Chapter 5 continued

John was at his usual place near the Arch. He was talking to a couple who lingered after his last preaching. He waved when he saw me.
    “You’re getting to be a regular here in Washington Square, Paul.”
    “Were you at Saint Matthew’s about twenty minutes ago?”
    “I’ve been here all morning. What’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
    “Why do you say there no second chance?”
    “In Matthew 24: 42-44, Jesus says we do not know the day or the hour that he will invite us to become one with him. We know only that he will come when we least expect him. Why would he warn us to be alert if there was a second chance?”
    “John, the other day you told Ben you were taught from within. That’s what I’m interested in. Tell me about that.”
    “I’ve never discussed that with anyone. It’s too personal, Paul.”
    “Does it have anything to do with Jesus calling everyone?”
    “Yes, of course. But I won’t discuss my personal experience.”
    “You’ve admitted you didn’t answer the call.”
    “Yes, to my regret.”
    “Did your failure to answer the call start a process of self-judgment? Is that how you were taught from within?”
    “That’s all I’m going to say, Paul. Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?”
    I wanted to tell John what happened, but I couldn’t. For one thing, he was right. It was too personal. For another, it was crazy. Instead, I told him, “I’m working on this theory for my new book. I have this idea that everything is one through a balancing of two opposing forces. Of course, that would lock everything in. All events would always be occurring. Everything would be set. There would be no freedom.”
    “And you think this is why there’s no second chance?”
    “Yeah. I wanted to see if there is some connection between your idea of no second chance and my idea of balance. I was hoping you would tell me how you were taught from within.”
    “The convenient thing about Scripture is that everything is there so that we don’t have to talk about our personal experiences. I hope the quote from Matthew 24 helps.”
    “No, I need you to share with me how you were taught from within.”
    John pulled his coat around him. “I have to get back to my preaching while there are still a few souls out, but if this weather keeps up, and my congregations continue to diminish, we can have lunch on Monday.”
    Until that moment, I had not thought of my luncheon date with Maria since before I went into St. Matthew’s. I took a taxi to Maria’s import-export office at the World Trade Center to apologize. Her assistant said she was out for the rest of the day.
    The flurries began to collect on the sidewalk. I shivered and turned up my coat collar against the sharp wind that blew against me as I walked home.
    Along the way, I noticed a waste can by the curb. I stopped and held my manuscript in front of me, staring at it, then slammed it, two-handed,
into the trash.

Sara was in the kitchen when I got home. She had finished eating and was placing her dishes in the dishwasher.
    I said, “Isn’t it early for dinner?”
    “I didn’t have lunch.”
    “Where are the kids?”
    “They’re spending an overnight with friends.”
    “On a school night?”
    “There are leftovers in the fridge.” Sara closed the dishwasher and turned it on.
    “I’m not hungry.”
    “Did you sell the book?”
    “Something happened today that made me realize I can never make sense of this world…”
    “Paul, didn’t I get through to you at all yesterday? We’re broke.”
    “…And if I can’t make sense of this world, I can’t tell the Final Story…”
    “Good. You can do a quick rewrite of your new novel and this time I’ll handle the negotiations.”
    “…And I’m finished if I can’t tell the Final Story.”
    “Okay, you’ve had a long day. Start the rewrite in the morning.”
    “Our every attempt to make sense of this world is countered by the fact that this world doesn’t make any sense.”
    “Do you love Karen and Rob, Paul?”
    “I’m offended that you would ask me a question like that.”
    “Then meet your financial responsibilities.”
    “I’m not going to write anymore. I’m through.”
    “Have you been drinking with Ben again?”
    “Something happened when I stopped in Saint Matthew’s today. The same thing that I think happened to Saint Thomas.”
    “I don’t care about some church philosopher who’s been dead 700 years.”
    “Three months before he died, Saint Thomas stopped in the middle of saying Mass and returned to his monastery cell. When asked what was wrong, he said he had an insight that made his writings no more important than straw. He never picked up a pen again. Three months later, he was dead.”
    “You’re scaring me, Paul. I want you to see Dr. Stephens tomorrow.”
    “I don’t need a psychiatrist.”
    “Fine. Then stop looking for excuses and get to work.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Tell me what happened this afternoon so that I can understand.”
    “The same thing that may have happened to Saint Thomas.”
    “You’re not making any sense.”
    “I’ve always believed I could tell a Final Story that would make rational sense of everything. After what happened today, nothing makes sense.”
    Sara slammed her fist on the kitchen table and several dishes crashed to the floor. “Anybody else would have turned the Seminal Prize for Literature into a gold mine. But, no, not Paul Genet, the great creative genius of the twentieth century.”
    “I know about you and Derek Somers.”
    “Don’t change the subject. And don’t you dare repeat what the supermarket tabloids have been saying since your press conference at the White House.”
    “I don’t have to. Ben saw you the night you and Somers had dinner when I was out of town. He followed you and Somers to the Hotel de Lion and sat in the lobby all night until the two of you came down around ten the next morning, arm and arm.”
    “And you believed him? You’ve gone too far this time, Paul.”
    “Don’t make a fool of yourself trying to deny it, Sara.”
    “This morning, I asked Jeff Anderson to draw up a divorce agreement because I suspected you wouldn’t make a sincere effort to help us out of our financial crisis. Now you say you won’t ever write again because something happened to you in Saint Matthew's. I don’t believe you. To top it off, you—of all people—accuse me of adultery. That’s it, Paul. Tomorrow, I’ll ask Jeff to file for divorce first thing Monday morning unless you sign the agreement. And I don’t want you staying here tonight. Sleep with one of your girlfriends.”

I wanted to be with Maria and took a chance that she would be home. She was in her robe and surprised to see me.
    “I’m sorry I missed luncheon, but something happened…”
    “Paul, you should have called before coming over.”
    “I’m having the worst day of my life. I need to talk to you.”
    “Shouldn’t you be with your family?”
    “Sara threw me out.”
    “I’m sorry, Paul.”
    “Can I come in?”
    “It’s not a good time.”
    “I’m quitting. I’ve got to talk to you, Maria, please.”
    “You’re not going to write anymore?”
    “Can we talk inside?”
    “Not tonight, Paul. We’ll have lunch tomorrow.”
    “Maria, I…”
    “Come by the office about noon. Okay?” She closed the door.
    Ben wasn’t home and I couldn’t reach Michael, so I went to a hotel and lay awake all night with the lights on. I played my experience in Saint Matthew’s over and over again in my mind trying to understand what happened.

Chapter 6