Page 41 of Judas

The silver Audi darted between cars, switching lanes with no regard for traffic lights or turn signals. Judas’ knuckles were white and his fingers numb as his grip on the steering wheel tightened like a vice. He wanted to drive into the next brick wall he passed but knew it wouldn’t give him the relief he wanted. The sweet release of non-existence was always on his mind, but now that the woman who held his very soul had pushed him away, the obsessive thoughts of death filled him.

Foregoing the elevator again, Judas charged up the stairwell, his booted steps echoing off the concrete walls. Sadness and fury congealed into a stone mountain of emotion that rested on his thick chest. He wasn’t sure if he should curse the heavens or cry to them. As he entered his apartment and slammed the door, he did both.

“Damn you, Yesh!! You left me here! Why!? I did what you asked and for that history says I’m a monster!”

Judas paced the space between his living room and kitchen, the pounding behind his eyes beating fast as the pressure inhis head rose. Every muscle in his body tightened and a primal scream escaped as he swept his hands across the bar sending various papers and a couple of wine glasses flying. “I wish you were here right now! I’d tell you to fuck off with yourgift!” he picked a wine glass off the floor, smashing it against the wall. “Fuck you, Yesh!”

He panted desperately as hot tears fell from his eyes and the sobs echoed on pale walls, “I want to go home! I’m so…tired. I just want to go now! Take me home, you miserable asshole!”

Fire of anguish burned in every cell of his body. For centuries, Judas walked this world mostly alone. It didn't take him long to realize that he could never explain his affliction or situation to anyone he got close to, but with Eliza, things had seemed different. For a fleeting moment, he realized what was missing from his life for so long. It was her. But even now as her words played like a tortured echo in his mind, his soul still felt connected to hers and it made the pain unbearable.

Picking up the glass coffee table, Judas flipped it into a far wall; its thick corner slicing into the drywall with a crunch. The throbbing in his temples quickened as he grabbed the crystal decanter filled with scotch. As he pulled it back to launch it at the same wall, he immediately decided against it. Instead, he knocked off the heavy lid, tipping the opening to his mouth. With four heavy gulps, the expensive amber liquid was gone.

Dropping the carafe to the floor, he furiously rummaged through the glass enclosed cabinet containing bottles of all shapes, sizes, and a variety of colored liquids. Pulling out a skinny bottle containing vodka with a label written in Finnish, Judas pulled out the stopper, guzzling a long pull.

“You know, Yesh…my best friend… I know you’re listening. You’ve always just sat and listened. But I’m tired of talking and asking! Just let me come home!” He took another swallow and collapsed against the wall. “It’s the least you can do. Especiallynow. I let this woman… this amazing, glorious woman of the cosmos into my heart…”

He pounded his chest like an ape and the sound was thick, “My heart, Yesh. Not unlike I let you in you. Mybrother. Remember, Yesh? Brothers.”

His head slammed against the wall as tears poured from his eyes in frustration.

“She’s a lot like you. She’s kind… warm… forgiving… patient. I think you’d like her. She’s got these eyes… they’re like diamonds on the Galilee on a sunny day.” A sardonic laugh erupted and the scorching sorrow flowed from his eyes, “Why? Why, Yesh? Why would you do this to me? I did everything you asked…”

He took another drink from the bottle and a thought emerged in his mind. It grew quickly like billowing storm clouds until it was a tornado in his thoughts. He wondered if it would work. He felt a little pang of guilt just having the thought, but, what else could he do? It was the only thing his desperate mind could conjure. But, it was a dark thought. A dangerous thought. Something he always hid like a well kept secret that he feared if spoken aloud would come true.

He had the number. He’d actually been in possession of it for years. Why, he couldn’t say. He often thought that maybe they could get a drink together, talk about life and home. It was a romanticized thought because Judas knew it would be a terrible, very,verybad idea to sit across fromhim.

Smiling to himself, he worked up the courage to vocalize it.

Taking a final gulp of the vodka, he threw the bottle aside, "I don't want this life anymore! Not without her!" He paused, taking a deep breath, "Alright… fine. You aren’t going to let me die? I know someone who might… should we ask the Morningstar? Do you think he’ll take my call?”

Judas looked to the room in silence. The thought of making that call played in his mind for centuries and he thought for sureit would evoke some response from his long deceased friend and teacher. Tears flooded his face and he leaned hard into the wall behind him. He remembered the sound of Yesh's voice as he spoke to a small group of them about his angelic half-brother.

"Helel is misunderstood, but my father was right to banish him. Now he seeks to destroy everything our father built…"

"Why, brother? If Helel is truly sorry for his disobedience, why won't your father take him back?" Judas asked and James nodded his agreement.

Yesh smiled a distant grin; one that spoke of longing and pain, "Helel was not given the same choices as we are."

"Oh Yesh… I wish you would have given me a choice. I did what you asked. I always did," his voice was hoarse. Reaching for another bottle, he pulled a random choice from the cabinet, but this time, he couldn't focus on the label. It didn’t matter, he pulled the stopper anyway and filled his mouth with the contents. There was no burn this time, but the licorice vapor filled his sinuses.

"The green fairy," he mused, dropping the bottle to his side. "C'mon Yesh, let's say we call your brother. I know he's around… I need…" Judas' voice cracked with emotion. "I need something to take this pain away, brother. I won't be able to go on without… her," he swigged another mouthful and his eyelids drooped heavily. "I'm not… strong enough."

Judas' last conscious thought is the warmth of a calloused hand covering his eyes and a distantly familiar voice commanding him to sleep.

Chapter twenty-eight

She stood just inside the door staring at him.

The stillness of the room compounded her frustration while she quietly seethed. Monitors were beeping. The hum of the central air system was a low counterpoint. The placidity of a room with no movement. Eliza wondered what to do next. Her exhaustion didn’t allow her to be furious at Judas’ ridiculous accusations for long because she wanted to know if any morsel of it were true. She opened her fist to find the tiny note still gripped tightly. She recognized the handwriting as her father's.

A tiny nurse breezed in silently as Eliza stared at her father. She watched the young woman check the intravenous lines, inspect all the air tubing for any kinks, and straighten his sheets. Eliza admired those who cared for others like this nurse. She couldn't imagine the things this woman had seen and didn't want to, but Eliza appreciated her for who she was. A realization washed over her in that stark, quiet moment: she and this stranger were very much the same.

Eliza herself, as a young teen, fluffed the sheets on many occasions while her father lay passed out on his bed after enjoying one too many drinks after golf. She often made sure his airway was clear and that he wouldn't choke himself in the night. It was a scenario that often played in her head, especially after her first CPR training class. She had just been hired for the summer as a lifeguard at the country club. The photos in the book were nothing compared to the nightmares she imagined in her own mind. She didn’t want to find her father like that. Ever.

The next morning she cooked him breakfast and filled his favorite cup with hot coffee so he could fend off the hangover. Even after she moved away to college, Eliza called to check in on him no less than three times a week. She remembered praying every night that her father didn't miss her and wasn't as lonely as she imagined. And even now, she was holding his hand through every step of his campaign. Even though most days he didn't deserve it and, secretly, she hoped he didn't win. Mostly because he didn't deserve that either.

But as much as she was his caretaker, she was realizing she really didn'tknowher father. She never questioned his lack of sobriety even though his drinking laughed in the face of his good, man-of-God-son-of-Texas facade. Not one time did she ask on those calls home, who the female voice was in the background. And she would never, ever dare inquire about his business or clients. Her eyes turned hard as she stared more closely at Paul.

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