It didn’t help that I hadn’t believed in God since I was about eight, coinciding with the death of my mother and the ensuing six months of constant prayers down on my knees, joined by Camper Van Barbie and a posse of three adoring Kens, begging Him to bring her back. I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we knew it was a big ask, but prior to that I always had faith that the God sold to me by my teachers, the local priest and my mother herself was actually up to the job.

So when after those six months my mother hadn’t returned and there hadn’t been so much as a stink of rotting evidence that she was “with you every day watching over you from heaven,” as promised by my father and everyone else I encountered, I decided God was free to dwell in His own house in the Anglican church down the road but He wasn’t coming anywhere near mine. Not unless He showed up accompanied by my mother and a damn good reason for keeping me, Barbie and the Kens waiting so long.

Even so, there was no way I wanted to be responsible for taking anything that could masquerade as comfort away from Norman. He’d lost enough. I sidled into the bedroom, delving into the depths of my sadly lacking mother lode in search of a gem and came up with a tin can.

“Of...of course he is, Norman. I’m sure of it.”

“But Mum?” I knew what was coming. Sometimes Norman’s cleverness is not in my own best interests. “You don’t believe in God, though. So how...how can you be sure of it?”

I’d have renounced my atheism on a sky-high stack of Bibles right then and there if I’d thought it would help, but I knew Norman would never buy it. I sat down on his bed and he budged his little body over to make room. In the semidarkness the lumps and craters of his psoriasis looked like a beautiful miniature landscape on his face. I stroked his forehead gently, playing for time and fooling nobody.

Oh, Jax, where are you now, you lovely little bugger, with your smart mouth and your theories on everything? I knew exactly what he’d do in this situation, though. He’d put his hands on his hips, poke out his chin and stare it right down the barrel. He could have you believing anything within seconds, that kid, even as he was disposing of the evidence right in front of you. So, in honor of Jax, I gave it my best shot.

“Well, I... I never said I didn’t believe in heaven, Norman. It’s just God I’ve got a problem with. But you know, there’s got to... I mean, I’m sure there’s definitely some kind of better place we go when...when we die. Where people don’t get sick and everybody gets along with each other and there aren’t any wars or traffic jams or gas bills. And you can eat all the chocolate and fried food you like and not get fat.”