Free Suncatchers by Jamie Langston Turner Page B

of God onto the stone tablets at Mount Sinai.” He had first read three verses from the book of Matthew in which Jesus answered a question posed to him by a Pharisee: “Which of the commandments is the greatest?” He had then gone on to read each of the Ten Commandments from Exodus 20 and had explained briefly how each would be obeyed, first of all by loving God with all your heart, soul, and spirit, and second by loving your neighbor as yourself. And in obeying these laws, a man could find what Brother Hawthorne called “a purpose and joy in living.” It sounded so neatly formulaic.
    Perry stopped typing and looked into the mirror in front of him. He saw the reflection of his fingers resting lightly on the keyboard. He stared at them a moment, wondering what thoughts would flow through them and onto the computer screen in the form of words and sentences over the course of the next several months. He often saw his life as something projected back at him from a mirror—not the real thing but an image, light rays bouncing off the flesh-and-blood reality and reflecting only a painted still life.
    His life as husband and later as father had always troubled him for this reason. It had never seemed totally real. He had seen himself in a role, his name in fading letters on a script, his lines recited with amateurish inflections. He had often stopped in the middle of something when the three of them had been together—once during Dinah’s birthday dinner at a restaurant, he recalled—and pictured what they must look like from a bystander’s perspective. He imagined his words being recorded by a foreign movie director and then played back for analysis: “This is a typical American male speaking to his wife and son. Notice the phrasing of the dialogue.” Even his work as a writer seemed a step removed from reality. He was always a spectator of life, never a participant.
    He read over what he had just written. The sermon had been so simple, and Perry couldn’t help marveling that he had been seated in the midst of over a hundred people who by all appearances truly believed life was this easy. Do this and this will happen. Push that domino and all the others will respond in swift, orderly succession. Be good and you’ll be happy. Love God—how did you do that anyway?—and he will enfold you in his embrace. Love others as yourself—now there was a hefty assignment, or was it? Perry had never in his life felt anything approaching fondness for himself, at least not on a rational, conscious level. Of course, he had no doubt that he would struggle to survive as fiercely and instinctively as the next person if his life were endangered, but somewhere deep in the core of his soul he seriously questioned whether his life would be worth saving. Anyway, where was he? Oh, yes, love others as yourself, and God would smile upon you. He would rock you in the lap of his approval, a lap of privilege as warm and soft as Edna Hawthorne’s.
    There was no doubt about it. These people really believed happiness was permanently attainable, like some kind of medal you earned and then pinned on your chest to show you had accomplished a basic skill. They seemed to put so much stock in every moment, every action, every thought. What a simple way of looking at life, yet complicated, too. How could you ever get through a day if you stopped to weigh the consequences of everything you did?
    He was still staring at the keyboard in the mirror when he heard a knock at the door, followed immediately by the door buzzer.
    â€œI’m not staying but a minute,” Eldeen said when he opened the front door. “Don’t worry, I know authors need their private time, but it dawned on me while I was having my devotions a minute ago that you might not of gotten anything at the store to eat yet and might like some of Jewel’s muffins she made this morning.” She held out a tin pie plate covered