Bobbi Jo shot up from the sofa, hefting Tyler Sue up in her arms. She replaced her palms over the little girl’s ears and whispered, “Conrad, I told you to hush your mouth about this. This is the devil’s talk and you are not going to sully my children’s pure souls and minds with your ungodly ideas. We are Christians,” Bobbi Jo said. “This is not what I signed up for when we got married.” She ran up the stairs, the little girl bobbing helplessly in her arms, getting the worst of the bargain.
Conrad looked after her and rubbed his temples.
“So, nu? What did she think she signed up for? No one’s poifect,” Irv said.
“And you should know,” Sadie replied.
“What did you sign up for? What did I? I really don’t know anymore, Bobbi Jo,” Conrad yelled after her.
“You know,” Irving said to Sadie. “It must be very difficult to question God’s existence when you live in the Bible Belt.”
“Understatement,” Sadie replied.
“I hear through the ghostly grapevine that Preacher Elijah and his wife, Pearl, have a home in Atlanta, another in Hawaii,” said Irv.
“And a modest little four bedroom pied a terre in New Orleans in the French Quarter, so I’ve heard,” Sadie added. “What does this Conrad do? Does he make a good living?”
Irving took out a small palm pilot and logged on to the Net. “Conrad is a chemist working for a drug production company and Bobbi Jo is a stay at home mom. She does a good job. A real ballehbusta. They have three children and this….” He looked around at the modern art prints chosen for color rather than artistic merit. “…tasteful suburban abode. They’ve been married for seven years and I have to say that Bobbi Jo is still looking zaftig in a good way after three pregnancies.”
Sadie eyed Irving with narrowed eyes. “Of course, you’d have to say that. What else is new? All that from just Googling? Very impressive.”
“Well, not all of it from Google. I Dogpiled as well and Asked Jeeves. But some of it I channeled from You Know Who.”
“Probably reliable then,” Sadie remarked. “Irv, the way this Bobbi Jo said the word ‘Christians,’ it was as though she was claiming to be the Messiah in the Second Coming.”
“ I know, huh? It was like a proclamation. These religious types speak with such certainty about things they don’t have a clue about. The Hasidim in Brooklyn are the same.”
Conrad called up the stairs after Bobbi Jo, “You might as well know, Bobbi Jo. No more Church. This is it. I’m not going this Sunday or any other.”
“Oy, he’s really digging his own grave,” Irv said.
“You know something, Irvelah?”
“What, Sadelah?”
“I think we should stay and help these poor kids out.” Sadie smiled sweetly.
“I know that smile, Sadie. You’ve got some mishegoss up your sleeve.”
“Nah, not really. I just want to see how it turns out. This is too good to miss.”
A month or more had passed by with the specters watching the action like it was a reality TV show. Bobbi Jo only spoke to Conrad when absolutely necessary. On Sunday, when the children asked why Daddy didn’t go to church with them anymore, she replied, “Because Daddy’s sick.”
“But,” said six-year old Jefferson, stuffing a pink swirled pop tart into his mouth, “Daddy doesn’t look sick. And he’s not puking or lying in bed.”
“Trust me,” his mother said. “Your father is very sick.”
That night, in their powder blue bedroom, enveloped in their sky-blue ironed cotton sheets, Conrad didn’t bring up his religious philosophies again. They had chewed that meat till it was dry. Instead he leaned over and kissed the satin of Bobbi Jo’s neck.
Meanwhile, Irving and Sadie had been tracking Conrad’s online history on the computer. They were searching for clues to explain the atheism bomb he dropped. There were a couple of hits on atheism informational websites. Nothing much else of note besides a few soft-core porn sites and Irving figured that was because of the frosty atmosphere between the two. They’d just turned the computer off and come upstairs to the bedroom.
Conrad turned the bedside lamp off and whispered, “Bobbi Jo, even after three kids, you are still so hot.”
Mazel Tov on being a published author.
Al