Calamity

wasn’t because I wanted to defy my parents, God rest their souls, but because I had to go—something was calling me and I had to find it.”

“What was it?”

Ellis smiled. “God, of course, though that’s really the simplest answer. I’m not sure what, or who, was calling me. It wasn’t as though I heard something, don’t misunderstand me. Something was calling for me, but I didn’t hear it—I sensed it.”

“And whatever it was wanted you to walk off so your parents couldn’t find you?”

“Whatever the power is, I don’t think it cares who I may leave behind. It only wants me to go toward something, typically someone. I wandered off once when I was about seven. I walked off our front lawn and headed through the neighborhood with only the vaguest idea of where I was headed. I passed several people, I remember not one of them said anything to me, and I grew frightened. But I kept walking because whatever was calling for me had gotten stronger. I was close, though I had no idea why I believed that.

“I came upon this house with green shutters, I remember that detail quite clearly. There was a car parked in the driveway, the driver’s door open. An elderly man with thin wisps of hair covering his scalp dangled out of the car, the seatbelt the only thing keeping him from falling head-first onto the concrete.

“I walked right up to this man and tried to say hello but his eyes were closed, his body slack as if he had fallen asleep while getting out of his car. I touched him on the forehead, right above an incredibly bushy eyebrow. His skin was hot from the sun beating on him. He was going to get sunburned. Without any idea why, I said, ‘You’re not finished, not yet.’ Then a car screeched to a halt in the road and my mother was screaming for me to get in her car right now.”

Ellis paused, made sure Anthony was still with him. “When I turned back, the old man’s eyes were open and he whispered one word: ‘help.’ My mother never told me anything more about that man but I overheard her and my father talking about it that night. The guy had suffered a stroke and had I not found him, he’d be dead.”

There was promise in that anecdote, no doubt, but Anthony couldn’t let go of the part of his mind that argued the whole thing was spurious, a mere coincidence.

“Sometimes,” Ellis said, “when I’m in crowded places, I sense that calling for me again and I wander until I find where I’m supposed to go. I once stopped a wife from beating her child, a young man from breaking up with his sweetheart, and several people from committing suicide.”

“In public?”

“They were people who intended to go home that very night and kill themselves until I found them. I realize this sounds very coincidental, convenient even. But you can talk to many of those people if you want. Several of them are part of this ministry.”

You’re a predator, preying on the weak and brainwashing them into your empowerment ways.

The giant Jesus moved again, just a twitch, but enough to give Anthony a jump.

“I’m telling you this because last Saturday when Dwayne and I knocked on your door, I had that calling again. It led me to you. There is a reason.”

“What?”

Ellis shook his head but didn’t lose the smile. “I don’t have all the answers, Anthony. Only He can help you with those.” He stepped aside and made a slight upsweeping gesture toward the giant, crucified Jesus. “Your daughter was taken from you, but now you are here. Whether it was to stop you from doing something or simply help you get through your pain, I am happy that my calling led me to you.”

“You knew I’d come back?”

“The man you assailed yesterday, Dwayne, was once a repeat wife abuser. He had been arrested five times for domestic disturbances. He broke his wife’s nose twice. Her arm three times. She never pressed charges, however. He’d go to jail for a few days, sleep off his drunkenness, and return home.

“She got pregnant, hoped having the baby would somehow cure Dwayne of his problem. We think that way a lot, as people, that additions (more kids, more money, whatever) will help eradicate the bad habits, the ill inclinations, the darkness that hovers around some people. But there is only one thing that can heal people.

“This was five years ago. I was a parishioner in a little church that wanted to make big changes. I had brought in half of the congregation just from my little wanderings. Some people called me a prophet, but I’m just a man, following whatever mystical power it is that guides me. I went wandering one cold Saturday in February. It was already past nightfall and I really didn’t want to go on one of my jaunts, but I went. I can’t tell you how thankful I am that I did.

“I eventually came to a house echoing with screams and the clattering of thrown objects. The houses next door were dark. The people inside had heard this little violent drama enough times and were content to ignore it. I walked right up to that house, found the door unlocked, and walked inside.

“Dwayne has repented for this more times than needs counting, so please don’t mention it to him. I found him standing over his pregnant wife, at least five months at that point, I believe, dining room chair over his head to use as a bludgeon. His wife clutched her midsection and rolled onto her side to protect the baby.

“Dwayne looked at me, I remember how cold his eyes were, how dead, and asked me what the fuck I wanted. I told him he had to put the chair down and come with me. He asked why, were the cops coming? I told him he needed to come with me because he had important things to do in this world and one day he would be thankful that a child lived somewhere with his DNA.”

This had to be a ruse, right? Anthony didn’t want it to be, however; he wanted Ellis’s story to be true, to be, as it were, Gospel.

“He put the chair down and walked away with you?”

“He cursed at me a few more times but, eventually, yes, he walked away with me.”

“Why?”

Ellis shrugged. “Why are you here?”

Anthony thought for a moment. There was something unsettling here, something threatening that lingered just beneath the normalcy. Like a predator hiding in the fog. He sensed that danger but he couldn’t say why or even what the danger was. It was something about what Ellis said. The stories had come out naturally, perfectly, and it was impossible not to be moved, but maybe that was what was so disturbing—the perfectness of his tale. Like it’s been delivered a million times. Maybe, but there was still something more …

Anthony took out the flier again and held it up to Ellis, the flier shaking. He read from the back: “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Tears burned in his eyes. Simply reading the words of Jesus had brought those tears and he was completely caught off guard. “I want rest.”

Ellis squeezed his shoulder again, harder. “Tonight is the Last Supper, Anthony. At the Last Supper, Jesus said to His disciples, ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in me. In my father’s house are many rooms. I am going to prepare a place for you.’”

The tears flowed unabated now. Still, none of the other people praying turned to look. Maybe they’re fake, just statues like the giant Jesus. The Jesus twitched his head as if to contradict the thought.

“Pray with me and let us find the place He has prepared for you.”

* * *

Anthony hadn’t prayed, honestly, truly prayed, in many, many years. He did so now with a ferventness that shocked him. Tears kept slipping from his eyes. He clutched his hands together and pressed his forehead against them. At times he gritted his teeth; at other moments his tongue dangled loose and he sobbed low and quietly. He thought of only one thing while he prayed: Delaney’s face. He focused on that, held it so tightly that it would never slip from his grasp. He thought of her beautiful face and begged God for rest.

At some point, Anthony couldn’t tell when because time had ceased to be relevant anymore, Ellis started talking to him in soft tones that slipped around Anthony’s sobs and eased their way into his thoughts.

“When we pray,” Ellis said, “we are not begging for an answer. We are not pleading for salvation. We are opening ourselves up and hoping that the eternal light of God fills our void. Prayer is a time of soul-searching. Don’t look to heaven; look inside yourself.

“You are carrying a heavy burden and it’s time to let it go. Jesus suffered on his cross so you wouldn’t have to suffer on any. He will take the pain away; he will carry it for you. Do you want that,