Rainy Tuesday

         We are gathered here today to partner these two in holy matrimony.
        “Do you John Quincy the Third, take Julia Rose to be your lawfully wedded wife….?”
        “I do.”
         The day I married the love of my life was the day I knew with God nothing was impossible. That day I lost my innocence, or should I say I gave her my innocence.
In this time of new culture of tolerance, and no sense of morals and no ethics it is nearly impossible to get out of high school with out having an STD; let alone having sex. This new way of thinking that you have to sexually express your love for someone is such a load of bull. It drives me insane. Or so I thought. I didn’t marry my high school sweet heart. I would’ve. if it wasn’t for….....


          Well I’ll paint a picture for you.

          Allow me to set the backdrop.
          Imagine a roughly small high school, with a small number of kids; no more than four hundred.
          Now, I will describe the leading lady that I deeply love. Not the sexiest or the most beautiful girl in the world but to me she is a goddess;  beauty embodied, inside and out, through and through; she was simply divine. Or so I thought. I have fallen in love with many girls in my life but this was special; this seemed like I would truly marry this girl.  Little did I know; that she had other plans.
          Now for the first act scene one.
          The day was a rainy Tuesday and I went to school like any other day. I sat in class shaking nervously for the bell to ring; the day to end. So, I could run to her in the stairwell and passionately slobber all over her face, while her friend watched disgusted. The bell wouldn't ring though; Eons seemed to tick by. Finally the sudden shriek gave way and along came my freedom.
   
          “Get out of the way!” shouted the principle as she marched through the hall. Crisp and Sharp was the shrill of her voice as it sent chills down your spine.

           I rushed to where she would meet me after school.
           “Have you seen her today?” I asked her friend.
           “No! Sorry John…. Guess you don’t get to gross me out today!”
           “Some people’s kids” I thought, “Why must they insult true love when they see it!”
           What a fool I was. I had been eating her affection up like a blind, dead, lame dog that eats embers as crumbs from the floor of a burning house. I didn’t see the signs: the "bruises" that she claimed to have gotten from karate, or the smell of cologne that she said was from the guys she had been sparring with. How had I not seen the look of deceit in her eyes as she said she loved me; lied of missing me. The times in the stair well…How could I have not foreseen this rainy Tuesday?
           I got in my car, well really it belonged to my mother at the time, carrying on; I got in my mother’s car. Turned on the ignition
           “Why must it rain today?”” I inquired aloud. The rain droplets making the road hard to see. As I drove I saw a man, so I pulled over, and rolled down the passenger window.
          “Do you need a ride, sir?” I asked the man.
           “Well, that’s mighty kind of you to ask on such a bad day! Sure! Please.” shouted the man over the rain.
           He had an old burlap bag, which I told him he could put in the back seat. I didn’t mind the wetness and the smell the rain created. If it wasn’t that day, the pouring water would have been perfect.
           “Where are you from?” he asked.
           “Well, here of course.” I chuckled back.
           “You can’t be from here” he retorted.
           “Why do you say that?” I asked
           He paused for a moment and slowly stated, “If you were from here you wouldn’t have stopped and picked up a stranger on a day like this.”
           Moments passed, and all that could be heard was the rain pounding on the roof of the car. I turned the key over and the beast came to life. I said, “You’re right I’m not from here, but I don’t want to talk about where I’m from. I don’t like knowing my past; good or bad, rich or poor; happy or tormented.
           He smiled. Then he began to quietly laugh.
           “Where are we going?”
           “I don’t know. Where do you want to go?”
           He smiled; laughing on the verge of a cackle, his cough worsening. He cleared his throat.

          I couldn’t take it any more. “What’s so funny?” I asked quite bitterly.

           He jumped through his skin, sitting up, and startled by my bitterness he said, “Well, if you insist, then I will give you my spiel. You don’t know where you came from and you don’t know where your going and here I sit thinking I just met a young man who knew the secrets of life. A man willing to risk his life to save his fellow brother from catching a cold” he sneezed.
           “Bless you.”
           “Thank you. Son, in this world of sex, drugs and alcohol there is no way you can amount to something if you don’t know where you came from, and I am talking not only about the happy moments that make you cry out of joy and happiness. I am also talking about the haunting memories the ones that you wake up in the morning sweating and panting like an exasperated man, with the world upon his shoulders. The nightmares that wake you up right after you have a dream of a great childhood memory. Then you have to be able to live with the fact that those choices good or bad; wrong or right, where choices nothing more. Not the things that define who you are.”

          I turned left as he cleared his throat. This seemed unbelievable, only I would listen to a man from the side of the road.

           He licked his lips, moved the wet hair out of his eyes, smiled and began, “You have to know where you are going in life; of course you may die today, and not live to see tomorrow. Son, you never know when that day will come, but you have to be able to know what you want to do tomorrow and the next day and the things you want to leave behind for years to come.”
He touched the cross hanging from my rearview mirror. Smiled then slowly moved his hand down.

          I realized this man was just warming up, so I pulled over; turned the key toward me and the engine roar died abruptly. The sudden silence of the car was met with the pounding of the rain on the roof of the car. The vehicle gave this way and that way as it was tossed about by the winds of the storm; creaking everywhere like a boat about to be turned over.

           “ I see that cross , Son, and I think ‘You need to know what God wants you to do in your life’ but then I think, ‘You don’t know’  What do you think about what I have said?”
           “I don’t know”
           “Of course you don’t. Sorry I asked. It’s not about going to church every Sunday and inviting people. It’s not about bible drill; it’s about having a relationship with our creator and his son. What that means is so beyond our comprehension level that it can’t be reached within lifetimes” His eyes shut.

           I sat in my seat and became nervous because this man was lecturing me. I wasn't sure if he was a crazy person or if he actually believed the words coming out of his mouth. Yet, there I sat in my seat waiting for him to speak again, but he just remained motionless across from me. I worried he fell asleep in my car, and began to hope he would just open his eyes. I was dying  to hear his next words.

            He opened his eyes, as if he had just blinked and He cleared his throat; smiled and continued his "spiel."
            “Son.” He whispered. “Son, having a relationship with God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit is more than a magical prayer and taking a dip in a symbolic pool of water. You have to be a living testimony; you have to be a beggar to save the beggars, a junkie to save the junkies; you must become all things to all people to save some. Let me tell you though. The people you love the most they will hurt you the most. It’s the way of the world. There is no bloody karma. Good things happen to the good and bad people of this world; bad things happen to the good and the bad. That’s not what karma claims. Son, the kids; now-a-days read and hear bits and pieces and that’s what ends up sticking; random little tid-bits. This and that and they don’t take a little time to search the internet and see if it’s true. Son, My People Die because of a Lack of Knowledge. They don’t know. They have no wisdom. Access to all the knowledge in the world and no Wis-
             “What’s your name?” I whispered. I regretted those words as soon as they parted from my lips. What could I say? Here I was talking to a man dressed in rags on a rainy Tuesday about a relationship with my creator and I was kind of bored, kind of embarrassed, kind of confused, anxious. I am not sure what drove me to interrupt him, but whatever it was. I wish I hadn't interrupted him.
             Let me tell you, the reader, my four years of high school were definitely not a living testimony of the Christian walk. I was dry humping, chain-smoking, drug dealing, finger licking, and so many other things that are part of me to this very day. I sat there feeling, so ignorant for asking such a trivial question. The rain pounding on the roof of the car seemed to say, “Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!” the thunder echoed the insult.
             He simply looked at me; smiled, and the skin around his mouth seemed so smooth, for  a man of the street; he seemed so out of place in his rags; having such beautiful skin and handsome curls.
            “What’s my name?’ he asked sarcastically flailing arms out of frustration. “What’s my name the boy asks? What’s my name? Have you not heard a word I have said? My name is of no importance. Our name and reputation have no importance. Just another lie the media has fed from such a young age to mindless sponges.” He sighed. Shook his head, “My People Die from a Lack of Knowledge; it’s in the book check it out.”
            He opened the car door and walked away. The rain swallowing him whole; in a second he was gone. The rain pounding on the roof of the car was the only thing that accompanied me as I sat there with his smile still haunting me. I sat there thinking and replaying what just happened over and over.
             Then, I realized he had forgotten his burlap sack. I got the sack and ran in the direction he had gone. The rain pounding all around me. Drowning me in my ignorance. Such a feeling, the anxiety and loneliness I simultaneously felt. The rain engulfed me in its wonderful fragrance. It kissed me all over; comforting me now, as I ran and ran until I could run no more. I ran back to my car as fast as I could. I was drenched.  The rain pounded on the roof of the car. I sighed and held the bag in my lap. I wondered what was in the bag. I asked myself if I should look inside.
             Finally, I looked inside and there were two bibles, prayer beads, and other trinkets I had seen when I had gone to church. There was a picture of a woman in one of the bibles. It said “My love 1976-2012” I put the items back in the bag and quickly looked to see if any one was watching. As if some how I would be called out for looking into this man's bag; invading his privacy. Then I put the bag on the passenger seat and smiled; laughing at myself for looking around.

            I turned the ignition on and drove to her house. Now, that I was alone I remembered that I was headed to see my love before I saw that man, but his words echoed between my ears the whole way there.

            “Son the people you love the most; those are the people who will hurt you the most.”

             I had arrived. I walked to the door and let myself in; little did I know the surprise that was waiting on the other side for me. There she was; my lover. My angel, I weeped. There she was, my everything, sprawled in another man’s arms. Her beautiful curls where caressing his cheek while some of those golden curls groped the carpet. His hands strumming her porcelain undressed skin. I stood there. She didn’t even notice my presence. She was laughing, gazing into his eyes, and his face was blocked by hers. 
            I knocked on the door rather sarcastically. They sprawled around like little criminals trying to hide from the cops it was too late. They had been caught and now they had scared facial expressions. That showed nothing but stupidity, fear and confusion. Silence filled the room with such tension you could weigh it.
            Now, I saw the man’s face. He wasn’t just any man. He was her best friend, “family” of sorts, this seemed familiar alright. I stood there lost in this land of deception and hypocrisy. “My people die because a lack of knowledge” echoed in my mind. I had seen it coming, the lovely letters she wrote. I always knew how little they truly meant; all the moments in the stairwell meant nothing to her. She was sucking face with anything that had a pair of lips.
             Silence and their stupid looks is all I had to accompany the pounding rain on the roof laughing at me with lighting and thunder. I was in complete isolation. I was alone with nothing to lean on and now the wisdom of the man seemed so distant. I lashed out with anguish and hatred in my throat.
            “You skank, you are sleeping around for nothing you tramp! You inbred whore! Your hypocritical bullshit with the lies and letters-All the acting you played off so well-You fucking bitch-with this lousy faggot! Lying through your lips-all the dry fucking-you hoe! You’re not worth the time of day! Here I am at your door wanting to surprise you-Big Fucking Surprise-right here! This isn’t the first time either I bet.&#148.

          I was livid I didn’t notice the tears on her cheeks, the sorrow, agony, and remorse that her face portrayed. I had lashed out like an immature kid who had just learned profanity and homophobic insults. It was pathetic. I didn’t notice the stupid smile on his face as he stood up trying maintain a casual composure, with no clothes on, as he attempted to stand up for himself.
          “John it’s not her fault-
            I didn’t want to hear anything! Let alone that it wasn't her fault! I punched him, with all the force I could from my right hand,  in the jaw! He hit the floor quickly; his whole body limp, on her lap. She was crying now. Saying she was sorry that she loved me; I wasn’t paying attention. Pulled out my blade and I castrated him.
            
           “This is going to hurt you son of a bitch! You don’t deserve a penis you pathetic excuse for a man.”

            And I let the blade cut through the flesh unevenly and as painfully as possible. The blood splattered on my hands. His blood was everywhere, and this crimson red stained her pale skin. She Yelled-Cried-Gasped-Yelled-Cried-Gasped, and shivered with shock. His cries grew weaker by the second. He passed out. I drove and drove, but eventually I called the police.

           “There has been a serious accident some psychotic freak just castrated a man!” I gave them the address then hung up.
 
            I have been the worst model of Christ. That’s all I have succeeded at in life. The night I lost my virginity never happened. I haven’t married anyone. I haven’t met Julia Rose. The truth is that I saved a man from catching a cough years ago. I am supposed to show up to court tomorrow. I don’t know where I came from and I don’t know where I am going, but I do know I won’t live past this night. Tonight I have confessed to you, the reader, but I have made an eternal decision; to burn in hell. After, all these years of begging her to forgive me, I know she will not grant me forgiveness. So, before the judge can give me a death sentence I will seal my own fate. Maybe some how she will love me after this. I will use my cell as the gallows, and tonight I will leave the hypocrisy and deceit behind.

            “Dearly beloved we are gathered here today to honor the life of John Quincy the third," said the man. Everyone bowed their heads and closed their eyes. He smiled to hold back tears, shook his head, wiped his eyes, and whispered, “My people Die for a Lack of Knowledge.”