Mark remembered hearing a famous person (perhaps not so famous if he couldn't remember his name) saying that three can keep a secret if two of them were dead. But in this case, he'd be a fool to do anything to the beautiful maiden sitting besides him on a chilly night.

The streetlights of Madison County illuminated the snowflakes falling from the sky. Sitting in one of the yellow cabs, Mark Henderson looked into Laura’s beloved emerald eyes. Mark loved the way her blond hair stretched all the way to her waist, a size ten! Her porcelain skin was not only aesthetically beautiful but incredibly smooth.

Mark inquired. "How did you enjoy our time together?"

"It was just wonderful my sweet cone. The boat ride was so romantic. I felt like if I was a magical evening as we watched the stars glimmer above us. What did you like the most about it?"

What to say? What to say? He needed to recall at least something that involved the two of them and not mention the peasant who danced for a couple of quarters. "I kind of liked all of the cool skeletons at the dinosaur museum. The T-Rex’s head sure gave me the thrills! Those teeth, scary! Now I know why dinosaurs didn’t float on the water during the biblical flood."

"Why is that?"

"Their huge heads were like anchors. That’s great though. I couldn’t imagine watching huge T-Rexes floating on their own blood."

"Eeww Mark! You know I hate blood. I can’t even stand the sight of that boil right on your neck."

Mark rubbed his pink boil in a teasing gesture. "Oh this? You’re afraid of a little mosquito bite? It's barely itching."

Laura’s face writhed in pain, sticking her tongue out in a mocking attempt to show what had passed inside of her mouth as food. "That’s just nasty Mark. That pest must've bitten you while we were asleep."

"How do you know?"

"Do you really believe I’m going to place my mouth on a bloody bump?"

She had a good point, Laura the germaphobe, that is. Mark laughed as he scrunched his lips, preparing for a sweet kiss because the last thing that went through her mouth was a chocolate peanut butter slice of cake! Laura retaliated by pinching his mosquito bite with her long red-coated nails. As Mark winced in pain, straightening himself up, the cab driver announced that they had arrived at Morrison Lane where Laura lived. Mark told the driver to wait for a few minutes. He walked Laura to the front door. Covered in thin layers of snow, the shivering couple locked lips. Something about the snowflakes melting during the kiss that made it rather special, a Kodak moment if you will. Laura was about to enter her house when she asked Mark, "What are you going to tell your mother when she asks you about the trip?"

Oh, right, Mark's mother didn't know about the actual trip. "I got it all figured out. Brian's going to provide my alibi."

"Alibi?" inquired Laura.

Yes, he explained to her that Brian was to merely reconfirm that they were at a basketball series in Boston. Nothing too complicated. Brian would call around nine tonight.

"Good night my sweet cone," said Laura.

"Have sweet dreams my love," said Mark, sniffing the remnant smell of mint gum she had chewed.

The couple was interrupted by the cab driver who beat the horn repeatedly despite the fact that his belly was partially blocking the steering wheel. Mark said goodbye to Laura and waddled through the snow. During the ride, Mark tried to reach Brian on the cell phone but there was no answer. Brian was not about to let him down. The familiar pine tree which stood in front of the his brick house was alight with different colored bulbs, all frozen by the drizzling snow.

He made it into the house, and saw his mother, Gloria kneeling in front of the painting of Jesus in the dining room. She wore her usual light blue nightgown. It had a drawing of bright angels playing their golden trumpets. Her long brown hair covered the halos but her sleeves did not cover her fleshy arms. He remembered how he lied to her, saying how he and Brian won the school’s Celtics lottery tickets. He did win. Just that Brian was Laura and the tickets were not for Boston, but a place far away. It was best not to think of that place since it would prevent Mark from even letting it slip from his tongue.

Even though Gloria did not speak out loud, Mark knew what she was praying. He figured she would thank the almighty Lord for protecting him from the reaches of Evil. When she concluded her prayer, she rose and hugged Mark. She patted him on the head and inquired, "Why Mark, did you not bring along your scarf with you? It’s frightfully cold outside."

Mark looked at his crimson ears in front of the mirror. He responded, "Ah don’t worry about it mom. So how was church? Was the sermon interesting?"

"Come to think of it, it certainly was. Father Thomas…"

The phone rang, thank you God for reminding Brian! She released Mark and picked up the phone. Brian was only two minutes late. Mark guessed that Brian summarized how exciting the series were. Gloria asked Brian what it was about Boston that he liked the best. She retorted with an "Oh, well that’s queer…oh nothing…Well it’s nice to talk to you…Yes he is here…Oh just wanted to greet me?...alright…yes, it’s awful outside…goodbye."

Mark’s forehead was sweaty. It must’ve have been the sudden transition from the outside frosty world to his heat scorching house that caused those annoying droplets. Then again, the heat was nostalgic, reminding him of the beach and the sunset he spent watching with Laura, her face pressed against his. He took off his coat and looked at the thermostat. It read seventy degrees. That must have done it. As his mother approached him, Mark’s heart pulse accelerated.

Mark was already on the sofa when his mother sat next to him and said, "It was quite bizarre how Brian’s most memorable thing about Boston were only the games themselves. Did you guys ground yourselves in the hotel?" she asked, laughing out loud but spasmodically.

"No, we went a few places around the city. Mostly restaurants. I ate a nice lobster. The series were pretty much the main events,” he lied, swallowing hard after every noun.

"Well, I guess that’s not so odd, come to think of it. By the way, did that rowdy girl, let’s see, what’s her name…Laura accompany you?" She twirled her cross that hung around her neck.

"No. Why?" asked Mark, perhaps ready to defend Laura.

"Good. It's good she didn't spend time with you."

"Oh mom, do we have to go over this again? Laura is a good person. Now just because she isn’t Catholic doesn’t mean she adores the devil; she doesn’t even believe in the devil."

"She’s an atheist," said Gloria.

Mark waited for a moment to devise an effective reply. "Well, take a look at it from her point of view. Her dad’s a biologist and you know how they like to think. She’s used to defining things through concrete proof, not just faith."

"Hah, no proof ,eh? Well what does she say to all of those miracles that happened in life? For instance, take Mrs. O’ Connell, our neighbor who recovered from a fractured skull from that car accident. Her doctor even recommended a mortician. But by the will of God, He used his therapeutic power to heal her skull. Soon enough, she was back good as new. Now where was science on her behalf?"

"Sorry mother but I don’t think that’s the kind of proof she’s looking for," said Mark regrettably. It was regretful because of the way she looked at him.

His mother stared at him as if she had swallowed a bug. She rose from the leather seat and pointed her index finger to Jesus Christ on The Transfiguration. "Here’s the Son of the One who has created everything your eyes behold. If it wasn’t for Him, you would pay for all of your sins. You can’t possibly forsake the One who sacrificed his life for all of us."

On the portrait, Jesus’ brilliant skin, covered by a blue cloak, was severely changed in Mark’s imagination by the painful whips that the Romans had inflicted upon him before the crucifixion. His mangled body was nailed to the cross in the wake of mockery. His eyes were drenched in blood by the scarring twig crown. Mark felt his heart take a deep bounce within his chest. He remembered Father Thomas mentioning the fact that people took days nailed to the cross before they died.

He also thought about Laura. A relentless attachment had grown from his heart towards her. In all of his life, he never met a girl who could provide him with so much joy; it was indescribable how perpetual that fountain of happiness was for Mark.

He wished he could freely express his warm desire to be with such a great girl. Hours would pass like minutes as they talked about their favorite subject, acting. They would never get tired of role playing. One night he had enjoyed playing as her barber, handling her hair! He could never stop looking into the depth of those almond green eyes. If Hell was a reality, then she was in danger of being enflamed by it eternally. He needed to take matters into his own hands. He told his mother, "You’re right mom. I guess I’ve forgotten what Jesus went through with the pain, just to give all of us a chance. But…but I can’t give up Laura."

"You must. She’s an atheist. She’ll bring you down with her," she responded.

"Mom, I don’t feel too good right now. I’m heading upstairs to go to sleep."

"Son, it looks like you’re running a fever. Do you want me to boil up some chicken soup for you?"

His belly grumbled. "Yeah, that would be great mom." He struggled up the carpeted stairs, taking breaths every four steps. It was almost like he had gotten away with the perfect crime.

Mark called Laura. When Laura answered he told her he got away with it. That it was a close one but that there was no way she would find out about the trip. She reacted with a harmonious sigh. Mark’s tone changed when he mentioned the argument with his mother.

"Laura, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

"What’s the matter my beloved cone?"

"Is it possible you could come along to church with me?"

Mark did not hear a response for too long a moment. He could hear her breathing. She finally said, "I don’t think I would fit in well…I mean it‘s a new environment."

"Wouldn’t you want to at least check out the religion? If you don’t like it, that’s O.K."

"What time does it start?" she asked.

"The service’s supposed to start at around ten in the morning and…"

"Ten in the morning! But I need to sleep at least ten hours on Saturday nights and I’m not going to bed before midnight."

"Eight hours of sleep isn’t going to do any harm to that pretty face of yours. It’s just one day Laura." He knew she didn’t want to go at all, but it was a matter of life or eternal torture so sometimes drastic measures were needed. "You…you really do need a break from me don’t you?"

"Oh stop it Mark," she sounded irritated. "O.K. I’ll go. I don’t need to wash some stranger’s feet do I?"

"Of course not!" He laughed. "It’s just that sometimes when Father Thomas goes on with his long sermons, I need to take my eyes from his vengeful wrinkled face to that of the awesome face that is Laura Hicks." He clenched his fist on the mattress, hoping that it would work. He added, "Besides, I want you to shield me from all of those girls who throw themselves at me."

Laura chuckled. "Oh you’re so cute with your words. Mark, I guess I could come along. But don’t expect me to dip myself in holy water, O.K?" Despite the pleasant picture of her drenching herself in water Mark assented, “Of course..not.”

Mark was ecstatic! He slowly rose from the bed and headed towards the window, raising it to let the cold air in. He screamed out of relief.

"What’s wrong my cute cone?"

"I caught a nasty flu. I feel really warm and kind of weak and hungry. My mom’s cooking up some soup."

"Didn’t you get your flu shot?" inquired Laura.

"No. I wish I did.“ He wondered if he had contaminated Laura when they kissed on the doorsteps. "Did you?"

"Of course I did, silly. But I was thinking. Does your mother know I’ll be there?"

Next to Mark wobbled a balloon replica of Bozo the Clown. As soon as the he heard the question, he punched the clown on the fuzzy nose and sent it flying against the wall. The balloon deflated, releasing the mortifying sound of a clown left without a final joke. He couldn’t allow Laura to miss the first steps towards celestial paradise so he decided to lie, once again! "Uh, sure. She knows. But just in case she mysteriously forgets, I’ll remind her. Don’t worry. I’ll shield you while you shield me from the girls."

A resounding giggle funneled though his scorching ears. "I guess next Sunday it is."

"Yep. Next Sunday."

They said their goodbyes, leaving Mark with quite the problem to handle. He heard his mother’s footsteps. He might as well tell her now. Let her absorb the shock for a whole week, blowing off some steam. Besides, it would be a nice surprise. “Uh, mom."

"Yes?" She appeared with an overflowing white bowl of chicken soup.

Not wanting to accidentally take a scalding shot to the face, he said, "I love you."

She placed the soup on the desk and hugged him. Somehow he needed to tell her or perhaps pretend that if Laura came on her own will to church that it would greatly please his mother.

A week passed. The lie had triumphed over the truth. Mark prepared Laura with all of the useful etiquette of attending a holy gathering. Laura asked Mark why he was so worried about just this one visit but he insisted on building up on a great impression for his mother. He argued this would lead to her approval of the relationship. He told her to wear a dress to church. He warned that a girl with a curvy body was frowned upon when her beauty was revealed in tighter clothing. He theorized that a flower embroidered dress would prevent Father Thomas from formulating sinful thoughts. He told her to bring a Bible. No Bible was found. He bought her one.

Sunday came. The snowfall had manifested itself into muddy mounds across the city. Fever-like symptoms returned. He awoke with a slight chill. Mark could not afford to miss this defining moment in his life because of a silly flu. But why did it return so quickly? He wore a nice dark blue suit with a wine-colored tie. It was like preparing for an exquisite date.

His mother drove the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution, model 2003. Since this gray muscular vehicle whizzed by other cars at high speeds, getting to church quickly was a blessing for her. The snow was no deterrent as it was crushed by the fleeting Lancer, displacing muddy particles onto the houses nearby. They reached the parking lot with ease.

Gloria greeted Father Thomas whose Ford Runner always won over the Lancer. He wore his usual dark suit and a furry gray cap that covered his creamy curly hair. Mark noticed hat Father Thomas was keen to his health ailments. He told Mark, "I admire a young man whose thirst for the Holy Water overcomes such a debilitating weakness. My prayer shall restore you to your original condition. It’s the flu isn’t it?" Mark nodded. "Then the influenza virus will be disintegrated by the penetrating rays of God’s hands." He waved his right hand over Mark’s head and muttered a little prayer.

Mark thanked Father Thomas and looked around to see if Laura would come in her Toyota Corolla. Mark casually strolled into the church. As he made it in, he noticed that the pine trees looked like they wavered a bit. He felt a resurgent heat that pounded his head. An ache pulsed through his veins. He sat on the pavement to regain some orientation. These symptoms were rather new, but he was still in good condition to make it through the day.

It was ten in the morning and Bible classes commenced. He couldn't concentrate as Laura still did not arrive. He walked to the bathroom and called Laura. She was on her way. He dunked his head in the water-laden sink to regain some coolness. A passerby, a small boy giggled when he saw droplets streaming down Mark’s cheek.

He returned to the pew and waited anxiously as the Bible class ended. Suddenly he felt a strange chill channeling through his body. Maybe the flu was subsiding? That’s great. Father Thomas must have a strong connection with God.

Then Laura appeared with the dress, adorned with mayflowers. The yellow dress draped over her knees. She wore high heels. Mark felt a tap from his mother who whispered, "Mark, I can't believe it. She's actually here!" She looked curiously at Mark who opened his mouth and looked up towards the ceiling. God was surely by his side or the devil. It didn’t' matter at that moment.

Mark motioned Laura to sit beside him. He said, "Oh my God. I can't believe you're actually here!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Laura.

Oh crap. "Not too loudly," he whispered, looking at his mother from the corner of his eye.

"So what's going on?" asked Laura.

"I guess Father Thomas will begin his sermon."

"Oh cool. What's he going to talk about?"

"We'll see."

Father Thomas stood up to speak at the podium.

"He looks so weird," said Laura.

Mark heard his mother whisper, "Tell her to pay attention and to stay quiet. Tell her it's for the reverence."

He hesitated and told her, "Uh my mom wants you to pay attention." Laura assented and he felt a little elbow shove from his mother.

Father Thomas, what a character. He started his sermon asking people if they had heard of the old saying, “you are what you eat.” And of course many people murmured yes. Then he recalled a story of a man who ate pigs, who became like a pig, the ill-fated pigman. “These aren’t fairy tale monsters. The government doesn’t want you to know about them so they’re whisked away. My poor friend Morty, I warned him to stop eating bacon, but the poor soul never stop filling his arteries with devilish grease! I never saw him again.”

Laura couldn’t stop laughing at what was deemed a serious matter by the priest and the rest of the congregation. Mark mumbled, “calm down, it’s not a joke, seriously.” Then Laura’s face filled with color and she coughed out her laughter.

Father Thomas smiled because he knew Laura was new. He continued the sermon, informing people that it was a sin to treat one’s body like a garbage disposal. But would Mark ever stop eating Doritos? No way! Then Father Thomas concluded by saying something that bothered Mark. “Liars on the other hand don’t become so by eating weasels. But that’s just a little preview of my next sermon. May God bless you and I hope you all don‘t eat those chickens if you want to stand up to Satan.” That was a joke.

The smell of lasagna wafted from behind the altar which spurred a turbulent sound within Mark’s belly. This was an opportunity because Mark wanted Laura to express herself during lunch. When they sat together at a small round table, Gloria said, "Hi Laura. It was a pleasant surprise seeing you arrive this morning. What motivated you to come, other than my son?" she said, chuckling.

Laura swallowed her orange juice forcefully. "Uh, I wanted to show Mark that I can be open to new things..”

"Oh really, what did Mark do to persuade you?" asked Gloria. Mark was using the fork. It trembled when it slashed through the spaghetti.

"He told me that the Bible mentions the Earth as being round, not flat,” she lied. Mark didn’t even know that! He stared at her

Gloria smiled. "Ah yes. Jeremiah was the great prophet who foretold the birth of Christ. I'm glad you're here, Laura. Mark's just crazy about you."

Mark's trembling subsided because it seemed his mother was starting to like Laura. His fever-like symptoms though weren‘t so benevolent. This time, his head seemed to sprinkle sweats all over his face. He coughed more violently, feeling somewhat shameful for doing so in front of his girlfriend. He excused himself to revisit the bathroom.

As he went through the corridor, he felt dizzy. He noticed unstable walls. His scorching eyes could not believe it. The walls seemed to oscillate into double walls. He needed to position his shoulders on the wall so he could walk without falling down. His legs suddenly felt limped. They were loose as pasta and their sense of touch vanished. The legs collapsed under Mark's weight, causing Mark to stumble onto the wooden floor. He heard many shrieks. Someone yelled, "Call 911!"

Waking up, Mark saw a short doctor sitting by his desk typing something on his Hewlett Packard computer. The dark-hair physician was cackling mightily.

Patches of ice surrounded his frozen body. His body was hooked to wires which led to a beeping machine. Mark wanted to get to the bottom of the matter and asked the doctor, "Uh, doc, what happened to me?"

The doctor approached him and said, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Dr. Lee. I’m glad to see you’re recovering. Your mother was very worried about you. I’ll call them in."

Mark interjected, "Uh, Doc before you do that can you tell me who are here?"
Dr. Lee allowed the door to slam shut. "Well certainly. Let’s see now there’s your mother. There’s a man dressed in a black suit who calls himself your father…"

"He’s a priest."

"Oh I see. There’s also a girl, perhaps your sister?"

Mark grunted, "No that’s my girlfriend. Uh, how long was I knocked out for?"

"About an hour."

"What happened to me?"

“Actually,” the doctor smiled. “I would like to know where you went. These symptoms don’t manifest themselves until about a week later. Where were you, a week ago?”

“What do you mean where did I go? What happened to me?”

“Malaria is a disease that takes a while to show up. Your current symptoms is your second set of symptoms. Undoubtedly, you must've suffered your first set of symptoms a week ago. You certainly didn’t catch it here. You should have taken a vaccine before going to a tropical place.”

The patch of ice on Mark’s forehead rolled to the left, falling to the floor. Dr. Lee turned the door handle and said, "Well, I’ll just let them in now. They’ve been worried about you." said Dr. Lee strolling out of the room.

During the wait, Mark tried to picture every possible scenario. He had to prepare for all sorts of questions. He wondered whether the doctor already told them that he had malaria. He envisioned having to explain how he was bitten by a mosquito in Boston during the winter break. Or maybe his mother wouldn’t ask. Perhaps he didn’t need to worry. Strange things have been known to happen to people. Maybe he could convince his mother that he was infected by another person who happened to return from a Malaria rampant country. Could Malaria be transmitted from one person to another? No, of course it couldn’t. But did she know that? What about an STD? He didn’t remember malaria being in the list of STDs. Besides, that would’ve caused a whole new batch of problems. Oh no, the mosquito bite! Mark needed to somehow cover the scab. He placed one of the patches on his neck. Now he needed to pretend to go to sleep. He closed his eyes as soon as he heard voices.

"Well here is your son, Mrs. Henderson. He’ll be all right. The symptoms have been subdued by the medication."

"Dr. Lee what’s wrong with him? You said he was awake a moment ago!" inquired Mark’s mother.

"Doctor, is my sweet cone ok?" asked Laura.

"Hah, cone!?" laughed Father Thomas. "Why do you call him cone?

"Oh, it’s because his lips are sweet like ice cream cones."

Dr. Lee wiped his glasses with a handkerchief. "Strange," he walked besides Mark’s head. "He was just awake asking me what transpired. He’s alright though. Mrs. Henderson, please tell your son to take precautionary measures before your son goes to a…"

"Ouch!" screamed Mark, "my back, my back. It hurts!" He wailed tremendously trying to jar the doctor out of his train of thought. "Doctor, please get me a
tranquilizer."

Dr. Lee laughed. "Just don’t strain yourself. You’re still a little sore from the fall. No bones were broken."

Mark’s mother went over to caress his head. "I was so worried about you. What could’ve caused you to fall?"

Mark took initiative. "Well my body warmed up too much and I just couldn’t go on without burning myself out. Right Dr. Lee?" The doctor nodded with his eyebrows meshed together.

"Oh by the grace of God, I am to blame for this," said Father Thomas.

"What do you mean?" interrogated Gloria.

"Remember when we greeted each other at the parking lot? Well I promised Mark that I would use my intervention to heal his flu but it didn’t work. I didn’t have enough faith during the prayer!" He kneeled besides the quivering Mark. “Forgive me my boy. I was too incompetent."

"Don’t worry about it Father Thomas,” mumbled Laura, "it’s all in the past. Forget about it."

Dr. Lee had a puzzled look on his face. He said, "Wait a second. Something’s not right here."

"What do you mean, doctor?" asked Father Thomas.

"You mentioned the flu."

"That’s right," said Gloria.

"Well he had malaria. That’s why your prayer didn’t work."

"Malaria?" Mark’s mother gasped. "Can people get malaria in Boston?"

Dr. Lee laughed. "Well, we’d have to find mosquitoes willing to freeze their stingers into icicles before fluttering their way around that frigid place. And they would have to carry that disgusting protozoan parasite.”

"But Mark went to Boston."

Dr. Lee said, "Well then he must’ve taken a roundabout turn to the tropics because that’s where those bloodthirsty mosquitoes are."

A ruddy color emerged on the puffy cheeks of Mark’s mother. She stared at her son. She was speechless. Mark wanted her to say something but it was too late. There was nothing he could do to reverse the damage. He tried to think of something to alleviate his mother’s pain but he couldn’t. After a moment he heard his mother say, "I need to go to the restroom and maybe I’ll stay there."

Mark recovered faster than he wanted to. He only spent one more day in the hospital. His symptoms were eliminated by the all so conscious care of Dr. Lee. When his mother picked him up, she didn't utter a single word. She wore a black vest. Mark hadn’t heard of any love ones dying recently so he assumed they were going to his funeral. Gloria drove intentionally slow. Even when the drivers beat their horns behind her, she didn't acknowledge their impatience. The Mitsubishi Lancer revved furiously at the lack of fuel consumption. Mark tried to hide himself out of the rear-view mirror but he could not avoid his mother's dark eyes. Judgment day arrived faster than even the prophet, Jeremiah could predict.

Time flew by as they arrived at the driveway. He wondered how in the world the minutes hand on his watch could accelerate so quickly. He struggled to unfasten his seatbelt as his hands trembled. Gloria allowed Mark to go into the house first. When he reached the kitchen he wanted to take a cough medicine so that it could relax his mind. The medicine cabinet was empty. He thought of ways to soften the imminent doom. At that moment he actually wished he could receive some sort of physical punishment but Gloria wasn’t that type of mother. Her psychological methods were unlike anybody’s.

Mark waited in the living room, sitting on the blue armchair. His mother arrived and sat on the chair facing Mark. She carried a box. She placed it on the table behind her. My God, what could it contain?

She declared, "Mark, you know how disappointed I am with you. To go off to Mexico? By the way, Laura told me where you guys went. But guess what. I’m not angry about the fact that you went off to a third world country with Laura. I am mad because you couldn’t trust me. Imagine if something happened to you while you were in Mexico. If you never returned, I would search aimlessly around for you in Boston like a fool. Did you really want that to happen? Please stay quiet. I have figured out a punishment.

You lied to me so that you could spend time with Laura. Since your love for Laura was so great that you traveled to the south of the border, I’m guessing it was worth sinning. You broke two commandments. You broke the eighth commandment which condemns lying and you broke the fourth commandment requiring you to honor thy parent. Look at this box." She placed it on her lap. "It has something that you hold very dearly. Open it."

It was a framed picture of his father, the man who left twelve years ago. Mark, a little boy then sat on his father’s lap with ice cream smeared all over his face.

"I loved your father." She wiped her eyes with a pair of napkins. "But emotions got in the way after he got fired from his job and I lied to him, saying that I didn’t care for him anymore, that I regretted the day I married him." She sniffed heavily. "I didn’t think it’d have an effect on his heart the way it did. Just think about that the next time you lie." Gloria left Mark. His eyes were wide open. He pressed the frame against his chest, hoping it could absorb the horror of the pounding heart but it didn’t work.