An Imperfect Miracle

by Thomas L. Peters

  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 M
rs. 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.

  Some people booed him, like Mr. Grimes, for instance, but most like Mom and me just sat there like dummies and listened. After he sat down I looked over at Carlos and Father Tom, who were both smiling and nodding like they agreed with him. I whispered to Mom if she thought they were going to get up and push the idea too from a religious angle. But she whispered back that it might look bad, them being the town’s big Catholics and all.

  Next some bald guy grabbed the mike and spoke in a voice that was so deep that it almost cracked me up. He said that there were already enough robberies in town, especially lately. He said that somebody had just swiped his GPS navigator and his stereo right out of his car, and that with all the outsiders flooding in on account of Mary, crime was bound to shoot up even higher. As soon as he was through the round cop popped up and said that they were working hard to catch the thief. He said that we all ought to keep our minds on what to do about Mary’s picture and not get sidetracked. I asked Mom why the cops were wasting time investigating Mary if they had a real thief to catch, and she whispered back that some cops just liked throwing their weight around.

  Then Mr. Grimes shuffled up to the mike kind of stiff and ginger. He hadn’t even bothered to clean himself up and was wearing the same red lumberjack shirt and dirty blue jeans he had on when the little drunk beat him up. He jerked the mike right off the stand and started pacing back and forth with his shoulders all hunched over and staring at the floor, the way he did when he was lecturing us in class on how dumb we were for not knowing the answers to any of his stupid questions. Then he started stroking his mustache a little with his free hand, which always drove me crazy.

  “The town will be a laughingstock if it gives any credence to this silly fairy tale. I say that the garage should go in as planned. The only reason people are coming to see this comical water stain is because they’ve been deceived through a clever marketing campaign by the Catholic church into believing that their various ailments can somehow be miraculously cured. We all know that it’s a fraud, and that this charade can’t possibly continue. There will be investigations, and the truth will eventually come to light.”

  Right away some old lady in back waved her little fist and hollered that Mary was no fairy tale, and that Mr. Grimes shouldn’t be allowed to tell everybody else what to think. Then Mr. Grimes yelled back something about “separation of church and state,” and that if the town turned Mary into a shrine it would be violating the Constitution. I wondered what church he was talking about, ours or St. Sebastian’s. But I’d learned in social studies that the state capitol was way over in Harrisburg, so I didn’t see what the big problem was.

  A lot of folks must have agreed with me because Mr. Grimes got shouted down pretty quick. He didn’t seem to mind though, because his little eyes started shining real bright and cocky. He stood there waiting until the mayor banged the meeting to order again.

  “When are you going to learn to think for yourselves instead of buying into all this religious nonsense?”

  “We think you’re an idiot,” somebody yelled.

  “Mindless people see what they want to see. And if you feel compelled to delude yourselves into thinking that a smudge on a worthless slab of concrete represents divine intervention, then I guess that’s your right, so long as you don’t try and push your silly beliefs on the rest of us. But if you ask me, it’s a sad state of affairs when supposedly educated people in an advanced society such as ours can harbor such antiquated and ridiculous beliefs.”

  “Who asked you?” somebody else shouted.

  “Mr. Grimes is a brave and gallant man,” somebody else hollered.

  I was worried that Mom was about to stand up and take Mr. Grimes’s side, on account of how she didn’t like the idea of sick people thinking that Mary could do miracles on them. But she just frowned a little and shook her head at all the fussing and yelling, and I really couldn’t tell who she was backing.

  Then the mayor opened up the meeting again, although from then on nobody said much new. When everyone was all talked out, the mayor said that he liked the idea about visitors to the shrine being made to pay to park and then being bused back and forth. Then he asked another guy sitting at the table, who I guess was the town’s official lawyer, to explain to us how the town and St. Sebastian’s could do all this without breaking any laws. During his little speech this lawyer said that the town could even build Mary a little house if it wanted, a historical monument is what he called it, to attract more tourists.

  Halfway through the talk Mr. Grimes yelled that the fix was in and stormed out along with a few other hotheads carrying cardboard signs that said in big crayon letters, Atheists Say Down With Religious Extremism, or something like that. When I asked Mom what an atheist was, she said that they’re people who believe that sooner or later human beings can figure out pretty much everything that’s worth figuring out all on their own. I wasn’t sure if Mom was pulling my leg or not, because later that night when I looked the word up in her dictionary it didn’t say anything like that.

  After the meeting I wanted to go up and say hello to Carlos and Father Tom. But they were busy talking to the mayor and Marcie’s dad the lawyer, and Mom said I shouldn’t bug them. When we were driving home I told Mom that it sure was lucky I’d discovered Mary’s face before the town bulldozed her. Mom said maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t, and that we’d just have to wait and see how things worked out. When I kept after her, she started tickling my belly until I cried uncle.

  Chapter 7

  Next morning as I was heading to school I detoured past Mary to see how she was holding up, what with Mr. Grimes trying to blowtorch her and all the other fussing going on. The town must have been antsy to start the money rolling in from her new shrine, because Mary’s lot was already fenced off. And there were pot-bellied construction guys tramping around inside laughing and telling dirty jokes. I wondered if all the swear words bothered her, but Mary seemed tough enough to handle it, showing up as she did on a grungy slab of concrete in the bad part of town. They even had a backhoe in there where Carlos’s table used to be, and I was worried that they were planning to dig up the concrete steps. I hoped not, because I kind of liked how people had to climb the stairs to get to see Mary up close.

  As I was leaving I spotted Tim Runyon across the street with his arms folded real tight over his hairy chest so that you could see the muscles bulging in his arms. He was leaning back against the door to one of the bars, glaring over at Mary’s lot and all the work going on. Judging by how he was scowling, he must not have liked it much that Mary was going to be a permanent part of the neighborhood. He didn’t pay any attention to me, and I didn’t think he even knew who I was. I looked around for Dad, but I didn’t see him.

  I had English right after lunch, and Mr. Grimes spent the whole class pacing around feeling his mustache and ragging on poor Mary. As far as I could tell, he was saying that she was just a myth like all the other myths we were reading about at the time, like Zeus and those other dopey Greek gods and goddesses, and that she wasn’t a very good myth even at that. She was out of date, he said.

  I must have dozed off, because he rapped me a good one in the ribs to wake me up as he was handing back my latest quiz, which according to him I’d flunked. He said if I didn’t get an A-plus on the final test, I’d flunk the entire class.

  I’d been expecting him to say something like that, and I knew that Mom would make me go to sum
mer school if I flunked out. So right after class I went up and told him that I’d seen him trying to destroy public property with his blowtorch, and that if he flunked me I’d go straight to the cops. I fibbed a little and said that I had another witness willing to back me up. Mr. Grimes was sure shook up by it, all right, judging by that pale little tremble in his eyes.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” he said finally, kind of soft and whiny.

  I figured I had him cornered, so I didn’t press him any harder. I was amazed that I’d had the guts to stand up to him like that, and as I was walking out into the hall I whispered to Chewy that Mary must have been jacking up my courage somehow. Chewy said that Mr. Grimes deserved it, snitching on us to Mom like he did. Then we headed across the hall to Mr. O’Connor’s science class.

  I was pretty sure that Mr. O’Connor didn’t believe in Mary either, because he didn’t seem to believe in anything he couldn’t run through the little silver laptop he had sitting on his desk. Just like always he was wearing one black sock and one gray one, and he must have been washing them in the same load because the colors were starting to bleed together. The socks must have been bleeding into the white shirt he was wearing too, because it had a lot of wavy pale purple streaks in it. But for as dorky as he dressed, Mr. O’Connor graded pretty easy and didn’t give us any grief so long as we didn’t mouth off too much.

  All the kids wanted to talk about Mary’s new shrine going up along Main Street, since it was the big news in town. Like always Mr. O’Connor was ready for us, and right off he said that science and religion are different.

  “The standard view is that science has to do with how the universe works, while religion has to do with what’s behind it all. Assuming there’s anything behind it all.”