Sapphic Voices General Fiction

Resurrection Day

The shades in my bedroom all snapped up at once, flooding my brain with blinding daylight. “Rise and shine, sleepy-head!”

I cracked open a road-map eye to see Jesus take a seat next to me. In his hands was a steaming cup of coffee. On its side read the caption Christ is coming-look busy!

Feeling bad, I took the offering. “Um, thanks.”

“No problem. By the way, you’re low on the two-percent.”

I took a sip. Not bad for a guy who’s been dead over two centuries.

Jesus cocked his head. “So like, I couldn’t help but notice you’re still in bed.”

I glanced at the clock tucked inside the headboard. 6:30? “There’s a reason for that. It’s Sunday morning.”

“It’s Easter Sunday!” Christ chimed.

“Oh. Well, congrats and all that.”

The Son of God poked me in the side. “Come on, get up. You used to love this day! All the colors and flowers and dresses and crazy hats and praise songs you’d sing…”

I held up a free hand. “The phrase you’re forgetting here is ‘used to’. As in, used to love Easter Sunday.”

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” He said. “You haven’t been around in a while.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What? You got the Holy Spirit taking attendance or something?”

He laughed butterflies. “No, but the choir’s been sounding flat lately.”

I forced myself to sit up. “Yeah, well, I haven’t had much to rejoice about since…”

“…since your church asked you to leave.”

Did he finish Mary’s sentences, too? How annoying! But my head bobbed up and down. It had been months since that awful day the deacon called Sheila and me into his office, his denouncements still ricocheting about in my head. Sinful! Unnatural! Abominations!

I looked up from the black depths in my hand. “How could you have just let that happen?”

“Hey, no one bothered to check in with me,” Jesus protested. “Had they I would have demanded them point out exactly which passage denies anyone the right to give praise.”

“They probably would have just quoted you some Old Testament scriptures,” I said. “God only knows they beat me over the head with ‘em.”

Jesus leaned over and kissed my forehead. “How’s that?”

“Better,” I said, managing a weak smile. “You know, I was taught that the elders were supposed to be your spokes-people.”

“They’re self-elected,” He explained. “Besides, I would never put such harsh words in their mouths.”

“Wait, hang on,” I said. “Now I know you’re not even going to tell me it’s all about free will, are you? Like, it was their choice to tell me to get the hell out of the parish.”

“Of course it was” Jesus said. “Just like it’s your choice to stay in bed this morning.”

I rolled my watering eyes. “Man, don’t you get it? I loved that church! It was my home, bro. I was baptized there, went to Bible Camp every summer there. I mean, I grew up in those pews. It hurt. Shit, it still hurts. You just don’t know what it feels like to get beat up by your preachers, abandoned by your friends, hung out to dry and, and…”

Jesus eyeballed me with a look that would have made demons wince.

“Sorry,” I said.

Sunshine replaced the storm clouds. “It’s cool, it’s cool. Look, just so you know, I was never really big on details. It’s a huge world, a lot of different people, you know? It never occurred to me to demand who you should love, just that you should.”

I leaned over. “Think maybe you could let all the elders in on that little secret?”

“Hey, I’ve been trying for centuries.”

I hesitated. “Um, can I ask you something? Were you afraid, up on that cross?”

“Well, yeah. Hel-lo, death!”

“So what did you do?”

Jesus fell unaccustomedly silent. Then: “I gave it up for something else.”

“You mean Heaven?” I asked.

“I mean faith.” He took my hands. “Look, I know a thing or two about resurrection. It’s hard. You feel like you’re buried alive under the weight of the world, nothing but a speck under God’s heel. But you want to know something I learned? That’s not His heel. He wouldn’t do that. He wants to see you happy; He loves to see his children thrive.” He swept away the tear hanging off my lashes. “He wants to hear you sing again.”

“I probably forgot them all,” I whispered through my sobs.

“You kidding? Bet you could teach me some…”

I threw a pillow at His head. Could I go to hell for that?

Jesus laughed. “Anyway, I hear there’s a ten o’clock over at the Metro Church. Rumor has it they need an alto.”

“What, the Holy Spirit tell you that, too?” I asked.

“Nah, the rev did. She’s a real cutie, by the way.”

“Jesus!”

His hands flew up. “Heyyyy, that’s just what I heard! So what do you think?”

A yawn snuck out of my head. “Okay, okay, fine.” I closed my hot eyes. “You know, for a Savior you’re really pushy.”

Even though my lids were closed I knew Jesus was smiling. I grinned back and opened my eyes. The other side of the bed was empty, my comforter spread out smooth, all the pillows plumped up. Everything was the same as it had been the night before when I went to sleep.

Well, save for the coffee cup hanging out on the night table. I reached out and took a sip. Hmm, still warm.

Did I tell you Jesus makes a mean cup of coffee?

If you have enjoyed Stephanie Alexis Bonvissuto's "Resurrection Day", then please be certain to e-mail her at  stephaniealexis8[at]hotmail.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

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