The second coming, p.3
The Second Coming, page 3
Today, he writes the final exam synopsis on the chalkboard, then turns and starts pacing, arms behind his back. While he teaches with the same vigor and passion of his youth, time has wreaked havoc on his body, and his movements, despite his resistance, have slowed down. He blames this on time and time alone, whereas his colleagues and the few friends he has claim that extensive research and exposure to inhuman criminal acts have aged him beyond his years. This is why he looks like an eighty-year-old man despite only being in his early sixties.
Stopping and turning toward the class, Professor Luwendowski says, “I have outlined the topics that will be covered on this semester’s final exam. The majority of the test will be centered around forensic science and the recent revolutionary advancements of DNA science.”
He abruptly stops—a frown wrinkling his already wrinkled forehead—upon noticing the only thing that makes him angry: a disruption. One of the students is talking to another student.
The talking student is Shawn Abernathy, a good-looking, twenty-two-year-old senior with long, dark hair pulled into a man bun. He’s exceptionally handsome and knows it. He has the aura of one of those self-entitled boys who walk around like they own the world because they know that nothing can stop them. They have everything—money, power, and beauty.
Shawn was brought up in an upper-middle-class family. His dad is an accomplished corporate attorney and his mom a licensed clinical therapist to Hollywood A-list celebrities. He doesn’t want for much due to his family’s wealth and influence. Most would think this family holds the quintessential road map to properly raising children—a loving, nurturing mom and dad who are genuinely supportive and demonstrated unconditional love throughout his upbringing. However, he lacks proper discipline. Shawn’s parents were disinclined to enforce rules during his early juvenile years; partially since he was an only child, they felt some guilt and reluctance to counterbalance his unruly behavior.
Throughout Shawn’s adolescent years, he pretty much did whatever he wanted, continuing with the pattern he learned growing up. But after numerous encounters with the parents of teenage girls complaining about their daughters’ broken hearts, and after Shawn violated several minor laws—speeding, vandalism, fighting, underage vaping, public intoxication, and deafening music—his dad had no choice but to enroll him at North Valley Military Institute during his junior year of high school. Shawn’s dad felt that a private military school would help halt this trajectory before Shawn’s infractions became more serious.
During his tenure at the NVMI, Shawn developed an interest in becoming a private investigator. He loves exploring the unknown through missing pieces and puzzles, which he had a knack for even as a young boy.
After high school graduation, he decided to pursue his studies at his parents’ alma mater, USC. Eventually, he managed to exhibit better self-discipline; however, his weakness for pretty girls has not changed in the least.
Unlike most of the students, who earn a place for themselves in Professor’s Luwendowski’s class through endless sleepless nights of hard work, Shawn got in because his father is on the university’s board of directors. Professor Luwendowski could have prevented Shawn’s entry had he wanted to, due to Shawn’s history of disciplinary actions. He decided against it, though, knowing that Shawn is highly intelligent and capable of delivering results if he puts his mind to it.
What has caused Professor Luwendowski to frown today is seeing Shawn talking to an attractive girl next to him. Professor Luwendowski doesn’t allow anyone’s eyes to wander too far from him when he’s teaching. “Mr. Abernathy.”
Shawn, too busy flirting, doesn’t hear his teacher.
Getting angrier with each second lost of his precious class time, Professor Luwendowski shouts this time: “Mr. Abernathy!!”
The other students laugh as Shawn, embarrassed, turns to face the professor. He knows that Professor Luwendowski is more than capable of kicking him out of his class if he so desires, and criminal justice is one course Shawn is genuinely interested in. He stands up and mutters, “Yes, Mr. Luwendowski?”
Professor Luwendowski snarls, “Perhaps you would like to teach this course and take the final exam for everyone you’re disturbing, Mr. Abernathy?”
Shawn remains standing, eyes down, cheeks flushed, a little rattled. He manages to blurt out, “No, ma’am—I mean, no, sir! It won’t happen again, sir!”
Professor Luwendowski glowers at him. “I should hope not—that is, if you choose to continue to be a part of this class, young man. One thing I shall not and will not tolerate is insubordination! Do I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Abernathy?”
Shawn stutters like a soldier responding to his superior officer. “Yes sir, Mr. Luwendowski, sir!”
He cautiously sits back down amid the giggling of his classmates. They rarely get to witness Shawn being tamed, and they all enjoy it. Professor Luwendowski isn’t at all amused.
“Quiet down, boys and girls,” he admonishes. “We have a lot of material to cover before your finals.”
As the professor begins writing again on the chalkboard, Shawn darts one quick, furtive look at the young girl sitting next to him and grins regretfully. She shakes her head and smiles.
Meanwhile, Professor Luwendowski continues, “Please open up your books to chapter seventeen. Who would like to start the first paragraph? Ms. Chang?”
He points to a Chinese girl whose arm shoots into the air faster than the speed of light. She lowers her arm and begins to read, “This chapter in criminal justice deals with self-defense, self-respect, and self-discipline.”
Shawn tries his best to focus on Ms. Chang, but her voice grows faint. It’s being replaced by another softer, much gentler voice right next to him, whispering his name.
•••
A little over a year later, Shawn is sprawled out on his bed in his studio apartment, fast asleep. His graduation cap is still on his head, fallen sideways and now covering half of his handsome face. Next to his bed stands a tall, pretty girl with short, dark hair and shapely legs, trying her best to wake him.
The girl is Sylvia Pruitt, the same girl he got into trouble over with Professor Luwendowski and who is now his girlfriend. They have been going steady ever since, and things are getting serious. Even so, at this particular moment, she’s pretty frustrated with him. As Sylvia pokes and prods at Shawn, she finally gives up and lets out a roaring sigh: “Aughhh!”
No response, no movement. Losing her temper, Sylvia shouts, “Shawn, wake up! It’s almost eleven o’clock! We have to get up!”
Shawn forces himself to sit up, groaning, and tries to stretch and open his eyes. The sudden exposure to light evokes a seething pain in his right frontal lobe, and he shuts them again firmly. He has a hangover.
“Wow, that was some celebration we had last night,” he mutters, this time opening his eyes slowly to accustom them to the light. “How do you feel?”
Relieved that her boyfriend is finally up, Sylvia hugs his neck from behind and gives him a peck on the cheek.
“Rested and hungry!” she chirps. “Remember, you drank that entire bottle of champagne. I only drank apple cider. Now let’s get up! I have to get back home.”
Shawn, regretting his brave yet foolish decision to chug the entire bottle of champagne, grunts, “If you’re just going back home, why do I have to get up?”
This angers Sylvia. Although she’s compassionate by nature and realizes that Shawn is feeling pretty rough, she doesn’t think it’s a good enough reason to forget about the importance of today. She walks to the bathroom in a fury and slams the door behind her. Then she reemerges and crosses back to Shawn, who is lying back down. His attempts to bravely face the light of the day have failed, and he has a pillow over his face to escape the blinding glare.
This is enough to frustrate Sylvia, and she storms angrily, “Shawn, you promised me, dammit! You promised to come by and meet my mom and dad today! You know they’re coming all the way from Chicago, and I really want you to meet them! Or were you too drunk last night to remember what you said?”
Shawn, irritated, grumbles, “No, I wasn’t too drunk. I know what I said.” The pillow muffles his voice. Furious, she yanks the pillow off his head and exclaims, “I can’t understand you, Shawn!”
Noting the exasperation in her voice, Shawn finally rolls over and faces her. He repeats himself, putting in the effort to be audible this time.
“I said no, I wasn’t too drunk, and I know what I said last night.”
Sylvia is quick to see his effort and feels the same admiration she initially felt when he risked his reputation to flirt with her in Professor Luwendowski’s class. He’s still the same Shawn, she thinks and lovingly smiles as she leans down and rewards him with a kiss on the lips. The kiss lasts for several seconds, and then Sylvia walks to the door. Before shutting it behind her, she looks at her boyfriend one last time and says, “Remember, they’ll be over by four o’clock. Be ready before then.”
Satisfied when he nods in return, she leaves, closing the door gently behind her.
•••
It’s early evening now, and Sylvia is seated at the dinner table in her apartment with her mom and dad, Janice and Walter Pruitt. The apartment is clean, very clean. The decor is sophisticated, with immaculate furniture. It perfectly reflects Sylvia’s own lavish yet refined taste. Sylvia is dressed in a stylish, sleeveless lilac dress that goes down to her knees. Her mother, Janice, sits next to her, wearing a similar dress, though in dull yellow. Her hair falls gracefully on her shoulders. Walter, Sylva’s father, is also dressed up for the occasion. He has a crisp black shirt on with a gray dinner jacket, and he has finished his look with his Roman reverend’s collar, which gives him an air of authority. Shawn looks a bit intimidated, and Walter is pleased with himself. This is precisely the impression he wanted to make when he put on the collar that evening, despite his wife’s vehement objections.
Shawn is dressed in his usual T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Sylvia stared at him when he entered, even opened her mouth to say something, then decided against it. She just sighed and got back to setting the table. She has no intentions of creating a scene this evening. God knows what drama might unfold anyway if either Shawn or her dad refuse to behave after the big news is revealed. At least Shawn, who was late for his own graduation, arrived on time. She has to give him that.
Everyone busies themselves with their forks and knives, eating away silently and trying their best to ignore the tension in the air. Sylvia looks briefly at Shawn, bites her bottom lip, and then looks at her mom, silently asking her to break the ice. When she stays quiet, Sylvia decides to take the initiative herself.
“Has everyone had enough to eat? Mom?” she asks, raising her voice at the last word, again trying to get her mother to help ease the tension.
Janice finally gets the hint and answers, smiling, “Yes, that was delicious, dear. Walter?” She turns to her husband now. Walter stretches back a bit and answers, “I sure could go for another piece of that pecan pie.”
Sylvia kicks Shawn under the table. Shawn is half sleep-deprived and half bored to death and has begun to doze off. Shawn sits up straight in his chair. Sylvia smiles so as not to show how disturbed she is with his behavior. She realizes she needs to keep the conversation going to keep her boyfriend attentive. She turns to her father and says, “I’ll get it, Dad. Would you like anything, Shawn?”
Shawn wants to say that he would like many things—like going back to his apartment, turning off all the lights, and going to sleep; or going to the bar to grab some drinks with his buddies; or just spending the evening on the couch in front of his TV with a beer in his hand, playing video games. He would like to be by himself. He would like to be anywhere but here, stuck in this long, slow, monotonous evening that seems to stretch on forever. However, the way Sylvia is glaring at him stops him from saying all of this out loud, and he simply mutters, “No thanks, I’m fine.”
Sylvia sighs with relief. She can tell that Shawn is bored and wants to escape, but this evening is important to her, and she doesn’t want anything to ruin it. So far, the dinner has been a disaster. Her father and Shawn have barely exchanged one word with each other. She decides to give them some time alone to get them talking. She turns to Janice.
“Mom, can you help me in the kitchen? I think I’d like another piece of pecan pie also.”
Walter looks amused while Janice smiles knowingly and gets up. The ladies gather everyone’s plates and walk off. Shawn turns toward Walter and smiles shyly, awkwardly.
“You have a very nice daughter, Mr. Pruitt,” he says.
Walter smiles back and nods. He’s proud of his daughter, and any praise directed at her pleases him. He’s happy that he and his wife have raised her well, according to their own will. He doesn’t know how much his daughter actually resents her upbringing. Shawn knows but isn’t stupid enough to bring that up. He keeps a smile on his face as Walter answers, “Well, thank you, Shawn. And congratulations on your graduation.”
Feeling more at ease to finally see the somber-looking man smile, Shawn replies, “Thank you, sir. Sylvia and I have been studying together our whole senior year. I’m happy we both finished.”
“Yes, my wife and I are very proud of Sylvia, and we’re sorry we missed the graduation ceremony, due to airline flight cancellations.” Walter says offhandedly. It’s obvious there’s something else he wants to ask now. He decides to no longer beat around the bush and asks directly, “So, tell me, Shawn. How many months pregnant is Sylvia?”
Shawn stares at him, shocked. He takes a deep breath, then he rests his elbows on the table, his forehead in his hand, and looks down in embarrassment. There’s silence for a few seconds before Shawn finally gathers the courage to speak.
“How long have you known?” he asks, then immediately regrets his question. Not important now! he curses himself. It would have been better if I answered the question directly, but then, I never was good at doing that; Sylvia is. And why didn’t she warn him that she already told her dad? Where is she now? he wonders, wishing she were back already.
Walter pats him on the shoulder and says, smiling, “My daughter hates pecan pie. My wife, too—until she was pregnant with Sylvia. Then she couldn’t get enough of it right up until Sylvia was born. Like mother, like daughter.”
Shawn looks up at him. Clever man! He got me! “Do you think I pissed God off, Mr. Pruitt?”
Walter smiles gently this time and asks, “Do you believe in God, son?”
Shawn briefly breaks eye contact before meeting Walter’s gaze again. “I know there’s something out there. But I don’t know what to believe,” he answers honestly.
Walter nods. Shawn strokes his long hair nervously, then asks, “What do you suggest?”
Walter leans back in his chair and with a slow cadence, allowing each of his words to sink in, replies, “You have to search within yourself, Shawn, to find the answers. Just know that God does exist—Satan too; whether you believe it or not, Jesus Christ died on the cross for our sins and rose from the dead, to give us all a new life. He encourages everyone to accept him as our lord and savior.
“Everyone on earth has a purpose and free will. In other words, you choose how you live your life. If you want to be saved before you die, that determines whether or not you’ll go to heaven or hell for eternity.”
Shawn listens intently, taking in every word.
“You may not know what your purpose in life is today, but someday you will, and nobody can take that away from you, not even the devil himself. Depending on what you decide, he may not want to try.” Walter reaches in his coat pocket for a business card. “Here, son, take my number.”
Shawn takes the card with one eyebrow raised in a question.
“If you ever need me, Shawn, just call. This number is good any time of the day or night.”
Shawn smiles, relieved. “Thank you, sir.” As much as he hates approaching the subject without Sylvia, he knows he has to do it now, while Walter is in a good mood. He asks hesitantly, “What about the baby?”
Walter pauses in thought. Then he answers in his slow, gentle voice.
“As far as the baby is concerned—congratulations! As you well know, things happen. But God still loves you, and if you love her, do what the Lord would want you to in this situation. And if you’re not sure, pick up His word and read. Pray. Read and pray some more. It’s not how He would have planned it, but He loves us so much that He has made provision for all things that we may do outside of His will. Thank Jesus for that!”
Shawn nods in agreement, a little surprised that the worst is over pretty quickly. He takes in a deep breath as the tension evaporates from the air and says, “Yeah, we all could use a little inspiration in our lives, for the rest of our lives. Hey, thanks for the advice, Mr. Pruitt.” He’s completely at ease now, and as Walter leans in for a hug, Shawn is happy to reciprocate.
Sylvia and Janice reenter with the pie and pause in surprise upon seeing Shawn and Walter laughing. Sylvia can’t wait for her parents to leave so she can ask Shawn about it, but she will wait. The night is still young. She beams at everyone as Janice hands a slice of pie to Walter. Both women sit, and Sylvia immediately begins eating her pie, not realizing her father is watching her with all the love he has for her shining in his eyes.
CHAPTER 4
An Unexpected Visitor
It’s a cloudy day. A car drives up an old dirt road to the Turners’ trailer home and stops. It’s been a bumpy ride, and Ruth Engelman isn’t happy. She peers over the steering wheel at the trailer. She’s dressed in black, as she has been since her daughter’s funeral. Despite her husband’s insistence, she has been unable to wear any other color. Colors don’t attract her anymore. Nothing does. She’s sad and mad at the world, and she wants to show it. Her daughter is dead, and nothing can bring her back. Not even her young grandson, who she now turns to.
