Jesus' Son

by Denis Johnson

It was raining outdoors and most of the Catholics were squashed up under an awning next door with their signs held overhead against the weather. They splashed holy water on my cheek and on the back of my neck, and I didn’t feel a thing. Not for many years.

I know there are people who believe that wherever you look, all you see is yourself. Episodes like this make me wonder if they aren’t right.

She came closer to the window. She had chiselled features, wet eyes, and tendons standing out in her neck. Fanatically religious utterances seemed to quiver on her lips.

No more pretending for him! He was completely and openly a mess. Meanwhile the rest of us go on trying to fool each other.