JESUS SAID THAT HE WOULD explain everything. I haven't got long, I said, but go ahead. I couldn't help myself interrupting him before he could finish the story he was telling me. You are eager, he said. I said, You are breaking up — can you repeat that? Quickly I dropped more coins into the receiving slot. Is it true, I asked. Everything is true, said he. You must believe. I'll come and meet you, I said, I've got to see you to believe. He said that he was at IKEA and that he had bought a new seat to sit at the right hand side of his father. I'm good with making that stuff, I said, I'll stop by. In the background I could hear the beep—beep—beep of checkout. A pinched woman's voice said, Holy Jesus, is it really you? It is surely, I heard Jesus say. I am sorry I just never thought that I'd ever see you here; in fact I didn't even believe in you until now, I could hear the woman say. Let's do a selfie, she asked. Sure, he said, just the one. That'll be, she said, no go on, take it, we'll say nothing. Jesus, I said, my coins are running out, are you there, Jesus, I'll meet you at Subway — my shout — I'm in the mood for a foot long. The operator said I had ten seconds left. I wondered what chair he was after. Keep your receipt safe, I shouted. The line had already expired. I thought about him all of that morning. I was sure that I'd recognise him. I just had to meet him. I'd bring wine and cheese and grapes. I'd watch him make wine. I'd watch him thumb the curls of his beard. I'd ask him to pray for me. I'd ask him to rob a bank with me. I'd spend it quickly. Then I'd go home with him. I wrote a list of things.
Jesus said that he would explain everything.