Chapter 439 Scene 1T (or “Pamphlet”)

[Matt deGomme]

       “Excuse me, sir. I see you have a Bible there,” said an unfamiliar man who extended a tiny pamphlet. “I have some information.”
        He did have a Bible resting on his lap, spine outwards. One of the casualties of living in America is that anyone who sees you reading a Bible assumes you believe its contents. There, in the back of the bus, he looked through sepia tinted sunglasses first at the stranger across the aisle and then down at the pamphlet. He didn’t dwell on either image very long, but he could see on the cover the drawing of a man’s back. The figure was standing and facing into some giant door or opening out of which came a bright, consuming light. “How Will You Survive?” was written in large white text immediately underneath the figure’s feet.
        He could imagine the contents already. It was likely a specific account of how the Bible long ago predicted so many recent tragedies, which meant the end of the world was nigh. Failing that, it was almost certainly a more general account of the eternal damnation he and anyone else who didn’t so believe could expect after death. There was probably a ‘Did You Know?’ column and perhaps even some juvenile animations of the kind he’d read in Sunday School years ago. In his heart he knew he already had all of the apocalyptic proclamations and promises of eternal damnation he needed in his lap and at home, he didn’t need another pamphlet.
        Nonetheless, he knew that it would be rude to deny the offer, so he thought to take it. In a split second, he imagined receiving the pamphlet and at least pretending to look at it - the polite things to do. After a quick though curious glance, he would fold up the paper and slide it into his already cluttered backpack and promise himself that he’d discard it as soon as possible. He’d smile at the stranger for the gift but, since he was so forgetful, would find it weeks later crumpled and covered in ink or ketchup. Between the existential and practical stresses, he decided it’d be simplest to decline.
        He raised a hand to the pamphlet. “No, thank you,” he said. (He always meant those thank you’s since he knew first-hand where these offers came from. The greatest thing you can do for someone is secure their place in eternal glory, if not save them from damnation. Such pamphlets, then, were only ever given out of concern and selfless love, and for this he was sincerely grateful. It is what the pamphlets give men into that pushed him away.) He realized how softly he’d said it, but something about the fatigued way he rose his hand assured him the message got across clearly. He kept eye contact from behind his glasses and could feel how still his lips were. The man looked down at the pamphlet with something like confusion and slowly retracted it.
        Sitting across the aisle, he could feel frustrated thoughts in the stranger’s head. The man slowly pulled a little zip-up case he had at his side onto his lap and put the pamphlet inside gently, like an animal that had just been badly and unnecessarily bruised. The stranger let his hands rest nervously on the case for a minute before he leaned forward, picked up the bag seated on the ground in front of him, put the case with pamphlet inside, and walked up to the front of the bus.
        The timing of his departure disclosed that it was unnatural. The bus wouldn’t stop for another several minutes, so to exchange sitting comfortably in the back for standing in the crowded front must have been spurred by some deep discomfort. Still seated in the back, watching from behind his sepia tinted sunglasses as the stranger walked away, he knew that something about their interaction had caused the man to leave. What that was exactly, he couldn’t say - at least not with certainty; at least not with faith.