The H-Bomb and the Jesus Rock (9 page)

“
Sort
of, yeah. What’s wrong with that? Don’t make that face.”

“I’m not. What face?”

“That Mom face. It’s not that goofy, Lou, okay?”

“I didn’t say it
was.
”

“They said the children of
Fatima
were goofy, too.”

“Not me.”

“Remember in the movie? How everyone laughed and laughed at the goofy children? They didn’t turn
out
to be so goofy though, did they.”

“I never said they
were
, I never said
any
body—”

“
Shhh
.” He had his hand up.

I whispered, “What.
What.
”

“
Shh.
”

We listened.

Somebody was knocking at the front door.

We looked at each other, like in a story.

Toby

This tall bony woman with dark sunk-in eyes finally opened the door.

“Mrs. Cavaletto?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Toby? Toby Tyler? I live on the other side of the viaduct? On Sinclair Street? Near the—”

“What did you want?”

“Your son Ralph and your daughter Lou took something that belongs to me and I was wondering if I could have it back please.”

“
Took
something? Took what?”

“It’s just a rock, an old rock that looks a little bit like Jesus. But you see, it belonged to my father. He died when I was just a little baby, Mrs. Cavaletto. I don’t even remember him. But he wanted me to have this rock so I’d always be thinking of Our Lord. So I was wondering, could I have it back please? It’s not worth anything to them, but to me it’s...well, it’s...”

I was choking myself up.

She called out over her shoulder,
“Ralph.”

He came walking right up, like he’d been spying the whole time. “Don’t listen to him, Mom.”

I don’t know why but he was wearing a long red stocking cap.

“It’s me and Lou’s,” he said. “We found it.”

I gave a friendly chuckle. “They found it in my room, Mrs. Cavaletto. That’s where they ‘found’ it.”

“Ma, he’s a liar, we never been
in
his room, we never been in his
house
. It was in the vacant lot. It was layin’ there. Ask Lou.”

“It’s
true
,” Lou yelled from somewhere.

I said, “Mrs. Cavaletto, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’m not going to press charges. I just want the rock back. It’s like my father used to tell me: ‘Toby?’ he’d say—”

Ralph jumped on my mistake, pointing at me. “You said he died when you were a baby! See, Ma? He’s a liar, a big fat liar. Look at him, how fat.”

She looked me over.

“I can’t help being fat, Mrs. Cavaletto. It’s a condition. But that’s no reason to
steal
from me, is it?”

“Ma, I swear...”

“Or maybe it
is
a reason,” I said, and sighed. “I can’t
run
very fast, you see...”

“Ma, don’t listen...”

“Be that as it may,” I said, wiping my eye. “I can see I’m causing trouble. I’ll just go. They can keep it, I don’t care.” I looked at Ralph. “I hope it reminds you of Jesus and what He said about stealing. Goodbye, Mrs. Cavaletto. Enjoy the weather.”

I turned around and started walking away real slow, real sad...

Lou

She called him back.

She felt sorry for him, for being so fat and sad. But he was just faking. Not faking being fat but being sad. He wasn’t sad. He was just trying to make her feel sorry for him so she’d give him the Jesus rock. And it worked. She told Ralph to go get it.

I ran back fast and wrapped it in our blanket. I was going to sneak out the back door and hide it somewhere, I was trying to think where, then Ralph came in and told me no. He told me to go and give it to Fatso.

I said, “Ra-alph!”

“We’ll get it back,” he said. “Don’t worry. This is part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“The story we’re in, The Miracle of the Rock.”

“Well...can’t we
hide
the rock? Can’t
that
be part of the story?”

“No. We can’t be disobedient, Lou. We have to be perfect. Otherwise we won’t win.”

“But it’s ours, Ralph! We found it!”

“And we’ll get it back, I promise. So go ahead. Give it to him. Go on.”

“Can’t we just—”

“No, Lou.”

“
Ra-alph
.”

“Quit whining. The little girl’s not a whiner.”

“Yes she was, she was
always
whining.”

“I don’t mean the movie. This isn’t a movie, Lou.”

He meant the real Jacinta, in that picture in the booklet. He was right, she didn’t look like a whiner. She looked like a tough little shit. That’s what Daddy called
me
once, a tough little shit.

I’m really not, though. Ask Ralph.

Toby

We stood there waiting, me and Mrs. C.

“Kids,” I said, and gave my head a shake.

She didn’t say anything back. She just stood there staring over my head, looking tired, very tall and tired.

I said, “When they want something, they just go ahead and take it. They don’t know any better. They’re like little animals, little...I don’t know, rats or something. Or mice. Mice are cuter. But let’s face it, they steal things, mice I mean—bits of cheese, crumbs and so on—
you
probably have mice, right? Place like this? Anyway, same as kids. But hey. What can you do?”

We stood there some more. I could hear the television, a news guy talking.

“How ‘bout those Russians,” I said to her. “Buncha Communists. They don’t even believe in God, Mrs. Cavaletto. Did you know that? They don’t even believe in—”

“Ralph?” she called out over her shoulder.

I said to her, quiet, “I hope you don’t punish him too much for this. Or Lou,” I added. I felt like telling her how her sweet little daughter practically twisted off my tit—which was still hurting. “Lou was part of it too,” I said, “a
big
part, believe me. Anyway, be that as it—ah, here she is now.”

She had the rock, holding it against her chest, and for
some
reason was wearing a lacy, wrinkled-up First Communion veil. Weird, those two, both of them. She wasn’t crying but she had tears down her face. And I have to admit, if she was bigger I might have been a tiny bit worried, the way she was looking at me.

Her mom took the rock and didn’t even glance at it, just handed it over.

“Thank you, Mrs. Cava—”

She closed the door in my face.

Ralph

Lou came running back and dove on the mattress, crying hard.

That made me hate him, for making her cry like that. That made me want to kill him. But I remembered, the children of Fatima had bad people do things to
them
too, mostly the Communists. They even got put in jail. But they didn’t give up being good, know why? Because they knew the story wasn’t over yet.

I sat on the mattress. “Lou,” I said, “listen.”

“I hate him!”

“I know. Me too. But listen...”

Mom opened the door and stood there. “Well?” she said.

“He was lying, Mom. We found it in the weeds.” I raised my hand. “Honest to God.”

Lou started yelling into the pillow, calling Fatso names.

“What’s she saying?”

“She doesn’t like him.”

“So what’s he want with a rock?”

“Put it in a tent, charge people to look at it.”

“At a rock.”

“It’s Jesus!” Lou yelled.

Mom looked at me.

“It...kind of looks like Him.”

“That’s what he was saying.”

“He’s a liar!” Lou yelled.

“Stop shouting,” Mom told her. “So it’s not really from his father?”

“No, Ma,” I said. “We found it. Really.”

“So what do
you
want with it?”

“To save the world!” Lou yelled.

Mom looked at me.

I twirled my finger near my temple.

Then she asked me, “What’s with the stocking cap? And her with the veil?”

I shrugged. “Just...goofin’ around.”

She gave a sigh and told us to go on outside or she’d give us some work to do, and left.

“Lou, get up, let’s go,” I told her. “Come on. This is where they go after him.”

She got up on her knees, her face all puffy and wet and red. “Do they beat him up?” she said, fixing her veil.

“
No
,”
I said. “Now listen.” I stood over her. “I told you, we have to be like the children of Fatima, okay? Or else we’re not gonna win. You know what
they
would do? They would
pray
for Fatso.”

She shook her head. “Nuh-uh, Ralph.”

“They would pray for his soul, for him to change.”

“He won’t, though.”

“That doesn’t matter. The point is, if they beat him
up
, then God says, ‘Well, they’re
all
bad, so let ‘em fight it out, what do
I
care?’”

“But we would still win. He’s easy, Ralph. He’s just fat.”

I shook my head. “You’re not getting it.”

“No, I get it, I get it,” she said. “I have to be like...what’s her name again? The little girl?”

“Jacinta. Say it.”

“Jacinta.”

“And I have to be like Francisco. Okay? That’s the story we’re in. Take it or leave it.”

She got up. “What’s it called again?”

“The Miracle of the Rock.”

She said it slow. “The Miracle...of the Rock.”

“Y’like that?”

She nodded. She liked it.

I told her how it came to me. “Right out of the blue. I wasn’t even trying to
think
of a title, y’know? Then all of a sudden, out of nowhere—”

“He’s getting away, Ralph.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

We went after him.

Bishop Sheen

And in my imagination I could see a great change coming over the hammer and the sickle. I could see that hammer being held aloft by millions of men, and looking now like a cross. And that sickle, I now saw it becoming the slender moon under Our Lady’s feet...

Toby

Walking along cradling the head in my arms, I was singing to it right out loud:

Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl, Duke, Duke...

And you’re not going to believe this, I know, but the head actually started singing
along
, doing
Duke
,
Duke
,
while I did the high part:

As I walk

Duke, Duke

Through this world

Duke, Duke

Nothing can stop

Duke, Duke

The Duke of Earl

Duke, Duke...

After a while, guess who joined me, my little gypsy pals. They didn’t join
in
, or even say anything, they just walked along, one on either side. But I was glad to see them. Like I said, I was going to be needing them. I just had one little question:
What’s with the headwear?
Ralph still had that goofy-looking stocking cap on and she was still wearing her First Communion veil. I didn’t mean to be
nosy
,
but...

Then all of a sudden it hit me.

All that crap I fed them, about them being like the children of Fatima, they ate it up so completely they were
dressing
the part now.

I had to laugh, and I did. “You kids crack me up,” I said, “you know that? You really do.” And I laughed at them some more.

Ralph

Fatso could laugh all he wanted, I didn’t care. Like I told Lou, they laughed at the children of Fatima, laughed and laughed. And now, guess what, they’re practically known as saints.

Plus, the next time you happen to turn on a lamp? Think about Thomas Edison, how hard they all laughed at
him
.

And speaking of inventors, you know who else they probably laughed at? Albert Einstein, inventor of the atomic bomb. And
now
who’s laughing? Nobody.

Toby

Actually, that was good, the two of them dressing up like that. It would help with my mom, help her to see them as Fatima types instead of what they really were, a pair of serious nutcases.

They stayed with me onto my property and up the porch. I sat on the top step with the head in my lap, Lou on my left, Ralph on my right. Nobody spoke. I kept humming “Duke of Earl,” to show them how worried I was. Mr. Pappas across the street hollered out some gibberish and pointed at the sky. I nodded at him and smiled.

I was surrounded by insane people. Including the one in the house.

Anyway, sitting there I gave the situation some thought. To get Mom to shell out for my ten-cents-a-minute-with-Jesus scheme, I needed these two loonies to keep playing the children of Fatima—the attitude, the headwear—but not
seriously
, not so they believed it themselves, or else no matter how big a slice I let them in for they would just keep trying to steal back the head.

Couldn’t have that.

So I said to them, “Look, you want to be the next children of Fatima? Get Mary to come down on a cloud. Because I got news for you: this
rock
isn’t gonna get you there. You show this to Father Clay he’ll laugh in your face. Or else? What he’ll do? Keep it and tell everyone
he
found it. He was going to bed one night and there it was, on his pillow.”

“Father Clay wouldn’t lie,” Ralph said.

“You’d be surprised.”

“Liars go to Hell,” Lou said, meaning me I guess, for lying to their mom.

“For
ever
,” Ralph added.

“Oh, really?” I reached behind me for the empty plate. “So where do thieves go?”

That shut them up.

“Face it,” I told them. “
You
saw the movie. Those kids were shepherds. They didn’t go scrounging around for empty bottles. They didn’t go stealing people’s toast right off their porch. And I’ll tell you what
else
they didn’t do, they didn’t go around playing The Children of Fatima. Know why? Because they already
were
.
They didn’t have to pretend. Mary came all the way down and
spoke
to them,
told
them stuff, gave them messages to pass along to the world.”