The second coming, p.4
The Second Coming, page 4
“Well, Samuel,” she says with some exasperation, “looks like your daddy’s not here yet. I don’t see his car. Maybe he had car trouble again and got a ride home.”
Sitting in the back, secured in the car seat as he plays with a toy airplane, the young boy lifts his gaze to his grandmother. He has beautiful, dark-blue eyes, exactly like his mother’s. His hair is also darker than his father’s and looks more like Rachel’s when the sun is down. The resemblance to his mother is uncanny, especially when he looks directly at his grandmother. Ruth’s mood softens despite her irritation. She sighs and honks the horn twice.
The road is still except for a couple of large black crows next to the trailer, pecking the ground in vain attempts to find something to eat. They suddenly fly away, alarmed, and for a few seconds, the air is filled with their shrill cawing. Then, once again, there’s silence—and still no movement inside the trailer.
Samuel looks at his grandmother optimistically and asks, “Daddy not here yet? Can I stay with you, Nana?”
The innocence in his eyes and the hope in his voice once again assuages Ruth’s temper, and she finally smiles at the little boy.
“Yes, Samuel,” she replies. “If Daddy’s not home, you have to stay with Nana.”
Samuel beams, but Ruth turns toward the trailer once more and stares at it. She turns off the car and says, “Samuel, I need you to be a good little boy and stay in the car. Your daddy might be asleep inside. I’m going to go in and check. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Okay,” Samuel agrees, and as Ruth steps out of the car, he adds, “I love you, Nana.” She stops, smiling lovingly at her grandson.
“Aww, I love you, too, Samuel.” She blows him a kiss, and he reciprocates with child-like joy, then goes back to playing with the airplane in his hand.
Ruth trudges to the trailer door and knocks. After waiting several seconds, she knocks again, so loud this time that Samuel anxiously looks up from his airplane. Ruth taps her foot. Giving up, she crosses the deck to the big window on the side. She has to wipe away a layer of dust with her hand in order to peer in.
“Lathan? You in there?” she calls out. “Lathan! It’s Ruth!”
Receiving no answer, she retrieves a set of keys from her pocket as she walks back to the front door. There are plenty of keys on her keyring, and it takes her some time to find the one she’s searching for. She had to practically force Lathan to give her a spare key for emergency situations. She turns the key and opens the door.
As she walks in, she’s confronted with an overwhelming, malodorous mixture of sweat, liquor, dirty dishes, and rotten food. Gagging, she pinches her nose shut and nervously scans the trailer.
“Lathan?” she calls out quietly, one last time. Receiving no response and seeing that he’s not home, she sighs and relaxes. Then she surveys the place and realizes just how messy it is. Dirty dishes and leftovers from last night’s dinner, or perhaps even from days before, are stacked untidily in the sink. The kitchen faucet leaks in a constant drip-drop of water. The counter is covered with beer cans, cereal and pizza boxes, and more dirty dishes. The stench of rotten food comes from the pizza boxes, and Ruth feels compelled to throw them away. She goes to the counter and picks up a box, then shrieks with fear as something skitters over her hand—a roach! Disgusted, she shakes her hand, and the roach falls to the floor. She notices several more roaches all around the trailer. Some are on the counter, coming out of the pizza boxes, while others crawl all over the clothes, toys, and dirty diapers scattered on the floor.
Disgusted, Ruth runs to what once was her daughter’s bedroom and opens a closet door. She searches it from top to bottom, moving aside the clothes on the hangers and the boxes on the shelf. Finding nothing there, she hurriedly rifles through the stuff covering the floor.
This is so frustrating! she thinks. Then, to her surprise, she finds a box hidden behind some stuffed animals. Curious, she opens the box to find it filled with Styrofoam peanuts. She digs deeper, urgently throwing the Styrofoam peanuts left and right. Relief passes over her as she finally holds up an item carefully wrapped in a protective microfiber cloth; cautiously unwrapping the item, she confirms it to be the ancient bronze water jug. She quickly repacks it and sets it aside. Putting everything back in the closet where she found it, she closes the closet door and hurriedly leaves the bedroom with the box, then bolts out of the trailer and locks the door behind her, taking a big breath of fresh air.
As she walks back to the car, she sees Samuel grinning on seeing his grandmother come back without his father. He knows what this means. He gets to stay at Ruth’s clean house instead of his father’s smelly, messy house. Her grandson’s joy brings a smile to her face as well, and she forgets about the horrific conditions inside the trailer. She laughs and gives Samuel a thumbs-up; he imitates the gesture and laughs with her. She gets in the car, starts the engine, and they drive off, the box now occupying the passenger seat.
•••
Inside Shawn’s new apartment, the phone rings incessantly as the answering machine blinks, indicating two new messages. Outside the door, keys hurriedly jiggle in the lock. Shawn calls out, “I’m coming! Hold on a minute! Don’t hang up!”
The answering machine picks up. “Thank you for calling Abernathy Investigative Services. This is Shawn, and I’m either on the phone or out of the office. Please leave a detailed message with your name and number.”
With the sound of the beep, Shawn enters. The handsome young boy has grown. He’s broader now, and the difference is more visible as he turns on the light. His face looks more mature. The once carefree eyes look more tired, and he hasn’t shaved in a few days.
Exhausted, he drops his briefcase and rushes to the phone. An imperious voice rings out through the machine. “Shawn, this is Mrs. Vincent calling about your past-due rent.”
Shawn pauses, groaning loudly. His landlady is an uptight older woman who doesn’t care about anything but her rent. She’s also very loud and shrill, so Shawn decides not to pick up the phone. Instead, he sits at a table covered with stacks of papers and unopened bills. He picks up one bill, contemplates opening it, then decides against it and tosses it back on the table. He does the same with the rest of the bills as Mrs. Vincent’s voice continues.
“This is the third message I’ve left today! I need a phone call back as soon as possible; otherwise, you’ll be served with an eviction notice!”
She sounds angry, Shawn thinks wryly as the phone clicks. But then, when does she not?
Shrugging, he goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a Chinese food container, grabbing a pair of chopsticks. As he sits down to eat the cold Chinese food at his kitchen table, his eyes fall on the family room shelf and a photograph of him with Sylvia and their baby girl, Alyson. In the photo, Alyson is in Shawn’s arms, laughing as she flails around while both parents gaze lovingly at her. Lined alongside are wedding photos and other family photos. The Holy Bible sits right in the middle.
“I need Sylvia,” he mutters as he eats his cold leftovers alone. “She would probably have a nice meal for us if she was here.”
Shawn realizes that he’s in a bad mood from missing his wife, who has gone to Orlando with Alyson for a women’s and girl’s church conference. His cell phone buzzes and he grabs it eagerly. His hope is answered: it’s a text from Sylvia.
HI SWEETIE, WE SAFELY ARRIVED IN ORLANDO. ALYSON WANTS TO GO TO DISNEY WORLD AFTERWARD, SO WE’LL SEE YOU IN A COUPLE OF DAYS? THERE’S CHINESE FOOD IN THE FRIDGE YOU CAN EAT FOR DINNER, BUT PLEASE, SHAWN, HEAT IT UP? ANYWAAAAAY, WE LOVE ♥ AND MISS YOU MUCH!
A smile spreads across Shawn’s face. He replies, LOVE YOU MORE, MISS YOU GUYS ALSO, ENJOY YOUR STAY, AND BE SAFE!
Sylvia responds with a cute selfie of herself and Alyson grinning. He sends them a little red heart in return, now in a much better mood.
•••
Wrapped in a white towel, Shawn stands at the sink in his bathroom, which has been designed to look more spacious than it is. He wipes at the foggy mirror of the medicine cabinet before opening it and taking out his toothbrush and toothpaste.
The shower has done him some good. He feels completely refreshed, with no signs of the exhaustion he felt just an hour ago. He even whistles an old favorite tune to himself as he looks down to put the toothpaste on his toothbrush.
While he’s distracted, the fog from the hot shower rapidly dissipates, clearing the mirror of all condensation with miraculous speed. Another figure appears in the mirror—a ghostly woman standing in the doorway, just behind Shawn. The figure is tall and slender, dressed in an all-white gown with red hair streaming down her shoulders.
Shawn is too preoccupied with squeezing the remnants from the toothpaste tube to notice. The figure slowly fades as Shawn looks up to brush his teeth, ignorant of the strange proceedings.
Finishing, he rinses and spits into the sink. The figure returns, standing there behind him in the doorway, pale and white. Shawn glances into the mirror and almost stumbles back, horror written all over his face as he finally sees her. Several seconds pass by as he stares, petrified. Then he whirls around.
The doorway is empty.
Scared out of his wits, Shawn goes cold as the blood drains from his face, turning him almost as white as the figure. Calm down, Shawn, calm down, he tells himself. You need to calm down. It’s just a hallucination. You’ve had a hard day. You’ve had a few hard days, and now you’re just exhausted. This is just your mind playing tricks on you. Taking a deep breath and trying to gather some courage, he forces his feet to move and emerges from the bathroom.
Once out of the room, he peers around the apartment, searching for something, anything, that would explain the weird and frightening phenomenon. Suddenly, an impossible gust of wind blows into the apartment and rustles through the family portraits on the shelf. Shawn’s eyes follow the sound and fall on the Holy Bible. Apprehension is replaced by bewilderment as he stares at the Bible: it is open.
This is strange. I don’t remember opening the Bible. And where did that wind come from? The windows are all closed. He inspects the glass picture window in the corner and the rest of the windows throughout the entire apartment, but his suspicion is confirmed: all are locked.
As he looks back at the Bible, something clicks. He rushes to the dresser in his bedroom and opens the top drawer, anxiously searching. Finally, he finds it and straightens, holding a small bag of marijuana.
Shawn practically runs to the bathroom and dumps the marijuana into the toilet. He flushes it and watches the withered leaves swirl and disappear. Sighing with relief, he’s about to leave the bathroom when he remembers something else and opens the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink. Taking out a tall glass bottle, Shawn looks at the label and thinks long and hard. It’s a fifth of vodka, and he likes to keep it with him.
Do I really need to go this far? he asks himself. Shaking his head, he decides against keeping it and pours it out. As he watches the liquid slowly disappear, he feels a strange sense of satisfaction. He glances once again at the mirror of his medicine cabinet, relieved when he sees only himself.
•••
As darkness falls, Shawn sits balancing his checkbook at the kitchen table. He frowns as he tries to calculate his expenditures from the past week. With a child in the house to take care of, managing his accounts has become more difficult.
He loses track of time and peers into his bedroom at the digital clock on his bedroom nightstand. It reads 10:08 pm. No wonder I’m tired, Shawn thinks.
He yawns and sets down his calculator and checkbook. Standing, he turns off the lights and heads to the bedroom, shedding his clothes before flopping onto the bed, exhausted. Barely a few seconds pass before the room is filled with the sound of his heavy breathing.
The clock reads 3:15 am, and Shawn is fast asleep when the mysterious breeze returns, rustling through the pages of the Bible again. When the pages finally settle, the time on the clock changes to 3:16. The verse John 3:16 is now visible in the open Bible: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only begotten Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
The breeze turns into a small whirlwind at the foot of Shawn’s bed, then drops away as a figure takes its place. Dressed in an all-white nightgown that extends to her feet, she has a beautiful face from which a bright light emanates. Although the light is bright, it’s not blinding; it’s pleasant. The face, though Shawn is unaware, is Rachel Turner’s, and as she hovers at the foot of the bed, a light glows behind her, and a cloud surrounds her feet.
“Shawn. Shawn,” the spirit calls out in a soft, musical voice with a rippling echo to it.
Shawn slowly awakens, squints, and covers his face to adjust to the strange light in his room. His eyes widen as he finally focuses on the vision. He sits straight up and recoils from the angel-like figure in fright.
“Don’t be afraid, Shawn,” the spirit says soothingly. Her tone is soft and gentle, and Shawn is reminded of his mother’s voice. This helps to calm him a little as he gazes at the beautiful figure floating at the foot of his bed. It takes him a little more time to find his voice, and when he finally does, he asks nervously, “Are you a ghost?”
The holy spirit smiles at the question. She seems to become more beautiful than ever as the glow around her brightens. She answers in her soft voice, “No, I’m what you would call a holy spirit, sent from heaven.”
The fear on Shawn’s face is replaced by confusion. Although he relaxes and feels more at ease, he doesn’t understand what is going on. “Am I dead?”
The holy spirit gently laughs, shakes her head, and answers, “No, you’re very much alive.”
Shawn is bewildered. What is this holy spirit from heaven doing here if I’m alive? Is it here to take my soul? The thought scares Shawn; he’s not ready to die yet.
“What . . . what do you want?”
“God wants you to know that He loves you and wants to be a part of your life, unconditionally,” the holy spirit replies.
The reply is as much a mystery as the holy spirit herself. Something must be wrong with my head. Or I’m still asleep and this is all a dream. He vigorously rubs his eyes, but the holy spirit is still there when he stops. Shawn decides to play along to get more answers. “Please tell him—God—thank you, but why me?” he asks, a little suspiciously. “I haven’t lived my life according to God.”
“The mystery of lawlessness is already at work,” the holy spirit answers. “Only he who now restrains will do so until he’s taken out of the way.”
Shawn becomes even more disconcerted at the holy spirit’s riddles. Seeing the confusion on his face, the holy spirit explains calmly, “You will allow the blind to see and the deaf to hear the truth, in the name of the only begotten Son of God, Jesus Christ. He’s coming soon.”
Frustrated now, Shawn cannot stop from crying out, “I don’t understand. Please explain to me what you mean!”
Instead of answering, the holy spirit pulls back slowly and fades out to a cloud.
Shawn scrambles to the foot of the bed, desperately trying to catch the cloud in his hands as he pleads, “Don’t go! I don’t understand! Please help me understand what you’re talking about!”
But it’s too late. Shawn opens his fists and stares at his cold, empty palms as the holy spirit’s voice echoes in the darkness: “I’ll return when it’s time. May God be with you.”
Shawn looks around frantically for the source of the voice but finds himself alone in his room. The holy spirit has vanished. Scared to death, he jumps out of bed and runs to his briefcase, tossing it on the kitchen table. He rummages through it and finally retrieves Walter’s business card, which he grips as if afraid to let go of his only source of answers. Rushing to his cell phone, he dials frantically.
It takes him several attempts to dial the number correctly. As the line rings, he taps his foot on the floor, waiting impatiently for Walter to pick up.
•••
It’s dark outside, and an eerie silence hangs in the air. Even the owls have stopped their hooting and sit still and silent on the tree branches. Their big, wide-open eyes flicker about, on alert, as if anxiously waiting for something to happen, and maybe dreading it as well. There are no other birds in sight, and the bats have long returned to their caves, away from human civilization. The usual faint sound of dogs barking is replaced by utter quiet.
The houses and apartments on the street are silent as well, their occupants blissfully unaware of what is to come. All the windows are dark as the people sleep. The moon has hidden behind dark clouds. It emerges for a few seconds to catch a glimpse of the sleeping world. These few seconds are enough to shed light on the residents of one specific room—Walter and Janice Pruitt, fast asleep in bed.
The silence in the room is sporadically interrupted by the harmonized light snoring of the husband and the heavy breathing of his wife. Suddenly, the phone rings shrilly, once, twice, continuously, urgently, waking the couple from their deep slumber.
Janice is the first to start murmuring. She stretches her hand and blindly gropes for the phone in the dark. Her eyes fall on the clock by the bedside, and she squints to look at the time: 5:36 am. Who can be calling this early, and why? Concerned and now fully awake, she finally finds the phone and picks it up.
“Hello?” she says, her voice gravelly from sleep. “Hi, Shawn. Yes, he’s right here. Hold on a second.”
She turns to Walter and tries to wake her husband fully. “Walter. Walter, it’s Shawn.” It takes a few seconds for Walter to decipher what his wife is saying, and then he jerks up and quickly takes the phone, looking concerned and confused.
