In Defense of Guilt Page 15

  “Yeah, of course! Just playing with you.”

  “Okay, you got me. So, then why did you take it?”

  “I don’t honestly know my motivation, at the time. I just felt I had to look something up quickly.”

  “So, you’ve never opened a Bible in your life? That you just had to bolt to the bench and swipe.”

  “I’ll have you know I went to Sunday school until the age of twelve.”

  “Really? So, what happened after twelve? Why suddenly stop going? Sex took the edge off more than faith?”

  Lauren was taken aback. Arms folded, she replied, “Ha-ha . . . ass.”

  “No, really, why did you stop going?”

  “I guess I just grew out of it. I wanted something more, something more than studying miracles and praising God. Religion seemed so empty.”

  “What more did you need?”

  “My own signs and wonders.”

  Ryan didn’t know where else to go with this. It was the strangest conversation he had ever had, full of bizarre twists, and he was uncomfortable. He needed to get out of there and had the perfect out. “I better go . . . take him back to the hotel,” Ryan pointed to the door, meaning Maze. “Before he blows a gasket.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Alone at her desk, Lauren looked down at her watch, tossed the court transcripts indifferently aside, and began reading Proverbs. As she perused, she got it. Certainly, some of the sins did apply to her—but not all of them. “Gluttony. Seriously?” She looked down at her slim figure and laughed aloud. And what about “sloth?” Unlike Maze or Ryan, she was far from lazy. She could be accused of being overzealous, but Lauren prided herself on being tireless. In her profession, she couldn’t afford to be a slacker. One did not become as in demand or wealthy as she had, by taking it easy.

  So, then, if not all the sins applied to her, why was God targeting her? Surely, there were others—drug addicts, murderers, rapists, and other vermin—more deserving of chastening than she. Why me?

  A knock on her office door. Lauren looked down at her watch. It was too soon for it to be Bradley.

  “Rose?” she said, elevating her voice. “What is it? Oh, just come in,” she said, continuing to concentrate on the verses in front of her. She barely heard the door open and close.

  After a moment of not hearing a sound, she slowly took her eyes off the page and looked up. God was standing in front of her, dapper in a three-piece suit which would make every top designer in the world beg for the secret. Lauren gasped.

  “May I sit?” God gestured to the sofa.

  The inconvenient timing of The Lord’s appearance. Maybe Bradley will get here early and see what I’m seeing, she thought. Somehow, I doubt it.

  Lauren stood with more confidence and gestured for God to relax. God moved over to the sofa and sat down, casually crossing his legs.

  “Once again, you picked a fine time to reveal yourself to me.”

  “Do I detect a note of sarcasm? You’re not afraid, now?”

  “I wasn’t before.”

  “Ah. I see. Are you sure you are not hallucinating?”

  “Don’t know if I can be sure of anything, but you said I was not.”

  “Correct. You are not hallucinating. What you are seeing is real.” He glanced at her desk. “I see you are reading what I wrote for you.”

  “For me?”

  “And others, but certainly for you.”

  “Then yes. Yes, I am.”

  God smiled, seemingly pleased that some progress had been made.

  “So, why are you here?”

  Replacing the smile with a stern countenance, God glared at Lauren. “Because our exchange is incomplete.”

  “I’ve read. I know each of the deadly sins,” she said, speedily beginning to rattle them off.

  “Ah, yes, yes,” he interrupted, “But that is what you compartmentalized in your mind, memorization for mere reference. But do you know them here in your heart?” God said, tapping His chest with an index finger.

  Lauren shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

  “Why, the same difference as that between a tick of time and timelessness.”

  “I don’t understand!” Lauren said, throwing up her arms. “What is it you want from me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be wasting your time. Why are you targeting me?”

  “You question My wisdom, Lauren?”

  Lauren folded her arms across her chest.

  God chuckled. “Because I am God.”

  “Well then, don’t you have better things to do, bigger fish to fry?”

  “Than look after you?” God interrupted.

  “I don’t need looking after. I’ve done fine on my own. I take perfectly good care of myself, thank you. Always have.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious, Lauren, why the Seven Deadly Sins are called the Seven Deadly Sins?”

  Lauren paced in front of her desk for a moment. She was curious but tried not to show it. Instead, she walked around her desk and shut off her computer. God patiently waited. He brushed away a speck of lint that had attached itself to His jacket sleeve. Unsure how to handle God this time, Lauren went for broke. She turned to face Him. Swallowing hard, she awaited His divine explanation.

  Seeing Lauren was finally attentive and receptive to His words, God began.

  “Not to worry. I’m not going to give you an answer steeped in ritual and religion. I am going to speak to you as clearly as you might understand, without dogma, articles of faith, or your unwarranted filters of confusion.”

  Lauren nodded.

  “Lauren, your first question is ‘Why me?’ Is it not?”

  A slighter, less confident nod in acknowledgment.

  “There are billions upon billions of souls on earth today. Over seven billion of them, to be more exact. Yet it appears to you that I am before you in a special case, as though I am nowhere else in the universe and My time is exclusively for your attention.”

  Lauren’s eyes widened.

  “Behold, for I am. Love me, but do not try to understand me. I cannot be grasped by logic or simple, human workings. Be not confused nor attached to the form I’ve chosen in which our communication takes. It is the communication that is of infinite value. It is the communication which is the light of love.” He smiled. “I am talking with you in the form you can understand so that I may have your undivided attention at this critical juncture in your life as you know it. What, then is your life for? What is it for, Lauren?”

  A moment earlier, and all the previous moments of her adult life, Lauren had known exactly the purpose of her existence. Now, after just a few sentences from the Almighty, she had no idea.

  “I don’t know,” she said, lowering her head in shame.

  “This is not a game of rhetorical questions, Lauren, yet a question for you, nevertheless. I cannot answer it for you. The answer you give is of your own free will. Look at me, Lauren.”

  Lauren raised her head and opened her eyes to the Almighty God. She was sure He could see her very soul.

  “What is your life for, Lauren?”

  Lauren didn’t know how to respond, wasn’t sure she even wanted to make an attempt. After a moment, she realized she had nothing to offer. Slowly and mindlessly, she crossed to the bar. God watched her every step, without judgment.

  “Speak honestly. Speak from the heart, Lauren.”

  “The heart? You want me to speak from the heart?”

  “That’s the general idea. But not for Me.”

  “Yeah, well, what if I cut Your tongue in half and then told you to speak from the mouth,” she said, angrily. “The heart? You shouldn’t ask me such things. You are God. You should already know about my heart and know not to ask me these things.”

  Lauren was trying to pour herself a drink, but her rage was not allowing her to get it right. She missed her glass and spilled much of the vodka she was pouring.

  “What do you w
ant me to do, go through the entire Book of Proverbs and repent my sins?” Lauren was panting with fury. “What are you gonna do now? What awful punishment are you going to threaten me with? You gonna strike me down, shoot a bolt of lightning through my skull? Piss off!”

  God rose from the sofa.

  “It’s my life, mine! and my life is my own business.” Lauren paused to breathe. “That’s free will.”

  Before God had brazenly interrupted her life, Lauren had believed she did know what her life was for. She made a great living, provided for an ungrateful family, was the mother of a brat-child, the wife of an unproductive pansy. She worked. That’s what she did. Now, when God asked the question of her, she had no clue because she was certain He wanted something more meaningful.

  Lauren finished making her drink as well as a mess. She took a long swig and arrogantly turned toward Him. “You wanna drink, or something? You want a drink, God?” she asked, mockingly.

  Sadly, yet sternly, God stared into Lauren’s eyes. As heated and defiant as ever, she glared back at Him, chest heaving in animated breaths.

  “Yeah, the Seven Deadly Sins!” she continued. “Maybe I engage in every single one of them, all the time. Maybe that’s the absolute best part of having free will.” Lauren sipped. “Tell me, though, what am I missing? Now, there’s a question for the Almighty! What am I missing?”

  God stood. He knew there was no getting through. He adjusted his suit and started walking toward the exit, neither one of them taking their eyes off one another for a second. Almost to the door, He stopped. He turned one last time to appeal to Lauren’s good senses. His gaze was soft, longing, pleading.

  “I have but one last question for you. Would you rather have the problem or the answer?”

  God turned toward the door and, immediately without touching it, the doorknob turned, and the thick, oak panel slowly swung open. Quietly, He exited.

  Lauren sat at her desk, confounded by a stew of rage and confusion. She felt violated by God’s repeated, reckless intrusion of her personal space. It was unwarranted and unwelcome. Lauren hadn’t asked for His help and certainly didn’t pray for guidance or divine intervention in her life. She was doing perfectly fine without God or government judging her. Bad enough she was in the law profession. But for all its flaws, all its imperfections, impropriety, and backroom deals, the law left her alone. God, on the other hand, had chosen to barge in and turn her entire world inside out.

  As Lauren stood, picturing herself as some medical anomaly, a grotesque polydactyl being sprouting arm after arm, she counted yet another emotion.

  Upon yet another hand, Lauren felt depressed. A crashing wave of melancholia washed over her. Certainly, the infidelity was wrong. She knew she was willfully sinning, at least in God’s eyes, and felt a hint of remorse, but she was not particularly motivated to address her emotions. Lauren had tried to separate her personal life from her professional life, rarely succeeding. Lauren played hard with her career, sacrificing those who cared about her most. And now she was paying the price.

  As she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she wanted to adjust her mindset or cease her extracurricular activities. She was doing perfectly fine on her own. Good, bad, or indifferent, Lauren liked the woman she had become and couldn’t care less whether or not others liked her: not her family, not her peers, not God Himself. She was who she was, a self-made individual, a raging bitch in a satin skirt and high heels. Let God pick on another, less fortunate soul.

  Lauren was successful because she was tough, relentless because she simply had to be. Essentially, there was no other way, not if one wanted to flourish in the business as much as she did. Sure, she was not without flaws. Then again, who was? She had made a few mistakes, but fortunately, they were small and inconsequential, not hindering her career. And even those mistakes had happened because she had let her guard down. It didn’t pay to be nice or play fair.

  In her defense, however, she also had made plenty of sacrifices: sacrifices her family took for granted. Outside pressures upon her were tremendous. Couldn’t they see that? She had a teenage daughter who was borderline rebellious, or at the very least, unappreciative, and don’t get her started on her delusional husband. It frustrated her to know Dennis was content playing Mr. Mom and staring blankly for hours at the computer screen. Was he hoping a bestselling novel would miraculously write itself? “Fucking spare me,” she fumed.

  The longer she counted, the more she seethed. Sure, it was highly unproductive and getting her nowhere, but that was the point God had brought her to. She hadn’t been this pent-up with white-hot anger in many months. God had no right to encroach on her life and gum up the works. Her life was not perfect. She was willing to admit that. But it was as close to perfection as it was likely ever going to get. And to be honest, she believed it was a fairly good one, better than what most had. High-end home, high-end vehicles, high-end lifestyle. It was all she needed, and it was all she was ever going to need. How dare He disturb her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Seconds after God left, there was a knock on the door.

  “It’s me, Ms. Hill. I tried to ring, but you didn’t pick up. Prosecuting attorney Dillon Bradley is here to see you?”

  Sounding only slightly less sarcastic, Lauren said, “Oh, right. Send him in.”

  The door shut and opened again rather quickly. Dillon Bradley entered eagerly, a spring in his step.

  All her frustrations and all her emotions burst out of her in a frenzy of what Dillon took to be passion. Before he was even able to remove his suit jacket, Lauren thrust herself upon him, kissing him hungrily. This was solely about power. Lauren was determined to show God just who was in control of her life.

  Lauren hastily unbuttoned Dillon’s jacket, pulled it inside out, and threw it toward the coat hooks, missing all of them by a wide margin. Soon, discarded apparel and equipment were strewed over a good portion of the office. Naked, Lauren pushed Bradley onto the desk and aggressively climbed on top of him.

  “Yes. Fuck me!” Lauren growled.

  Then, between heavy, labored breaths, Bradley revealed, “Want you . . . to know . . . I’m getting a divorce.”

  Lauren continued to grind and undulate her hips in ever-increasing circular motions over him.

  “It’s not . . . about this,” Bradley continued. “Not because of us.”

  Uninterested in his empty promises, Lauren increased her intensity, thrusting harder and harder upon him. Lauren rode him, sucking in air and hissing under her breath. “I’m coming.”

  “Wait! Let’s come together.” He panted.

  One more thrust. “I’m coming.”

  “This doesn’t have to stop between us.”

  For Lauren, it wasn’t about feelings of love. She had never had them, at least not for Bradley. It was simply a lustful act of control. Nothing more. Lauren didn’t wait, but came without him, jumped off him as if the amusement ride had come to a complete stop, leaving Dillon unfulfilled. She immediately began dressing and straightening her office.

  Just a few blocks away, Constance stared out the passenger window, biting her fingernails as her father drove.

  “Traffic’s not that bad, tonight,” Dennis said. “Almost there.”

  Constance nodded, but continued staring out the passenger window, wondering what her mother was up to. She suspected the worst. The entire way, she spoke not word one. The two marched into the office building and immediately into the elevator.

  The bell dinged, and the doors opened. The two got on the elevator in silence.

  Lauren was almost fully dressed when she threw Dillon’s pants at him. He felt the need to say something to validate their relationship, to somehow consolidate a connection, but wisely resigned just to put his pants on. Mechanically, Lauren put the items back on her desk in their proper place. In a few minutes, she and her office were neat and tidy. That is, except for Bradley. He was still buttoning his shirt.

  The elevator dinged, and the door op
ened. Constance, practically lunging out of the confined space, bolted down the hallway toward her mother’s office. Dennis was not that eager to see Lauren and lagged behind. Without waiting for him, she flung the door open and entered.

  Startled, Rose looked up from her desk. “Oh my, look who’s here.”

  “Is my mom here?” Constance said.

  “Why, yes. Yes, she is.”

  “Can we go in?” Dennis asked, having caught up with his willful child.

  “The prosecuting attorney from the trial, Mr. Bradley, is in with her, now.”

  “I thought the trial was over and they gave the case to the jury,” Constance said.

  “They did. It’s a bit unusual, but not that uncommon he’d be here. Let me give her a buzz.”

  “No! I want to surprise her,” she said, briskly walking toward the door.

  “Constance, this is your mother’s—”

  Constance wasn’t hearing any of it and barged in.

  “Constance!” Dennis called after her.

  The door flew open, and Lauren shot a brief look of displeasure across the room, ready to pounce on the untimely infringement of privacy. Rose knew never to enter unsummoned. At the sight of Constance, Lauren, unlike Dillon, remained composed and never showed a fraction of dismay. She was casually standing at the wet bar, fixing herself a drink. Dillon, on the other hand, was standing slightly turned by Lauren’s desk, adjusting his tie. Embarrassed, he was at a loss for words. Immediately suspicious, Constance scanned the room, searching for the smoking gun she was sure she was going to find.

  “What are you doing here?” Lauren said, taking the intrusion in stride.

  Rushing his efforts, Bradley stammered, “Ah, well, ah, I think that about wraps things up, Lauren.”

  Constance glanced between Dillon and her mother, while Dennis and Rose rushed in after her.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Hill,” Rose said, sheepishly.

  “Honey,” Dennis began.

  Lauren held up a hand as if to say, Not another word. Dennis went instantly quiet.