![Free-eBooks.net](/resources/img/logo-nfe.png)
![All New Design](/resources/img/allnew.png)
Due to medical emergencies, the Messiah Show is canceled for today.
It says that on the handwritten board attached to the podium where Jesus supposedly performs his popular show. Jesus on a podium?! That doesn’t sound like Jesus at all. Sally would not believe that until she sees it with her own eyes. The humble Jesus that she knows would instead sit down on the grass, below everyone else, and ramble random thoughts about love, life, and children. Although Sally would soon tune out his blah-blah, she could not stop watching him speak with such passion. She would join Jesus, sitting next to him on the grass. She would intently look into his eyes as if she is listening, and let him enjoy delivering his sermon to his one-person audience. When she would eventually get too bored, she would halt his sermon with a kiss that he could never refuse.
Sally would give everything to recreate that moment and the memory of the best and the only true relationship she has ever had; the closest she has ever come to experiencing love. Why did we break up anyway? She wonders and wishes she could go back in time and tell the teenage Sally how lucky she is. And tell her that the love she is longing for is nothing but what she already has right in front of her; that brief kiss of hers that means the world to the shy lips of an innocent teen. Jesus’ narrow lips were always soft and supple as rose petals, Sally remembers. That is true love. Pure, honest, and fragile. She just needs to take care of it and nurture it to grow bigger and stronger. Or was that Vikram’s lips? Yeah, those of Jesus were more plump and somewhat succulent. Worldly-wise Sally would warn teenage Sally that the world is full of jerks. Instead of chasing a nonexistent idea, she should hold onto what she already has with Jesus. Sigh! If only Sally knew better back then. Come to think of it, Vikram’s lips were firm and steadfast. Definitely not soft and supple. Who was I thinking of then?
The past is the past, and the future belongs to those who want it more badly than anyone else. And God knows that Sally does. And God knows that Sally needs the change. Everybody deserves a last chance, and today Sally has come to claim hers. And she has come prepared, having honed her dating skills through numerous experiences. She has mustered all that was left of her faith to gather the pieces of her shattered heart and stitch them together. Holding it in her palms, she has come here to offer it to Jesus. To tilt the odds in her favor, she even wears her navy Victoria’s Secret slip, the color that Jesus used to love on her. Why did we ever break up?
Sally sighs, filled with disappointment, and takes another glance at the handwritten board that says the show is canceled for today. What luck! Nevertheless, her heart beats slower now that Jesus is not here. In an odd way, she’s kind of relieved that she doesn’t have to face the awkward encounter that part of her wants to avoid. As much as she is excited to meet Jesus again, she is also frightened by how she might be received. After all, it has been many years since the last time the two met. As her memory faded over the years, she struggled to recall the specifics of when or what took place, except for the lingering feeling that it didn’t end on good terms.
What if Jesus is in love with someone else now? But, Ms. Freeman assured Sally this is not the case. What if Jesus has forgotten all about the love that they once shared? But, Ms. Freeman assured Sally this is not the case. What if Jesus doesn’t return her love? Yet another rejection, this time from Jesus, her first love. She doesn’t know if her stitched-up heart would have the strength to hold up through such pressure. If it were not for Ms. Freeman’s begging, it’d be impossible for Sally to take such a risk. But now, here she is, taking a leap of faith, facing her chances. She has her pills in her purse just in case another anxiety attack kicks in.
“Excuse me. Sir,” Sally calls the passing-by operator who wears the park’s yellow vest.
“Yeah.”
“Do you know where I can find Jesus Freeman?”
“The show is canceled. Can’t you read?” he says, pointing to the handwritten board.
“Yeah, but I’m not here for the show. It’s a personal matter.”
The operator looks dressed-up Sally up and down, and he sneers, “Are you sure you’re not here to meet Paul?”
“No,” Sally snaps. “Never. No. Jesus. I’m here for Jesus.”
“Alright, alright. He’s hanging over there, at the kids’ section.”
“Where exactly?”
“You’ll find him. He’d be the only guy with a bandage on his head,” the operator says while leaving.
“Bandage?!” Sally mutters and worries.
The carousel ride is still there, at the same spot. Sally might forget many things about her past but never the carousel. Although it is disguised under fresh paint, Sally could easily recognize it by the dashing rounding board on the top and the plastic unicorns that would fly her to the sky, above the clouds. Life was much more beautiful when she was a kid; when dreams had no limits.
The sign at the beginning of the carousel’s empty line says that it is under maintenance. Well, of course, it is. The poor machine must be as old as Sally’s father. The very fact that it is still functional after those many years is surprising—if not miraculous. Even back in the day, it would go out of order every other month.
Two technicians, i.e., miracle workers, approach the carousel. What more do they want from that poor old timer? Why don’t they let the good old, rusty carousel retire and rest in peace, like Sally’s father? Before entering the operator booth, the technicians greet the only guy in the carousel with an unacknowledged ‘hi’. Seated silently on one of the plastic unicorns, the bearded guy blends seamlessly with the carousel, making him hard to spot. Hugging the grab bar as if it is a person, he wears a white bandage on his head. Is he Sally’s Jesus?
Sally’s heart beats faster. What if she doesn’t look her best? Having butterflies in her stomach, she swiftly brings out the compact kit from her purse and checks her makeup in the compact’s mirror; her shaped and filled eyebrows, thickened eyelashes, smooth and flushed cheeks, and finally the sexy red on her lips. She takes out Super Lustrous Lipstick and applies more of it on her lips, making them irresistible for a kiss. Now, she is ready to face destiny.
Accompanied by the suspenseful soundtrack of her fast heartbeats, Sally approaches the carousel, her eyes locked on Jesus. As she steps closer, she notices the burns on his hand and face. That explains the bandage wrapped over his temple. Did he have a cooking accident? Sally wonders and worries.
The unfamiliar, twisted expression on Jesus’ face distracts Sally from his wounds. Although his furrowed brow and intense gaze speaks of an ongoing rage, his tilted head and downturned mouth remind Sally of Friday evenings when she gets depressed for no obvious reason. Perhaps this is perfect timing. He would cheer up by seeing me, Sally wishfully thinks and tries to open the gate, only to find the damn thing locked. Jesus must have the key. To meet his gaze, Sally and walks along the circular fence that keeps her away from Jesus, with each step hearing the loud click of her high-heel shoes on the wooden surface.
While still hugging the grip bar, Jesus turns to face Sally.
Sally offers a big smile and waits for her charm to catch onto Jesus and transform him to be as cheerful and happy as a child.
Jesus turns away, the twisted expression on his face unchanged. As if Sally is not even there. Worse. As if Sally is nothing but an inanimate object. One of the many plastic unicorns on the carousel, embellished with shiny colors, that people ride for a few minutes and then move on with their lives. No. No. That cannot be. Jesus would never do that. Not to Sally. He must have hit his head hard against a brick wall and lost all his memory. He must have. That’s the only plausible explanation.
“It’s me. Sally.”
“I know,” Jesus says under his sigh, staring off into the distance.
“Then,” Sally squeaks at the underwhelming reaction. “Why… I’ve come a long—” A lump the size of her fist develops in her throat. She wants to tell Jesus that she has come a long way to see him, for his own sake but then decides it’s too early. She’d better begin with charming compliments. Duh! Dating 101. A rookie mistake from a maestra like Sally! She takes a deep breath and fakes a smile. “I’ve heard your words. I think they’re cool.”
“Everybody does. Have you seen the size of my following?” Jesus says, the unfamiliar, piercing arrogance in his tone cutting deep and painful. He doesn’t even bother to look Sally in the eye when saying the hurtful words.
Sally swallows hard against the lump in her throat. She takes a few deep breaths to keep herself together. There must be a story behind Jesus’ injuries. He might even be loaded with sedatives, not realizing the sting in his words. “Oh, my gosh! What is the bandage for?” she asks as if she has just noticed it. “Poor baby! What happened to your head?”
“Since when do you care?”
Sally’s eyelids begin twitching, alerting her to an upcoming anxiety attack. She fumbles in her purse, ensuring the pills are still there. Coming here was a bad idea. She should go back before it gets worse. There is a limit to how much a girl can take, no matter how thick-skinned she has grown.
As Sally turns to leave, memories of riding the carousel with Jesus come rushing back. They flew on the unicorns, happy and carefree just to be with each other, as if that bliss was going to last forever. Sally took it all for granted. She would give everything to live those moments again. Willing to risk it all, she says over her shoulder, “You know what,” and turns back to Jesus. “It’s a…ah…it’s a funny coincidence that I meet you here, on this carousel. It brings lots of good memories.” She chuckles. “Oh, gosh! Do you remember our first kiss here?”
“Oh, how can I ever forget?” Jesus says with a trembling voice.
Sally smiles.
Jesus continues, “I remember how you spit, right in my face, after I kneeled and said I would die without you, and begged you not to leave.”
Upon hearing the word ‘spit,’ Sally reflexively slaps her palm over her lips, possibly smearing her once perfect lipstick. Suddenly, she vividly remembers how their relationship ended. Lowering her gaze, her chin drops to her chest.
“Listen,” she squeaks, “that’s actually why I’m here,” she promises smoothly. “I’ve made terrible…you know,” Sally falters, the promise becoming a plea. “But the past is the past, right? I… I… I wanted to see if…you…our relationship, I mean, if you want to pick it up again and—”
“I forgave you a long time ago. You, your mistakes, and your wrongdoings. I’m over it. There is nothing left to pick up,” Jesus says, his voice empty of compassion.
With tears welling up, Sally rushes for the pills in her purse. The response she received mirrored her worst fears, yet it surpassed them with a level of harshness and bitterness she had never imagined possible. The Jesus that she remembers was never mean. “You don’t mean that,” she cries, unscrewing the lid on the bottle of Valium. “I know you. These feelings never can completely go away—”
“But you surely can,” Jesus says, crossing the line from meanness to cruelty.
Every synapse in her brain trembles with pain, each resonating with a profound, deep sound akin to the striking of a mallet against a resounding gong. She covers her ears but the symphony of piercing noises doesn’t stop. Sally swallows the pill before it’s too late. A tear escapes her left eye and flows down her cheek. This was no Jesus talking. Neither the lovable Jesus that she once knew, nor the merciful Jesus she hears of from people. Where’s this much cruelty coming from? Sally wonders. What’s changed in him?
“I’ve forgiven you,” Jesus continues as if he hasn’t said enough. “I don’t have any feelings for you. And you know what?” Jesus turns to Sally. “I don’t think I ever really did.”
“But you said you loved me,” Sally says with a sob of despair.
The music begins. The technicians must have fixed the carousel’s rusty engine. Jesus smiles like a happy child, opens his arms, and starts riding away on the plastic unicorn.
As the plastic unicorn takes Jesus up to the skies, he hears Sally shouting through her sob, “It was right here. You said you love me. What’s changed?”
“The many guys you fucked,” Jesus whispers so that no one hears. “The many dicks you sucked.”
“It wasn’t that many,” Sally says, her trembling voice barely audible.
“One is too many,” Jesus mutters while a tear escapes his eye. “One is too many.”