MARY
I describe this next piece as ‘historical fiction’. I imagine John the disciple in his old age, probably writing a letter to a friend, ruminating about his life. Yeah, I knew Mary. I never was very comfortable around her. In fact, almost everything about her made me feel uncomfortable. Her clothes, her voice, her attitude. The way she would stare. She looked right through you. She would sit and study Jesus for hours, even when he wasn’t talking. She had too much money for a single woman and spent it like a kid sometimes. That bottle of perfume for example. It must have cost a year’s wages and she bought it on a whim. She had no qualms showing it to people either. I could smell that stuff across the room even with the bottle sealed shut. Then, a year later she just breaks the bottle and dumps it out all over Jesus head. Let me tell you one thing, I couldn’t figure out Jesus’ response for the longest time. There she ...