Although his wounds are not completely healed yet, Jesus has removed the bandage to look better for the show. He also wears the gray shirt that Paul bought for him, which, according to Paul, brings out the color in Jesus’ eyes and gives him a holy look. “The art of pulling in an audience is half about the words and half about the appearance,” Paul always says. Thanks to his mentorship and Jesus’ mastery of the art, today’s performance of the Messiah Show drew an audience larger than ever. Most of the crowd has dispersed already, taking part in other activities at the amusement park. Jesus, however, sticks around for a bit as has become a tradition of his. A group of his most loyal followers circles around him, asking questions and requesting blessings.
“Lord, what would be your ten commandments?” a fan with long curly hair asks, recording Jesus with his phone.
“I have only one commandment and…ah…and…ah—” Jesus turns to the left where the wheezing and clicking sounds come from.
The crowd parts, giving way to an old man with a hunchback and a cane who slowly shuffles through.
Where do I know that face from? Jesus wonders.
HONKING HORNS.
A vivid vision of Sally flashes before Jesus’ eyes, leaving him wondering about the meaning behind such visions. Are they merely random fragments from the past? Or do they hold the power to foretell a future predetermined in the past? Or perhaps they’re nothing more than hallucinations of a lonely mind. Standing at the edge of an overpass, Sally overlooks the bustling freeway beneath her feet. One after another, the cars pass by as fast as bullets. Sally’s eyes are red. She is not crying now, but the black traces of the melted mascara on her cheeks suggest that she has. A lot. Sally steps over the fence.
“Psst,” Paul hisses. “Jesus, people are waiting.”
“What?” Jesus asks, snapping out of the vision.
“Your commandment.”
“Yes,” he says and turns his gaze from the old man to the fan with curly hair. “I have only one commandment. Forgive. That is the essence of all commandments. Everything starts with forgiveness,” Jesus says as if he reads from a teleprompter. He finishes that with a big PR smile, not sure why.
The old man’s slow march finally ends behind the girl with a dragon tattoo on her face. She moves aside to give him more space. The old man takes the last step to become only one foot away from Jesus. The poor man must have come here to ask for a blessing. After taking a few labored breaths, he lifts his head as much as possible to meet Jesus’ gaze.
Jesus offers him a gracious smile.
The old man spits in Jesus’ face.
“He’s the devil,” someone shouts.
Paul jumps in, raising his fist to punch the old man.
Jesus grabs the fist in mid-air. Shaking his head, Jesus motions Paul to stand aside.
Struggling to keep his head up, the old man says, “Forgive this if you can, asshole.”
“He’s the devil, I’m telling ya,” someone says, his voice hysterical.
Jesus wipes the spit off his face and takes a close look at it.
In the spit, he sees the vision of a tear running down Sally’s face. Standing at the edge of the overpass, Sally steps over the fence. She takes a medicine container out of her purse and tosses a pill into her mouth. Her face twists in pain when she swallows it. She lets out a nervous chuckle and takes a few more pills. She swallows them and smiles as if they have worked immediately. Taking a deep breath, she throws the pill container over her shoulder on the sidewalk and follows that with her purse. The peaceful smile gives way to a sudden eruption of nervous laughter, tinged with a mischievous undertone.
Jesus turns his gaze back to the old man who spat on his face. “Your daughter did the same to me a long time ago—I guess it runs in the family,” Jesus tells Sally’s elderly father, who must be in his 80s now. “And that was the highest pain ever inflicted upon me. And I did it. I finally managed to forgive her. Forgiving you is not even a challenge by—”
“She’s dead, you bastard,” Sally’s dad shouts with a trembling voice. “Do you understand? She’s dead. I swear to God, I’ll never forgive you for what you did to my daughter. Never.”
“Sally?” Jesus mutters and finds himself standing on the same overpass as if his body is teleported there. Sally turns to her right, where Jesus stands. Her eyes are filled with tears. Jesus is not sure if Sally can see him or not. Sally’s mad laughter stops. A tear escapes her eye. “I love you,” she says, and while facing Jesus, jumps onto the freeway. Jesus tries to grab her, but his hand passes through her body as if he were a ghost. His gaze is still attached to hers but gazes cannot fight gravity. “No-o-o-o-o-o.” Jesus’ scream accompanies her slow-motion fall onto the running cars.
Jesus snaps back to attention, finding himself back in the adventure park.
Sally’s dad is slowly walking away.
“I didn’t do anything,” Jesus screams, his voice squeaky.
Sally’s father stops and partially looks over his shoulder. “Yeah, you didn’t, you bastard. You didn’t do anything.” He turns before bursting out crying. “That’s why my daughter’s dead.”
As if struck by thunder, Jesus hears the shrill honk of a car horn resounding in his head. Holding his head in his hands, he falls to his knees. From the bottom of his heart, he calls God and makes one wish, that his mission on earth would terminate here and now.