Saint Sebastian

         God speaks to my roommate. That's what Simon tells everybody at least. He first started communing with God during the summer. He'd call me sometimes when I was spending the summer traveling the country. I was eating lunch one day when I heard a familiar ring tone, an upbeat melody that I had set as the default for him in my phone.

         "Hey Jack! Guess what I just found out?" his voice bubbled over the phone.

         "You discovered that I am actually right about everything?" I answered.

         "Nooo, you silly. I just found out that I never have to go thirsty again. It's amazing."

         "Oh? How's that work?" I was wondering what crackpot lecture he had just gotten back from this time.

         "I'll tell you all about it when we come back to school! Bye now!"

         I stood there amused for a second before I was able to get back to my lunch. He hadn't always called me to inform me of every new piece of Christian scripture he had just learned. We had first become friends last year at our state university, home of the fighting terriers. As both of our roommates would be unavailable for the next semester, we had decided it would only be natural for us to room together. It was to be another year of fun and games. It wasn't until the summer that he began attending an assortment of evangelical churches and changing as a result. However, I was confident that by the time we started school again Simon would either snap out of this phase or I could bring some measure of reason back to him.

         The semester started normally when we came back to university. Simon was enthusiastic about his new found evangelicalism, but I mostly ignored whatever he had to say about that. He attempted to preach to me sometimes, but I always found an excuse to talk about something else or suddenly had somewhere to go.

         I had agreed to do Bible study with him on one uneventful Thursday. I was looking forward to it about as much as a cat looks forward to a bath in the kitchen sink. He was three minutes late for our meeting, but when he showed up he was filled with the passion of someone who has just learned how to do something for the first time. I tried to play along with the Bible study as best I could, but I was finding it about as interesting as cutting paper into hundreds of pieces in order to put them back together again. Instead of listening, I started paying closer attention to his facial expressions. During the summer I had seen a painting of Saint Sebastian at an art gallery in New York. The intensity of belief and presence that Sebastian possessed seemed to ooze out of the canvass as I watched. It had been made all the more memorable when the next painting I saw showed his acceptance of his martyrdom, despite how painful it must have been. I had thought at the time that the artist had simply been idealizing certain traits that he felt Sebastian might have had. As I looked at Simon, I was reminded of that painting and I felt that I could understand how the artist was able to make the emotions seem so strong on his canvass. Had I been a painter, I would have wanted Simon to sit right there until I had managed to convey only a portion of his intensity onto canvass.

         "Are you still paying attention to what I'm saying?" he asked.

         "Oh, go on. I'm listening."

         He looked at me and I just shrugged. The Bible study didn't last much longer after that. I didn't pay much heed to what he said and just hoped that since I'd done it once, he'd be obliged not to bring it up again.

         By the time the winter chill was beaten back by the liberating forces of spring, and white gave way to green, I was used to not seeing much of Simon. Most weeks I would see various other friends more than the person with whom I shared a cramped room. It was like I didn't have a roommate apart from the time he spent in his bed sleeping. I was watching television one day and Simon came in agitated. He rooted through his stuff quickly for a folder and then left the room again. I didn't think much of it as he had rushed out of the room before, but I had never really seen him like he was then.

         Saturday morning, I was half awake and half asleep when I heard a knock on the door.

         "Come in!" I called out once I got oriented. The door opened and Jennifer walked in. I was only casually acquainted with her. She was one of Simon's fellow believers.
"Hey, Simon isn't here right now."

         "Well, that's why I'm here. I need to talk to you about him."

         "Oh, what's wrong?" After speaking I noticed that she was prettier than I had always assumed she was. Her face was on the border of being simply plain, but the color and depth of her gray eyes gave her face a vibrant charm that would have been lacking if she had been wearing sunglasses.

         "I was out walking around campus last night. When I was nearing the intersection of Forest road and Middle drive, I saw Simon in the middle of the intersection shouting at cars as they drove by. Before I could get much closer the police came and started walking away with him.”

         “Do you know why?”

         “I asked someone else who was standing there what had happened, and he said that Simon had followed this girl through the apartment complexes, telling her that God wanted her back, and not leaving her alone until someone called the campus police. Has he seemed strange to you lately?"

         I sat back in my chair and thought about what she had just said. "He's seemed the same as he has all school year. Way too intense about religion, but not that strange otherwise."

         "We need to talk to him. This isn't something he should do. I'm afraid he could get into a lot of trouble, or even get hurt if he won't leave the wrong person alone."

         "I'll hang around the room today. If he comes back I'll talk some sense into him. He has to understand that not everybody cares about what he has to say and that they don't want to be bothered with it."

         Jennifer moved to leave, but before she left she gave me her number to call and let her know any more about Simon. I smiled as I watched her delicate hands write it down. Perhaps Simon's troubles would end on a positive note.

         Shortly afterwards, Simon came back to the room. I almost thought that the Second Coming was happening right outside judging by the look on his face.

         "So what's this I hear about getting taken away by the police last night?" I asked.

         "It was amazing."

         "Having the police come get you is amazing?"

         "No, no, no. What was amazing was that God was telling me that he wanted that girl back in his flock. That he was gathering all his believers back together and that girl was one of them."

         "Simon, it's not okay to harass someone. If they ask you to leave them alone you need to leave them alone."

         "I was doing the work of God. You'll understand eventually."

         "Simon, you have to understand that what you're doing is wrong. If they say leave them alone, just leave them alone." We stopped speaking after I finished speaking. He sat on his bed with his Bible in front of him. Occasionally he would bow his head down in prayer, but otherwise he watched his Bible like the words would fade away if he didn't take them all in at once.

         I woke up to an empty room on Sunday. I didn't worry too much, as I figured that Simon was off studying, something which I needed to do as well. I heard knocking on the door before I began to do my work. It was Jennifer again, who I hoped had just come simply to see me.

         "Simon had the police called on him again," she sighed as she spoke. "What are we going to do? This isn't good."

         "I don't know. There isn't much we can do if he won't listen to simple reason." I sighed as I wished that I could convince Simon to see reason. "How about we go get lunch and talk about what we can do."

         By the time we finished lunch we hadn't come to any conclusions on what was to be done with Simon. I was convinced that if we could get Simon to see reason, then everything would be fine again. I went back to my room alone to wait for him. I decided I'd call Jennifer again, hopefully just to talk this time. As I waited for her to pick up the phone, I wondered if she had a boyfriend. The phone rang in my ear until her automated voice mail system answered. "Hey Jennifer, it's Jack. I was just calling to see how you were doing. Would you like to get dinner next Friday? I know of this nice restaurant that's only a 10 minute walk from campus. I'm sure you'll like it. Anyway, I expect to hear back from you soon. Ciao." As I sat there smiling and wondering what to do next, Simon ran back into the room.

         “God is so amazing,” he panted. “It's so amazing doing his work and gathering his flock together for him.”

         “Simon, you're not doing God's work. You're just doing what you think you're supposed to do. You're not saving anyone. You're not gathering a flock together. You are just harassing people and having the police called on you. What the hell happened with the police this time?”

         “Jack, it was just the guards of Satan interfering, preventing me from doing my work. I am doing the work that God told me to do.” As he spoke, his eyes seemed to narrow, as if by sheer force of sight he would infuse me with what he believed to be right. “You don't understand what it is I'm doing. You're caught up in your perception of what is right. You haven't listened to a thing I've said all year, and yet you think you know what the best course of action is.”

         “Simon, let's calmly talk about this.”

         “No, you've closed yourself from God. Satan is working through you to try and prevent my work because he knows it is so important. I will do God's work and hope that you find God in your heart.”

         He grabbed one of his Bibles and ran out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. I stood shocked, like I had just been turned into stone by Medusa, at the space where he had just stood. I recovered and hurriedly put my shoes on to chase after him. He had a head start and I wasn't sure exactly where he had gone. I ran down the concrete stairs that were near our room, the sound of my shoes echoing loudly through the stairwell. I hesitated when I got outside, the darkness made it hard to see things that weren't directly lit by the lamp posts. I thought I saw a figure heading rapidly away from me to the left, so I ran that way. I then heard a roaring noise behind me and noticed the car careening past me. It was a cherry red convertible with dice hanging from the rear view mirror. The driver was wearing a black baseball cap and seemed to be fiddling with his stereo, which was blaring music of a band I had never heard before. It had one of those personalized tags that read "FSTRDE." Right above that was an "I brake for pedestrians" sticker and another one I was unable to read. I tried to scream out a warning when I saw Simon in the middle of the road shouting at the car, but I felt as if my vocal chords had just been transplanted in my stomach as I witnessed what was about to happen. The car barreled into his frail body, the sound of the screeching tires piercing me like fingernails on a chalk board.

         Simon died that night. He didn't even make it to the hospital before he passed away from internal wounds. The driver's precious convertible was wrecked, but he was uninjured. Simon was dead and I was only able to watch as it had happened. As I was standing inside the hospital coming to terms with Simon's death, I realized that my phone had been ringing. It was Jennifer.

         “Hey Jack, I got your message and-”

         “Simon's dead.”

         “I wanted to... what?” Her voice, formerly loud and cheery, was now barely audible.

         “He was hit by a car outside of our place tonight. He's dead.”

         “Oh my God...”

         We didn't say anything after that. I was too shocked to say much, and I could only imagine that she had felt the same way.

         Simon's funeral was on the last Saturday of the month. I went to the funeral by myself, dressed in clothes I had not worn in years. I got lost on the way to the funeral home. I was the victim of road construction blocking the exit I was supposed to take. After a long detour I finally arrived at the funeral home. It was an impressive building. It stood out stark in its whiteness against the grimy background of the surrounding buildings. As I parked my car it began to rain during the one occasion where I didn't have an umbrella. I ran inside to the lobby and began to proceed to the room where the wake was. The only person present that I recognized was Jennifer.

         "Hey Jack. How are you holding up?" she asked.

         "Oh, hi Jennifer. I'm doing as well as can be expected. How have you been?"

         “It's been hard, but I've been managing. Do you want to get a seat?”

         "I'd like to go up front before the service starts. If you'll excuse me, I'd just like to be alone for a while."

         I went up to the front to pay my respects to Simon. To both sides of the coffin there were a display of flowers and cards. The flowers were arranged in order of size, with the largest being on the left, and the smallest on the right. I stood for a minute and admired the various flower arrangements. There were tasteful assortments of roses, lilacs, and various other flowers that I was unable to identify. A pitcher of water sat behind the flowers and my thoughts idly went back to that warm summer day when I had first heard of living water. As my gaze was shifting to the right, I suddenly stopped when the body came into view. Simon was lying in the coffin with his hands crossed over his chest. They had dressed him in a black suit jacket with a rose in the right breast pocket, a white shirt, and a red bow tie. His flaxen hair was combed to the side of his head, while his pale blue eyes were covered by his closed eyelids. I stood transfixed as I gazed upon the body of my roommate. Where there had once been energetic life, there was now just a chalky emptiness. I half expected Simon to jump up right then and tell me that this was all just an elaborate charade, that nothing bad had happened, and that all would be well. That did not happen. His face was peaceful in death, with just hints of the frantic energy that had once been there.

         After I returned from the funeral I threw myself on my bed and stared new spots into the wall. I thought again of that painting of Saint Sebastian I had once seen. Had his companions simply accepted his martyrdom as part of God's plan, or had they been left shocked at the violent death that befell their companion? I reached for a Bible that I knew was still in the room and hoped to understand.