few miles outside of Andrews, she previewed the text and saw that her optimism was right in the end.
Mrs. T: So happy to hear you’re excited! Of course I’ll send the contract. Emailed it to your business address just…
That was where the preview cut off, but another notification told her the email was there and waiting, attachment included. The preview included a greeting and another congratulations on attending the retreat.
It was only then, once Jessica felt the unmistakeable weight of shame lift from her, that she even realized it was there. Featherlight layer upon layer of “you should have already handled this” had settled on her over the months, a new one sticking to her with each pang in her stomach when she remembered she hadn’t yet read the contract or when someone else mentioned it, until the simple act of asking Mrs. Thomas for it was too much heavy lifting.
But in the good mood she was in now, it had felt laughably easy to ask again. After all, it was a simple favor. Jessica wasn’t asking too much …
A car honked behind her. She’d forgotten she was sitting at an intersection. She hurried onward, feeling her burden lift even further, the heavy thoughts of a moment ago fluttering away.
She finally had a copy of the contract. It had been just one thing after another trying to get her hands on it. Now that she had it, though, all the false alarms and miscommunications seemed comical.
I should read it before I start the retreat.
But the thought sent sludge through her veins. No, she was done with work for the week. The contract would still be there when she finished and was Boss 2.0. In the meantime, though, she could send it on to Dr. Bell and cross that task off her list. It sure would be nice to have Dr. Bell off her back about it. See? She was already a more effective leader. When she wasn’t overwhelmed, everything seemed much simpler.
An opportunity to forward the contract to Dr. Bell (with the appropriate message that conveyed a little bit of gloating for having finally gotten her hands on the contract and a little bit of nonchalance) didn’t present itself until she stopped for gas in Carlsbad, New Mexico hours later. The retreat’s website had mentioned in the FAQs that the location didn’t have cell service for most of the major carriers. At the time, the idea of being without access to the internet had left her in a panic, but now, as she continued shedding layers of responsibility the farther from Austin she drove, the idea was exhilarating.
No connection with the outside world until Monday morning. What would that be like?
Oh shit. She’d forgotten to tell Wendy. She ought to do that before going MIA. After she sent the email to Dr. Bell, she composed the text to her publicist.
Jessica: No reception at the retreat. If anything needs attention, I trust you to take care of it. Do whatever you think is best.
Man. Five days without connection. There was a lot she should do before that happened, actually.
The knot in her stomach tightened, begging her to relax and forget about it.
Just a couple more texts, though.
She texted her mother: I’ll miss you on tgiving. Have fun with J&J. Go Cowboys!
Then, in the same vein, she did something incredibly stupid that she wouldn’t have done had she not been about to escape all possibility of a response for the next five days.
She texted Chris: Good luck this weekend. I have to miss the game for a retreat, but I’ll put in a good word for you with you-know-who if you swear never to mention it to Rex. I know you’ll do great without any help.
She hit send before she could second guess herself, except she was already doing that.
She pumped the gas, bought herself a Dr. Pepper inside, and flopped back into the driver’s seat. She already had one text response.
Chris: I’ll take all the help I can get. Rex never has to know.
She chuckled, took a screen shot of the remaining driving directions in case her GPS failed, then she headed further into the desert.
Chapter Forty-One
The first structure of the ranch to break the horizon was a dome roughly the size of her old elementary school. She recognized it from the website, but it looked much more wiggly through the hot distance. The rest of the domes, sprinkled around behind it, emerged when she was a mile more down the long, straight, stretch of road.
The land was farther outside of Carlsbad than she’d imagined, but she knew how “just outside” in this part of the country could mean anywhere from fifteen minutes to a couple of hours.
As she pulled into the gravel parking area, one thing became immediately clear: she was the poorest person there. Her car had an easy seven years on all the others. Great. She’d probably be the youngest, too, and everyone would call her “sweetie” and think her ideas were “adorable.”
Knock it off! You don’t know anything yet. You’re going to make a piss-poor impression on the galrus if you keep that negative shit up! No resistance!
She plastered a grin on her face as she parked and unloaded her bag, and by the time she was lugging her suitcase at her side over the gravel parking lot, the smile didn’t feel so forced.
A team of women dressed in similarly flowing robes as those Caren had worn when she’d dropped into the bakery greeted guests from behind a long table just past an ivy-covered archway leading up to the main building. A series of purple and orange cloths were draped over the table, and Jessica had the distinct suspicion that none of them were intended solely to be table cloths. They were just elegant fabric that had been repurposed for this.
The concept blew her mind. You could just use any fabric you wanted as a table cloth! You didn’t have to buy it at Walmart or a party store!
Already the freedom and write-your-own-rules-ness of this place was seeping into her bloodstream like a low dose of drugs.
“Hello there,” one of the women said, looking past two other registrants to zero in on Jessica. Her long, black hair had only a few glimmers of gray in it, but Jess suspected that had more to do with good genes than youth. The sides were pulled back in a braid that ran down the length of her back, freeing up her face to glow with her smile.
“Hi,” Jessica said, pulling up short and plopping her suitcase on the ground, feeling less graceful than she had in a long time, and that was saying something. But how could she not feel awkward when she was staring down a wall of galrus like this?
“I’m Danielle.” The women held her hand out over the table, and her vibrant green robes caught a passing breeze.
Jessica went to shake, determined not to go in too soft and make the same mistake she had with Caren.
She grimaced as she crushed Danielle’s hand. “Jessica,” she said regretfully.
A ripple of recognition ran through Danielle’s features before she said, “Right this way. Your domicile is a bit of a walk from here. Can I take your bag?”
“No, no. I got it.”
As they veered off the main path toward one of the domes, Jessica struggled to reconcile the clay exterior, with bits of hay poking from the cracked surface, with the luxurious pictures of the lodging on the website.
But when Danielle opened the wooden door for her and Jessica was hit with a powerful gust of air conditioning to combat the unusually warm November temperatures, her worries were cast aside.
Not only did the oak bed and claw-foot tub and cushioned window seat overlooking the vast stretch of desert match up to the pictures, everything far exceeded it.
Not much to look at on the outside, but luxurious on the inside. It was probably a metaphor, but Jes
sica didn’t care so long as she got to spend a portion of the next five days enjoying the interior.
A ceiling fan with three gigantic blades spun silently and lazily, circulating the cool air and causing the leaves on the various indoor plants to dance. The open floor plan, with the toilet only a handful of yards away from the bed, didn’t bother her like she’d thought it would. Instead, it only served to show her how little a single living space needed to have for it to be wonderful.
Danielle motioned to a sturdy oak trunk at the end of the bed. “You can open up your suitcase here.”
“Thanks,” Jessica replied. But when Danielle continued to stare at her, she hesitated then said, “Oh, now?”
“I assume you brought your own clothes.”
Jessica laughed. “Yes.”
Bowing her head, that serene smile never leaving her lips, Danielle said, “Then I’ll take those from you now.”
“Huh?”
“We don’t put it on the website, but while you’re here, we’ll provide you with clothes.” She glided over to an ornately carved armoire and opened one of the double doors, providing Jessica a glimpse of the clothing inside.
It looked remarkably like what Danielle had on in a variety colors.
“Oh, hell yes,” Jessica said, and she couldn’t unzip her suitcase and extricate her sloppy, old, unflattering clothes soon enough, tossing them onto a pile on the bed.
“Those too,” Danielle said, nodding at the suitcase, but Jessica was stumped.
“There’s nothing left.”
“I see bras and underwear.”
Jessica leaned back slowly, her eyes darting to the closest exit on animal instinct. “You provide bras and underwear?”
“No. Neither are necessary accouterments, and both stifle the chakras. We request that our visitors take a break from both for the duration of the week. You may find that you have no desire to put them back on once the week is over.”
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