Winnie usually comes in around 8:00, after The Forb has unleashed his morning vitriol on me. He loves it when she arrives because his torment of her is one of his fundamental delights.
Today Winnie looked paler than usual, which made her almost transparent. She’s pretty and I would be romantically attracted to her if she wasn’t so scared all the time. Being around perpetually frightened people makes me jumpy.
“Have you guys heard that Jesus is coming back next month?” Winnie practically vibrated as she stood at the edge of our table.
“Why?” asked Forb. “Did he forget something?”
“Don’t be sacrilegious, Mr. Forbish.” Winnie is too polite to use nicknames. “It’s all been researched. He’s returning on May 21. Right around 6:00 pm.”
The Forb looked me with astonishment radiating from his eyes. “Do you know about this, Max? It REALLY sounds important.” His eyes rolled back so far in his head that I feared his optic nerves would snap.
I had read about the 89-year-old California preacher who, in spite of giving past incorrect predictions about the return of Christ, was confident that he had nailed the Savior’s rendezvous with the faithful right down to the hour. Out of cowardice, I chose silence and offered only a shrug of my shoulders.
“I knew this was coming,” sighed Winnie. “All the earthquakes and tsunamis and such. The earth is groaning, the faithful will be raptured, and only the unrighteous will be left behind.”
“Which are we?” asked Forb. “I keep forgetting.”
“I know what I am,” said Winnie, stiffening her back with confidence.
“Oh, good,” said Forb. “So what will you do when I get taken up? Won’t you be lonely?”
Winnie glared at The Forb and then turned to me. “He really is impossible, even in the face of the worst danger imaginable.”
I decided to venture cautiously into the fray. “Don’t you think that there’s the possibility that the good pastor is inaccurate, and now people are making rash decisions like quitting their jobs and selling everything? If he’s wrong, then won’t a lot of people be in trouble?”
“Hey, wait a minute,” said Forb. “Is Jesus coming back on May 21 in the US or in Australia? We’re a day off from each other. And is it 6:00 pm Pacific Standard, or Mountain Time, or what?”
Winnie sniffed. “People just need to be ready, that’s all.”
“Look, Winnie,” said Forb. “If I’m going to make a last-minute decision about religion, I’d like a little precision on the timing. If I’m off an hour with my personal debaucheries, it could really screw up my eternal destiny.”
“I’m going to get some coffee,” said Winnie. “I can’t even talk to you about this.” She stood up abruptly and marched to the counter to attempt a rational exchange with Mirna.
The Forb fixed his outraged eyes on me. “Max, is ‘Christian’ a euphemism for completely, freaking, nuts?”
“Every group has its own quota of nuts, Forb. The nuts get most of the airtime. The sane people tend to mind their own business. Be nice to Winnie. She seems particularly tender today.” Forb looked over at Winnie, considering the possibility of being nice.
Winnie returned with her coffee and sat down, avoiding eye contact with us and looking injured. Forb stared at her, and then spoke softly.
“I’m sorry, Winnie. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. If ever anyone deserved to be taken up at the Lord’s command, it would be you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Forbish.” Winnie still wouldn’t look at him.
“Just one thing,” said Forb. “Which way, exactly, is the ‘up’ where Jesus will take people? The earth is round, you know. Won’t people just take off in different directions? What if people in Africa get to heaven, but you just bump into the Moon?”
“I’m leaving,” said Winnie.
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