In Defense of Guilt

by Benjamin Berkley

Rose and Dennis were oblivious to the extracurricular activity which had taken place. The office was arranged just as it always had been, immaculate and uncluttered. But Constance was sharp. She knew what she was looking for and spotted it, immediately—a small, foil wrapper sitting crumpled on her mother’s desk. It was an uncharacteristic and careless oversight on Lauren’s part, but Constance swiftly maneuvered to cover it up.

  At the time, Constance had no idea what she was going to do with it. Should she use it as a tool with which to chasten her mother or keep it as a bargaining chip later when she wanted something? Maybe she would just give it to her father and let him handle it any way he saw fit.

  For months, she had wished her father would stand up to her mother’s bullshit and file for divorce. She was a daddy’s girl, after all. It hurt her to see him being used. Her father was a good man. Everyone who met Dennis liked him. Of course, Constance more than liked him. He was more of a nurturer than her mother ever thought of being. Her father did not deserve what her mom dished out. Even if they had to live in relative poverty, Constance vowed that if he ever decided he had had enough and left her, she would go, as well. She would stay with him no matter what, even if that meant changing schools.

  Lauren saw Constance palm the condom wrapper and became instantly furious, as much with herself as with Constance. It was a gross miscalculation on her part and damage control was going to be extremely delicate. Hell, it was going to be next to impossible. Making eye contact, they shared an angry, knowing look. In that tense moment, without saying so much as a single word, the two of them locked horns: sharing a fierce connection only a mother and daughter could. Lauren’s look conveyed, You don’t want to mess with me, little missy. Constance’s eyes returned a defiant Bring it!

  Trying to break the tension, Bradley looked up. “Miss Hill, I thank you. I think we’re in agreement, from here. I think we’ll just wait for the verdict.” Then, glancing at Dennis and even sizing him up a bit, he continued. “And let me just say, you do have a very lovely family.” And then he was gone.

  Rose stood still waiting for further instruction. Before Lauren could issue any, Constance burst out, “Dad?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Can I talk to Mom—in private?”

  “I guess, if it’s okay with your mother.”

  “Whatever, it’s fine,” Lauren interrupted, brushing him off with a second flip of the hand.

  Rose and Dennis shared an uncomfortable look. Rose, not wanting to get involved in an obvious family squabble, kept silent. Dennis nodded, and the two wisely vacated the room. Lauren closed the door behind them.

  Mother turned to daughter, tapping her foot in sheer displeasure and the two glared hard, not so much at as into one another. Their eyes focused into four, intense beams. It was an intense standoff. As much as she never wanted to admit it, Constance was becoming a great deal like her venomous mother. Lauren was proud of her intuitive offspring, although, in her eyes, she had a long way to go. It could very well be a hard lesson, but Lauren was going to show her just who the boss still was.

  Constance Hill, in a calculated wordless display, coolly crumpled the opened and noticeably empty condom wrapper between her delicate fingers. The distinct sound of crinkling cellophane filled the room.

  As the seconds waned, it became painfully evident the reaction she was hoping for was never going to materialize. She was sure that having the irrefutable evidence of her mother’s infidelity in the palm of her hand would have scared her into an unavoidable and sincere apology. That, unfortunately for her, was not the case. The only thing she had accomplished was pissing her mother off. Her fatal assumption was that her mother still cared enough about her marriage to want to save it.

  At that point, Lauren couldn’t care less. She was tired of everything, especially having to keep up with appearances. Secretly, she was glad the charade was over. She produced an equally defiant I-could-give-a-shit smile and waited. After a moment, the annoying crinkling ceased, and Lauren walked to the wastebasket next to her desk in long, confident strides and picked it up. Holding it at arm’s length to her daughter, she said nothing but waited for an appropriate response, the only acceptable one.

  Her mother still had the upper hand. Mom paid for everything: the house, cars, clothes. Constance went limp in defeat. She complied. Taking her arm from behind her back, she reached up and dropped the damaging wrapper into the trash. Lauren looked at her as if to say, Good girl, removed the plastic bag, and tied it tight. Then she walked to the door and opened it.

  Rose was packing her things to leave and talking to Dennis when Lauren opened the door and spoke her name. Both she and Dennis were startled.

  “Yes, Ms. Hill?” Rose asked, rushing toward her.

  Lauren waited until Rose was by her side, then whispered explicit instructions to her secretary to discretely dispense of the half-empty plastic bag she was holding in front of her between her thumb and forefinger. It was as if she were handling something dirty or even toxic. In an awkward transfer, Rose took the bag in like fashion, holding it at arm’s length.

  As she was about to shut the door, Lauren saw a disturbing sight. God walked through Rose, past Dennis, and, looking directly at her, headed straight toward her office. She marveled at the fact neither of them so much as flinched. Lauren slammed the door and jumped back. Undeterred by this feeble attempt to keep Him out, God effortlessly glided through the wooden fibers, stopping to survey the room before silently taking His place on the sofa.

  Exasperated with her mother’s stall tactics, Constance started tapping her foot. She was beginning to think she had made a colossal mistake giving up the discovered evidence without so much as a fight. Heck, without so much as a whimper. “Well, aren’t you going to say something?” she demanded.

  Lauren, recovering, turned to face her daughter. “Like what?” Lauren said, watching Constance’s every move. God, she thought, she even has my movements down pat.

  “I know.” God’s voice resonated inside her mind. He hadn’t spoken aloud, but Lauren had heard it just as clearly as if He had. Startled for the second time in as many minutes, she jolted her head back. God looked unfazed, a gleam in His eye. He gave her that I-call-it-like-I-see-it nod. Lauren felt as if she were being tag-teamed.

  “Aren’t you at least glad I came to see you?” Constance impatiently asked her mother.

  Still looking at God, Lauren replied, “Unannounced?”

  “I texted you.”

  “Well, I didn’t get it,” Lauren answered.

  “Well, I did. Maybe you were already . . . busy.”

  Not taking the bait in front of God, Lauren responded curtly, “I would have been home shortly, anyway.”

  Constance had needed to see her, wanted to see her, if only to catch her in the act of infidelity. What she discovered was about as close to confirmation of suspicions as one could get without actually walking in on them having sex.

  “You could have seen me then.”

  The way her mother had coated her words with sarcasm brought Constance to the verge of tearing up. Instead of comforting her daughter, Lauren rolled her eyes, and this did not go unnoticed by God. He sat patiently, saying nothing. Lauren saw the expression on His face and toned it down, but only somewhat.

  “Well, you’re seeing me now. What is it?”

  Constance was poking around her mother’s desk, mustering up the courage to respond. Then, seeing the printout of Scripture, Constance picked it up and, changing subjects, asked, “You were reading this?”

  Lauren quickly snatched it away. “It’s private.”

  “They’re Bible verses.”

  “I’m well aware. What do you want, Constance?”

  Constance wasn’t quite sure what she wanted, actually. She wanted a mother who gave a damn, that was for sure, and possibly a good wife for her honorable father. He deserved so much better. Then it came to her. She looked toward the sofa. The words came, rolling effortlessly off her tongue.
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  “I want you to change.”

  “Change how?” Lauren threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. First the Almighty and now her daughter: everyone was demanding something of her.

  Constance shuffled her feet, pausing nervously and gazing once again across the room. Finally, “You cheat on Daddy,” she blurted.

  “That’s none of your business!” Lauren scolded, resisting a glance toward God.

  “You’re not very much of a mother!” Constance exclaimed, tears welling.

  “Don’t you dare tell me that!” Lauren blurted, beside herself. “What do you want me to do, stay home and bake cookies all day?”

  “I want you to care!”

  “About what?”

  “About me. About Daddy!”

  Lauren could resist no longer. She felt compelled by a not-so-gentle tug, an unexplainable force pulling her to look at Him. When she did, God was sitting there, stoic, offering nothing, but staring sternly. That only made Lauren angrier. She wanted to speak her mind, to lash out at Him. However, in front of Constance, she felt she had to convey sanity and make a good show. Nothing and no one was going to take the upper hand from her.

  “Okay, so how do you want me to care about you? Exactly how?”

  Intimidated, Constance didn’t know how to respond.

  “Well, when you figure it out, let me know. That would be great. In the meantime—” Lauren trailed off.

  At that moment, something rather disturbing caught Lauren’s eye. Constance was looking at the sofa, and from her expression, it was clear her daughter was seeing something or someone. Could it be?

  “I don’t know what to say,” Constance said. Only the words weren’t directed toward her mother, but the couch.

  Her heart in her throat, Lauren asked, “Who are you talking to?”

  Shuffling nervously, Constance said nothing.

  “Answer me, Constance.”

  Meekly, Constance replied, “God.”

  “God? God? What do you mean?”

  “God, Mom!”

  “Where? Where is He?”

  “Sitting right there.” Constance pointed.

  God smiled in acknowledgment when Lauren turned.

  “What?”

  Lauren felt a surge of emotions. On the one hand, she was angry at God for playing games. He most certainly could have revealed Himself to others at any time but had chosen to make her believe she had bought a one-way ticket on the crazy train. On the other hand, she was also ecstatic to know it was all real and not conjured up inside a diseased mind. She was hurt, frightened, and euphoric all at the same time.

  I’m not crazy, she thought. I’m not!

  “Aren’t you God?” Constance asked.

  “I Am.”

  “You see Him? You honestly see God, with your own eyes?”

  Lauren rushed over to God, and placing a gentle hand on His face, she began to stroke His cheek. Like a sculptor molding a featureless lump of clay into a bona fide masterpiece, Lauren pulled and kneaded the Lord’s face.

  As patient as He ever was, God gazed up at her with the most adoring expression.

  “That’s God, Mom.”

  “Just stop,” she said, closing her eyes. “Wait. You are seeing God? Truly seeing God?”

  “Mom, you were just touching Him. Are you okay?”

  Lauren was completely blown away.

  “You both can see me. I’ve allowed it.”

  “Okay, stop. Just everybody stop.” Then, turning to Constance, Lauren said, “How long . . . how long have you—” she trailed off.

  “How long have I been talking to God?”

  Lauren nodded.

  Constance cocked her head and thought about it for a minute. “I don’t actually know.”

  “Now, Constance,” God began, gently scolding her for the white lie.

  “Okay, since I prayed to Him,” she admitted.

  “You prayed to God, and just like that, He showed up out of the clear blue.” Then, turning to God, furious, “She prayed to you, she PRAYED to you, and you—”

  “What is there to marvel? At one time, you used to pray to me, as well.”

  “Yeah,” she fumed, “a lot of good that did me. You never showed up in a fancy, three-piece suit to answer any one of my prayers. But you answered hers! Unbelievable! What does she have to pray about?” she pointed to her daughter. Turning to Constance, she said, “Seriously, what do you have to pray about?”

  Lauren was beside herself with nearly thirty years of pent-up hurt and frustration. She had no idea what to do with her emotions or how best to let them out. It was all too surreal to be real. Yet Constance was there, flesh and blood, and unless the girl was just as crazy as she herself felt, it all had to be real.

  Lauren looked over at her desk. The intercom was lit up.

  “Yes, Rose?”

  “Ms. Hill, Mr. Thompson is on the line. Says it’s urgent.”

  “All right, put him through.”

  A short, crackly silence was followed by Rose telling Ryan that Lauren was on the line.

  “Lauren, Maze is on his way back to your office!” Ryan blurted.

  “Great, that’s all I need.” One more act added to the circus already taking place within the big top that was her office. “Why?”

  Ryan sighed on the other end. “I was trying to talk to him about what you said and—” Ryan’s voice trailed off.

  Lauren turned to see God and Constance sharing a pained stare. She could see her girl was on the verge of crying. God reached up with the gentlest of touch and dried her eyes. He didn’t wipe them away, but merely brushed her cheek and they instantly disappeared as if they were never there in the first place.

  Uncharacteristically, Lauren’s exterior began to melt away. Seeing the truly emotional scene play out before her eyes and feeling the immense pressure, she cut Ryan off. “ Ryan, listen! I have to go. I’ll deal with Maze.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes. She didn’t know exactly how long she had before Maze would burst through the door, but she didn’t want her family present when he did. She had more than enough going on without psycho-boy ruining things.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Lauren composed herself and rejoined God and Constance. Even though the Lord had valiantly attempted to comfort Constance, she could sense her daughter was still not doing well. Inside, Lauren melted. The moment called for compassion. It called for action. But would Constance accept a kind gesture coming from her at that point?

  Still, she had to try. Slowly, she walked to her daughter’s side and knelt. Then, looking up, blocking God out of her immediate vision, Lauren gazed into her eyes and for the first time noticed how lovely a woman Constance was becoming.

  She has my eyes, she thought.

  Gently, she took Constance by the hand. Her voice was soft and reassuring. “So . . . tell me, then, what did you ask of God?”

  To Lauren’s astonishment, Constance was receptive. “I just prayed,” Constance replied, nervously.

  “I understand. But what, specifically, did you pray for? Can you tell me? Do you want to tell me?”

  Constance and Lauren turned to God. Although He said nothing, the look God gave in return was nonjudgmental and kind. He never seemed to change, never condemned. Through every encounter she had had with The Almighty, God had remained the same even-tempered, encouraging Creator of the Universe. Unlike earlier times, this demeanor now put Lauren at ease.

  Pleased with Lauren and the progression of the conversation as of late, God nodded for Constance to continue.

  “I prayed,” she said, lowering her head, “and I asked Him to make me not dead to you.”

  “You’re not dead to me, sweetie. What’s that mean?”

  Coming out of her shell, Constance poured her heart out. “Everything, everything comes before me!”

  Still feeling a desire to defend herself, the natural self-preservation mechanism everyone has, the basic need to save face, Lauren explained the enormous pressure
s of work and responsibilities on her shoulders. Trying, at first, to justify her actions, Lauren caught herself in mid-sentence. It was her turn to lower her head in shame.

  “I’m sorry if it seems things come before you and that I’ve made you feel less than loved.”

  “You never get around to me. Never, ever!” Constance sobbed.

  Lauren wiped away her daughter’s tears, trying to figure out how to spin it so it didn’t put her in such a bad light. She was grasping, still desperately needing to come out on top. However, everything she could think of would only make matters worse. Before Lauren could say something she would only regret later, God intervened.

  “Mother.”

  That one word, “mother,” stated in tender inflections, surprised Lauren. She turned in awe of Him. He was truly a marvel to behold, and she hardly had enough restraint not to jump up and caress the Lord God. Finally, getting the response He deserved, God rose from the sofa in amusement. Suddenly, before Him on the coffee table were Buckyballs, those small magnetic balls. Instantly, they broke apart and rose off the table. Effortlessly, they floated and circled Him, playfully. As He controlled their every synchronized movement, The Lord began to speak.

  “Ah, the lesson. 6:16. Yes, that very 6:16. Do either of you know why they are called the Seven Deadly Sins?” he said.

  Still marveling at the floating Buckyballs, the two humans shook their heads no. The Lord chuckled and waved at Constance’s hair. With swift, tiny motions, the girl’s hair began first to twitch, then to rise. Long strands lifted, intertwined, and braided. Her hair was styling itself: going from straight to shimmering waves and curls in fractions of seconds. Both women stood in awe. Sculpting and crafting, God continued.

  “Now, Dillon, Dillon who was Saul, was certainly the clearest and closest when he said that to openly practice these vices one ‘shall not inherit the kingdom of God.’ He spoke truth. However, My Kingdom is neither a unit of good nor a component of privilege. It is not something to inherit. My Kingdom is freely given and active to those who believe, like a child born unto parents; the child does not inherit the air in order to breathe. And air is given without measure.”