She just kept kneeling there like a statue.
Stuck-up little Fatima brat. I felt like smacking her.
Lou
Get him a friend, Lord—not me though, please? Ralph either. Somebody else. Or even a dog. Or no, a pig! A little pink pig. That would be nice for him, like a baby sister. I can picture it. Get him a pig, Lord.
Ralph
I couldn’t hear what Fatso was whispering to Lou and was just about to poke him and ask, in case it was something bad, but then he went back to singing TV commercials to himself: “‘Ajax, the foaming cleanser...’”
The water out there kept running.
I sat back on my heels.
The boy sat back, resting up.
There was a window, part of a tree showing, the leaves winking, blue sky behind it. Down at the park right now they were probably all still playing, maybe in another close one:
Come through! Come through!
I wish I could have come through. I wish I could have got a nice little base hit up the middle and won the game, everyone crowding around, whacking me on the back:
Way to go, Ralph! Way to come through! Wait’ll your dad hears!
Fatso was singing about Pepsodent now: “‘You’ll wonder where the yellow went...’”
The water out there just kept on running.
She better get back pretty soon. I was starting to get this feeling I get when a story starts petering out, like a balloon losing air, going all floppy. I hate that feeling. I hate that feeling worse than anything there is.
“‘See the USA in your Chevrolet...’”
Lou
I should’ve quit when I was gonna. I should’ve went to Marcia’s. She has a swing set. I like to stand on the seat and have her twist it as tight as she can, then let it go so I whip around and around and when it stops I jump off and try and walk but I can’t, I’m too dizzy and fall over. I could be doing that right now.
This was worse than church.
What’s she
doing
out there? How long’s it take to baptize a rock?
I baptize thee in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost
and that’s it, you’re done, let’s go, turn the water off and get
back
here, this is
boring.
Toby
We were all three of us sitting back on our heels now, kind of slumped, kind of
sunk
there, you know? Losing sight of the dream, that’s how it felt. And I was running out of jingles to try and keep my spirits up.
“‘Brylcreem, a little dab’ll do ya...’”
But then,
finally
, the water out there quit running—and you should have seen those two, the way they came back to life, kneeling up straight as soldiers, God’s little soldiers. I knelt up too. I even pressed my hands together like theirs.
“All right,” I whispered, “here we go, back in business—and I just want to say, you kids are doing great, both of you, I mean that. So keep it up. Keep that attitude, that—”
“Here she comes,”
Lou hissed.
She was coming all right,
pounding
down the hallway—
boom, boom, boom
—not walking religious at all.
I had a bad feeling.
She didn’t even come in. She stood there in the doorway, out of breath, holding up the head in her rubber glove. It looked bald and a lot smaller. “Get this...out...of my...house.” She tossed it at me. “Get it
out
.”
I almost dropped it. Like I said, I don’t play sports.
Ralph
Just like that, the story was over. The rock was just a rock, the mother was hollering her head off, and we were running for the door, all three of us. We quick got into our shoes. She kept shouting about us bringing false idols into her house.
“Pagans!”
Lou was making little whimpering sounds.
“Gypsies!”
I took her hand and got us out of there.
“Trash!”
Walter Cronkite
If invasion is undertaken, the Russians have said that they would retaliate with rocket fire. We have said if there’s rocket fire from Cuba, we will retaliate. And there goes the whole ballgame.
Toby
I didn’t get a good look at the rock until we were out on the porch again, sitting on the bottom step, Lou on my left, Ralph on my right. They both right away started tying their shoes, looking over their shoulder, making sure Mom didn’t follow us out.
She didn’t. She was probably laying across her bed with her face in the pillow, boo-hooing away. Poor thing.
I asked Ralph how about tying
mine
while he was down there. He didn’t even act like he heard. I didn’t bother asking Lou.
I had zero leverage left with these people.
Anyway, the rock. It didn’t look like Jesus anymore. It didn’t look like
any
one anymore. Most of the stuff that made it look human must have been dried-up dirt, and now the only thing left was sort of an eye, the right one, staring straight up at that blank blue sky.
Lou said something I didn’t hear.
“Speak up.”
“Can I have it?” she asked.
I told her, “Sure.” I’m not a very good thrower but I reared back and heaved the thing all the way into the street.
She jumped right up and ran straight after it—between two parked cars, like you’re always hearing about. And sure enough, here comes a black Fairlane. Ralph stood up, making sounds in his throat. I covered my face and peeked through the fingers. It looked like a sure thing. But just as she ran out, the Fairlane was already swerving away from the rock and he missed her, barely.
I don’t even think she noticed. She picked up the rock and went trotting on homeward, that goofy-looking veil all cockeyed, fluttering around.
Ralph sat down again, slow. Then he looked at me. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me.
“What,” I said.
He whispered, “Did you see?”
I said, “Yeah, that was pretty close.”
He kept staring at me.
I told him, “Hey,
I
didn’t tell her to go running—”
“It was a miracle.”
I said, “Excuse me?”
“Didn’t you see?”
“See what? Why are you whispering?”
“The rock,” he said. “It saved her life.”
“How do you get that?”
“
You
saw.”
“
Yeah
I saw. I thought she was roadkill.”
“Right,” he said, nodding, all bug-eyed. “But then she
wasn’t
.”
“And? So? What’s your point?”
“The rock saved her life. That’s
proof
.”
“Proof of what?”
He shook his head, slow. “It’s not...just...a rock.”
I hate religious people.
I said to him, “What...are you...
talking
about? The thing almost got her killed.
God
you’re dumb. Get off my property.”
He did. He got up and went walking off.
I called him a moron.
I called him a halfwit.
I called him an imbecile.
He just kept walking away, swinging his arms.
Ralph
I didn’t even hear him. Well, I did, but I didn’t care. He could call me anything he wanted, him
and
his mom. I just saw a miracle, an actual miracle.
The Miracle of the Rock.
It saved Lou’s life.
I had no doubt about that.
No doubt at all.
Hardly any.
Little bit.
I mean, let’s face it, Fatso had a point: the thing almost got her killed.
That’s what happens when you get goofy. Lou would never run out in the street without looking both ways, but she was goofy over that rock. She had a crush on it or something.
I forgot I still had that stupid hat on. I yanked it off.
But still, you know? The way that car all of a sudden swung away from her? Before she even ran
out?
Like the rock was
making
the car turn away. Let’s face it, no ordinary rock could do that.
Or else...maybe the guy was just trying to miss the rock so he didn’t get a flat tire. Maybe that’s all it was.
Maybe that’s all
any
thing was.
No.
That was the devil in my ear, that was Satan. He’s always doing that, whispering in my ear like that, trying to make me doubt stuff.
I told him,
Begone, you.
And he was, he was gone.
All right. So. Here was the story, The Miracle of the Rock, the way it went:
The boy and the little girl find a rock that looks like Jesus.
And so on.
Then the giant mother washes away the sacred face, kicks them out, and they’re all three sitting there on the bottom step. Looks like the rock was just a rock after all. Oh, well. Fatso throws it out in the street.
But the little girl still believes and runs out into the traffic, trying to save it. And so? The rock saves
her.
Because it wasn’t...just a rock...after all.
The End
Not as
big
a story as I’d had in mind, I mean with the Pope and the Russians and all that, not even close. But still a pretty good story, pretty good ending anyway, pretty
happy
one, wouldn’t you say? I would. It made me feel good, like we probably
weren’t
going to get blown up today after all, or even tomorrow.
But just in case, I headed towards the church, for confession. There was that toast we stole.
Lou
My mom was watching the news on the couch. I tried to get past her, quick, so she wouldn’t see the rock and make that face of hers.
But she saw it. “Is that the...”
“Jesus. Yeah. Got Him back.”
She made the face.
I went in our room and put the rock on the dresser again. It wasn’t really Jesus, I knew that. But it still had one eye, like Garfield Goose this morning, and a little bump underneath. “Aw, don’t cry,” I said. Then I felt embarrassed, talking to a rock.
I took off my veil and put it back in the bottom drawer and closed it.
Ralph thought the rock really
was
Jesus, or anyway
from
Jesus. He gets goofy. One time we were peeling potatoes and he thought one of them looked like Ed Sullivan and started going crazy. I told him,
So it looks like Ed Sullivan, so what?
I went out and sat on the couch, up close to my mom. I was glad I had
her
for a mom and not Fatso’s. She lit another Lucky with the one she already had—that’s called chain-smoking, when you do that.
I told her, “Gimme a puff,” just being funny.
She didn’t say anything. She kept watching Walter Cronkite.
He had earphones on. Somebody was telling him stuff and he was listening and then he was telling us what they said. It was about ships at sea—their ships, our ships. He looked serious but he didn’t look scared. If Walter
Cronkite
started looking scared, then I would be scared.
I told my mom not to worry.
She looked down at me.
I nodded my head, meaning I mean it.
She patted my leg and looked back at the television. “I’m not worried, hon.”
But she was worried. Smoking like that. Calling me “hon” like that.
I wanted her to quit watching.
I asked her could I check and see if Soupy Sales was on.
She shook her head, no.
“You
like
Soupy Sales,” I told her. “You said he was funny, remember? When he did his dance? The Mouse? Remember?”
“Don’t start,” she said, meaning don’t start pestering.
Walter Cronkite was listening to his earphones again, with a frown on his face.
I told her I saw the biggest fattest person I ever saw in my life today.
She told me, “Shh.”
I told her this lady was so fat she probably couldn’t even fit in the bathtub.
“Lou...”
“Or even the bath
room
.”
“I’m trying to hear this.”
“I know but listen, Mom, will ya?”
“What.”
I tried to think of something. “Wanna see me do the Twist?”
“That’s all right.”
“You never saw me. I’m really good. You’ll like it.”
She looked down at me.
“Please?” I said.
“Watch you do the Twist?”
“I’m really good. You won’t believe.”
She put her hand on my forehead, checking.
“I’m fine,” I told her, and got up and went over and turned off the television.
“Hey,” she said.
“Watch,” I told her. “Ready?”
She sighed.
I started singing, quiet, “Twistin, twistin, everybody’s feeling great...”
Except, I couldn’t move my arms. I was trying to swing them but I couldn’t, they were stuck.
I sang louder, “
Twistin...
”
They wouldn’t budge.
“Twistin!”
I tried moving my legs but
they
were stuck too. I couldn’t move
any
thing. I couldn’t move!
I started crying.
“Come here,” she said, and held out her arms.
I ran to her.
Toby
After sending Ralph away I kept on sitting there, down on the bottom step.
In that movie at school? About the children of Fatima? I hated those kids. They thought they were so special, Mary herself coming all the way down from Heaven to talk to them, just them. Other people would look and look but they couldn’t see her. You had to be special. You had to be precious.
Ever see a picture of the
real
children of Fatima? The faces on them? Like they could slit your throat, I’m not kidding. Especially the little one. Slit your throat and not even blink.
In fact? I’ll bet they made the whole thing up. Seriously. I’ll bet they got together one day and decided let’s have some fun with people. That’s probably what their last message said, the one the Pope was supposed to open, everyone still waiting to hear. He probably opened it and read it and right away burned it because here’s what it said: