Souls - XXXVI

The smell of food is overpowering. It has been so long since I’ve smelled real food, not something scavenged, not something well past its “best by” date. This is fresh and potent, the smells of sautéed veggies and marinated meats overpowers the space of the trailer. 

The trailer itself is magnificent by trailer standards. Sprawling space, real rooms separated by real walls. The interior seems to ignore the rules of physics set forth by the exterior. My heart beats faster, in one of these rooms my daughter is waiting.

Jesus leads us to the living room, he ushers Emily to a couch that is positioned in front of a large television. Emily doesn’t know what she’s looking at, a relic of a world that is alien to her.

“Here, let me show you how to play a video game.” Jesus plops down next to her and hands her a video game controller. He calmly and kindly explains what the game is, what each button on the controller does. Emily looks as if a wizard just presented her with a magical orb that can control time and space. I think I see a smile escape past her lips.

“Good girl, have fun. I’ll be right back.” He stands as he ruffles her hair. Looking to me he nods his head to the door.

“Family reunion time.”

A part of me wants to just shoot questions at him, a million of them that have been building since I was a little girl right up until the world fell apart and led me here. I wanted to ask about malaria, about the holy trinity, about this new world, about platypuses; but I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt that I was about to see my daughter. The daughter I have now lost twice. I can only squeak out one question as we make our way to her.

“Is she okay?”

“Oh yeah, doing great. She’s really gotten into cooking, I mean you can smell it. I haven’t eaten like this since…well..maybe never.”

I feel a bit of motherly pride swell in me. We reach a closed door, Jesus puts his hand on the knob and turns to me.

“You ready? You’re not gonna make this shit weird or anything?”

I nod.

When the door opens I see Mary, and she is glowing, glowing in that happy, carefree way. A way that has all but disappeared in this new world. She looks up to us and smiles.

“Hey mom, I wondered when you’d finally get here. Hope you're hungry.”

I feel faint, my knees threatening to buckle under me. Jesus grabs my arm and supports me.

He whispers in my ear, “Remember, don’t make it fucking weird. She’s been through enough.”

I nod.

“Hey—hey hun.”

Mary puts a bowl of asparagus onto the dinner table and makes her way to me. She holds out her arms. My daughter is about to hug me for the first time in my life.

I can’t help it, my body defies me and breaks down into a weeping fit. The ugly kind, the kind that shakes your whole body. 

Jesus looks annoyed.

“Oh mom, it’s okay. I understand now. He helped me. It’s okay, don’t cry.”

My daughter is rubbing my convulsing back. She is comforting me. She is calm, strangely so.

Jesus intervenes, “Here, I’ll leave you two to it. I have a little kid to play video games with. Let me know when dinner is ready.”

Mary nods, and lovingly pushes away from me.

“Come on, you can help finish up the potatoes.”

Jesus grins as he leaves the room. 

It’s just my daughter and I. Alone. When he leaves some of her glow dissipates, as if he’s her power source. 

I let it go, I’m sure it’s nothing.

She hands me some boiling hot potatoes in a bowl, “Just mash these up. We’ll add the garlic and such in a minute.”

I do as I’m told. A few minutes pass before I can gather my emotional bearings enough to speak.

“How did you get here?”

“Him. Not sure how, but when I blew up it all went dark. I gave up on everything. I was so mad, so sad. Then, there was a light that got closer and closer. A hand reached out, I took it. I was here.”

It’s strange to hear a biblical parable with your child as the star. 

As she’s telling me the story, I can’t help but notice she keeps shooting glances to the door, as if she is an addict and her drug should be coming back at any moment.

She moves to a recipe, glances at it, then grabs a pencil and starts scratching on the paper. “Let me change this. There, that will taste much better.”

Mary hands the paper to me, “Try these seasonings on the potatoes instead, I think it’ll taste better.”

One more glance to the door.

I look down to the paper and see that parsley and garlic have been scratched out and something new written under it:

“Get out of here while you still can.”