The Fiction of Owen Thomas

Photophobia

A Novella

Excerpt B

Conrad snorted.

“See, I need grapes; Jesus,” he said, pronouncing the name as hey-soos, “he only needs water. I call that unfair competition. Although Jesus makes some piss-poor wine. I try it every year on my knees in that church. Let’s see him turnout a decent Cab. Or a Pinot. Or a genuine Rhone Ranger Shiraz.”

Conrad popped his eyes at Jac and smirked, holding back a laugh so that she might crack first. But to his disappointment, she sat there in her shades like a little stone bird, her beautiful rear end filling little more than half the leather bucket seat.

“I suppose I’ve never been much of a churchgoer,” he said. “Señor’s probably been trying to save my soul.”

“Does it need saving?” Jac asked reflexively. Conrad laughed. The sound was sticky wet with phlegm. He cleared his throat.

“Oh, Lord. You a Jesus freak?”

“No.”

“I mean, no big deal if you are. You just don’t strike me as the type.”

“No.” 

“My mother was a Jesus freak. She believed it all. Heaven. Hell. The Devil. Angels. The works. Got so she didn’t make a lick of sense half the time. Every other day was like the day before the judgment day and she was makin’ ready. ‘Course, this was Georgia. Smack in the middle of the Bible belt. So she had a lot of company. Especially back then.”

Jac nodded, pulling a knuckle in a slow arc down the dry side of the window. Like she was tracing the path of a comet across the sky. Conrad made a sound that was half laugh and half wheeze.

“My father had a rather direct way about him. He didn’t take much guff from anyone, including my mother. And whenever she found herself on the business end of one of his tempers she’d tell daddy that Jesus was a-comin’.” Conrad lathered on the accent. “Jesus was a-comin’ to shine his light. Jesus was gonna shine his light to show the righteous the way home, and then, as for the all the rest, specifically including my daddy, Jesus was gonna shine his light to scour the world. And, boy, my daddy didn’t put up with that kind of nonsense for long. No sir. Poor woman. She just wasn’t quite right in the head. Religion’ll do that to you though, as far as I’m concerned. It’ll pickle your brain. If she were sitting here today, she wouldn’t like you one bit. She’d assume you were a bad person because that’s just how she was. She was big into original sin. You were guilty first until you proved otherwise. She’d tell you to take off those shades of yours, Jackie, because you can’t hide from the light of the Savior. If you’ve done wrong, the light will find you. You could argue with her all you want but she’d never come to reason. ‘Course, then again, Momma predeceased. Went in her sleep a lot sooner than the doctors said. Then ten years later, Daddy accidentally caught the front end of a locomotive. So for all I know she was right. Could be that Jesus takes his time scouring. He’s just out their waiting, biding his time. Shining his light.”

Jac knew he was just trying to get a rise. She turned to him and shrugged, deadpanning, letting the idea of a stalking, homicidal Jesus hang there untouched like the bait that it was. Conrad laughed and swatted her shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Damn Jackie-O, if you don’t know how to look right through a man. Let’s get you a slicker.”