MARIEL

17~God Said~

The street lights flickered and illuminated the snow as Phil shuffled down the street, shivering in the biting cold. He had left the house wearing a blue button down, brown pajama pants, and slippers. His red hair was wet from the snow, and he walked briskly towards his destination with a shovel across his back. After the hours of questioning God, screaming, destroying his house, and dealing with his daughters who made it clear that this was his fault, he had finally reached a point of indifference as he walked down the street with a shovel. If the cops saw him, so be it. It would be yet another test from God, he was sure. And he was sure he would be delivered from that trial as well. Currently, he was on his way to test his gift... to see if God had given him more power than he had realized.

He wanted his little wife back, and he was willing to try -

-Anyone -

- anything to get her back, and he was certain he could.

"I can move mountains if I have faith, God said, God said, God said," he muttered in rhythm to his steps, staring into the darkness. "I can move mountains if I have Faith, God said, God said, God said." He had been speaking this line for an hour, and his mouth was dry from the cold and the repetitive speech.

'I fucking hate you, dad, I hate you!' His daughter had screamed into the phone, and her anguished voice had vibrated his ear. Phil had been able to hear his youngest daughter, Hailey, wailing in the background. The idea that they assumed it was his fault upset him more than the idea that Carolyn had been obliterated by a train. Obviously, it had been his wife's apparent and wicked alcoholism that had caused her to suffer. He had done all he could to save her and her soul... and now she was trapped with Satan.

Unless his gift worked.

"I can move mountains if I have faith, God said, God said, God said," he continued. Phil marched onwards, beginning to see the outline of the cemetery he was steadily approaching. The snow crunched under his feet.

He had told his daughters and his mother, who he had not even seen for a year. They were not on the best of terms, never had been. Unlike his usual self, Phil Jameson still trembled when he spoke to his mother.

'Hi mama,' he had said softly after she had answered the phone.

His mama, Beatrice, had replied sharply, 'What do you want, Philip?'

His voice had wavered. 'Carolyn... died this afternoon.'

Brief silence, and then: 'What did you do, Phil? What'd she do, kill herself? I could see that comin' the first day I met her. Goddamn crazy bitch.'

'Mama, please don't use the Lord's name in -'

She had screeched into the phone. 'Shut up, Phil, I don't want to hear you! Just shut up! Go bury your dead wife and then call me if you wanna talk.' The line had ended with that, very similar to most of the conversations he had always had with his mother.

This toxic relationship had gone as far back into his childhood as he could remember. From the time he was little, it had been Phil and his mother, who never failed to belittle him and consistently remind him who was in charge and how much he disgusted her. He had never known his father, and by her description of him he had never wanted to. However, he presumed that perhaps he was the son of one of the countless men she brought home. Beatrice brought home all types... older men, younger men, multiple races, married, unmarried. At the time, she had been quite the attractive woman with her flaming red hair, full lips, and freckles, and Phil had been forced to deal with the repercussions of living with, who he considered, the town whore.

Beatrice was like this until Phil's time in high school, but drugs, alcohol, and the occasional stranger would still make its way into their home. Her behaviour, however, never deterred Phil's determination to get to law school. Despite her constant need to tell him that he would never make it, he had graduated top of his class and had received scholarship after scholarship for colleges of his dreams. With pride, he accredited himself, as Beatrice had no where near the funds to send him even to a community college.