The Good Atheist (32 page)

“But how can you know the New Testament is reliable?”

I finished mixing, and Dad began dipping the pork chops in the batter I’d mixed and set them in the tray. “That’s a big topic, and there are lots of books written about that, but the New Testament is historically the most reliable document we have from antiquity. It was written too early to be legend. The gospels and letters of the New Testament were all written and in wide circulation within a generation of the events, so that people were still alive who were eyewitnesses. You can’t get legends started about something that quickly. If the Apostles and first Christians had been telling lies, everyone would have known it. And all the Apostles died for what they claimed. Furthermore, we know from the science of textual criticism that the New Testament we have today is an accurate and reliable copy of the originals. So you can read the New Testament with an assurance that it is reliable. Critics of Christianity often like to try and say that the New Testament is flawed and unreliable, but they haven’t done their homework.”

He stuck the tray of pork chops in the oven and wiped his hands on a towel. “Science can’t take us all the way. I can’t prove scientifically to you that Jesus of Nazareth is the Son of God. But then, that’s what I would expect. I would expect a true religion to transcend science. Not contradict it or be unscientific, but to take us beyond it. Take us into matters of spirit and transcendence where science can’t go, were we come to the limits of what science can do for us. Science can describe how nature and the physical laws of the universe work, and we should absolutely do science, but we also need the eyes of faith that tell us what science can’t, where we explore questions of morality, meaning, and purpose. And that’s when we get into the realm that makes us human.

“Christianity says that God took on our humanity so he could walk among us, so that he could connect with us and rescue us from our spiritual lostness. Read the New Testament, starting with the Gospels.”

With that, he called Haddie and we set the table for dinner.

28

“You need to forgive her, Jack, or your love will die.” It was classic Haddie, being characteristically direct when it came to matters of the heart.

It was the morning of my departure. We’d spent the last few days together, staying mostly inside. Leaving the apartment was risky, and we had to be careful where we went. Dad and Haddie had been off the grid for years, their chips surgically removed from their fingers. I couldn’t use mine, since it would put transactions on the net and give my location away. I didn’t want to take any chances in case the Tolerance Bureau was using me to find Dad.

So I had a lot of time to think and read and pray. I got most of the way through the New Testament and came to the place where I believed. I’m not sure exactly at what point, it wasn’t like turning on a switch. It was more like an increasing light, like the dawning of morning as the sun rises. And late one afternoon I realized, like reflecting back on something that had already happened, that I was a believer in Christ.

But the time had come for me to get back to my life. Dad’s rich friend had loaned him a driver, Nabil, along with the use of a limo. He arranged for Nabil to drive me back, and we were sitting in the breakfast nook, eating bacon, eggs and hashbrowns that Dad had made. Cooking greasy breakfasts was his specialty.

“I’m sorry?” I said, trying to look innocent.

Playing dumb might work as an evasive maneuver with others, but never with Haddie. She only took that as an opportunity to further enlighten you.

She set her fork down firmly and deliberately and looked me in the eyes. “Forgiveness. Along with constant feeding and nurturing, love needs forgiveness. Love in marriage dies under the harsh heat of anger and an unforgiving attitude. If you keep holding things against her, the love you once had in your marriage will wither and fade into a distant memory.”

“What makes you think I need to forgive her?”

She looked at me with the conviction of someone who knows they’re right and brooks no disagreement. “You’ve barely mentioned your wife since you got here, and when you do, it’s apparent in your tone. When was the last time you tried calling?”

I didn’t answer. She had me dead to rights. I hadn’t called Selene since arriving in New York. The superficial reason I gave was that the Tolerance Police might be listening, but the truth was I didn’t want to call because I was still angry.

Haddie didn’t let the silence linger for long. “What is it you are holding against her, if I may ask?”

So I told them about Paige and how Selene had betrayed her, almost getting me arrested in the process. When I finished, tears welled up in Haddie’s eyes and she wiped at them. “That poor girl.”

“She’s likely going to lose her children,” Dad said. “They almost always remove children from the homes of believers.”

But Haddie was undeterred. “Despite what she did, Jack, you need to forgive her.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure I can do that. I’m not sure I even want to.”

“It helps when you remember that you’re a sinner as well, and just as much in need of forgiveness,” Haddie said. “Christ said that just as God has forgiven us, we are to forgive others.”

I recalled coming across those words in the New Testament, but the power to forgive felt beyond me. “You may be right, but I just don’t know how to do that. I don’t feel capable of it.”

Dad leaned forward. “That’s a good starting point. We are often called to do things that are beyond our abilities as humans, and we need God’s grace to help us do what we cannot do in our own strength. But God has promised supplies of grace to enable us to do His will where we are too weak.”

This was way beyond me, stretching me past anything I’d previously considered or experienced. It must have shown on my face, because Haddie laughed and looked at Dad. “I think we’d better pray.”

So Dad and Haddie led me in prayer, and it was the first time I think I’d ever really prayed with other people. They asked God to strengthen our love, bring restoration to our marriage, and give me the grace I needed to forgive Selene. They prayed for Selene’s salvation and my continued growth in Christ. Dad and Haddie did most of the talking to God. I managed a few feeble words, unused as I was to addressing the Divine.

When we finished, Haddie clasped my hands in hers. “Jack, when you go home, please just talk to her. Get it all out, tell her how you feel and be sure to tell her how much you love her. Don’t lose the love you once had.”

I cleared my throat and gently pulled my hands away. “Thanks, I will.”

She looked me square in the eye. “Promise?”

Her enthusiasm for the spiritual health of my marriage was touching and a bit disarming. But privately I found it refreshing in this day of revolving divorce-court doors. “Haddie, I will. I never say anything I don’t mean.”

She looked over at her husband with a wink. “That’s a good quality in a man. You take after your father.”

An hour later we stood in the parking bay saying our goodbyes. I was never much for long goodbyes, and apparently neither was Dad, but Haddie elevated it to an art form. She hugged me and cried and then hugged some more, until I thought I would never get into the waiting limo. Nabil stood discreetly by the passenger door, staring at his shiny shoes.

After extracting myself from Haddie, Dad and I talked about the best way to contact each other. We agreed to stay in touch through Zuebo for the time being until something better could be worked out. After a final round of hugs I climbed into the back of the limo and waved at them as it pulled away.

Nabil drove me straight to Aylmer, if it could be called driving, since we zipped along in hover-mode the entire way, five hundred feet above ground in the fast level. When we reached Aylmer he took me right to Rosie’s and lowered the limo into the back alley next to a dumpster not far from my car.

I thanked Nabil and jumped out with my single travel bag, then stood by the dumpster watching the limo lift off. Dust and litter swirled around me as the limo rose into the sky, kicked up by its air jets. It cleared the tops of the buildings along the alley, turned south, and disappeared.

There was nothing I needed at the cottage, and I was in a hurry to get home, so I decided to head straight back to Chicago. I would be back to the cottage soon enough anyway.

I went into Rosie’s and found Lucy, elbows on the counter chatting with one of the regulars. I gave her a message for Jorge, letting him know I was safely back. She promised to deliver it next time he was in. I got a coffee to go and returned to my car. Stella complained about getting left in the alley for so long. I switched the interface to ‘peace of mind mode’ – meaning off – and turned on some classical music. Then I drove hard for Chicago, stopping only twice for brief coffee refills.

• • •

It was almost midnight when I got home.

The apartment was completely dark, and Ellie turned the lights on for me. “Good evening, Jack. Good to see you back home,” she said.

I stood listening for a moment in the silence. Selene was normally up at this time, working or listening to music or watching holovision with all the lights on. It used to bother me sometimes – we have different tastes in music and holovision shows – but at that moment I found myself missing it.

The place felt like a morgue. I called out her name and waited. No answer.

“Where is Selene?” I asked Ellie.

“I’m sorry, sir, but she didn’t say.”

“Has she left a message?”

“Sorry, sir.”

Getting information out of Ellie could sometimes be like pulling teeth. Every obvious question had to be asked. The computer system couldn’t infer the information that a human would recognize as relevant and provide the missing bits without having to be asked.

“Okay, when did she leave?”

“She left four days ago, in the morning.”

I waited for a second, and Ellie still did not fill in the obvious bits.

“Ellie, for heaven’s sake – did she say where?”

“No, sir.”

“Access the internet for any bookings,” I ordered. “Plane, train, rental car, travel agencies, whatever.”

“Nothing, sir.”

“And when did you last hear from her?”

“I haven’t heard from her since she left.”

“And she left no message for me?”

“As I’ve already informed you, sir, she has not.”

I went straight into our bedroom, taking my travel bag with me. Discarded clothes were strewn over the bed, empty dresser drawers sat open. I went to the closet. Her side – more like her three quarters – was empty. And the luggage was gone.

She was gone.

I set my travel bag on my dresser and slumped onto the edge of the bed. Preoccupied as I was with grief at the time, I didn’t see the note sitting on top of the dresser.

I took out my smartphone and dialed her number. There was no answer, but her voice came on, inviting me to leave a message. I left a short message asking her to give me a call, letting her know I was home.

Then I started making calls to those family and friends who were most likely to know what was going on. I called her sister first and got through to her. She was on a treadmill, and she puffed hello into the phone. I told her what I’d found coming home. She expressed concern but didn’t know where Selene was and hadn’t heard from her in a week. Same story with her mother.

I tried several of our friends, and they were just as much in the dark. Either they didn’t know or weren’t telling, but either way I wasn’t getting anything out of them. I left messages with another dozen of our close friends that I was unable to reach, but apparently Selene wasn’t saying much to anyone.

After talking to or leaving messages with everyone I could think of, I settled down to wait for her to call me back. I hoped she would. She would have to call me eventually, one way or the other, even if it was to make legal arrangements to settle our affairs.

I began to seriously wonder if the next time I heard from her, it would be through a lawyer.

My imagination started to get the better of me, and I sank into morose brooding. It wasn’t long before I was half convinced she had left me. All the evidence seemed to be there.

I went into the fridge and pulled out a beer, reconsidered for a moment and took two. The fridge gave me the requisite legal warning about not driving anytime soon and would notify my car. My car would not start for a few hours, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going anywhere.

I took my beers into the living room and dropped onto the couch. Through the sliding glass door I could see the planter on the balcony, where my tomato plant withered with neglect.

I sipped on a beer as I looked around the apartment filled with reminders of the life we had together. Once had? I wondered. My mind worked slowly through all the dreadful necessities to follow – the ugly machinations of ending a life once shared. It had been a good life for the most part. We’d shared our dreams and hopes and stuck together through the dark times after the accident.

A picture of Selene sat on the end table next to me. I picked it up and held it in my hands. It had always been one of my favorites. It perfectly captured the special way she had of looking at me that always stirred my heart – the same way she looked at me the first time I ever saw her, years ago in our college cafeteria.

My mind went back to that most wonderful of all days. Her eyes sparkled and danced with quick intelligence and humor, and I felt an immediate connection.

She was a tall, leggy brunette and one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. I wasn’t very tall, or athletic, or particularly good-looking. I knew I didn’t have a chance, but that had never stopped me from anything before, so I asked her out immediately.

She said yes.

Her friends were incredulous, and none of my friends would believe it until they actually saw us together. But no one was as surprised or delighted as I was when the first date became a second, and then a third. Six months later I asked her to marry me, and when she said yes I felt like the frog that just got kissed by the princess.