Chapters Three and Four were deleted and re-posted because the site seemed to have eaten them. Chapter Three is now re-re-posted for errors.
o-o-o-o
"You. Talk. To G-d. What, you think I'm as gullible as Rove or something?"
"No, Grace. I really really do. Please … please believe me."
"But you're not even religious. I'M more religious than you. Why does G-d come to you then and not others?"
"Maybe I'm not religious like Mom or Lily or your dad or you, but I believe, Grace. I believe that God exists and I know that I am doing God's work. I don't know everything. There's a lot I don't know, in fact. But I ask anyway, because that's what I do. And God doesn't always answer – I've never found out why there's war, or poverty, or anything like that. But it doesn't matter: It's about questions. Just like you said in your Bat Mitzvah speech. I ask, and I try, and I don't always know why I'm trying, I thought your poem was supposed to be for the yearbook but that wasn't it at all, it was just because it was beautiful like Notre Dame… Please …"
I'm looking into her eyes now, pleading with her to believe me. But she just stands up, shrugs, grabbing her backpack as my beanbag chair settles back to the floor with a soft crinkle. Before I know it, she's climbing out the window. Gone.
o-o-o-o-o-o
Author's note: In Jewish custom, the name of God is rarely written in non-permanent material; G-d is an often-used substitute. Grace would probably use it, even if Joan would not.