The Gospel According to Luke

  ‘No. I couldn’t. It felt like forever.’

  ‘Thirty-nine days, and every one of them felt like a week.’

  He tightened his arms around her. ‘I love you, Agatha.’

  ‘I love you too, but if you call me that again I’ll murder you.’

  ‘You don’t like Agatha?’

  She groaned, pushing back in to him with her hips. ‘I hate it. My mother’s revenge on me for being born.’

  ‘I think it suits you. Agathos is Greek. It means good.’

  ‘How do you know this stuff?’

  ‘I came across the word when I was working on some scriptural translations. Of course, when I say “came across” I actually mean I looked up your name in every text I own and when I found it I sat in my room and re-read the entry until my vision blurred.’ Luke felt tears springing up at the memory. ‘I found you in a Latin text, too. Do you know about Saint Agatha?’

  ‘There’s a saint?’

  ‘A third-century martyr from Sicily. She spurned the advances of a Roman official who then tortured her, cut off her breasts and killed her.’

  ‘How gruesome. Was there a Saint Luke?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Of course. What did he do?’

  ‘You heard of the Gospels, Ag?’

  ‘He wrote them?’

  ‘One of them. The most beautiful of them, in my opinion. Luke was a doctor and exceptionally compassionate for the time. He wrote of the Good Samaritan, the penitent thief, the healing of the lepers. His Jesus is the sinners’ friend, a minister to outcasts and slaves. Luke’s is the gospel of the underdog.’

  ‘Was he married?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But he sounds so nice. Was he gay or something?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He just happened to agree with Paul that a man should only marry if he is tempted to immorality by staying single.’

  ‘Who’s Paul?’

  Luke laughed. ‘Paul is only the most significant figure in Christianity besides Jesus himself.’

  ‘And it was his fault that poor Luke was celibate? Sounds like he wanted him all to himself, if you ask me.’

  Luke closed his eyes. ‘Luke wasn’t celibate because of Paul,’ he said, pressing himself against her. ‘He just never found the right woman.’

  27.

  Luke woke to find Aggie gone. He sat and took deep gulping breaths of stale, musty air. The bedroom stank of sex and sweat. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, but it was too high and his feet did not touch the ground. He sat there, legs swinging, doubled over, trying to calm the storm in his chest.

  The floor in front of him was bare of the discarded towels and underwear which had littered it yesterday and the pale pink sheet that he had ripped from the bed sometime in the night when it became tangled in his feet.

  ‘Aggie?’ he called, sliding off the bed and looking around for something to cover himself with. ‘Ag? Where are you?’

  She appeared in the doorway, dressed in blue jeans, a yellow shirt and brown boots. Her hair was gathered back behind a headband. ‘Hi, sleepyhead.’

  ‘You’re going out?’

  ‘Duty calls, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You can’t go to work.’

  ‘Just for a little while. Mal got back yesterday but he was jetlagged as hell. He promised he’d be in by twelve. Will you be here when I get back?’

  Luke nodded.

  Aggie came across the room and kissed him, slow and deep. ‘Stay right like this for me. All sleepy and naked and warm. I will be as fast as I possibly can. Okay, baby?’

  He nodded again, unable to speak. She kissed him on the forehead and was gone.

  Luke climbed back into her bed, pressing his face into her pillow and inhaling deeply. He could not smell her – the sour stench of his own body was everywhere. He got up again and ripped the coversheet from the bed. Stiff patches of dried fluid scraped past his fingers and made him gag. Oh, Lord, what have I done? He stripped the pillows of their cases and then climbed on the bed. He drew back the heavy velvet curtains and threw open the windows, the warm, fresh breeze instantly refreshing him.

  The laundry was on the ground floor, out back near the kitchen. Aggie had put the dirty things from the bedroom floor in the basket, so he added them to the machine with the linen and doused the lot with detergent. It was only after he had set the machine to SuperWash and was leaning against it heaving with fear that he realised he was stark naked.

  He set off to find his clothes, retracing the route of the previous night’s love-making. Underwear and socks were on the bathroom floor, wet; his jeans were in the hallway between the bathroom and living room and his belt and shoes were in the entrance hall. Searching for his shirt kept him occupied for almost half an hour before he remembered that Aggie had worn it while she made toasted cheese sandwiches late last night.

  He put his clothes in the washing machine, placing the clean load in a wicker basket he found on the window ledge. He would have to cover himself before he could hang out the washing, which meant finding something of Aggie’s to wear. He laughed out loud and resolved to keep laughing until he was dressed and could focus again on the washing.

  He went through her closet, laughing so hard he was occasionally forced to sit down on the bed and hold his stomach. Her jeans and trousers were ludicrously long and her shirts all pulled across his back or bulged across his chest. There were several dresses and skirts but wearing those would not have been funny; it would have been depraved and whatever he’d done last night and this morning, he was not a pervert. He stalked out of her bedroom and stormed through the house opening and closing doors until he found the linen cupboard. He grabbed a candy pink towel and wrapped it around his hips, and then chose a set of pale blue and green striped bed linen and took it back to the bedroom. As he fluffed and placed the final pillow, he glanced at the clock and saw it was eleven-twenty.

  He was just pegging up the last of the washing when he heard Aggie’s laughter. He turned and saw her leaning over the balcony, her face a picture of joy. ‘I must have died and gone to heaven,’ she called out. ‘There’s a gorgeous half-naked man doing my housework.’

  ‘Send him over here when he’s done,’ came a voice from over the fence.

  Aggie laughed and ran down the stairs to meet Luke halfway. He crushed her against the railing, kissing her mouth and burying his hands in her hair. She kept laughing through his kisses, and after a little while, he was laughing too.

  28.

  A television news van had beaten Aggie to the clinic and she was caught off guard with a question about yesterday’s shooting. She answered as best she could on a moment’s notice, saying it showed the disgusting depths that anti-choice protesters would go to. She went inside and drew the recently-purchased curtains over the front window.

  When she fired up her computer she found a fresh stream of hate-filled emails: Abortion War Death Toll. Abortionists – 1, Innocent babies – millions. Let’s even the score. There was also an email from Simon. Ag, it read, V. worried about you in light of Adelaide incident. Hospital admin has doubled security – suggest you do same. Simon. P.S. Monday’s meeting was a great success. Request follow-up at your earliest convenience. xxx

  Aggie smiled as she replied: Dr. Keating, No need to worry. The police and media are everywhere. Agree that Monday was a success but must regretfully decline your request due to recently arranged merger with more favourable party. Rgds, A.

  The reply came within minutes: Congrats. Would be obliged if you kept me in mind for future vacancies. Casual or contract work preferred. Simon. P.S – I’m serious about security. Terrorists love an audience + copycats are a concern. Be careful! xxx

  The incoming stream of quasi-death threats quickly chilled the warm glow Simon’s emails had given her. The noise from outside was getting louder too. ‘Do not be afraid to go out on the streets and into public places like the first apostles, who preached in the cities and villages,’ came the megaphone-dist
orted voice. ‘This is no time to be ashamed of the Gospel. It is the time to preach it from the rooftops.’

  Aggie went to the door and opened it just enough to put her head around. She could see that the dented tin megaphone of days past had been replaced with an enormous red shiny thing plugged into some kind of amplifier. The noise was fantastic. ‘The Gospel must not be kept hidden because of fear or indifference,’ the man hollered. ‘It was never meant to be hidden away in private. It has to be put on a stand so that people may see its light and give praise to our heavenly Father.’

  ‘Fuckers,’ she mumbled, slamming the door. The phone rang and she braced herself to give the stock answer about sympathy to the family if it was a reporter, and grabbed a pen to quickly note the number on caller ID if the call was abusive.

  ‘Well, hi Aggie,’ came the chirpy voice.

  Aggie knew instantly who it was but was so surprised she needed time to compose herself. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Oh, sorry. It’s Belinda.’

  Aggie was silent, trying to remember if Luke had said anything about what he’d told the others.

  ‘Belinda Swan. From across the street.’

  ‘Oh, right. Hi.’

  ‘Pressure’s really on over there, huh? Greg said he saw a Channel Ten van?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m actually pretty flat out, Belinda, so . . .?’

  ‘Right, sorry. Ah . . .’ Belinda made a little clicking sound. ‘This might seem an odd thing to ask, but you haven’t seen Luke, have you?’

  ‘No.’

  Belinda sighed. ‘Haven’t heard from him today at all?’

  ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘Oh, nothing, nothing. He just seems to have forgotten to turn his mobile on or something and we can’t track him down. Never mind, I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later.’ Belinda gave an affected little laugh. ‘Sorry to bother you.’

  ‘No bother.’ Aggie hung up, wondering how to feel about this bit of information.

  The voice from outside was getting louder, more strident. ‘But the fearful, and unbelieving,’ it roared, ‘and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.’

  Aggie dialled Malcolm and told him she was locking up and getting out. When he got there he could decide for himself whether it was worth opening for the afternoon.

  ‘But, Aggie –’

  ‘But nothing. I can’t sit here and listen to anymore fire and brimstone. I’ve had this shit all month. I’m taking a couple of days off, starting right now.’

  ‘That’s fine, but I haven’t even seen you yet. I wanted to catch up.’

  ‘Later,’ she told him. ‘When things settle down.’

  Back at home Aggie made waffles with maple syrup and fresh fruit with whipped cream. Luke made coffee and then stood behind her kissing the back of her neck while she finished preparing the food. She told him about her morning, but left out the phone call from Belinda. She would ask him about that later; right now she wanted to enjoy his pink-towelled, shockingly horny presence without the need for serious discussions about the responsibilities he may or may not have skipped out on to be here.

  ‘So what did you do all morning?’ she asked when they were seated at the table. ‘Apart from the washing.’

  Luke shrugged and mumbled something that sounded like ‘nothing’ through a mouthful of waffle.

  ‘Hungry?’

  He nodded, pouring syrup over another waffle with one hand, while the other spooned a strawberry drowning in cream into his mouth. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry in my life. I hope you got more food than this.’ He indicated the one remaining waffle and two rockmelon slices.

  ‘I think you’ve had quite enough.’

  ‘No, not at all. Come on, Ag, what else you got for me?’

  Aggie stood up. ‘More fruit?’ She undid the top button of her shirt. Luke shook his head, smiling broadly. ‘Toast?’ She undid the second and third buttons. ‘Cereal?’ Aggie backed towards the kitchen, undoing her buttons as she walked. Luke stood up. ‘Or I could make you some scrambled eggs, I guess.’ Her shirt was all the way open. Luke was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I’d hate for you to be hungry.’

  ‘I’m full,’ he said, coming towards her.

  ‘But a minute ago you were –’

  He kissed her, his hands already working at the back of her bra. ‘Full,’ he said.

  ‘Now we’ve dirtied these nice clean sheets,’ Aggie said, wriggling over to avoid the brand new wet patch.

  Luke’s smile disappeared. He looked at Aggie with concern. ‘Should we be using something?’

  ‘Plastic sheets?’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  She kept forgetting he hadn’t been doing this for years like normal people. She was so used to being the less experienced partner. ‘Sorry.’ She reached across and stroked his chest. ‘It’s safe. I’m on the pill.’

  Luke was quiet for a long while.

  ‘Oh, I’m clean, if that’s what’s bothering you. Matthew and I got tested when –’

  ‘Stop!’ Luke pressed his lips together, his eyes tightly shut. ‘I don’t need to know. You told me it’s safe, and I believe you. I can’t think about you being with other men. To think of anyone . . . It’s like a nightmare.’

  She rolled toward him, not caring about the wetness under her thigh. She put her head on his chest and was shocked to feel a great sob rip through him. His hand was on her head, stroking her hair but also holding her to him.

  ‘What would you do,’ he asked, ‘if you discovered your pills had failed?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Would you keep the baby?’

  ‘Depends.’

  ‘On?’

  Aggie pulled herself up so she could see his face. ‘We don’t need to talk about this, Luke. I’m not going to get pregnant.’

  ‘But if you did.’

  ‘I would do whatever you wanted.’

  ‘I would want you to have the baby.’

  ‘Right.’ She moved away from him, lying on her side.

  ‘You wouldn’t want it, would you?’

  ‘Since it’s never going to happen, we don’t need to worry about it, do we?’

  ‘I just need to know. Would you want an abortion?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He made a noise like she’d winded him. ‘You never want children?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. I don’t particularly want children either.’

  Aggie turned over and stared at him.

  ‘I just want us to be clear on this. If you did fall pregnant, obviously I wouldn’t want it killed and I couldn’t bear to give it away, but . . . I don’t think I’ll ever be a father. I know it’s not up to me, really. If God wants me to . . . well, anyway, I just can’t even imagine. I have no idea what parents and children are to each other.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You do know, don’t you?’ He pulled her closer. ‘We’re so alike, Ag, it blows me away to think how alike we are.’

  ‘Except for . . .’

  ‘Yes. Except for that.’

  ‘Belinda called me this morning.’

  His body tensed, but his expression remained calm and interested. ‘Oh?’

  ‘She wanted to know if I’d seen you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I lied.’

  He relaxed. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘So no one knows where you are?’

  ‘Not a soul.’

  ‘Won’t they be worried?’

  ‘Probably.’ He leant in to kiss her but she moved her face to the side.

  ‘When are you going back?’

  Luke flopped dramatically onto his back. ‘Sunday, I guess. I’m supposed to be doing the service at the city church, unfortunately.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell them? What’s wrong?’


  ‘I’m in some trouble. There have been . . . rumours.’ Luke sighed. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go back. I wish I could just stay here forever. I swear, Ag, if it wasn’t for Honey I think I’d –’

  ‘What?’ Aggie sat up. ‘Honey?’

  ‘Oh!’ Luke laughed. ‘I forgot to tell you about Honey! She’s with us now.’

  Aggie was out of bed and pulling on her underpants in a flash. ‘You are fucking kidding me.’

  Luke sat up. ‘Ag, you’ve got to hear this. It’s really a miracle.’

  ‘I’m listening.’ She pulled a T-shirt over her head.

  Luke told her how he had come across Honey in the McDonald’s, battered and broken. He told her about how she had miraculously decided not to abort her child, and how she had miraculously consented to move into the NCYC for the duration of her pregnancy. By the time he was finished talking she was dressed.

  ‘It makes me sick that you would take advantage of a pregnant girl from a violent home. And to encourage a girl with no money, no support network, barely able to take care of herself, to have a child is disgusting. You are disgusting.’

  ‘Aggie, sit down a minute.’

  ‘No, I won’t. You’re repulsive.’ She ran from the room.

  She cleared the remains of brunch from the table and made as much noise as possible, throwing plates hard into the sink and slamming the cupboard doors.

  ‘I don’t understand why you’re so upset.’ Luke leant on the kitchen bench, watching her fill the sink with water. He had wrapped the pink towel around his waist again.

  ‘I’m upset,’ Aggie said, throwing a coffee cup into the sink and splashing herself with hot, soapy water in the process, ‘because you’re an unethical, immoral, slimy, lying, selfish bastard.’

  ‘But you love me anyway, right?’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Now listen, Aggie, you and I disagree on some fundamental issues and Honey and her child happen to be one of them. I don’t –’

  ‘She’s not an issue, Luke! She’s a kid.’

  ‘Stop washing up. Come and talk to me properly.’