Yeah. I don’t think so, he said. You get to a point where there’s an understanding. A belief. Or lack of one, he coughed, cleared his throat. You believe? he asked. Think there’s something out there? Beyond us? Some kind of holy ghost? he ran his hand through his hair. I’ve never believed. Had faith in anything. I go to bed. I wake up. Go about my day, coughed again; wiped blood from his mouth. My wife says I’m going to Hell. You think I’m going to Hell?

I don’t know. At one point, I thought I knew. But I don’t, he thumbed through his Bible.

What does the good book say?

It says, He who believes in me shall have ever lasting life.

Uh huh.

I’m just telling you what it says. Is it true? What makes something true? Just because you say it doesn’t make it true.

Right.

We open our mouths, and things get more complex. Paul was complex. St. Augustine was complex. Men throughout history. Saying things. Gets down to who you believe, the preacher said. It used to mean something to me now it’s just a job. The only way I know how to make money. Saving souls, he shook his hands in the air playfully.

Are you a fake?

We all are.