Theorem
Jessica Lovejoy sleeps with her cell phone under her
pillow. It keeps her on constant alert,
night and day - an
absolute necessity, due to the number of resumes she keeps floating around the
tri-state area. She lives in a walk-up
in the garden district with Doctor Denise Hibbert,
whose third rotation pediatrics schedule kept her out at all hours. Waking up after a night out with her pillow
vibrating is nothing new to Jessica.
"Hello?"
"Jessie? You're
an hour late for brunch!"
The sound of Helen Lovejoy's voice is enough to send Jessica
to her feet and to the closet. "I'm
sorry, Mummy. I..."
"I know an actresses' life can be hard, but your father
has been waiting for you to try his new Mimosa Salads all day. You know how he is with his recipes..."
"...I just got back from
"Yes, and my sources told me
you had dinner with one Todd Flanders while you were there."
Jessica gritted her teeth.
Helen Lovejoy's grapevine apparently extended out of
"So you spent the whole evening laughing with a bottle
of wine. Yes, I understand how those
things go. Your father would be
delighted if you'd settle down, Jessie - " And give up those foolish dreams of becoming an
actress remained unspoken.
"Mom, I'm only thirty-five..." Saying her own age aloud
made Jessica flinch. "I'm
too young to settle down."
"Really? I heard Bart Simpson is getting married - to
an older woman."
Again, Jessica flinched.
"I need to take a shower, Mummy.
Tell Dad I'll be at your house in an hour."
"All right, but don't put on so much mascara! And keep the blush to a minimum. It has a way of making you look like a
floozy..."
Jessica took great satisfaction in hanging up on her mother.
***
The Lovejoy's kitchen table had a way of remaining the
same. Same chips and cracks in the
wooden veneer- same dull polish and old fixtures. Tradition was Timothy Lovejoy's life -
maintaining it, preserving it, promoting it . Jessica's becoming a young woman and moving
to Shelbyville, the one great change in his life thought a remarkably placid
sixty-six years, was therefore greeted with dull, understated emotion. He wanted Jessica to remain forever safe and
to the north in her boarding school, something his daughter knew and could not
help but be amused by.
Jessica stirred around her mimosa salad, trying to make it
seem that she ate much more than she had.
The combination of orange and what she assumed to be
"Did you get enough, Jessica?" Reverend Lovejoy's
smooth voice was a balm to Jessica's fraying spirits.
"No, daddy, I'm all right." She blotted her
pink-frosted lips with a yellow napkin.
"The pancakes were lovely, mummy."
"Yes, Helen, I thought so, too." Reverend Lovejoy pushed back from the
table. "If you'll excuse me - I
want to speak in private with our daughter."
"Fine," Helen sighed. Then her eyes brightened. "I have to make a call to Edna
Skinner. She heard something about Ralph
Wiggum that I simply don't believe!"
When they were alone, Jessica rolled her eyes. "What is mom talking about?"
"Haven't you heard about Ralphie
Wiggum? He's
got a part in the Globe's International Shakespeare Festival. From what I hear, it's the biggest gathering
of Shakespearian actors in
Jessica gaped. The
words came unbidden. "That little
retard?"
"Jessica..."
Timothy's disapproval rankled his
daughter. Her father had long been
blinded to his daughter's tendency toward manipulation and cruelty - until Bart
Simpson had wrecked everything for her...
"I'm sorry. He
reminds me of Uter."
Uter had been Jessica's first real
love - and their relationship had changed the both of them for the better. During their six-year relationship he had
lost a little weight, and she had taken into account the sensitivity of others
more regularly. Uter
was sadly deported along with his parents a year after their high school graduation
and for a thousand indefinable reasons, correspondence between
"Jessica, have you seriously considered a new career
path?"
Jessica nearly spat her orange juice out. "Daddy, I've been an actress for ten
whole years!" Without much success
- her last gig had been as a walking French fry box for a Krustyburger
advertisement, her face completely hidden.
"If you want to be a credible actress, you need to move
to a metropolis."
"I've been considering moving to
"...But they don't have anything close to a theatre
district. You need to move to
"Somewhere fairly sinful?"
Jessica asked.
"Yes, somewhere positively dripping with sin,"
Timothy chuckled.
"I want to, but...you haven't made it easy for me to
leave."
"I only want what's best for you."
"And what you believe is that I should be your
associate pastor."
"You could use the centering influence of religion in
your life. I do believe that."
"Daddy, I do believe in God."
He regarded her with frank surprise. "You haven't been to Sunday services in
two weeks. And your actions don't match
your words. First, you had that
unfortunate affair with Bartholomew Simpson," she flushed. Her father was not supposed to be aware of
that indiscretion. "And now you're
tangled up with Todd Flanders. What was
charming at eight is unbecoming of a thirty-year-old."
"My boyfriends haven't driven me away from God,"
she uttered simply, not touching on the center of his argument.
"Perhaps it's time for you to use your degree."
"Daddy, I only took theology to make you happy!"
"I'm getting along in years, Jessie," Reverend
Lovejoy sighed. "When you're forty,
I want to be in
"In other words, as far from Ned Flanders as you can
manage."
"You understand," Reverend Lovejoy beamed. "I don't want to die in
"You're asking me to fish or cut bate?"
"To put it nicely," he patted her hands. "Helen!" he called to the living
room. "We're going out
bowling!"
Jessica beamed, an angelic glow glossing over her dark
thoughts.
***
After an hour of bowling, she managed to bid her parents
farewell. Bumper-to-bumper traffic gave
Jessica too many free moments of thought.
In truth, she rarely spared a thought for God. She felt a higher presence in her daily life,
but did not feel the need to bow and worship and humble herself. Jessica Lovejoy was no servant. She was an actress - a true,
dead-on-dyed-in-the-wool actress - and she knew with certainty she
could never be a preacher.
But then she recalled how good it felt to be the center of
attention. Her father had allowed her to
preach Christmas Eve sermons at the
Searching for an answer in a book. Wasn't that Lisa Simpson's domain?
At home, she checked her messages:
"Jessica! This
is Randy Thereon of the New Ogdenville
Playhouse! I'm afraid the role of
*BEEP!*
"Miss Lovejoy, this is the New Canaan Bank of
*BEEP!*
"Jessica! It's
Allison Taylor. Are you going to be at
Bart's wedding? I'm going stag - "
*BEEP!*
The idea of going to Bart's wedding sickened her, especially
after the way she had been treated.
"Jessica? Are
you there? Pick up!"
Todd Flanders!"
"I didn't get you my cell phone number - it's
555-."
*BEEP!*
"55 what?" Jessica cried
out. "FIVE FIVE WHAT?"
She shook the machine violently.
A knock at the front door. She waded through her discarded outfits and
into the miniature living room before reaching the door.
"Jessica?"
"Todd!"
"I've been trying to get hold of you. It's late - you were out with your
folks?"
Yep."
"I just got back from the Flanderosa,"
he admitted. "Pop wanted to show
off his new bomb shelter."
"Is there any room for me in there?" Jessica said.
"Rough time with the Lovejoys?"
"Always - but today, more than
usual."
"Want to talk about it?"
She shrugged.
"It won't change anything. I
heard there's going to be a meteor shower tonight. Wanna sit outside?"
He did.
They ended up out under the stars, watching them whiz
overhead like spitballs from a straw, balls on a billiard table.