A SAINT IN SIN CITY

MASON MAXWELL

CHAPTER 9

LET HIM WHO THINKS HE STANDS TAKE HEED LEST HE FALL (1 Corinthians 10:12)

Saul is a humble man, and I know he is uncomfortable with this story being called ‘A Saint In Sin City.’  But if this story was based on me, it might be called ‘A Sinner From St. Paul.’ I’m not actually from St. Paul, but I spent over a year there. A woman I had some trouble with, and fell in love with, also resided there. The following sentences will describe how a man can be the subject of a moving, touching story one day, and an infamous scoundrel the next day.

Actually it was a few weeks, not literally the next day. Anyhow, I made national news by not only pitching a perfect game in the World Series, but crediting my dead wife for visiting me the night before the most important game of my life. I also declared that she was with me during every pitch.

Three weeks later, the husband of my former wife’s sister filed for divorce. The reason was infidelity. The adulterous situation had also conceived a child. I happened to be the father of this child. When the story leaked and rumors ran rampant, I was asked about it.

I owned it, trying to do the honorable thing over a dishonorable situation. I was annihilated in the media, which I suppose I deserved, even though there were extenuating circumstances. Now Saul was no longer the lone goat of that infamous World Series. Ironically, neither of our scathing criticisms applied directly to the action on the field.

Some may beg to differ, especially in Saul’s case. The argument against Saul was that even if he pitched an average game for him, we would have won that game seven, and therefore the Series. Saul’s earned run average was under one. The two pitchers that replaced him allowed four runs. The relief pitchers in in the last three innings held the opposition scoreless.

So it does seem that if Saul would have played, we would have won the series. But you are still going off of a ‘what if.’ My dilemma was simply appearing as a major hypocrite. Expressing love and giving credit to my dead wife for on field success, while at the same time participating in a secret relationship with Becky, my deceased wife’s married sister.

Would it help me look better if I told you we were only intimate one time while she and her husband were married? Also that it happened months after my wife died? Or that the nucleus of our bond was actually our mutual love for Beth? Or how we took comfort with each other in our shared loss? Or how we shared countless tears and a myriad of memories? Or how she has a similar personality as Beth, and clearly resembles her, drawing me to her like a thirsty man in the desert? Or that her husband was a controlling, abusive ogre, drawing her to me like a child frightened by a nightmare?

But the facts are the facts. I had intimate relations with another man’s wife. There are also these additional facts. During the first year of their marriage, no children were forth coming. When Beth suggested they get fertility tested, Bruce declared that she was the one that needed tested. He had been married before, had two daughters, and thus proving he was not impotent. Her tests came back sighting no problems. Yet pregnancy was still not forthcoming.

Then came that fateful few days Becky’s husband went on a business trip with his secretary, who doubled as his mistress. Becky and I usually communicated via technology. But her husband traveled for business every few weeks, and we took these opportunities to see each other in person when my schedule allowed.

Even on that significant day, I had no intention of moving beyond platonic. But we shared a glass wine together as we watched a beautiful sunset. Then I built a bonfire in her back yard. Then we had a second glass of wine. As we consumed it, we began to express our fondness for each other. We hugged, I put my arm around her and told her how delighted I felt in her company. We kissed, and continued kissing until it turned into something that conceived a child.

Although a great time was had by both of us, we agreed that we shouldn’t see each other anymore. We were both troubled by her marital situation. When she discovered that she was pregnant, the thought occurred to her that it could be mine. But due to her husband being a rather amorous man, she concluded that it was more likely his.

With great delight and a hope that a child would bring them closer together, she informed him that he would be a father. But instead of delight, she watched rage build in his eyes. Then she saw a fist coming at her. After she dropped to the floor, dazed, and her nose feeling like it was on fire, she heard the words, “Cheating whore.”

He picked her up by the hair, and punched her several times in the stomach declaring that he would help her miscarry the child, using numerous foul slang words as he did so. Fortunately, the embryo was not harmed. When his rage was satisfied, it was replaced by remorse, and a trip to the hospital.

Due to his wealth and influence, he convinced Becky to lie. She told the emergency room techs that she had felt ill and had fallen down the stairs. She later recalled to me how the hospital employees had looked at each other, knowing that’s not what happened.

In the aftermath, her husband became diabolically pleasant. He wanted to know if I was the father. She wanted to know what made him think it wasn’t his. It was then he confessed to a vasectomy after his second daughter was born. He had lied during their premarital days because he knew Becky wanted children. He was afraid she wouldn’t marry him if she knew, and there was no way he would get it reversed.

Then, probably out of revenge over being a cuckhold, he confessed with cruel delight his own infidelities. So, due to my fame, Becky’s husband made sure to bring me shame by making his divorce from her very public, citing the blame on us.

I understood why Saul seemed to go into hiding after he refused to play in that game seven of the World Series. Due to feeling hated, I laid way low myself. But there was a big difference between Saul’s situation and mine. He was lambasted because of his religious conviction, while mine was due to disgrace.

I was nervous when I met with Saul the first time after my scandal broke. Even though I was staying isolated, I wanted to see my friend. I also wanted to get what I thought would be a stern rebuke from him out of the way. It seemed as though the scorn from others would be like going downhill after a reprimand by Saul. But when we met up, there was no scorn, only friendly council. But it wasn’t in an area I was expecting.

“Hey Mace,” Saul greeted with a big grin as he entered my home. We fist bumped and shared a quick hug. “You sure went out of your way to not make me the goat of the Series.”

“What are friends for?” I joked back.

Saul was quite sympathetic as I explained my side of the story. He shared some scriptures about God’s forgiveness. The one that really stuck with me was when he quoted Lamentations 3:22-26. Then I brought up the nights when Beth visited me. I knew Saul was skeptical, so I wanted to set his opinion.

“You don’t believe Beth came to me, do you?”

Saul’s face was somber and serious when he quietly replied. “No, I don’t.”

“So you think I’m lying?” I asked testily.

“No, I believe that you believe you saw her.”

“So you think I’m crazy?”

“No, like I said, I believe you saw something.”

“Something?” I replied with a sarcastic laugh. “If you don’t think I saw Beth, who did I see?”

“You need to understand what the Bible teaches about the state of the dead,” he said calmly. “Then decide for yourself.”

I knew a little of what Saul believed. It was enough that I deduced where he was going with this. First I felt anger arise within me. But then my skin crawled as I felt fear replace the irritation. “You think I’ve been toyed with by the demonic.”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded, causing my anger to return.