This Side of Salvation

CHAPTER 24

FORTY-FOURT TO FORTY-THREE DAYS BEFORE THE RUSH

"Dress up instead of down tonight!” Mom said gaily as she went down the hall, knocking on Mara’s door, then the bathroom, where I’d just gotten out of theshower. “We’re going out!”

I resisted the urge to hurl the shampoo bottle across the room or crawl out the window wearing only a towel. After a long day of school—followed by a long workout—I’d been dying to crash on the couch for Super Duper Cooper Night. These Friday pizza-and-movie night gatherings were the only times I still enjoyed hanging out with my parents.

As Mara and I met Mom and Dad in the kitchen, they announced we were off to have dinner with a “friend.” It wasn’t until we were on the highway that we found out who.

Sophia Visser.

In the backseat on the drive to South Jersey, Mara and I agreed, via silent texts, to present a united front of sulk, with only the thinnest veneer of politeness, just enough to keep from getting in trouble.

Sophia lived in an average house in an average suburb. No compound, no megachurch, no giant marquee promising salvation to all who enter. I was half expecting plastic coverings on the sofas, like my great-grandmother used to have.

A large, bald, muscular guy named Carter let us into the house. He didn’t speak or do much but lurk, so I assumed he was a bodyguard.

Instead of the rapturous choir-girl outfits she wore on her home page, Sophia was sporting a sexy-librarian look that night. Her glasses accentuated her heavily made-up sky-blue eyes. The skirt of her red-and-black-striped suit dress came way above her knee, and her black f-me pumps dangled from one toe while she spoke, her legs crossed, the top one swaying slightly. Her reddish-brown hair was caught in one of those loose buns—the kind that looks like it could tumble around her shoulders with the pull of one pin. Grenade hair.

Over dinner, Sophia and my parents discussed the “glories” of the Rush and its aftermath. They were going on about martyrs and saints and the seven seals, but my mind kept wandering from the conversation, back to the previous night, when I was lying with Bailey on her bed.

“David, what do you think?” Sophia asked me.

“Huh?” I blinked at her, jerked out of my reverie, where I’d been reliving how Bailey’d put her hand just below my belt, whispering, “Can I touch you?” And then reliving what had happened after I’d said, “Please.”

Sophia tilted her head. “Are you all right, David? You look a little f lushed.”

“I’m fine.” I didn’t ask her to repeat the question, since she was probably only asking to get my attention, like a teacher calling on a drowsy student.

It worked. As Sophia served us the most amazing chocolate chip and pecan cookies, I started listening, and soon found myself laughing at her jokes and nodding sympathetically when she told us of her husband’s Gideon tragic early death from cancer. A preacher himself, his passing inspired her to take up his cause to prepare souls for Jesus’s return. Every person she reached made Gideon’s life a little more meaningful, she said, and his death a little more bearable.

But once she started in on the Rush, I put down the cookies, literally and metaphorically.

“As of tonight,” she said during dessert in her living room, “we have but forty-three days to prepare for the coming of our Lord. Which means it’s time for a few tough truths.”

“You’re telling them now?” Mom blurted. “I thought we were supposed to wait until Tuesday.”

“They’re not children, Jennifer.” Sophia said my mother’s name gently. “They’re old enough to take responsibility for their own souls.”

Mara set her mug on the coffee table with a thud, sloshing cocoa over the rim. “What’s going on? What’s happening Tuesday?”

My mother wouldn’t look at her. My father wouldn’t look away.

“Daddy?” she asked. “What’s she trying to tell us that you haven’t already?”

“Your parents asked me to explain the situation.” Sophia folded her hands around her knee. “See, there are some things no one else can do for you. No one else can get you ready or bail you out, because no one else can give you faith. As Revelation tells us, we must each ultimately stand alone before the great white throne of God.”

She bowed her head briefly, and our parents followed suit, long enough for Mara and me to exchange a worried glance.

Sophia continued. “Of course, you’re wondering, ‘how do I get ready?’ and the answer is simple: by giving over your life and your will to the Lord. He sacrificed His only son for us, so now, to show Him the depth of our love, we must also sacrifice.”

We’d better not have to slaughter goats. My vegan girlfriend would not approve.

I snickered, at the worst possible time. Everyone stared at me in horror, even Mara.

Sophia’s grimace morphed into a tight smile. “David, may we talk alone, just you and me?”

I looked at my father—for aid or permission, I wasn’t sure which. He said, “Do therefore according to your wisdom.”

My wisdom told me to run from the house, get in the car, and drive until sunrise. I’d had my junior driver’s license for only four days, but I could do it.

Instead, I followed Sophia out of the living room and into a small room off the foyer, with a desk, several ferns, and a wooden cross on the far wall that was almost as tall as the wall itself. I was relieved there was no door to close behind us.

Sophia gestured to the leather love seat, where a white cat was curled up on a folded woolen blanket. “Just ignore Jacob and he’ll ignore you.”

“What happens to Jacob if you’re Rushed?” I sat beside the cat, who lifted his head and yawned.

“When I am Rushed, God willing, he will go to a new home I’ve arranged for.” Sophia sat in a chair next to the desk. The chair’s seat was almost a foot taller than that of my sofa, so she towered over me. “As I was about to—”

“How do you know the person you’re leaving him with won’t be Rushed, too? It’s up to God, right? Theoretically, he could take anyone.”

“I have contingencies in place. Every family must ensure that their pets’ needs are seen to. You have two cats of your own, right?”

“Yeah. Why are you doing this to us?”

Sophia gave me an indulgent smile. “I understand your resentment and doubt. I see a lot of myself in you. Smart, rebellious, questioning. You seek God’s truth and you don’t settle for easy answers, am I correct?”

I frowned at her flattery. She was right, but that could be true of anyone. No one wants to believe they’re a mindless sheep.

Sophia uncrossed, then recrossed her legs. (I confess, I looked. Her crotch was at eye level, after all. But I saw nothing.) “David, may I tell you a story I’ve shared with few others?”

I draped my arm across the back of the sofa and set my ankle on my knee, the portrait of calm confidence. “Shoot.”

“I was only a year older than you when I had my first epiphany. By now you must know about Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus.”

“Jesus appeared to him in a vision and asked why he was persecuting His people. Saul converted and became Paul.” I almost said, “Saint Paul,” a holdover from my Episcopalian days.

“Very good. Sadly, my epiphany was more sordid. I was a runaway, doing drugs and turning tricks on the streets of Camden, New Jersey.”

“Wow.” I was more impressed by the Camden part than her being a strung-out prostitute. At its best, that city was the seventh circle of hell (though I’ve heard the aquarium is cool). “So what happened?”

“I was in a back alley one night, performing an unspeakable act with a priest, of all people”—she paused to adjust her glasses, but probably also to let my mind run with that image—“when suddenly from above, a great golden light beamed upon me, a light that cast no shadows, even as it shone through the fire escape. I thought it was a side effect of heroin withdrawal, that I needed my next fix. But as the light descended upon me, it took the form of a dove.”

I fought not to roll my eyes. This sounded an awful lot like the vision Jesus had when he was baptized. At least she was plagiarizing from the best.

Sophia began to act out the scene, lifting her hands. “I reached up and said, ‘I am lost.’ But the Holy Spirit had mercy on my despair.” She drew her hands down to her heart, as if cradling a bird against her breast. “The Holy Spirit filled my heart with the hope and courage I needed to change my life and get right with God again.”

“Then what?” This oughta be good.

“I left the alley and walked until I found a church that would take me in. There I met the man who would become my husband, and when I was finally clean, I dedicated my life to the Lord.”

“How long did it take to get off drugs?”

“Years. They say that ‘with God, all things are possible.’ They never say, ‘with God, all things are easy.’”

Finally she was sounding like a real person instead of an infomercial.

“It hasn’t been easy for your parents, David. They’re world-weary, I can see it. Your brother’s death, your father’s unemployment . . .” She raised her chin. “Your crimes brought them more heartbreak than you realize.”

I looked away. “I’m not proud of what I did.”

“Aren’t you, just a little? You probably would’ve gotten away with it if you hadn’t confessed. Doesn’t that make you feel all badass?”

I pulled my arm from the back of the couch and tucked my hand under my other elbow. “I was angry.”

“At God?”

“Yeah, and at—” My mouth twisted to keep in the words. I drew my ankle off my knee and sat forward. “Why are we here tonight? What’s happening on Tuesday, and what’s it got to do with sacrifice?”

“Tuesday will be forty days before the Rush. That’s how long our Lord spent in the desert undergoing temptation. It’s how long the rains came during the Great Flood. It’s a time of repentance and spiritual trial.”

“So we’re supposed to repent? Like, confess our sins?”

“If you like. I’d be honored if you opened your heart to me, David, the way I opened mine to you.”

“No, thanks.” I fidgeted with my tie, which seemed to have suddenly tightened. “I’d rather keep that stuff between me and God.” I didn’t trust Sophia with my truths. People like her used secrets as raw material for their manipulation. She may not have been asking for money, but she wanted something from us.

“Suit yourself.” She raised her voice. “Mara, would you join us, please?”

I gripped the sofa’s arm, ready to escape.

“Don’t worry, David.” Sophia smiled at me. “This isn’t about your past. It’s about the future, for your entire family.”

My family has no future, I thought, then felt ashamed. I wanted it to have a future. I would do almost anything to hold us together. We’d lost one of us already.

As Mara entered the sitting room, Sophia shooed Jacob off the love seat, then removed his white-fur–ridden blanket. “You may sit next to your brother.”

Mara paused next to Sophia’s temporarily empty chair, and for a moment I thought she would sit in it. Then she changed her mind and joined me on the couch.

“What’s going on?” she asked Sophia, her voice surprisingly strong and calm.

“As I was saying, Tuesday begins our forty-day journey toward the Rush. From that point on, our lives must focus on the coming of our Lord.”

Okay, a few extra hours of Bible study or family prayer time. I can handle that, to keep the peace.

“To do that,” Sophia continued, “we must clear our minds—and our lives—of all other concerns.”

A warning bell went off in my head. “Clear our lives?”

“Your parents and I would like you to take these last few days to say good-bye—to your jobs, your friends, your classes, all earthly pursuits.”

“Earthly pursuits like baseball? What about my girlfriend? And—and—did you say we have to give up our friends?”

“DavidDavidDavid,” she said low and quick, palms down, like she was soothing a wild animal. “I know it’s hard. But your love for these activities and individuals is nothing compared to the love you’ll feel when our Lord returns.”

You people are insane stuck in my throat as I thought about all I would miss if Sophia had her way:

Bailey’s hair. Kane calling me “Coop.” Bailey’s laugh. Staring down a batter from the pitcher’s mound. Bailey’s hands. Solving an impossible parametric curve problem.

Bailey’s eyes.

“This is bullshit.”

I turned to stare at Mara, who’d never uttered a cuss word in my presence, not even that time she slammed her thumb in the car door. Lurking quietly under the radar had worked for her all these years, hidden between a famous dead brother and an infamous live brother.

“There’s no way our parents want us to give up everything.” Mara stood and called out, “Mom! Dad! This lady’s lying to us.”

Our parents appeared in the doorway. By the look in their eyes I knew Mara was wrong.

My sister shook her head. “You can’t do this. If I don’t finish my classes, Penn State might revoke my admission. And David’s baseball? It’s his junior year. College scouts’ll be watching his games. Next year could be too late.”

“Mara, there won’t be a next year. Speaking of college, I’m sorry, but your father and I won’t be signing those financial-aid applications. It wouldn’t be fair to take money from another student who’ll actually be around come fall.”

Something happened then to Mara’s eyes. Like when a store closes at the end of the day and the manager pulls down that metal shutter over the front of the shop so no one can throw a brick through the window and rob the place.

Mara was no longer open for business.

“Then I’ll pay for college myself.” She stalked past them into the foyer, grabbed her coat from the rack, and went out the front door.

I had to stop this family’s death spiral. “Go after her,” I said to Mom. “Tell her you don’t mean it.”

“But we do.” Mom bit her lip. “I know it seems harsh, but it’s all for the best, you’ll see.”

“How can ignoring the world be for the best?”

“Don’t forget,” Sophia said, “Jesus asked us to reject the world.”

“No, he said we shouldn’t be of the world, but we still have to be in the world.”

“That may have been true when he was alive,” Sophia said, “but the world is nearing the end of its days. We have no need for it, and in fact, it holds us back. That’s why we need this period of withdrawal. I’ve dubbed it the Abandoning.”

In a voice that was close to tears, Dad said, “For this, my son was dead, and is alive again. He was lost, and is found.”

It took me a second to realize he wasn’t talking about John. He was quoting the parable of the prodigal son. He was talking about me.

The Abandoning.

The cookies’ aftertaste turned bitter in my throat as bile rose from my stomach. “Excuse me.” I lurched to my feet, out of the room, and down the hall to the bathroom.

Somehow, I didn’t puke. Maybe just getting away from them was enough relief.

I splashed my face with cold water, then sat on the toilet lid, forcing myself to breathe slow and deep, making my lungs expand through that familiar kicked-in-the-stomach feeling. The corners of my eyes burned, so I held my lids shut, three fingertips each, until the tears changed their mind about coming into the world.

On the car ride home, no one spoke, though there was so much to say. As we pulled onto our street, the screen of my phone lit up with a silent text from Mara:

Don’t let them do this to you.That night, I dreamed I was the priest in the alley with Sophia, but she was her current age, not seventeen as she’d been in real life.

Wearing her iconic clingy white dress, she dropped to her knees before me, but not to pray. I let it happen, though I already knew how this scene would end. I watched her and pretended this body wasn’t mine.

Sure enough, she stopped, looked at the dark sky, and broke into a beatific smile. Sophia rose to her feet, hands cupped, ready to catch . . . what?

I could tell it fell slowly, like a leaf in a breeze, but only because she tracked its course. I could tell it shone brightly, like the sun between clouds, but only because she squinted. I couldn’t see its form myself, and I couldn’t see its light.

A long, bleating trumpet blast pierced the night. I covered my ears and crouched down against the wall, my pants still bunched around my ankles. As burning water swept up the alley, I reached out to shield Sophia, but she was already gone.I woke filled with shame and longing—and shortly thereafter, no more longing but twice as much shame.

Then I stared at my bedroom’s ceiling fan, listening to its familiar squeak and wondering what happened to the priest Sophia was servicing in that alley. What did he say when she left? Did he ask for a refund? Or did she finish the job, out of professional courtesy or the kindness of her heart? Did the Holy Spirit hang out while she fulfilled her obligation?

In the aftermath of the dream—and the aftermath of the dream’s aftermath—her story of redemption seemed like a fairy tale. Maybe the only person who needed to believe it was Sophia herself.

Was that how she saw the world, as a filthy alleyway that could be escaped only through a church? She and my father shared at least one thing in common: They’d struggled with drugs or alcohol, then found what they thought was a cure in devout religion.

My faith had carried me through the worst grief and rage, but it wasn’t the only part of my life that had healed me. There was baseball and my friends and eventually Bailey. Dad, on the other hand, had nothing but religion; after he lost his job, he’d avoided his old friends out of embarrassment—as well as an aversion to the bars they hung out in—and his bizarre Bible speech kept him from making new friends.

I couldn’t let him walk Sophia’s road to Crazytown. But I knew that begging him to get help would only enrage him. We couldn’t afford another broken TV.

An idea struck me so suddenly, it seemed impossible it could’ve come from inside my own mind. But it seemed like the solution I’d been praying for. I sat up slowly and took a drink from my water bottle, my mouth dry from fear.I don’t have to beg anymore: I can bargain.

After my dream of Sophia and my plan to save the family, I stayed awake weighing the pros (which were singular) and the cons (which were legion). I even got on my knees and asked God, Are you sure? Like, really, really, really sure? So it wasn’t an impulsive decision by any means.

At 7 a.m., I found my parents in the family room watching a Saturday sunrise worship program.

I stood in the doorway watching them for a moment without them knowing I was there. They sat together on the couch, holding hands, eyes closed, while the TV preacher said a prayer.

When he uttered “Amen” and started flashing the toll-free donation number at the bottom of the screen, I cleared my throat.

My parents looked up and broke out in the most loving smiles. I suppressed a shiver. Dad’s broad grin looked just like his “friendly drunk” face from years ago.

Mom paused the television. “Good morning, David.”

“Cause me to hear your loving kindness in the morning,” Dad said “for I trust in you.”

“Thanks. You too.” I stepped into the room but didn’t approach the couch. “Can I talk to you guys for a sec?”

“Of course. Come sit down.” Mom gestured to the armchair.

I sat on the edge of the seat and got right to the point. “I was pretty upset last night about what you guys and Sophia were asking us to do.”

“We understand it’s difficult.” Mom squeezed Dad’s hand and lifted it a few inches. “Your father and I want you to know we love you very much and are proud of the young man you’ve become. You’ve already taken so many big first steps on your journey to being right with the Lord.”

I completed her thought, But you have a long way to go. On the TV screen, the paused preacher was captured with his lips apart, hands beseeching.

“I think the things that are important to me, like my friends and school and Bailey and baseball—they’re why I’m getting right with the Lord. They’re good for me. They’ve taught me about love and joy and discipline, and how not to be selfish, though I know I still am sometimes. I still mess up.”

Dad nodded. “He who is without sin among you, let him throw the first stone.”

“David, we know those aspects of your life have played some minor role in your redemption. But it’s time to put them aside. Your sacrifice would please God immensely.”

“That’s what I’m here to say.” I gripped my hands together in a single fist, as if I could hold inside everything I was letting go. “I’ll give it all up—baseball, classes, my friends . . . Bailey.” I pushed on before my voice could crack. “On one condition: If the Rush doesn’t happen, you have to get help. Both of you, but especially Dad.”

“David—”

“I’m not finished. The help has to come from outside any church.” I set pleading eyes on my father. “You need a doctor, and we all need counseling. You know I’m right.”

“It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.’”

I took a breath before replying, resolved to have the coolest head in the room.

“I’m not saying this to judge either of you. I’m saying this because I love you guys. I want us all to be happy.”

“We’ll all be happy when the Lord comes,” Mom said.

My fists clenched in my lap. “Right. But can’t you just humor me? If you believe in the Rush, then what do you have to lose?”

“Making contingency plans is a sign of faithlessness, remember?”

“I get that, but isn’t my cooperation worth it? Especially now that Mara’s rejected you? And making contingency plans only looks like a sign of faithlessness to humans. God knows what’s in your heart. He knows how committed you are. He knows you have no doubt. But I have doubts. I’m not as faithful as you, I’m sorry. I need a reason to hope for something other than the end of the world.” Time for a tiny threat. “Without that hope, I’ll do what Mara’s done. I’ll ignore you. I’ll embrace this world with all my might. Do you want to lose us both?”

They looked at each other, then at the silent, frozen televangelist.

Mom asked me, “Can we have a minute alone to discuss this?”

Relieved to get away from them, I nodded quickly, and then went up into the kitchen.

Mara ambushed me at the refrigerator. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “Why are you playing their game?”

“I’m trying to change their game. What are you doing besides turning into a brat?”

“I’m helping myself and maybe you. They won’t help us anymore.” Footsteps came up the basement stairs. “I can’t be part of this.” She grabbed a banana from the counter and scampered off.

Mom appeared, looking nervous. “David, your father and I have discussed matters, and we feel that having you on our side is worth this small concession.” She drifted over and hugged me. “Your sacrifices mean so much to us.”

I tried to hug her back, but my arms felt heavy. I can’t believe they agreed.

Now I would have to abandon everything else—and everyone else—I loved.

What have I done?