An Imperfect Miracle (8 page)
After we got home from church I went outside and roamed around our street for a while. But no one was out except this big red-haired kid from school, I think his name was Rich something. He strutted up to me all cocky and said that Father Tom and Carlos were just using this Mary thing to swindle the people out of their hard-earned money.
“And you're in on it too. Carlos is probably paying you off somehow. That's what my dad says anyway.”
When I rolled my eyes, he stuck out his flabby chest at me.
“Do you want me to prove it to you?”
“How are you gonna do that?”
He waved at me to follow him, and I decided I might as well since I didn't have anything else to do. We started off toward Main Street, and it wasn't long before I could tell we were headed toward the abandoned lot where Mary was. I told him that I'd already studied Mary up close, and that if he was itching to show me how her face was just painted on or something like that he could save his breath. He whirled at me so fast that I lifted my arms in front of my face because I thought he was going to punch me. Instead he fixed his veiny eyes on me and grinned a little.
“I betcha he's still there. He probably figures that all the religious people are at church, so he can get away with it. You better be quiet though, or you'll scare him off.”
“Who's there?”
“He's probably one of your buddies. You tell me.”
I told him he was nuts, but he kept waving me on. Main Street was about as quiet and empty as I'd ever seen it. The bars were closed on Sunday, so there weren't even any drunks stretched out on the sidewalk. We walked up to the karate place and then leaned our shoulders against the front wall and tiptoed all the way to the end. The kid peeked around the corner first, and then he turned and grinned at me all cocky.
“I told you so,” he whispered.
I leaned past him and took a look for myself. Even though he was wearing these funny-looking green goggles, I could tell it was my English teacher, Mr. Grimes, on account of his bushy gray hair and how slender and weak his legs and arms looked. A sledgehammer was standing straight up next to him, and he was cradling some sort of gadget in his rat-colored little hands. He finally got it working and a red purple flame shot out the front and then died away. A few second later he aimed the nozzle right at Mary, but I was so surprised by it all that I just stood there gawking until the kid pulled me back.
“He's probably trying to burn her face in permanent with that blowtorch. And if that don't work, he's gonna chisel it in with that big hammer he's got.”
I finally sucked in enough air so that I could talk, although the words came out kind of broken up and breathy.
“That's Mr. Grimes from school, and he don't even believe in God. He's probably trying to burn her face right off the concrete because of how much he hates anything having to do with religion.”
We both took another look, and I was about to holler at Mr. Grimes to stop when a little man with a blue skull cap on seemed to pop right up out of the weeds. At first I didn't recognize him because he'd shaved off his whiskers, and he was a lot more flexible than I'd remembered him. It was only when he grabbed Mr. Grimes by the shoulder and spun him around that I got a good enough look at his face to tell that he was the little drunk Mary had patched up. He told Mr. Grimes to back off, but Mr. Grimes just cussed him and then whirled back toward Mary with his blowtorch. Without waiting even a second the little drunk sucker punched Mr. Grimes right in the middle of his back. He must have really packed a wallop too because Mr. Grimes went down like somebody had just shot him.
The drunk grabbed the blowtorch and emptied out all the gasoline into the weeds. I wondered for a second if he was planning to set fire to the place. But instead he took a knife out of his pocket and jabbed the point into the motor, and then he worked it all around inside until he must have been sure that it was busted for good. He threw the blowtorch on the ground next to where Mr. Grimes was still lying and groaning, set the sledgehammer on his knee, and began working the blade of the knife in between where the hammer was hooked onto the wooden handle. It wasn't but a minute before the hammer fell off. Then he threw the handle into the weeds too and hollered down at Mr. Grimes that he better stay away from Mary from now on, or something even worse might happen to him.
I turned to the kid and gave him as cocky of a grin as I could work up on the spot. The kid spit on the pavement and then shoved me so hard that I almost fell over. I wasn't about to be pushed around by the likes of him, and I slipped in a few strong belly shots before he wrestled me into a headlock and started punching me in the face. While he was doing that, he stuck his leg out in front of me and flipped me down. Lucky for me I landed in the weeds instead of on the sidewalk. He wasn't much of a puncher though, because I could tell I wasn't bleeding any.
“What are you gonna do now, sic your invisible dog on me?” Then he called me a loser and strutted off, cackling and swearing. Right away Chewy snuggled up to me like she always did when I was feeling low. Chewy said the kid was a big dope and that he wasn't worth worrying about. She said he'd get his some day. She said kids like him always do. Then I remembered from somewhere that the kid's dad was that doctor Mom had taken me to see. When I told Chewy she said she wasn't surprised, because she'd never liked that doctor from the beginning. She said that doctors like him were always trying to cause trouble.
Just then Mr. Grimes limped by us, massaging his back, and he was in such misery that I didn't think he even saw me. I looked toward Mary again and noticed the little drunk sitting on the bottom step gazing up at her. I didn't know if he was praying or just admiring her. I was about to go and ask him how Mary had closed up his cut, but I was afraid he'd bawl me out again for bugging him.
I went back home and told Mom about getting beaten up. I wasn't going to at first, but I had a hard time keeping secrets like that from Mom. I didn't tell her about Mr. Grimes trying to burn Mary off the concrete though, because I figured she'd just yell at me for making up such a crazy story.
After she checked out my face and my teeth, she said that I might end up with a little bruise under my eye, but that was about it. She wanted to know the kid's name so she could call his mom. But I told her I'd never seen him before, mostly because I didn't want to be a snitch like Mr. Grimes. Plus, the kid would have just kicked the snot out of me the next time he saw me anyway. While she was fixing an ice pack for my eye, I wondered a little why Mary hadn't helped me out during the fight, maybe by freezing up the kid's arms and legs. But I decided it was no big deal since I wasn't really hurt much.
After supper Mom told me to take a shower and to put on some clean trousers and a nice shirt and some clean socks too that matched my good Sunday shoes. I asked her why, and she said she didn't want me looking like a little wild man for the town meeting. I'd forgotten all about the town meeting, and for a second I thought about not going.
I was pretty sure it would just be a bunch of grownups sitting around talking, and that it'd be really boring, worse than school probably. But then I decided that since it was about Mary, I ought to go and hear what folks were saying. If the town was really going to bulldoze her, I could at least get her ready for the bad news. I still felt a little responsible for her after all, like I was the one who'd gotten her into this mess by discovering her and then telling that loud mouth Marcie about her.
The municipal auditorium was hot and stuffy and not much bigger than our school library. They'd dragged in all these metal folding chairs that were hard to sit on for long without getting a sore backside. Most of them had little wads of dirt stuck on them too, so that you had to wipe off the seat with your hands before you sat down. They packed us all in so close together that I had to tuck my one elbow in real tight against my ribs to keep from rubbing against some guy sitting next to me who smelled like cigarettes. The lights up on the ceiling were bright and hot too and made my eyes sting.
Some TV reporters had shown up to cover the meeting, but the cops told them that they had to wait outside in the hall. The reporters threatened to sue the town if they didn't let them in, because they said Mary was big news and the public had a right to know what was going on. But the cops didn't seem too worried and shoved them all outside anyway. Mom didn't know anybody sitting right around us, and she was pretty quiet for a change.
There was a long table set up in front and four gray-haired guys in suits were sitting behind it. One was the mayor I knew from seeing his picture on TV, and one was the chief of police, but I didn't know who the other two were. I saw the round cop sitting off to the side, and he must have known that somebody was staring at him because he flicked his eyes all around. But I looked away before he caught me, or at least I thought I did. Finally the mayor got things started by pounding a block of wood down onto the table until everybody shut up. Then he stared down at his notes for a while, and for a second I thought he'd fallen sound asleep.
I spotted Carlos and Father Tom sitting on the other side of the hall in the front row and waved at them. But they must not have seen me, because they kept staring real serious at the mayor. I didn't see Pastor Mike anywhere. But since he wasn't Catholic and lived way out on the edge of town right by our church, he'd probably decided he didn't need to show up. Then out of the corner of my eye I spotted Mr. Grimes sitting off to the side about halfway back fingering his mustache and looking kind of stiff and sour.
Finally the mayor perked up and coughed a little, and then he announced in a squeaky voice how they'd called the meeting to decide the future of “our little tourist attraction,” as he called it. Then he chuckled like he'd just cracked a joke, but nobody besides him was laughing.
“Now I know there are many opinions out there regarding the theological significance of this image, or lack thereof. It's not our purpose to decide such issues now. The town's only concern is how best to manage this new situation. And since the lot where the image is located belongs to the town, it's the town's responsibility to decide what to do about it. Many of you have complained about the traffic and the noise, not to mention the increased costs to the town of policing the area and keeping it clean.”
That part of Main Street didn't seem all that clean to me, even though they'd hauled away most of the garbage from the abandoned lot and cut down some of the weeds. But the weeds kept growing back, and folks were dumping new garbage along the street all the time. And the karate place and Joe's novelty shop and the 7-Eleven in back still had dirty pictures and words scribbled all over the walls that anybody walking by could see. But I kept my mouth shut like Mom wanted.
“On the other hand we've received a petition with over a thousand signatures on it asking that the image be allowed to remain as a permanent part of the town and its heritage. Indeed, some of our leading citizens have suggested that if properly handled, the image could be a real boon to the town.”
I whispered to Mom about what a boon was, and she whispered back that it had to do with money. She said that everything had to do with money sooner or later.
“Our police department has conducted an exhaustive investigation of the image, and has found no evidence that it was placed there in an unlawful or manipulative manner.”
The mayor must have been able to tell that some of the townsfolk, like me, for instance, had no clue what he was talking about. He cleared his throat and tried again.
“We don't believe that it's a scam. Either God placed the image there, or Mother Nature did. Either way, we feel comfortable in saying that it's not part of some fraudulent scheme.”
“See, I told you so,” I whispered to Mom.
Mom was about to whisper something back to me when Mr. Grimes stood up and hollered that it was all a bunch of silliness. But the mayor told him to sit down and that he'd have his chance soon enough. As snobby and stuck up as he was, Mr. Grimes actually sat down without grumbling too much, although his back must have still been hurting him because he started rubbing it a little. Then the mayor said that the meeting was now open for what he called public comments. He pointed to a mike that had been set up in front where he said people could come and ask questions.
“One at a time though, and please be polite while others are talking.”
The moaners and groaners, as Mom called them, all rushed up at once, and they elbowed and shoved each other to get to the mike first. The only one I recognized was Mr. Markle from our street, who when it was his turn griped that people from out of town were always parking right in front of his mailbox.
I glanced over every once in a while at Carlos and Father Tom, but they didn't seem to mind all the complaining and looked pretty loose and relaxed. I expected Mom to get up and embarrass me by talking about property values sinking or something stupid like that. But I guess she decided that the gripers had pretty much covered it all, because she didn't budge off her chair. After some guy finished whining about the sewer drains always backing up, which I didn't see had much to do with Mary, this lawyer in a dark, shiny suit strutted up and snatched the mike away like he knew what he was doing. I recognized him because Mom had gone to see him right before Dad ran out on us. Mom said he'd fixed it so that if Dad ever showed up anywhere near our house again the cops would toss him right into jail. Then I remembered that he was Marcie's dad, and I wondered whose side he'd take, since according to Marcie he was no fan of religion.
He started off by saying that there was some empty land about a mile from the center of town that could be turned into a big parking lot, and that the town could charge outsiders to park there and then shuttle them up in buses to see Mary. He said that visiting hours at the shrine, which was what some religious folks like Mrs. Marcella were beginning to call Mary's little place, could be from ten to four, or something like that. He said then there wouldn't be any noise to bother the townsfolk early in the morning when they were still sleeping, or in the evening when they were trying to eat supper. He said that with all the new money pouring in from ticket sales and parking and bus fees and such, the town could afford to hire a few more cops to make sure everybody was obeying all the rules. He even predicted that there might be enough cash left over to spruce up the town a little and get the sewers to drain better.
