ODD NUMBERS

by M. Grace Bernardin

  “You okay back there?” a voice out of nowhere startled them both, until they realized it was Vicky’s roommate calling from behind the curtain that divided their room.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, Minnie,” Vicky called back.

  “She sounds like she’s improved,” Allison said in a whisper. “I forgot she was back there.”

  “Yeah, she’s having a good day. Ain’t ya Minnie?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I said you sound like you’re feeling good today. They’ll probably spring you outta here before me.”

  “You don’t sound so good. You need to put some of that there opera on to calm your nerves?”

  “No, really, Minnie. I’m fine. I’m cryin’ tears of joy.

  “Is that right? What’s the occasion?”

  “I’m getting baptized.”

  “Praise the Lord,” Minnie called back from the other side of the room.

  “Allison, we gotta get the chaplain in here. His name’s Father Mudd. I gotta get baptized.”

  “Here? Now?” Allison said with surprise.

  “Well, I don’t know if he’ll do it right this second but I gotta talk to him about it anyway.”

  It wasn’t until Father Mudd had been contacted and was on his way, and all the others had been gathered back in the room that they realized Vicky hadn’t unwrapped the dress yet. The dress was laid on Vicky’s lap and Sally and Allison helped her untie the blue bow which bound the treasure. Vicky removed the tissue paper from the dress, careful not to tear any of it as if it was spun gold. She held up a mid-length ivory lace dress.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Allison.

  “Absolutely a work of art,” said Sally.

  “Grandma’s pearl necklace would’ve looked so beautiful with it, but like a dang fool I went and hocked it. But the good news is…” Vicky said breathing in a deep breath which seemed to bolster some inner spark of optimism. “I never thought I’d ever see any of my grandma’s things ever again.”

  The moment Father Mudd walked through the door Vicky said to him, “we need to talk.”

  “Is that right?” he replied, giving her a puzzled expression.

  “I wanna be baptized,” Vicky blurted out.

  “She needs it, reverend,” the voice of the unseen Minnie piped in from behind the curtain.

  Both Tim and Sally gave a sudden start. “Who’s that?” asked Sally, more wide-eyed than ever.

  “Minnie,” both Allison and Father Mudd replied.

  “Good evening, Minnie. Sounds like you’re feeling better.”

  “I am, reverend. Thank you kindly. I am, indeed.”

  “So you think Vicky needs to be baptized, huh?” Father Mudd called back to Minnie.

  “As the Lord saith, ‘Go therefore and make disciples of all men. Baptize them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,’” Minnie replied.

  “Amen, Minnie. Amen,” Father Mudd said. Then turning his attention to Vicky he said, “You’re right. We need to talk.”

  “Guess that’s my signal to shoo everybody outta here,” Vicky said.

  “Ceptin’ me, reverend. I ain’t gonna listen to a word. I’ll just be over here takin’ a little rest. You best be sure to wake me when the baptizing commences.”

  “All right Minnie. We’ll keep our voices down,” Father Mudd said.

  “Sorry y’all, but I’m gonna have to send you into exile just one more time. Y’all mind waiting in the hall again? Don’t let me keep you here if you got things you need to do.” Vicky spoke these words though her face betrayed a pleading hope that at least some of the entourage would stay.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Vicky,” Chief Bobby said.

  “What about you, Alex? You got homework or ball practice you gotta get to tonight?” Allison asked her son, giving him an out if he wanted it.

  “No, I’m good,” Alex said, the usual teenage apathy temporarily trumped by his curiosity as to just how this scene might play out.

  “You heard the man,” Allison said. “We’re good. We’ll wait.”

  “I’m in,” Tim said with a shrug.

  “Me too. Wish I could say I had some hot date waiting for me but I can’t,” said Sally. “I guess some things never change.”

  “Passed up your chance for a hot date with me, Sal,” said Tim. “Now I’m a married man.”

  “Hush, we got a man of the cloth here,” said Sally.

  “Go on. Git!” Vicky said.

  “We’ll be in the lounge area Fr. Gerry,” Tim said giving a handshake to Fr. Mudd.

  “How do you two know each other?” Allison asked. She had picked up on the familiar exchange which took place between the two men the moment Fr. Mudd entered the room.

  “All these crusty old sober drunks know each other,” Vicky said.

  Chief Bobby, Tim, Sally, Alex, and Allison shuffled out the door, leaving Vicky and Father Mudd alone to talk.

  “Kinda weird to think you were all friends once,” Alex said when they got out into the hall. Then more discreetly to his mother he whispered, “Vicky was really friends with you and Dad?”

  “Why? Are you shocked?”

  “Well, no, it’s just… well, yeah, I guess I am kinda.”

  “A lot has happened to the three of us over the last twenty-five years. The truth is,” Allison paused, tentatively placing her hand on Alex’s back. He didn’t pull away. “It wasn’t a long lasting friendship, but while it lasted it was one of the best friendships I ever had.” Allison choked with emotion at the resounding truth of those words.

  “Drinks on the house,” Tim said fishing in his pocket for change as he walked over to the soft drink machine. “Who wants what?”

  “I’ll take a Diet Coke,” Allison said

  “Alex?”

  “Mountain Dew….please.”

  “What a weird day,” Allison said plopping down on the couch next to Sally. “Ouch,” she said clutching her side as pain rippled through her torso.

  “You okay?” Sally asked.

  “Yeah, fine. I keep forgetting I have a broken rib. I can’t plop anymore. I have to sit down gingerly, like how I did when I eight months pregnant.”

  “What about you, Sal? What’ll it be?” Tim, who was still standing at the soft drink machine, asked Sally.

  “What I’d like to drink isn’t in that machine. All this sobriety talk has made me want to run outta here screaming to the nearest corner bar,” Sally said. “But I guess a Diet Coke will have to do for now.”

  There was some anxiety as the group waited in the lounge without a word from Father Mudd. Tim tried to be good-humored and at ease but every so often he’d fidget and check his watch. Alex dozed off listening to his ipod with his head back on the couch, his mouth open and the faintest trace of a snore exuding from his injured nose. Every so often he would snort himself awake, look around bleary-eyed, touch the gauze on his nose to make sure everything was okay, then nod off again.

  Allison and Sally debated back and forth about what they should do. Should they have one of the nurses check to see how much longer? Should they leave? Only Chief Bobby seemed entirely serene as he sat peacefully with his hands resting comfortably on his legs as he periodically assured Allison and Sally that everything was fine and they should just continue to wait.

  After about forty-five minutes, Father Mudd appeared in the lounge. They instinctively gathered around him in a huddle, like a team waiting direction from their coach.

  “Here’s the deal–we’re going to baptize Vicky tonight,” he said without hesitation. “Which one of you ladies is Allison?” He asked looking back and forth between the two.

  “I am,” Allison said raising a hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Allison, I’m Father Gerry Mudd,” he said with a tired but sincere smile as he shook her hand. Brief introductions then took place among Fr. Mudd and the rest. Then turning back to Allison he asked,

  “Are you a baptized Christian?”

  “Y
es, as a kid in the Lutheran church.”

  “Great! Can you stay?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Terrific! Vicky needs a witness. She asked specifically for you.”

  “Witness? But I…” Allison began, wanting to explain that it had been years since she stepped foot in a church for something other than a wedding or funeral. Her words faltered and she didn’t have a chance before Fr. Mudd quickly moved on to the next order of business.

  “Is anyone here Catholic?”

  “I am… or was,” Sally said with a hint of timidity in her voice.

  “Baptized?”

  “Yes, as a baby.”

  “There is a God,” Fr. Mudd said looking up at the ceiling like it was a private joke between him and God. “Can you stay tonight?” he asked, turning back to Sally.

  “Yes, but I…”

  “Good, great! You’ll do,” Fr. Mudd said cutting her off, almost purposely it seemed because he didn’t want anything to change his mind or deter his plan.

  “I know you gentlemen here are her spiritual brothers. I’m counting on you to help her out,” he said to Chief Bobby and Tim. They assured him of their help and told him they, too, would stay for Vicky’s baptism.

  “Just curious, Gerry, but what’s the rush?” Tim asked the priest trying to keep up with his hurried pace as he led the straggling group down the hallway back to Vicky’s room. Allison walked as fast as her injured ribs and strained lungs would allow her, so as to catch up with Tim and Father Mudd. She too wanted to know why he seemed in such a hurry. Did he know something they didn’t about Vicky and her condition?

  Is she really improved or is death more imminent than what everyone says? Allison thought. She remembered how her grandmother rallied and seemed to be doing so much better right before that sudden turn which led to her demise. Maybe being in this business he gets a sort of feeling about these things, kind of like a premonition, the thought occurred to her as she caught up with them just outside Vicky’s door.

  “It’s like this, Tim.” Fr. Mudd exhaled the words with a long tires sigh. “She’s been waiting for a long time for this; longer than she probably even realizes. I’m not going to make her wait any longer if I can help it. Not this time.”

  Allison wondered what he meant by ‘not this time’.

  “Is she in danger of death, Father? Is that why we need to baptize her tonight?” Sally said in a breathless whisper as she caught up with the others just outside of Vicky’s door.

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Allison said, grateful that Sally had the nerve to ask the question.

  “No, not imminent death, but I don’t need to tell you she’s not a well woman. We’ve got some witnesses here. We’ve got a community of believers,” he said addressing the entourage. “Small community, but it’s what Vicky needs right now. I don’t see any reason to wait. Let’s get ‘er done.”

  Together the group entered the room.

  “Can we do it, reverend?” Vicky asked, her eyes so full of hopeful anticipation it reminded Allison of a child awaiting the answer from a parent about to bestow a gift.

  “Get ready to get dunked, Vicky.”

  “You mean you got it all taken care of?” Vicky said a reluctant smile just waiting to let loose on her face.

  Father Mudd looked at Vicky with reassurance radiating from his eyes. “Sometimes, not very often mind you, but sometimes the Holy Spirit just makes everything too easy. I love it when that happens.” Father Mudd smiled at Vicky and she smiled back.

  Chapter 39

  Father Mudd clasped his hands together to signal the pending start of the ceremony; like church bells calling all who would enter into the presence of God. Suddenly in walked the nurse who had tried to thwart their efforts at bringing the hope chest to Vicky’s room.

  “Becky, you’re just who I’m looking for,” Fr. Mudd said to the half-harried, half-confused looking woman who walked in on this unexpected scene.

  “I need a cup, a fairly tall Styrofoam cup like the kind you serve to the patients, filled with plain tap water.”

  “Do you want ice chips in that?”

  “No, no ice, just plain tap water. We don’t want to freeze out our poor catechumen here,” he said to the puzzled nurse. “Oh, and I also need a clean bedpan,” Father Mudd added as she approached the door.

  “A bedpan?”

  “Yes, make sure it’s clean.”

  The nurse left and Father Mudd stepped over to the curtain which divided the room. Parting the curtain ever so slightly, he said, “Minnie, you want to join us?”

  “Lord, yes,” came the scratchy old voice. Father Mudd pulled back the curtain to reveal a tiny African American lady who was obviously very old, though just how old it was difficult to tell. Her white hair and dark brown skin, which was still remarkably smooth, made for a startling contrast. Everything about her seemed a contrast of old and young; from her clear, strong, and unstrained eyes which seemed to take in everything as if she’d never needed glasses a day in her life to the contrast of her knotted up arthritic hands, with knuckles so enlarged and fingers so gnarled it was painful to look at. She sat up in a chair, her frail diminutive frame looking as if it might break at the slightest handling; yet her legs which didn’t quite reach the floor, swung like a fidgety little school girl. Her whole body swayed slightly back and forth to some unknown rhythm, felt only by her. The padding on the bottom of her socked footies just barely scraping across the floor as she swung her feet, kept time to that internal cue which caused her to sway.

  “Yes, Lord! Thank you Lord Jesus,” Minnie said over and over again. Minnie’s continual stream of prayer along with the swaying conjured up in Allison’s mind the sudden image of Jewish men at the Wailing Wall.

  The nurse entered the room with the bedpan and Styrofoam cup, complete with plastic lid and straw. Father Mudd took the items from her hands with an amused smile. He graciously thanked her. She said nothing in response, acknowledging him with a quick perfunctory nod of the head, her face stoic and expressionless until she turned to leave the room, at which time she was sure to glare at the others.

  “Lovely woman,” the priest said. At Father Mudd’s direction, Tim and Bobby carefully scooted Vicky, chair and all, out toward the center of the room. As soon as they finished he called out in a voice which so often distinguishes preachers and teachers, “Gather around, everyone. Allison and Sally, you stand on either side of Vicky. Minnie can you see all right?”

  “Yes, reverend.”

  “Very good. All right, Allison and Sally,” he said turning his attention to them as soon as everyone had settled in their place. His words were brief but his eyes conveyed the seriousness of the matter.

  “I’m going to ask you if you will commit to helping Vicky persevere and grow in her Christian faith. Can you do that?”

  “I guess that means I have to start going back to church,” Sally said.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Father Mudd said then turning his attention to Allison he added; “What about you, Allison? Vicky said you two were very close at one time.”

  “Yes. She was my best friend,” Allison said. “In response to your question,” she continued in a whisper as she steered Father Mudd off to the side and away from the others, “I really don’t know how to answer. I’m not trying to be evasive or anything but what does that mean really–‘to help her grow in her Christian faith?’ I mean, I know what it means I guess I just don’t know what’s expected of me.”

  “And I can’t give you any set checklist of expectations. I only ask for your willingness. If you have that God will show you where to go from there.”

  “But I’m not very religious,” Allison said.

  “Me neither,” said Sally a little sheepishly at having to make such an admission to a priest.

  “God’s not looking for the perfectly pious, particularly not for this project; just someone with a little faith,” Father Mudd said as he reached into his coat pocket an
d pulled out a folded piece of cloth which he then proceeded to unfold, revealing it to be a long stole. He kissed it and placed it over his shoulders. “Do you have a little faith?”

  “I guess I have a little faith,” Allison said.

  “Me too,” Sally said.

  “You know what Jesus said about faith the size of a mustard seed?” Fr. Mudd remarked adjusting the long stole around his shoulders until it was smooth and even.

  “No, what did he say?” Sally asked in all earnestness.

  “It’s all you need to move mountains,” Allison replied remembering the scripture quote from Bible Youth Camp years ago.

  “So as I understand correctly we’re supposed to be Vicky’s godparents? Is that right?” Sally asked before Father Mudd had a chance to divert his attention elsewhere.

  “Godparents!” Allison exclaimed, startled by the images conjured up and the very different impact that word had on her from the word “witness”, which seemed more legal somehow, less spiritual. “Now I really feel unqualified.”

  “God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called. Okay, God,” Father Mudd said changing to a less serious tone as he turned his eyes heavenward, as if he was having an actual conversation with God, “you’ve got to make good on that. Don’t make a liar out of me.”

  “God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called,” Sally repeated Father Mudd’s words in a thoughtful, reflective manner; a manner that surprised Allison. “Is that from the bible, Father?”

  “No, it’s from the Assembly of God church marquis down the street. I love their sayings. I steal them all the time. Use them for my homilies.”

  Father Mudd turned his attention to the others leaving the two women stunned and somewhat silenced. As he began to explain to the others what they were about to do, Sally turned to Allison and said, “He must be desperate to do this baptism thing.”

  “A couple of warm bodies with a pulse,” Allison whispered back.