Spoiler
Not sure how I feel about this story, but I would love some reviews on it. I hope that no one is offended by this story, I know religion can be a bit of a touchy subject, but I mean know harm. Enjoy!
I had seen the man sitting across from me before, the man with the goatee and the long, dark hair that fell past his shoulder blades. His eyes were a deep blue, a kind blue. It wasn’t the sort of eyes you would see on your everyday stalker, but it was strange to see him on the same subway car as me. Again.
I’d first noticed him at the hardware store last week. He was someone who stood out from the crowd, someone who was easily recognized. One of those people that makes you look twice. Without realizing, I had been staring at him. When the man noticed, he had smiled at me. Not in a creepy way, but in the way a stranger would as you pass him on the street. I had smiled back. After all, he was just a guy in a hardware store, right?
As I took my seat, I watched the man wearily. It was the fourth time I had seen him on the same subway as me. Every time, he had made eye contact with me long enough to smile and nod curtly. I had long since stopped returning the gesture. It didn’t matter how nice his eyes made him look, it wasn’t a coincidence that he was on the same subway as me four days in a row.
The subway had come to a stop and I checked which station I was at. Only two stops away now. An elderly woman entered slowly, a cane in one hand and a purse in the other, searching for an open seat. The man with the goatee stood and offered his seat. She took it gratefully, and the man moved to grab the pole in front of me.
“I seem to see you a lot around here,” he said when we had begun to move again.
His smile was kind, like his eyes. I laughed nervously, but didn’t reply.
“Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Just on my way home,” I replied calmly, staring directly into his eyes. I couldn’t show him that I was afraid. He was very close now, and I could see the patterns that made up his eyes. The rims were a dark blue, but the colour slowly faded as it neared the pupils. Something else I hadn’t noticed before, it wasn’t something that was easily noticeable, was the pain. This man had clearly been through a lot. I really hoped jail wasn’t one of them.
“What stop are you getting off at?”
I looked at the man who seemed too kind to be a pedophile, or anything of the sort. Should I lie? I quickly decided against it, I didn’t want to get off at a different stop and take the long way home. Besides, the walk home from the subway station was usually full of people. If he were some crazy stalker, he wouldn’t be able to do anything. “The next one.”
The man smiled gently. “What a coincidence, me too.”
My stomach churned as the subway came to a stop. Shit. When I got off the subway, I tried my best to act like he wasn’t there, but it was hard when he kept up a steady pace behind me.
My cheeks reddened when I walked outside. It was the middle of winter, and I had forgotten my toque at home. My breath swirled in front of me, and I wrapped my arms around myself. I decided not to look back as I walked home. That way, if the man was following me, I could pretend that he wasn’t.
As the streets turned into more of a residential area, it got very quiet. My hands were in my pockets as I tried to keep them warm.
“Natalia,” a familiar voice said from behind me. I froze. Slowly, I turned around to see the man.
“Why are you following me?” I asked nervously. Was that the right thing to ask a stalker? I’d never had to deal with this before.
The man raised an eyebrow. “Following you? Do you not know who I am?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know you,” I insisted.
For a moment the man looked hurt, almost appalled. Then, he chuckled lightly. The man reached down his shirt and pulled out a necklace. Attached to the silver chain was a small wooden cross.
Then, I laughed. Hard. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re God?”
The man shook his head, causing some of his hair to fall across his shoulder. This was all so ridiculous. It didn't seem like this guy was creepy. Maybe crazy, but not creepy.
“You do look somewhat like Jesus.” I wondered if this was how he picked up young girls. Told them he was Jesus. A shudder ran through me.
The man smiled a soft, knowing smile. “There you go.”
I stared at the man for a moment, speechless. There was no way. I supposed that I could play along. “Prove it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow.
“Not here, it’s much too public.”
That should have been the moment that I decided that he was just a stalker, but for some reason, I really wanted to believe that this man was Jesus Christ in the flesh.
“Alright, where do you suggest we go?”
The man, Jesus, if you will, smiled once more, took hold of my left hand with his own, and snapped his fingers with his right. The scenery around me shaped and shifted, blurred, and refocused. I blinked hard. We were no longer standing on the sidewalk in my neighbourhood. We were at a deserted playground. What a pedophile place to take me to.
“Impressive,” I said quietly. “Do you do that often?”
Jesus laughed, stroking his goatee as he did. “As often as I can. Please, sit.” He motioned to a spot beneath us, the only spot that wasn’t covered in a layer of snow. I didn’t know how he did it, or if he did it at all, but he was Jesus. I suppose he could do nearly anything.
I took a seat and looked at him pointedly. His hair was long, and I began to wonder when his last haircut was. Did Jesus need to get haircuts?
“You must know that I came to talk to you about something,” Jesus said.
“I don’t have a clue why you’re here,” I admitted. I figured that it must have been something important, he had to be a busy man. He was the Son of God, right?
“I know that after your mother died, you were having suicidal thoughts.”
His words stunned me, I hadn’t expected him to be so straight-forward. The mention of my mother brought old feelings back, feelings that I would rather keep buried. I didn’t reply. It was true, I had considered suicide after my mother passed away, and I had even bought everything I needed to do it. I’d decided against it, I couldn’t do that to my sister and my dad, they’d already lost someone. Still, every once and a while the feelings resurfaced, took hold of me, controlled me.
Jesus was waiting patiently for a reply. His legs were crossed and his hands were placed in his lap, in a position similar to praying. Go figure. “What does that have to do with you?”
Jesus took my hands in his and brought them to his chest. “I do not wish to see people suffer.”
That wasn’t good enough for me. Too many people were suffering in the world, and he had decided to visit me? Bullshit. “What about people living in poverty, people with cancer, or starving children?”
Jesus looked at me thoughtfully. “I do visit them, not every single one, but I keep busy. Many have different religions, so I do not voice who I am, but I do what I can to help.”
No wonder people worshipped this man. “And how do you plan on helping me?”
A knowing smile played on the corner of his lips. “I want to give you some of my strength. May I?”
I had no idea how he planned on doing that. The man sitting in front of me looked frail, worn to the bone. If I looked hard enough, I could see a couple faded scars on his cheeks. Any strength he had must have been buried deep.
“Go for it.” With my hands still in his, Jesus brought them to his lips. I raised an eyebrow as he kissed the palm of each hand, placed them to his chest, and released his hold. I hadn’t expected anything to happen, I hadn’t expected to magically drop any sign of depression that I held. What happened next changed my mind.
Warmth formed in my toes and slowly spread up my legs, as if it were travelling through my veins. It swept across my stomach and along my arms until it reached my fingertips. My cheeks warmed, and I could feel myself begin to blush. The last thing it touched was my chest. There’s no way to say this without sounding cliché, but the warmth felt as though it wrapped around my heart. Then, it slowly faded, until it was like a dully-lit light, never fully leaving.
“Wow,” I breathed.
Jesus nodded. “Wow indeed. How do you feel?”
I thought about it for a moment. It was hard to tell whether it had helped or not, I hadn’t felt depressed today. “Warm.”
“Good. That’s exactly how you should feel. Not just now, but always.”
I didn’t know what to say, so we sat in silence for a while. Snow was beginning to fall, but none of it touched us. It was as if we were in our own world. Finally, Jesus spoke. “It’s time for me to go, I would love to stay, but I have a long list of things to do.”
“How long?” I asked. I didn’t want him to leave, it was peaceful here, but I knew I couldn’t have him to myself forever. How selfish would that be?
“About as long as my hair,” he said, chuckling. Who would have thought that Jesus had a sense of humor? I laughed too. As he stood, pulling me with him, I was reminded of an earlier thought.
“Do you get your hair cut?” I know, of all the things to ask Jesus Christ, I asked that. I clearly had to get my priorities checked.
Jesus laughed once more; the sound was like a melody that I never wanted out of my head. He took my left hand in his. “Why, yes. There’s a lovely barber shop on Center Street.” And with a snap of his fingers, I was standing outside my house, alone. But I wasn’t really alone. I could still feel the faded warmth.
