It wasn’t that funny; it was an amusing name, given my current circumstances, but funny? Not really.
“Yeah, it’s pretty funny,” I said.
“Bit of coincidence, though, don’t you think?” said Maggie as she lit another cigarette and blew the smoke behind her. “Given your circumstances,” she added once she faced me.
Didn’t I just think the same thing? It was a very odd coincidence; however, that didn’t concern me. What did was the fact that this woman actually believed I was the Messiah. I guessed her name was probably Jane or Sarah and that she was playing around with me. I decided not to play, though.
“Yeah, what is?” I said, pretending I wasn’t paying attention.
“You being the Son of God, the second coming, the resurrection of the spirit, and the Messiah, and me being named after the one woman who some say could have been at very best his wife, or at worst, his whore.” So that was it. Maggie was a hooker touting for business, and this was her ploy to get me to pay her for sex. Maggie didn’t look like a whore, though.
“Are you a prostitute, Maggie?” I asked directly. The last thing I needed right now was to be seen with a hooker, especially as tomorrow I would be expected to save souls. I could imagine Sean telling the press how the Son of God picked up a prostitute the night before he walked across the Hudson River. I am sure Mother Theresa would be horrified, not to mention Mother Irma, at the potential headlines.
“No, I’m a lawyer,” she said as she faced me dead on, her kind eyes looking deep into my suspicious ones. It seemed she hadn’t found my question offensive, which begged the question, why not? She certainly dressed like a lawyer, and I had never seen her in Milligan’s before.
“You come here regularly?” I asked, slowly beginning to sober up. Maggie shook her head.
“No, the first time.”
I looked around the bar. We were the last customers. Sean was at the other end of the bar facing a stack of dirty glasses he had collected from the empty tables.
“Maggie, I have a question,” I said as I slowly began to merge into sobriety. A thought which had entered my head a millisecond before began to grow. “Do you have any animals at home?” Maggie shook her pretty, elfin-like head.
“No, none.” She lit another cigarette.
“In that case, did you get a telephone call tonight from a guy with an English accent claiming to be God, telling you to come here this evening and find me?” This time Maggie nodded and once again reverted to blowing smoke into my face.
“I sure did,” she replied.
It seemed my mother and I were not the only ones who received telephone calls from God. Maggie De Lynne, it transpired, had been conversing with God for the past two days. Initially, God had come to her in a dream, informing her she been selected for a very important task; to assist his son in his preparation for the final conflict on Earth between good and evil. She would provide guidance and a female perspective and would become a disciple of the new Messiah. Maggie told me she had totally disregarded the dream as a by-product of a late night cheese snack, despite its vividness. God, though, persevered and appeared in a further dream while she took an afternoon nap in her office. This time, God told her he would call her on the phone, as he did with my mother and I, and not to be perturbed by it. When she awoke, she was unsure of the validity of the dream; it was only after he called that she realized God had a mission for her.
Initially suspicious that the voice on the phone claiming to be God was either a nut or a joke playing colleague or friend, she gave him a few tests. First, she hid objects around her office and instructed God to tell her what she had hidden and where. He was correct each time. Though semi-convinced it was indeed God on the phone; she set one final task. Should the owner of the voice on the phone be watching her through a telescope or a hidden camera with the caller watching her every move on CCTV, Maggie decided on a foolproof test. Maggie thought of a number and asked God to guess what it was. When God immediately replied two million, three thousand, and seventy-two, Maggie was convinced. He then told her she was going to ask him to think of a color, and that color would be lilac. Maggie told him to stop. She didn’t need any more convincing. God re-explained what he had told her in the dreams—that she was on a mission for God to assist the Messiah and to wait for a call with further instructions.
That was yesterday. Maggie, obviously curious as to why God chose her for the mission, wondered if it was anything to do with her name. God admitted that her name fitted the role he chose her for, but it was mere coincidence that the name Maggie De Lynne resembled Magdalene. God chose her for her determination and open-mindedness.
Maggie’s latest call from God had come an hour ago. He had called her at home and told her she was coming into play sooner than had been anticipated, and she would find the Messiah at Milligan’s Bar in Greenwich Village. She had arrived midway through my drunken talk with Sean, and it didn’t take a genius to realize who amongst the bar folk the Messiah was. He would be the one at the bar confessing all to a bored barman.
Maggie De Lynne was indeed a lawyer. Her chosen field was property law, which meant we did have something in common professionally. I would come to learn that she was aged twenty-eight and lived alone in a plush apartment in the TriBeCa district. She was born and raised a Roman Catholic in Hackensack, New Jersey. She was not overtly religious, and indeed her religion had lapsed, which made God’s calling even more puzzling to her. She had no siblings, and both her parents were dead. Her father had died several years before, and her mother had passed away recently. The dying wish of her highly religious and devout Catholic mother had been that Maggie return to the Catholic faith and re-find God. I guessed that maybe her mother had probably nominated her for the role she was to play. Her father had left her a reasonable sum of money on his death, which paid for her plush apartment in TriBeCa and meant that Maggie lived a comfortable life.
Maggie was, therefore, a good catch, as she was wealthy, professional, and attractive. It was a surprise to me that she was single, but then again, this was New York. Maggie had enjoyed various relationships, but like me, found it difficult to commit long term. She had once been engaged to a fellow lawyer, a colleague at the firm she practiced. Unfortunately, she had caught him in the photocopying room with a paralegal in a compromising position, and that was the end of that. It didn’t help that the paralegal was called Phillip. Losing her fiancé to another man, especially when all her co-workers knew of the affair and she didn’t, had left Maggie somewhat scarred. She dated as I did, and though open-minded, she was not what you call promiscuous. She spent her evenings reading and planning vacations, and I would have suggested if I had known her better, that she was lonely. I guessed that was another reason God had selected Maggie; she needed a purpose in her life. And now she had one. I had sobered up enough to assimilate the information Maggie had passed. I had to admit, I liked her.
“You weren’t hard to convince,” I said as we left the bar area and found a table secluded in a booth. Two new customers had entered the bar, and Sean was chatting away, pouring drinks, and wiping glasses. Maggie smiled.
“I think the number did it; he is very convincing.” She didn’t have to tell me that. God had managed to convince me to walk on water. He was very convincing.
“Did God expand on your role? What are you actually meant to do? I mean, did he give you a game plan? You know everything I presume, as much as I do, at least. What’s your take on this?” I asked, now completely sober.
“Well,” she said, as she stubbed out her cigarette, “I presume I am going to have to sleep with you, for a start.”
At last, a perk. God was apparently making up for lost ground. He was trying to make up for my childhood abandonment. Unlike most fathers and sons, we hadn’t been fishing together, camping, or even been out for a beer. Maggie was obviously a gift. He had found a lonely, attractive woman with a similar sounding name as Jesus’s alleged wife who would sleep with me and not want commitment
. That was Maggie’s role, and the reason God had selected her as my disciple. What a great guy. I was beginning to like him more. I knew of dads who had paid for their college-aged son’s first sexual experience, but this was better than that. For one thing, no money had changed hands.
But Maggie wasn’t a gift, and God’s plan hadn’t included free sex for me. As soon as Maggie said she was going to sleep with me, I paid for our drinks and tipped Sean. It took us less than eight minutes to reach my apartment. Admittedly, I walked faster than I usually did, but who could blame me for wanting to get home quickly? I hoped Harvey’s shift had finished and that I wouldn’t have to parade Maggie past him. Unfortunately, I had no such luck.
“Well, what do you know?” said Harvey, “You been a busy boy, dog.” I smiled at Harvey pleadingly. I hoped he was going to be nice to Maggie.
“This is Maggie, an old friend of mine,” I lied. Harvey nodded and sucked on his teeth.
“Oh really,” he said. “Isn’t that nice?” he added, nodding his head and looking Maggie up and down as if inspecting a secondhand car. “It’s a great feeling when you unexpectedly bump into an old friend, ain’t it?”
We both nodded and agreed it was a great feeling. Luckily, the elevator arrived before Harvey could say anything else. It was obvious he knew I was lying, but I had no idea why I felt so guilty. As we entered the elevator, Harvey leaned and tilted his head so all Maggie and I could see was his face covered with a beaming, gold-and-white smile.
“You two old friends have a good evening, you hear?” The elevator door slid shut, and I thought I heard Harvey call me an “asshole,” though I wasn’t sure.
“Is he your doorman?” asked Maggie.
I nodded. “Sure is,” I said as if it were normal doorman behavior for him to act like my mother.
“Why did you lie to him?” asked Maggie.
“Uh?” I answered, pretending that I did not know what she meant.
“Your doorman, Harvey, why did you tell him we were old friends?” she asked again. The truth was I wasn’t sure. I felt kind of guilty, like Harvey would be disappointed in me for what I was about to do. I couldn’t explain it, so I didn’t. I shrugged. The moment we entered my apartment, the telephone rang, and there are no points for guessing who it was.
“Don’t answer it,” I cried as I hurriedly undid my shirt buttons.
“Why not?” Maggie asked as she pulled one leg from her trousers and hopped on the other.
“It will be him. My Father, God, I’m sure of it,” I replied as I too hopped on one leg.
“So answer it,” said Maggie as she removed her sweater.
“No way,” I said as I removed my T-shirt and threw it onto the chair where Walter sat watching.
“Typical,” said Walter as he dodged the T-shirt and jumped from the chair onto the floor to stare up at the half-naked Maggie and the entirely naked me. “That’s just typical of you humans, that is,” said God through Walter. “Sex over everything, typical.” He sounded pissed. I should have known God would get our attention somehow.
“Is that God?” asked Maggie “It sounds like God.” She bent down to stroke Walter.
“Yes, Maggie, it is me,” said God, as Walter stood and bent his head to one side to allow Maggie to stroke his face. “Maggie,” said God, “I would be grateful if you desisted from that; it is extremely off-putting, despite how nice it feels.”
Maggie stopped stroking Walter, who returned to sit on his haunches.
“Oh, sorry,” she said and flashed an apologetic smile at both Walter and myself.
“Thank you,” said God. “Now, Maggie, indeed,” God sounded like an English headmaster, “you do realize this isn’t necessary.” Walter seemed to be staring directly at me. “You know you don’t have to sleep with him. It isn’t part of my plan, you do know that?” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “If you did, it would be a big mistake,” continued God as Walter rose and stretched. Walter stared at the half-naked Maggie. I was relieved that he had averted his gaze from me, and I quickly put my pants back on. I made a mental note to thank God for this; his timing was impeccable.
“You really don’t have to,” reiterated God, “so why don’t you get dressed? I am sure Seth will call you a cab.” I was about to reach for the phone when Maggie spoke.
“I know,” said Maggie. “I know I don’t have to, but I kind of like him.”
Yes! You tell him girl. I moved my hand away from the phone, and Walter turned his gaze once more to me.
“Are you sure?” said God, as if the mere thought that Maggie found me attractive was ludicrous. “Well, in that case, there is not really much more I can say,” said God. “You’re both adults.” Phew. That was close. For a minute, I thought God had blown it for me. “Well, do me one favor, Maggie: sleep on it. Think about this, you know he gets around.”
What was he doing? This guy was determined to make sure I would not be having sex that night. He was doing his best to dampen the ardor that still remained, which wasn’t much, considering we were both half-dressed and talking to a cat when we were thirty seconds away from getting laid.
“Ok,” said Maggie. “I will sleep on the couch.” My heart sank.
“Good,” said God, “then that’s settled.” And then Walter meowed.
“Has he gone?” said Maggie as she turned to face me.
“Yes, he’s gone.” I had a sudden urge to kick Walter but decided he wasn’t to blame. “Look, you take the bed,” I said. “I’ll grab a blanket, and I will take the couch.”
Maggie thanked me and kissed me on the cheek. When I returned with a blanket, Maggie had already found my bed and was sleeping soundly. I closed the door and made a bed on the couch. Now fully sober, I was annoyed that God had ruined my night of passion. I considered the situation for a minute and, being extremely frustrated at being so close to getting laid, I thought, to Hell with Mother Teresa and my file, this one is an emergency. I was asleep three minutes later.
CHAPTER
18
I AWOKE, AND, FOR A split second I was confused as to why I was curled up on my sofa. I was also confused as to why I could smell coffee and breakfast being prepared. Then I remembered Maggie, and I remembered that today I was due to perform my second miracle. My heart sank, and I pulled the duvet over my head.
“Good morning,” said Maggie, as I tried to forget about the events ahead of me.
I peered up from under the duvet. “What time is it?” I said as Maggie handed me a cup filled with coffee.
“Six thirty,” she said. I noticed she was dressed, and I could tell by the towels strewn on the bedroom floor, which I could see through the open door, that she had also showered.
“Six thirty?” I cried and rubbed my eyes. “It’s the middle of the night!” My usual Saturday morning entailed a lie-in, a leisurely stroll to a diner for a late breakfast, and a read of the weekend newspaper.
“It’s a busy day,” said Maggie. “You need to get ready.” And with that, Maggie snatched the duvet away from the couch, exposing my naked body. “Oops,” she said. “I didn’t realize you slept naked.” I usually didn’t, but my pajamas were in my bedroom, and so as not to disturb the already sleeping Maggie, who had been curled up in my bed, I had decided to forgo pajamas.
“Well,” said Maggie as she stared at my nakedness. “Seeing as though you are ready, we might as well get this over with.” Maggie grabbed my hand and led me into the bedroom. Walter sat curled up in a ball on the bed “Is that you?” asked Maggie to Walter. Walter didn’t move.
“Good!” we both said in unison.
Thus, my relationship with Maggie began. I won’t go into details, but let me say, it was well worth the wait. An hour later, I showered, dressed, and called Bob to confirm our meeting point. I didn’t mention I would be bringing Maggie with me; I thought I would wait until I saw him. I switched on the television and checked the news channels; there was no mention of the mayor, the Peruvian ambassador, or of any potential demons
trations. Maybe Nancy had got it wrong. I hoped so.
Harvey was not on duty that morning, so we were able to leave the apartment without any interruption or hold up. I wasn’t in the mood for Harvey’s comments this morning. He would want details, and even though Maggie would have been in earshot, it wouldn’t have stopped him asking. I felt I needed to review my relationship with Harvey; it was beginning to feel like he was trying to monitor my life. Maybe it was just me, but he was becoming as bad as my mother. We eventually found a cab after a twenty-minute wait, one disadvantage of no Harvey on duty, and I called up Bob on my cell phone to let him know we were on our way. He had questioned the “we,” and I told I would explain when we arrived at the harbor.
Bob was waiting for us as we pulled up to pier fifty-eight, two piers from where the mayor’s yacht was berthed. I could see as we exited the cab that a small crowd had formed around the pier. The demonstrator’s had arrived. I could see a few blue uniforms of the NYPD, one in particular that I suspected had taken a whole cotton field to make. It was Nancy. I also spied a local news channel vehicle, so the media was here. All that was missing was the mayor and the ambassadorial party. I paid the cab as Bob approached.
“Bob, meet Maggie. Maggie, meet Bob.” Bob looked surprised as Maggie offered her hand.
“Hi,” she said, smiling.
“Hi,” said Bob, looking confused as he weakly took her hand. He looked at me for an explanation.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “We will explain later.”
We all walked along our pier to get a better view of the adjourning pier. Bob seemed to accept this, shrugged his shoulders and led Maggie and I along the pier. “We need to keep out of view,” he said, referring to him and Maggie. “The last thing I need is for Nancy,” he turned to Maggie, “that’s my wife, to see me with you,” He looked over at the crowded pier sixty.
The Reluctant Jesus: A Satirical Dark Comedy Page 14