George Bailey Gets Saved in the End by Ken O'Neill

Author:Ken O'Neill [O'Neill, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Ken O'Neill
Published: 2016-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

“What’s new?” Sal asked as he led George into the kitchen.

“I’ve seen Jesus.”

“Said the atheist to the priest. Ba-da-bump!” Sal laughed, miming a drummer’s rim shot. Seeing George mirthless, he toned down the comedy. “I think you had better sit down,” he said, nodding thoughtfully.

He served the soup along with warm Italian bread and some kind of incredible cheese with truffles veining through it he said you could only get at Di Palo’s on Grand Street. Then George filled him in on his two encounters with Jesus.

“Mostly I’ve been thinking that I’m probably having a breakdown of some sort, which would be understandable under the circumstances. But this Jesus thing—”

“Buying him a slice of pizza?”

“No. That’s when I thought I must be cracking up. But just now at the subway was different. I was agitated. I was pacing back and forth. I might have even been muttering under my breath.”

“And this time you did not think you were crazy?” he smirked.

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“Yes,” Sal said, ladling a second helping of pasta e fagioli into George’s bowl.

“Here’s the thing,” George said. “All of a sudden, I felt totally calm and at peace and like someone was looking at me. And when I glanced up, there was Jesus. So, what do you think?”

Sal smiled indulgently. The priest’s expression reminded George of his father’s when he gently broke the news to him about Santa. “I don’t think it was Jesus. But that’s probably the Catholic in me talking.”

Having counted on the Catholic priest to be the one person he knew who might accept the possibility of a divine visitation, George didn’t understand what Sal meant by his comment.

“I don’t think Jesus makes a special appearance for an anxiety attack on a subway platform. I feel like that’s a job for a saint. No offense.”

None was taken. George could see his point.

“I mean, even to get the Virgin Mary to show up, I think you’d probably have to fall onto the tracks. You know, something life threatening.”

“But if it wasn’t Jesus, who was it?”

“You have room for dessert?”

He nodded. Sal cleared the soup bowls and cheese plate. He brought over a tray of warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies well over an inch high. The familiar sight of them struck George. With the first taste, he felt like he was ten years old again, just home from school, ready for a snack and a story.

“Good, right? Your grandmother’s recipe.”

George burst into tears. As mortified as he was by his exaggerated display, he could not stop sobbing.

What is wrong with me?

It was just a cookie after all, and a common one at that. But somehow, her version of this classic was so different from others. For one thing, the height of the cookie was extraordinary, and they were so moist. Everything about them was perfection. And seeing them reminded him of the great care Nan took of his entire family and especially of him. And just how lost he had become without her.

He sat for a long time before the crying ceased.

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