The H-Bomb and the Jesus Rock (7 page)

Our Lady of the Weeping Jesus Rock

Anyway, here’s the thing. To get this
ten-cents-for-a-minute-with-Jesus
idea of mine off the ground I would need some serious money, and having
these
two along would help loosen her up.

The Children of the Vacant Lot.

They’d give the whole thing a certain glow, you know? Put a nice warm glow around it.

First though, I had to loosen
them
up.

Ralph

He started going on about how much we reminded him of the brother and sister in that movie we all saw at school Thursday about the children of Fatima. He said it was downright
scary
how much we reminded him.

I told him, “Yeah, right...”

“No, I’m serious. I’m not just saying that. Why
would
I?”

I didn’t know.

He said Mary
chose
those kids, picked them out to be the ones, the
only
ones. “She didn’t appear to anyone
else
in the village, did she? Or am I wrong? Did she?”

“No...” I said.

“Same with
you
two kids.” He said Jesus
chose
me and Lou to be the ones who found the Sacred Rock—that’s what he called it, the Sacred Rock. He said the reason the
Fatima
kids got chose was because of how special they were, how religious. Same with me and Lou, he said. “Look what you two were
doing
just a minute ago—praying, down on your knees, in the dirt, in broad daylight.”

Which was true.

“That’s the kind of thing Jesus likes to see,” he said. “That’s the kind of brother and sister He chooses out of all the others. See what I’m saying?” He tilted his big head at me. “Do you see? What I’m trying to say?”

I kind of
did
see. I mean, let’s face it, we
were
kind of special, me and Lou, you know? When you think about it? Going down on our knees like that? In the dirt? In broad daylight? How many other kids would do that? I couldn’t think of any.

Except maybe the children of Fatima.

But we still had to bring the Sacred Rock to Father Clay. That’s something the children of Fatima would know they had to do. So I told him he still had to hand it over.

“Right now,” Lou said.

We stepped closer, both of us.

Toby

They were being difficult. “Will you let me
finish
please?”

They let me.

“Now listen,” I told them. “We all agree, this is some kind of a miracle. God put this here for you two Fatima-types to find, isn’t that right?”

Ralph nodded.

The little one just kept staring at the rock.

I focused on Ralph. “All right,” I said, “
now
, the question is: Why? Why would God set this whole thing up—having you look for bottles today, putting the rock just where you’ll find it, making sure
I’m
here to explain it all—why would He go to all that trouble?”

Ralph shrugged.

“Well, first of all, be
cause
, like I said, you kids are special and He loves you very much. Or am I wrong? Help me out. Does God love us all very much or not?”

Ralph nodded, yes, God loves us.

“All right,” I said, “and when you love someone, what do you want to do? You want to make them happy, right? Isn’t that right?”

He nodded, yes, that was right.

“Well, let me tell you something. This thing right here?” I held it away from me and looked at it. “This could make us all
very
happy. This could be the break we’ve been waiting for.” I didn’t know if
they’d
been waiting for one but
I
had. “Now listen up,” I told them. “Never mind Father Clay, we’re gonna do something a lot better than Father Clay, believe me. Better for
every
one. But it’s gonna take a little money to get started. Takes money to make money, ever hear that?
So.
Very first thing we gotta do—”

Lou grabbed the rock and took off running.

She would have got away—I can’t run more than ten yards at a stretch—but she tripped and fell and dropped the rock. I was bending over for it but Ralph scooped it up, so I put out my foot and he went down hard. He held on to the rock though, so I quick sat down on his back, straddling him, most of my weight on my knees. But that could change.

I explained the choice he had to make. Hand over the rock or be slowly crushed to death. “It’s up to you,” I said. “Your fate is in your own—”

Lou grabbed my right tit from behind and twisted it like you wouldn’t believe. I screamed but she kept twisting it until I rolled off of him.

I laid there in pain, watching them run back to the wagon, Ralph holding the rock under his arm like a football, Lou spinning around, laughing and dancing.

Lou

We had Jesus back and I felt like twisting the night away.

Twistin, twistin, everybody’s feeling great...

Ralph set it down in the wagon, careful, and we got out of there, him pulling, me trotting alongside.

I looked back.

No Fatso.

Twistin, twistin...

Ralph told me to quit dancing but I couldn’t help it.

Twistin the night away...

Toby

After they were gone I laid there for a while crying into my arms. Which I’m old for, I know, but I felt so sorry for myself, this big sweaty thing laying there in the weeds like that. I raised my head and looked up at the sky: “Why me, Lord? Why me?” Then I dumped my face in my arms again and cried some more for the lonely fatboy.

But after a while I stopped.

I got up and brushed myself off.

I started walking after them.

I wanted that head.

President Kennedy

A strict quarantine on all offensive military equipment under shipment to Cuba is being initiated. All ships of any kind bound for Cuba from whatever nation or port found to contain cargo of offensive weapons will be returned.

Ralph

Lou waited on the sidewalk with the wagon and the Jesus rock and I went up and rang the bell. After I rang it again the door opened and there was this little miniature grayhaired lady with shaggy eyebrows and her glasses on a string. “Yes?” she said. “May I help you?”

I told her I wanted to see Father Clay please.

She said Father wasn’t here right now. “Is it something very important?”

“Well...when will he be back, do you know?”

“Not for quite a while, I’m sure. He’s at the church hearing confessions. Have you seen the lines, how long?”

“Ralph,” Lou said.

I looked back at her.

“Rowley,” she said.

I asked the woman what about Father Rowley.

“He’s there as well. Ordinarily one is enough, but not today,” she said, and moved her shaggy eyebrows up and down like Groucho.

I said, “You mean, because of...”

“Have you been?” she asked.

“To confession?”

“Either one of you? Have you gone? Are you prepared?”

“To die, you mean?”

“Children’s confessions are this afternoon from one until four. I advise you to go, both of you.” She started closing the door.

“Wait,” I said.

She waited.

“We have something.”

“Oh?”

“For Father Clay.”

“Well? What is it?”

“It’s a...well, it’s...actually...”

“It’s Jesus,” Lou said, bringing the wagon up. She took out the rock and handed it to me and I held it up towards the woman, face out.

“We found this,” I told her.

She put her glasses on and looked it over, nodding her head. “Interesting. I see what you mean,” she said, not very excited, and took off her glasses. “Why don’t you leave it here on the stoop? That way, when Father returns this evening he’ll find it waiting for him. I’ll have the porch light on, to make sure he sees.”

I looked at Lou.

She shook her head, no.

“We’ll come back later on,” I told the woman, and put the head back in the wagon.

“Why don’t you do as I tell you?”

“We’ll bring it back later,” I said.

“You don’t understand. Father is very busy. He doesn’t have time for this sort of thing, not today. Don’t you read the newspaper? Don’t you watch television?”

“You mean, about—”

“Don’t you read the Bible?
Revelation
?”

“We’ll come back later.”

“Chapter seventeen?”

We walked away, me pulling the wagon, Lou alongside.

“‘These shall make war with the Lamb!’” the woman hollered out. “‘But the Lamb shall overcome them!’”

“Don’t look back,” I told Lou.

“‘For He is Lord of lords and King of kings!’”

“Just keep walking.”

Toby

I knew they lived on the other side of the viaduct, around Parnell somewhere, but I didn’t know the address, so I stopped off at home to check the phone book.

Mom was napping, worn out from being scared, I guess. I stood in her bedroom doorway looking at her there, on her back, in her muumuu, slippers off, holding a rosary on her stomach, practicing being dead.

Poor thing.

But you know? I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a tiny part of her that kind of wished she really
was
dead. She’s been acting all scared and hysterical about these Russian missiles coming to get us, but I think there’s a little tiny part of her that wouldn’t mind. I mean, what would she be leaving? What’s she got down here?

Cake and candy, TV, and me.

And she’d finally be back with my father. Which is all she really wants. She’s always talking about it, how happy they’ll be, how “joyful.” So I don’t know why she doesn’t just paint a great big bull’s-eye on the roof:

Right here, Mr. Khrushchev.

I looked up “Cavaletto” in the phone book, for their address. Nothing. They probably didn’t
have
a phone, or a toilet, or silverware. I’d have to go looking around for their wagon, that’s all.

I washed up and put some clean clothes on. Then I put together a couple of sandwiches to eat on the way: baloney, lettuce, relish, and lots and lots of mustard.

I love mustard, don’t you?

I’ve never been much of a ketchup fan. I think it’s a boring thing to put on your food. I’ll put it on my french fries, sure, but that’s about it. And
mayonnaise.
Don’t get me started. I
hate
that stuff. In potato salad, fine, go ahead. But people who put mayonnaise on a sandwich? On an ordinary sandwich? I don’t want anything to do with those people.

I’ll bet my little gypsy friends put it on their
toast
in the morning. I’ll bet they spread it on their
pan
cakes.

Lou

Our mom didn’t see us, she was out in the kitchen ironing. She does a lot of ironing, mostly for other people, for money. We knew she was ironing because she was singing. She always sings when she irons, I don’t know why, she
hates
ironing. But maybe that’s why she sings. I sing when I’m doing my homework, like I’m way far away from it, out there singing. She was singing Johnny Cash, but in a high shaky voice. It sounded funny that way:

“‘I keep a close watch on this heart of mine...’”

Anyway, that was good, her being out in the kitchen. We didn’t want her to see the Jesus rock. She wouldn’t make us put it
back
, but she would make that face of hers, with her mouth to one side.

Even the rectory lady didn’t believe, you could tell. She was going to leave it on the porch, like a jack-o’-lantern.

Daddy said he was going to bring a pumpkin home tonight and carve it. I hope he remembers.

I’ll probably go this year as a hobo again. I don’t know about Ralph, if he’s even going.
Last
year nobody knew who he was supposed to be. His costume was just his pajamas and bathrobe, a rubber cigar in his mouth and a paper crown on his head. People kept saying, “Who are
you
supposed to be?” He wouldn’t answer. Then he finally just went home. I
still
don’t know who he was supposed to be. Probably someone from a story. I told you, he reads a lot of stories, whole books even. But
I
don’t. So how am I supposed to know? Or anyone else?

We put the head on the dresser. It looked good up there.

So. Now what? I sat on the mattress. “What’re we gonna do
now?”

He kept standing there with his arms folded staring at the head, thinking hard.

I flopped on my back and spread out my arms and looked up at the ceiling. “What’re we gonna do
now
, Ralph? What’re we gonna
do?
” I like whining.

He told me to stop.

I got up on my elbows. “Are we in a
story?
” I like when he puts us in a story. “Is this a story we’re in?”

He was still staring at the head. He said he wasn’t sure. Then he stuck his hands in his pockets and went walking around, frowning down at the floor.

“What’re you thinking, Ralph?”

He didn’t answer.

“Ralph?”

“Quiet, will you?”

I whispered, “What’re you thinking?”

He covered his ears.

I let him think.

Toby

I checked at the rectory—it’s on the way, behind the church. You should have seen the two lines for confessions: all the way outside the church and down the block in both directions.

You gotta chuckle.

I banged on the rectory door. This little bitty lady opened it and said, “Can I help you?”

I said, “
Hello
down there.”

She didn’t even crack a smile. “Can I
help
you?” she said again.

I asked her if two greasy little kids happened to come by here with a Jesus-looking rock.

“Yes they did and I sent them away. Father is much too busy to be bothering with—”

“What about the rock? They leave it here?”

“No. I
suggested
they leave it. I told them—”