Revelations (30 page)

He had to be the one to do it, but he didn’t know how to express what he felt.

Without that, his understanding of the concept was flawed. You’ve shown him love, Judas, you’ve given him your love, and that’s something more precious to me than anything else.”

I’m so confused, so very confused. If this is all kosher with him, then why is He calling me down on the carpet like this? And why are we going through all this? All right, maybe He isn’t yelling, is He? He’s being rather calm and rational about the whole thing, considering He must know I slept with his son. And would do it again in a heartbeat.

My thoughts are spinning in my head. In fact, they’re making me dizzy.

“The thing is, Judas, I wanted Jesus to think for himself, and to make his own decisions. He’s come a long way from the young man he was when we first began.

In many ways. He’s always had the ability to change the script, but until he fell in love with you, he never tried to do it. You’ve made him complete.” All right, this isn’t funny now. I’m having trouble focusing on His words. Not that I can believe He actually just said that to me, either, but it’s more than that.

I’m having trouble thinking. And my entire body’s beginning to ache. But it shouldn’t. I’m past that. What the fuck is wrong with me?

He rises from the pool table, steps closer to me, and murmurs, “Be good to him, Judas, and love each other for a long, long time.” He reaches into his pocket, draws out something which he pushes into my inner breast pocket, straightening it for me in the process. “And remember this. I’m a stricter father-in-law than a father. And I’ll be watching you.”

Oh my dear God—and I mean that sincerely—what the hell is this pain? The room has gone black suddenly, and without warning my legs have been knocked out from beneath me. I’m falling backward and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself from falling. I’m incredibly nauseous to boot. Between this nausea and this dizziness, I just want to vomit, very badly. “Jesus,” I mumble, “Jesus...” As if I’m incapable of uttering anything other than his name.

Voices. Do I really hear voices? I can’t be sure, everything is just so damn muffled, like my head is swathed in cotton. Was He putting me on, just having fun at my expense, and this is His punishment? I find it hard to believe he could ever be so sadistic. Maybe it’s Lucifer, come to collect my end of the bargain? I take a deep breath, try again. “Jesus...” I feel like I’m burning up, on top of everything else. What the fuck is going on here?” A hand squeezes mine, grasping it tightly. I squeeze it in return, holding on for dear life. Will this fall never end? “Jesus…” That hand, I can’t let go of that hand, it’s the only thing keeping me in place. I just know if I let go, I’ll be lost.

I open my eyes all at once, and I can’t help blinking at the sudden brightness before me, but at least the darkness is gone. That has to be good, right? I guess that depends on what the fuck is going on, ’cause I’m sure not where I was before, so where the hell am I now? More importantly, where’s Jesus?

Then the most dulcet, the most beautiful tones in the world reach my ears.

“Jude, oh Jude, you’re back.” I look toward my hand, which is still being held by my lifeline, and to my utter amazement—but it should be no surprise, who else could my lifeline be?—I discover my sweet Jesus there, and he’s calling my name.

Why’s he crying? I don’t understand. Why am I crying? At least that makes more sense. He’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here. Together. That has to mean…

“I’m alive?” I sound like a damn frog, and I can barely croak the words aloud.

But he understands, and he’s covering my hand with kisses, and I can feel his tears raining upon my flesh.

“You’re alive, Jude, yes,” he half laughs, half cries.

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry.” I attempt to make myself heard, but my throat hurts, and it feels like I haven’t spoken in forever. But that doesn’t make any sense.

I was just talking to God. I try to sit up but damned if I’m not bandaged to within an inch of my life. “What the fuck?”

Laughter. Close by. I turn my head just enough to see Mary M standing there.

For once, she seems happy to see me. “Here,” she says, holding a straw to my lips,

“take a sip, just a little one…” I don’t know what it is, but I don’t argue. I do as I’m told, and the liquid is both cool and soothing, although it hurts a bit going down. I turn back to Jesus, clear my throat a little. “Jesus, what happened?” And I can’t stop saying his name, it’s my mantra, and my prayer, and my life.

Another voice. I recognize this one as his mother Mary’s. She bends over me, lays a gentle kiss upon my brow. “Welcome back, Judas.” She smiles at me, but where’ve I been, and how did I get here, wherever here is? “I knew you could do it, I had faith in you.” She motions to Mary M, and then toward the door, and the two women seem to be leaving. It’s only then I realize that Jesus is seated in a wheelchair beside this bed I’m in, which only adds to my confusion. His mother pauses to put her arms about him, and he hugs her in return. “Thank you,” he murmurs. They quietly close the door behind them, leaving us alone.

I can’t believe I’m back, but obviously I am. Yet how? We aren’t allowed to do that, to come back from the dead, never had it happen before. I so don’t get it, what’s going on. But right this moment, I don’t give a big fuck either.

“Are you all right?” I have to know, and he nods.

“Yes, this is more for show, hospital regulations they say…” Hospital. Okay, I guess that makes sense. But first things first.

“Kiss me,” I fairly beg him, but he’s already halfway there as the words leave my lips. Maybe more, ’cause I can’t seem to move far enough to do any good. But it doesn’t matter, I taste his lips and I’m home again. I’m with my heart again.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers, stroking my hair, pushing it back from my forehead, and away from that damned bump, which is back again, even if it’s a bit smaller than I last remember it being. Before I died, that is. I know, I’m confused, too.

“You did,” I said, perplexed. “I went back there, like always. I talked to your dad. He told me you weren’t there. I thought for sure they’d killed you. That’s what…the others said…” I don’t want to say their names, don’t even want to think about them. With reason. It hurts a bit to talk, but it hurts more not to talk. Like if I stop talking, something bad will happen. I know, that’s illogical. So sue me.

“No, the Sheriff came, just in time.” Jesus weeps. “But they didn’t know, they thought…they thought I was dead. I’m so sorry, Jude, so very sorry…” He’s sobbing now, brokenly, his head upon my chest, and his weeping is breaking my heart.

“C’mere, love, please,” I beg of him, my own tears spilling over. “Hold me, please.” Maybe it isn’t the best idea we’ve ever had, and maybe we’re not showing a lick of common sense, but he crawls beside me in that hospital bed and we cling together and cry ourselves out until we’re both too exhausted to cry any more.

“How did you get me back?” I ask, apprehensively, once we are spent, and are content to simply hold onto one another. “That lummox beat me to death, I felt it…”

“Not to death, no, but you’ve been in a coma for several days, we weren’t sure if you’d be able to come out of it.” He peppers my cheeks with his kisses. How good that feels, so soothing.

But I also know that can’t be, I was gone, and I know I was. “You didn’t…” I begin apprehensively, “make another deal with Lucifer to get me back, did you?” He gives me a horrified look, and I realize I’ve said a bit too much. But as I’ve said before, I won’t ever lie to him. “I know about the deal you made…”

“I’m sorry, Jude, it was for—”

I stop his words with a kiss. “Shhh, it’s all right, I made the same deal with him…We both got fucked, I think.”

He begins to laugh, and after a moment we’re laughing together. And just like that we know what’s happened to us. Everything becomes crystal clear. We’ve just been given the chance to work this out, the way we’ve always wanted to do but never could. Together. And in a timeframe of our own choosing. Which means we’re free to live out our lives naturally—together.

“Thank you, Father,” he whispers fervently, and I second his emotions, mindful of my father-in-law’s parting admonition. Let him watch me. I intend to be good as gold. I have what I want now; he’s all that I need. All I’ll ever need.

“Is Kathy Kaplan all right?” I ask, suddenly remembering the brave woman who put her life on the line to protect us. Last seen, she was in a world of trouble herself.

“She is,” he replies. “In fact she was only in the hospital for a day, and they sent her home. Apparently, her bruises looked worse than they were. She’s come by every day to see you, Jude, she’s been as worried as the rest of us.”

“I’m glad she’s not hurt.” I’m relieved to hear that everything’s worked out well, that she isn’t being made to suffer for championing us. To know her family is intact and they’re happy and together and safe. Not good that they worried, of course. I didn’t mean that.

“Take me home,” I murmur into his soft flesh. “I want to go home with you…”

“Home where, Jude?” That’s a good question. We have no actual home, never have. We’ve spent all our lives on the road, moving from one place to another.

Never set down roots of any kind. It’s time to change that, I think. He nuzzles his face against my chest, contented moans that are almost purrs issue from his throat.

“Jude, what’s in your pocket?”

Pocket? I have pockets? Holy shit, I’m actually wearing a hospital gown and robe. And a damned ugly one at that, what I can see of it. But there’s a suspicious lump there. He reaches in for me, as I’m rather clumsy at the moment, and pulls out a small box. Things are becoming clear to me now, with startling clarity. I have a sneaking suspicion just what’s in that box. And if I’m right, I owe Him another one.

“Open it,” I urge him, “go on, see what’s in it.” He snaps back the hinged lid, and inside is—can’t you get it, surely? What else comes in a box that size?

Seriously? It’s a ring. Two rings even. Matching gold bands, inlaid with small onyx stones. And some sort of engraving. It looks Aramaic. “What does it say? I can’t see very well.”

“I am my beloved’s,” he reads the inscription aloud, “and my beloved is mine.” Such beautiful words. “Your father has great taste,” I tell him, smiling, before I turn serious. “Jesus…” I make a half-assed attempt to rise, but he forbids that, and I have to admit it sounds better in theory than in practice, so I’ll have to do this a different way. “Jesus, if I could, I’d fall upon one knee, and I’d do this right, and I’d be dressed a hell of a lot better than this…” God, this gown is disgusting, but I can’t do anything about it right this moment, so it’ll have to pass. “I would take your hand in mine…at least I can do that much.” He gives me his hand, which helps, and I raise it to my lips and kiss it fervently, gazing into his eyes. “Joshua bar Joseph, I have loved you for as long as I can remember, and I never had the nerve to tell you before. I’ve wasted a lot of time in wishing that I could, but I’m going to tell you now. You are my alpha and my omega. You are my everything.

You complete me in every way. Except one. Will you please take my hand in marriage, and will you be my husband, for as long as we both shall live? I have it on good authority that’s gonna be a pretty long time.” I look hopefully into his eyes, unable to say anything else. That one speech cost me, but it’ll be worth it, I know.

“Judas Iscariot,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion, grasping my hand tightly, “there’s nothing more that I would rather do. Yes, I will marry you. Once you heal, of course. I know the perfect place where we can be wed…” Already? I just asked the question. That speaks volumes to me, and I feel my heart simply melt. “You’ve…you’ve thought about marrying me?” I ask, incredulous.

He nods, almost shyly. “I’ve thought of little else since I realized I love you.

But it seemed pointless to bring it up before…you know…” I know. The old script would never have allowed for it. But it’s gone, and there’s a new script being written in its stead. By us, and for us. As long as we both shall live.

Our lips come together, and there’s nothing more to be said at the moment. We are together. Forever.

Epilogue: Judas

Two weeks. Two of the longest fucking weeks of my life spent in that hellhole they call a hospital.

All right, maybe I exaggerate. But only because I wanted out so badly I couldn’t stand it. I’m the one that set the two week target. No one else thought I could make it. But you know what? When you’ve got the kind of goal I did—

namely, to be with Jesus, to live with him, and love him on a permanent basis, not to mention marry him—hell, there’s nothing you can’t do.

And here I stand as living proof of that. Or sit, actually. We’re both sitting.

Reclining even. On those beach type recliners, you know the kind I mean. Plastic slatted, multi-colored, handy for lying on the beach, that kind. Which is where we are at the moment, Jesus and I. Enjoying our honeymoon in this little hideaway just for two, tucked away on this very private beach, where no one can find us. When I say honeymoon, I mean the real deal. The kind you take after you get married, which we’ve done. I’m still overwhelmed whenever I think about it. Seriously. I…

married…Jesus… It still blows my mind.

It wasn’t a big ceremony. His mother was there, naturally. So was Mary M.

And so was his father. Said He wouldn’t miss it for the world, this joining of two souls, in a celebration of love. I can’t help but be impressed at my new father-in-law—he’s a rather impressive guy. The Kaplans came, including Sarah, who made a beautiful flower girl. Mary M was the maid of honor, and Thomas acted as my best man. Mary was mother of the groom. They let little Sarah visit me for a few minutes, while I was still in the hospital, and I showed her the ring, the mate to which sits on my husband’s finger. I told her we were getting married, would she like to come? Of course she said yes.