The large brown letters on the paperback's front cover spelled 'Pillars Of The Earth' and 'Ken Follett' beneath it. Adam turned the book over to read the text on the back cover. This sounded interesting, like something his dad might enjoy, so he picked it up and went to the counter to pay for it. His father had asked him to pick up a novel for him, so he would have something to do while staying in the hospital for a few days to have them run tests on his spine.
A slightly dorky looking man with thinning hair despite his age probably not even having reached 35 sat at the cash register. As Adam put the book on the counter to pay for it, Dorky-Guy put away the novel he was reading with a sigh, as if he was annoyed that a customer had the audacity to disturb him by buying something. Adam mentally shook his head. This was a bookshop, people should be expected to want to buy books.
The guy—Sammy, Adam suddenly remembered—eyed Adam with a disdainful look as he paid. He looked like he might have recognized Adam from the many times he had been in here, visiting Joan at work, but didn't want to admit that he did. It gave Adam the feeling that him actually buying a book was somehow insulting Sammy.
Adam quickly collected his change and was about to go, when out of the corner of his eyes, he saw an old lady with round glasses strolling languidly along one of the bookshelves, taking a book out and leafing through it.
'Or the old lady from the bookshop. That's also Her.' Joan's words from the previous night appeared in his head with a sudden flash.
He stood with his back to the counter, watching the lady for a few indecisive seconds. At school, he had tried to avoid Joan as best as possible, for fear she might confront him, ask him for a decision or even just bring the subject of their last conversation up. But the few times he had talked to her today, she had acted like nothing had happened. She hadn't even given him that meaningful, probing look that seemed to demand his answer without even asking the question. She had accepted his wish to grant him some time and space, and he was immensely grateful for it.
Ever since Joan had left his shed last night, his thoughts had been turning somersaults. Could what Jane had told him really be the truth? Could it be that God walked among humans, speaking to those He chose, making them carry out His will in some small way? It had seemed just too weird a concept, but some little doubt remained at the back of his mind that what she had said could be discarded so easily. What if it really was true? It would explain so many things—and yet again it would leave so many questions to be answered.
He had caught himself looking for a guy with spiky hair and a corduroy jacket in the school hallways as he passed from the lockers to the classrooms in between lessons. At one time, he had been sure it had been that guy, and just short of Adam addressing him, he had turned around and Adam had realized half in shock that it had been Steven Brody from Luke's year.
But now, looking at the old lady in the bookstore aisle, studying her face with the determined lines around her mouth from where he stood, he knew he had seen her before. In this bookshop a couple of times, once even in the school hallway, handing out muffins. Sometimes a photographic memory really was considered to be a blessing. Adam could not help but walk over to the old lady, who was standing in a rather dark corner of the shop, still studying the book she had pulled from the shelf.
Stopping roughly a foot away from her, Adam cleared his throat a bit nervously. If this was really God, what could he possibly say to Him? Her? It? The confusion showed on Adam's face in the form of a deep frown on his forehead, much the same way he looked when he was deep in concentration over doing one of his arts project. Not finding anything to say, he stammered, "Um, excuse me?"
The old lady looked him straight in the eyes, and it made him want to drop the thick novel he was still holding. Only at the last second, he remembered to hold onto it. With a voice that had a bit of an annoyed edge at being disturbed, she asked, "Yes, Adam?"
"I—" He suddenly stopped. "How did you know my name?" he asked, taken aback.
She gave him a look that seemed to say 'Duh'. "I know everyone's name. Joan didn't tell you that yesterday, did she?" It wasn't really a question.
Adam took a step back. If there had been a chair or anything else to sit on near him, he would have sunken down on it. But there were only books and shelves and nothing to support his weakening legs. He suddenly felt the old lady's surprisingly strong hand steadying him, saying, "There, there. No need to be afraid of me, I'm really not that scary."
Whispering more to himself than to Her, he uttered, "So what Joan said was true? You are..." He stumbled on the word. "God?" His eyes had grown wide, realization just sinking in.
"Yes, I am. Does that surprise you?" She simply said as if this was the most natural thing in the world—that God would be having a conversation with a teenager in a bookstore.
"How do I know it's for real?" Adam gaped.
Giving him an annoyed look, She said in an unnerved tone, "Why does everyone always want proof?" Not waiting for an answer, She went on, "All right, I will tell you." She looked up at the ceiling like someone who was trying to recollect something.
"Let me see, you are Adam Rove, your father is Carl Rove, born in April 1951 in Arcadia. He's the only child of Patricia Sherwood and Herbert Rove." She recited this as if it was a list of facts for History class. "He met your mother on vacation in Canada in 1973, they got married in Washington three years later. Your mother died of a barbiturate overdose five years ago when you were 13. You are an only child and you live in a house on Alexander Drive with your father."
Adam narrowed his eyes; his look was still laden with skepticism. "You could have researched all that, yo," he told Her slowly, not quite willing to erase the last shred of doubt.
"Yes, but what I couldn't have researched is that when you were ten, you wished you were a girl because you liked playing with Barbie. You don't eat raw tomatoes because you don't like the consistency, and at night, when you lie in bed before you fall asleep, you think about how you could have prevented your mother's death if you just hadn't gone to the ice cream parlor with Grace and had instead returned home earlier."
Adam's remaining doubts were squashed like a bug. These were things that no one knew, no one but himself could know, because he had not shared them with anyone. He had to grab hold of the bookshelf next to him for support with one hand. "This... can't be," he whispered.
Giving him an impatient look from over the top of Her glasses, the old lady said, "But it is, Adam."
Adam suddenly recovered, a million questions chasing each other in his mind. "If you're God, then... then tell me why you let my mom die? How could you let Judith die? And Rocky?" he blurted out.
OldLady-God's glance at Adam was sympathetic but also subtly pitiful. "Didn't Joan tell you that I don't answer the whys? All I can tell you is that things happen for a reason, even if you can't see it."
Adam opened his mouth to utter more questions, but Sammy interrupted the two of them. Addressing the old lady, indicating the book in her hands, he said, "Are you going to buy that? Because I am locking up for the night."
OldLady-God put the book back into the shelf. "Too revealing for my taste. That's something I need to contemplate," She said, and gave Adam a poignant look before She went to the door and left the store.
A few seconds after She had left, Adam released his grip on the bookshelf that he hadn't even noticed still holding onto and ran after Her. The bell on the door tinkled as the glass door opened and closed again. "Wait!" he shouted, stopping outside the bookshop, looking in both directions. Uncannily, the old lady was nowhere to be seen.
Adam's hand went to his forehead and he moved it through his hair towards the back of his head. He let it fall to his side in confusion and irritation. This was some revelation. Not sure what to do with the information he had just learned, he started walking aimlessly.
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Euclid Drive. That's where Adam's feet had taken him, without him even noticing. He didn't have any clear recollection of how long he had been walking, but it must have been at least three quarters of an hour if he had walked from the bookstore out here to the suburbs.
He stopped in front of the Girardi's house, not sure how to proceed. He had replayed the conversation with the old lady over and over in his mind, still not completely wanting to believe it. But there really was no doubt left to hold onto, was there? She had said things to him that no one, and he meant no one could have known about. And no matter how much he tried to deny it in his head, it wouldn't go away.
There was only one person he knew that he could discuss this with without thinking he was out of his mind or delusional or accusing him of an overactive imagination. He had to talk this over with Jane.
Ringing the doorbell, he expected Joan to open the door, but it was Mr. Girardi who stood before him. "Adam," he half asked, the surprise evident in his greeting. It had been a long time since Adam had come to this house after dark.
"Yeah, I was wondering if I could talk to Joan."
Mr. Girardi stepped aside to let Adam in. If Joan had told him anything about their break-up or the circumstances surrounding it, Mr. Girardi wasn't indicating any resentment toward him. "Sure, come on in. I think Joan's watching a movie."
Adam hesitantly stepped into the house. The surroundings seemed familiar to him, but he also felt a little out of place and insecure, coming here all out of the blue without prior warning. Adam followed Mr. Girardi into the living room, who announced, "Joan, you have a visitor."
Adam could hear Joan's slightly sarcastic voice before he saw her. "Who, geek-boy's anarchic girlfriend?" When Adam stepped out of Mr. Girardi's shadow, Joan greeted him with complete surprise in her voice. "Adam!"
"Yeah, I... Look, I kinda need to talk."
Will Girardi knew when it was time to leave, so he quietly made his exit, leaving Adam and Joan to themselves in the living room. As Joan used the remote control to switch the television off, Adam removed his knapsack from his shoulder and put it on one of the armchairs. Kneading his hands in front of him uncertainly, he didn't know how to start. "Jane, I..."
He knew he had to sit down for this, but somehow sitting next to Joan on the couch didn't seem like the right place to be. Cross-legged, he took a seat in front of the couch, leaning his back against it. He didn't think he could face looking at Joan, he wasn't quite ready to go there yet. First he needed to say what he had to say without her eyes drilling into his face.
"What you told me the other night... You know, about talking to God... I was in the bookstore just now, buying a book for my dad, and there was the old lady—the one you told me about. And then I talked to her and she, she told me things that no one could know about and she also knew about our conversation in the shed and she said that she talked to you and..." Words were tumbling out of Adam like water out of a fountain.
"And, and she... Jane, if that is really God, then this kinda overthrows my whole belief system," he finally finished, a little out of breath.
Joan had been patiently listening to him the whole time. She had been through this herself more than two years ago, she knew exactly what Adam was going through. The whole concept had just been as mind-boggling for her as it must be for Adam. Except Adam had had prior warning.
Uncomfortable at the fact that she couldn't see his face, Joan slid down the couch to sit next to Adam on the floor, in much the same position he was in, only she drew her knees up so that she could cross and rest her arms on them. She looked at him and wasn't surprised to see bewilderment written all over his face.
"Yes, I know," she said understandingly. "Kinda blows your mind away when you think about it, doesn't it?"
"Cha," Adam simply replied, and Joan couldn't help but smile at that completely Adam-like response. This felt a bit like old times, and that introduced a bittersweetness she had not been prepared for.
Adam turned his head to look at her. "So, you say God gives you assignments? And when you follow them, things turn out okay?"
Joan nodded. That was exactly what it had been like for the past two and a half years.
"Have you ever refused?" Adam asked curiously. He was trying to figure this out just as much as she still was.
"Well, yes. No. I mean, He always keeps going on about how He gave us free will, so these assignments are not, like, mandatory or anything. He calls them 'suggestions'. I think the most important message is that we can always decide what we want to do. But generally, if I obey—no matter if I think it's the right thing to do or not—things turn out okay. So why would I want to challenge that?"
"Yeah," Adam whispered. He looked at Joan and said, "Jane, do you know how incredible this is?" He used his right hand to quickly rub it on his thigh as if he was wiping sweat off his palm.
Joan was suddenly overcome by a strong urge to form some sort of physical connection to the only person she had trusted her biggest secret in and who finally was believing her. Slowly, she edged her hand closer to his, which was still resting on his thigh, and slid hers in his. She wasn't surprised when he returned the gesture and intertwined his fingers with hers.
Joan leaned her head back, so that it rested on the couch seat. "Adam, you have no idea how long I have wanted to share this with somebody. But after I told you in the hospital and you didn't believe me, I... I was afraid to."
Adam tightened his grip on her hand a little. "I believe you now," he simply said, and the relief and joy at his statement brought tears to her eyes.
They sat in silence for a minute, both not sure about the significance of recent developments. Adam finally voiced his question. "So, what does this mean? Am I gonna get assignments now too?"
Joan lifted her head off the couch again. "I don't know. I don't think that's how it works, but you never know. It's not like He asked me to recruit you or anything, but I suppose anything's possible. We'll just have to wait and see."
"Yeah," Adam said. They sat in silence for a long time, hands intertwined. If you didn't know better, you might think they were lovers, silently basking in each other's comforting presence.
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