Making Small Talk With Jesus

Prelude Lexy scurries into the motel room, drops her bags, and locks the door. She steadies herself against the door and turns on the bedside radio. Rock ‘n ‘roll blasts out. She lunges at the dial until she finds Hank Williams. He instantly relaxes her, even makes her smile. She turns up the volume, then takes the .38 out of her denim jacket, and sets it down next to the radio. As the music plays, she inspects the room. It’s cleaner than most: the toilet has a blue sanitation seal across it, the kitchenette has two real glasses, four primary-colored plates, and above a small desk, the view out the window is of the motel’s swimming pool area. She sits on the bed, bounces a few times, and is thrilled to find that the mattress passes her firmness test. This room is a keeper! On the radio, Hank’s ballad “Cold, Cold Heart” fades into Bob Dylan’s melancholy guitar strumming of “A Simple Twist of Fate.” Lexy looks at the radio in anticipation of hearing the DJ’s voice--his voice--but it’s a musical segue with no chatter in between. Lexy picks up her tattered suitcase, held together by the countless colorful stickers all over it, and tosses it on the bed. She digs out a couple of scarves, positions one over the bedside lamp, and turns on the light. She then arranges the second scarf over a brass lamp on the desk and turns that on too. Pleased with the atmospheric effect the shadowed lights create, she closes the suitcase and places it in front of the door for added security. Satisfied, she sits on the bed, kicks off her shoes, and breathes a sigh of relief. Lexy opens the only drawer of the bedside table and pauses for a moment to look at the red cover of the King James Bible inside. She picks it up and slowly traces her fingers over the embossed gold lettering. She closes her eyes for a beat, mutters something to herself, then slips her thumb into the side of the thick book and flips it open. Lexy opens her eyes and realizes the Bible has opened to her favorite Psalm, 27. She glances down as tears gather at the edges of her eyes. “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” Warm and welcome, the tears run down her face and drip onto the pages. She looks up at the bare ceiling, enjoying the painful bliss of the moment. She looks at the pages again, wipes her eyes, and runs a finger down to the last verse. “Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.” On the radio, Dylan’s mystical harmonica fades out, and a man’s voice melodiously welcomes listeners to the show. “And Lexy, darling, if you’re out there tonight, somewhere listening, this show, like all the other Country Bus programs, is dedicated to you. And remember, if you’re thinking about coming home, the door is always open. In the meantime, here’s one of your favorites, Living Without You by Darlene and the Dangerous Mood.” Lexy softly repeats the words: “The door is always open.” A loud knock on the door makes her catch her breath; she is transfixed as she stares at it. “He couldn’t have found me,” she whispered. Another forceful knock! “Well, I don’t think it’s the Holy Spirit.” With a quick, confident movement, she picks up the gun, stands, and aims it at the door. She is trembling.