Jack

“Unfortunately, this poor soul has left us early, and I pray that he welcomed God's warm embrace, however undeserving he may have been.” The preacher spoke, standing at the podium and doing various hand motions. 

“I will now read a passage from John.” 

At that moment, I stopped paying attention to his droning. I looked to the front row to see a middle-aged woman crying. Despite her sniffling being incredibly distracting, everyone ignored her. It was even more aggravating to me because she employed a pastor to say a few words. I remember playing armchair psychologist with her son, Jack, and how he complained about his ultra-conservative family constantly pressuring him to follow their religious ideals. Despite myself growing up Christian, I found it hard to relate, so I would simply try out my unconditional support strategies and expert listening skills. After all, my family were very open-minded, liberal Christians. They weren’t homophobic. They didn’t force me to go to church. They don’t pressure me daily into reading the Bible for half an hour. However, Jack wasn’t so fortunate. 

I remember telling him to stand up for himself and ask his parents if he could skip church sometimes to hang out with me. I figured it would be successful because when I told my parents I didn’t want to go anymore, they complied with my request. He told me the next day that he got slapped for asking. That shut up any suggestion I could think of, causing me to only listen to his worries. Then, one day, I got a call from his mother telling me he hanged himself. It was with the rope Jack and I bought a few days prior. Now that I think about it, he was even more depressed than usual that day. I felt a little guilty for not noticing since I was probably the guy’s only friend, but I knew I wasn’t really at fault. His parents pushed him to this. Their suffocating ideal of Christ and unreasonable rules did this, and they didn’t even realize it because of their ignorance. Although, Despite their apparent faults, in the matter, they weren’t solely to blame. Jack did give up. 

A light clapping interrupted my thoughts as my eyes landed on the preacher stepping down from the podium and bowing in gratitude. His smile felt artificial, which evoked a scowl from me unbeknownst to him. I didn’t like him at all. Shrugging it off, I got up to leave. This place felt so stuffy. However, the god I wasn’t sure I believed in was against me when a gruff voice called out my name, making my skin crawl and sweat drip down my face. Before I could respond, I felt a large, rough hand grip my shoulder, forcefully spinning me in a man’s direction. It was Jack’s father.

“Hi there, sir,” I stammered out nervously. His sharp, navy blue eyes looked like a glare as he formally addressed me. “Although I disapprove of you, I’m glad Jack had you at least,” I saw him briefly glance at my tattooed arm. “But I suppose it has something to do with your parents. So It’s not all your fault.” I always thought he was exceedingly condescending. 

“It’s n-nothing, sir. I liked hanging with him, and thank you for your mercy,” I said, holding back my thought, ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ 

“Hanging… interesting choice of words.” He responded, his glare sharpening.

“O-oh, sorry.” 

“No… It’s fine. Your use of it is correct; besides, you’re not the reason my wife is crying.”

“I see,” I said, looking down in awkwardness. As if ignoring my state, he grabbed my shoulder again, which caused me to look into his eyes, and, not noticing his wife approaching from behind, he spoke, “You and I aren’t at fault here. Don’t forget that and repent stupidly. Jack is the one that caused this because he couldn’t hack it.” 

“James! What is that supposed to mean!” Jack’s mother yelled. I could see her tear-stained cheeks and ruined makeup. She looked– horrible–  was my conservative assessment. James took his eyes off me, turned toward her, and scoffed, yelling, “It means what it means. Jack was a coward. You’re too emotional right now to understand that Vanessa.” A small semi-ring of people had formed, many whispering to others adjacent to them, indicative of later gossip. 

Wanting to leave amidst an impending argument and the possibility of being the center of attention, I slowly backed away from the inevitable bickering. However, James gripped my shoulder, forcing me to stay in a most uncomfortable situation. I hesitatingly whispered, “I think I should go.” Ignoring my urgency to leave, he simply shook his head, “Nonsense, just wait.” 

I sighed, accepting my fate, as James turned back toward Vanessa, “Jack was the one who gave up. We tried our darnedest, but he was the one who failed us despite our benevolence.” Vannessa looked down before stammering softly, “But we were blind to his pain.”

“He could have asked!”

“We didn’t provide the environment for him to ask.” 

“Oh please, we gave him anything he could ask for– food, shelter, clothes, faith. Jack was selfish and lacked consideration for how his actions could affect others!” 

“B-but… but.” 

“Stop it, woman! You know I’m right. He was pathetic. I can’t believe that he’s my son.”

Vanessa began crying again, her emerald eyes looking at her black heels. The observers quietly started to disperse– their voracity for gossip satiated. James shook his head, vexed, and asked me before I could think about escaping with the crowd, “What do you think?” 

I stood in contemplation, unsure of how to respond until a memory flashed in my mind. Although I didn’t want to, I had to agree with some of what James had to say. After all, that’s how I remember feeling. I’m only here today because I got lucky, and I still deeply regret it even though it was years ago. Jack gave up and succeeded, and I hated him for it just as I hated myself. As I said previously,  It wasn’t just his parents' fault. It was his as well; he ‘pulled the trigger.’

I looked at James, determined and confidently proclaimed, “I agree! No matter how sad or broken one may feel, one should always hope for a better tomorrow. It is pathetic of Jack to capitulate to his darkest thoughts! Like you said, he was selfish. However, you are as well. You’re narrow-minded and cruel, and it is tremendously difficult for anyone to rely on you emotionally. If he did come to you, you would callously reject him, angry that he doesn’t fit your strict criteria. But you are right, and Jack deserves criticism. I’m disgusted by his actions. I’ve thought much less of him since hearing he committed suicide. I hate it, but don’t run away from your involvement!” 

“What are you talking about,” James raged.

“Sigh, I FUCKING HATE YOU BOTH!” I screamed, abruptly turning away. A silence permeated the room except for the occasional sniffling from Jack’s mother. James bored holes into the back of my head with his eyes as I walked off in a stride, flinging open the front doors. My thoughts jumbled, my hands shook, and I fumbled, getting out my car keys, dropping them onto the stone parking lot.

“Tch.”

I quickly scooped them up, pressing the unlock button, as I heard my white car beep. I entered it, sat down, and wistfully looked out the window at the church’s front doors. I felt something drip down my cheek, and looking at the rearview mirror, I noticed something. A tear dropped, leaving a trail extending from the bottom of my right eye to my chin. Looking down, I mumbled, “Moron.”