Shelley and Mavis went out to the kitchen with Mrs. Gladys to help with dishes, and Liz and I did the chairs.
“Do you think she means it? About being an atheist?” asked Liz. “I’d be afraid to even say it.”
“But if that’s what she really believes …”
We were both quiet then as we each folded the chair we’d been wiping off and started on another.
Mark and Keeno didn’t come by at all. Mark called me later after I’d got home and said they weren’t getting much action at the Farragut North Metro station, so they’d gone all the way out to Shady Grove, but by then most of the commuters had come through. They figured it was too late to stop by the soup kitchen. Maybe they’d make it the next night.
But they didn’t make it on Tuesday either, and maybe it was a good thing, because Shelley came armed for argument this time. There was a different mix at first break. Gwen and Austin and Danny came out to the back wall with Liz, Shelley, Mavis, and me. Pamela stayed inside with a couple of new kids who didn’t know the ropes.
As soon as we’d sat down on the low walls, some of the guys straddling them, Shelley said, “I just want you to know, Mavis, that I’m praying for you. Really.”
“What’s this?” asked Danny.
“Shelley’s trying to save my soul,” Mavis said. And then, more seriously to Shelley, “I don’t know why it bothers you so much what I believe or don’t believe.”
“Because I’m a Christian, and I have to be concerned,” Shelley replied. “I’d feel terrible if … well … if I got to heaven and you weren’t there, Mavis. If I could have done something about it and didn’t.”
It seemed sort of presumptuous that Shelley would just assume that she would be in heaven, but I wasn’t sure I was invited into the conversation. It was certainly a conversation I’d never hear at school, I felt sure.
“Whoa!” said Gwen. “When did all this start?”
“We’re just continuing a discussion that began yesterday,” Shelley told her. “Mavis says she’s an atheist, and I’m trying to understand, that’s all.”
“So what exactly do you believe, Shelley?” I asked.
“Basically, that the only way you can be saved is to be born again in Jesus Christ. That’s what I believe.”
“Isn’t that sort of condescending to other religions? To me, for example? I’m Jewish,” said Danny.
Shelley shrugged helplessly. “If we’re right, we’re right.”
“And if Jews or Muslims believe they’re right?”
“Then there will be conflict until the Second Coming, that’s all.”
“What about all the people who lived before Christ?” asked Gwen.
“I’m sure that God has made some provision for them,” Shelley said. “But in our church practically everyone who was born again can tell you the day and the hour we gave ourselves to Christ.”
“I went through First Communion,” Liz said.
Shelley smiled uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth, but … it doesn’t really count. I mean, it’s important and all if you’re Catholic, but when I was ten years old, I made a definite commitment. I just got down on my knees and turned my life over to God. Now, whenever I have to make a decision, I ask myself, ‘What would Jesus do?’ Life is so simple and beautiful this way.” She focused on me. “What do you believe, Alice?”
“I guess I’ve always assumed there was a God, but I don’t understand him. For starters, I don’t understand why we need to pray for someone who’s sick, like we have to beg and plead with God to help him. Doesn’t he already know?”
“You pray to remind yourself he’s Lord and Master, and he decides where you’ll spend eternity,” said Shelley.
“So you really believe in heaven and hell?” Danny asked her.
“Yes, I really believe.”
Pamela and the other kids drifted out of the kitchen then, eating slices of the cooled bread pudding. “What’s the debate?” Pamela asked.
“Religion,” said Mavis. “Or lack thereof.”
“I’ve got a bus to catch,” said one of the guys. “See ya tomorrow.”
“To be continued,” said Shelley cheerfully.
I’d driven the girls down in Sylvia’s car this time, so I was the one driving home. We were still discussing the debate.
“Shelley’s so sincere,” Liz said thoughtfully. “What if she is right?”
“Then what? Catholics are wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe you really do have to have a special moment when you’re ‘born again,’ as she says. We use a Catholic Bible. I was never really confused before.”
I smiled at her in the rearview mirror, but of course she couldn’t see. “I know a time when you were a little confused. Don’t you remember when you wanted to have Pamela’s breast blessed by a priest?”
“What?” cried Gwen, and Pamela whooped.
“That guy on the train!”
“Right,” I said, and explained it to Gwen. “The three of us were on Amtrak going to Chicago. Big trip. Dad even got us rooms in the sleeper. Some man was flirting with Pam.”
“You mean Pam was flirting with him!” said Liz. “He thought she was in college and invited her to have dinner with him. We had to sit across from them in the dining car and listen to all that bull!”
I continued: “Later, he edged his way into her sleeping compartment, kissed her, and evidently touched one of her breasts before she got away.”
Pamela got in the act then: “And when Liz found out, she wanted me to go to a priest and have it blessed—‘made whole again’ is the way she put it.”
“And Pam kept saying, ‘It is whole! He didn’t take a bite out of it or anything!’” I added, and we shrieked.
Liz was laughing too. “Come on, you guys. I was a naive twelve-year-old.”
“And two years later at camp, she lets Ross feel her boobs,” said Gwen. “Hey, girl, you grew up fast!”
“It still doesn’t solve the question of who’s right about God,” said Liz.
“Who ever knows for sure?” said Gwen.
Keeno and Mark came by on Wednesday about an hour before we closed up the soup kitchen. The guys were fully dressed, of course, and said they’d spent the evening busking at Gallery Place.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“About the same,” said Keeno, but Mark made the thumbs-down sign.
We introduced them to the other volunteers, and Mrs. Gladys said, “We’re happy to have you guys, whenever you can come. We need those two large garbage cans emptied in the Dumpster near the alley. And then, William’s hurt his back, so if you could mop the floor for him after the chairs are wiped down, I think he’d appreciate it. And if some of you want to wash those front windows, it would be helpful.”
Mavis was studying Keeno. “Hey, aren’t you the guys who were on TV last week—one of the local channels?”
Gwen and Liz and Pamela and I started grinning.
“You are!” Mavis said, and Keeno tipped his cap.
“The Naked Carpenters!” another girl gasped.
“What’s this?” said Mrs. Gladys.
“The guys who play the musical saw and harmonica in Metro stations in their skivvies,” said Mavis. “A couple of TV stations had them on the early news.”
William came over, one hand on his back. He was smiling too. “You the one who plays ‘Amazing Grace’ on the saw?”
“He’s the man,” said Mark.
“Well, for goodness’ sake,” said Mrs. Gladys. “Why don’t you play some songs tomorrow night for the dinner folk? I’ll bet they’d love to hear it. We don’t have performers coming by here very often.”
“Ain’t never nobody come and perform for us,” said William.
Liz looked at Keeno. “Do it,” she said.
Keeno looked at Mark.
“Why not?” said Mark. “Sure. We’d be glad to.”
13
A Heated Discussion
The weather turned a
little cooler on Thursday, and the men and women waiting in a long line to get inside People Care weren’t as irritable as they’d been the day before.
Two of the volunteers who had started out the week failed to show, but we were surprised when Justin Collier walked in.
“Justin!” I said, looking past him to see if Jill was trailing behind, because they’re usually joined at the hip. He was alone.
“I’ve had to work the last three nights, but I’ve got the rest of the week free,” he said. “What can I do?”
“You chose the right day to come,” Mrs. Gladys said. “I’ve got some coolers on the floor of the kitchen that need lifting up to the counter. And then, if you could help William with the chairs …”
For a guy who lives in a big house in Kensington, whose family has made millions in real estate, Justin comes off as a regular Joe. A regular handsome Joe. Both Mavis and Shelley looked for ways to work on whatever job he was doing.
“Jill coming?” Liz ventured.
“I don’t think so. I told her this would be my substitute for working out at the gym.” He grinned.
Mark and Keeno—dressed, of course—arrived just after the first group had started to eat. There was no saw case on the floor this time, open for tips. Some of the diners watched disinterestedly as Mark connected the boom box to an amplifier and put in the CD of piano music, and Keeno got out his saw and bow. Others hunched over their soup, eyes on the bread and crackers, and didn’t watch the activity at all. But a few put down their spoons and stared.
One man, with stubby, gnarled fingers, came over to Keeno and examined the saw. “Whatcha going to do with that thing?” he asked. “That ain’t no regular saw. Too long and the teeth are too straight. Supposed to be one pointing thisaway, the next pointing thataway.”
Keeno just winked at him. “It’s not a regular saw. You’ll see.”
Mrs. Gladys came over too. “How would you like me to introduce you?” she asked.
“No introduction,” Keeno said. “We’ll just play.”
This time Keeno sat on a folding chair to perform. When Mark started the recorded piano music to “Ramblin’ Man” and joined in on the harmonica, William, who was keeping order at the door, called out, “You go, boy! Hit it!’
The people at the tables looked on in surprise at the sight of a violin bow sliding skillfully over the straight edge of the saw, tilting this way and that. Smiles spread across some of the faces, puzzlement over others. One man tapped his foot loudly on the floor.
When the first song was over, William and the volunteers clapped loudly, and so did some of the diners. Mrs. Gladys stepped out of the kitchen.
“Friends, we have a special treat for you this evening. These young men came by to play some music for you. You know the harmonica, of course, but I wonder if any of you have seen a musical saw… .”
“My grandfather played the saw,” one man called out.
And another said, “Used to myself, till my fingers stiffed up.”
“Well, I hope all of you enjoy the music,” Mrs. Gladys said.
Keeno, it turned out, had quite a repertoire, mostly old songs I’d never heard. But when he played “My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean,” a really old number, several people joined in the chorus:
Bring back, bring back,
Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me, to me… .
The problem was that what began as an orderly line along the sidewalk outside became a crowd at the door, all trying to see over each other’s heads, waiting to come in.
“They’re just dawdling with their food now,” Mrs. Gladys observed, watching from the kitchen doorway. “No one wants to leave. I’ve got to make an announcement.”
And after a quick consultation with Keeno and Mark, she said, “We have another crowd to serve, ladies and gentlemen, so I hope that you will finish your meal and let us clean the tables after this next number, ‘Amazing Grace.’”
This time we had at least a third of the room singing along. It was a terrific evening, especially when the second group came in and turned expectantly in their chairs, not toward the servers, but toward Mark and Keeno.
Afterward, when the pots and pans were washed and put away, the kitchen scrubbed, the folding chairs wiped down, and the kitchen closed down for the night, we volunteers took our paper cups of coffee and slices of cold bread pudding out back where we could cool off.
“Did you notice the man in the green flannel shirt?” I asked the others.
“Far table? Second seating?” asked Gwen.
“Yes. When Keeno began to play and everyone turned to watch, this man started taking rolls off the other plates as fast as he could go. I had to stop him.”
Everyone laughed.
“The guy in the bright orange shirt? I don’t think he stopped tapping his foot once,” said Mark.
“We’ll only be here for three more nights. It’d be nice if you guys could play for all three,” I said. “You’d wow ’em.”
“You know what?” Shelley said to Keeno. “Looking at the faces in there and the way you lifted their spirits, I couldn’t help but think that this was meant to be.”
“Aw, shucks!” said Keeno, a sappy look on his face, and we laughed.
Shelley smiled too. “I mean it! You guys could have been off playing golf this week. We all could have been at the beach. Instead, each of us was drawn to this soup kitchen, and somebody was pulling the strings so that Keeno and Mark showed up here.”
“It’s called ‘tanking,’ Shelley,” Keeno told her. “We tanked at the Metro stops and had nowhere else to go.”
Shelley shook her head. “And you don’t see God’s hand in this? If you ‘tanked,’ maybe you tanked for a reason.”
“Just like God’s hand was behind that hurricane in New Orleans and the tsunami in Indonesia?” said Mavis, and her eyes looked angry.
“What?” said Pamela. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Shelley believes that God is behind everything that happens, good or bad,” Mavis explained. “I decided years ago that if I’ve got a mind, I’m going to use it, and the only sane conclusion I can come to is that we are on this Earth by chance, and if this is the only chance we’ve got, we’d better make it count.”
“But why do you choose to do good?” Shelley argued. “Why not choose to be the most powerful, like animals do? Survival of the fittest?”
“Not everyone does choose to do good,” said Mavis. “I figure my choices come from family and environment. But you can’t go attributing everything that happens—good or bad—to God. That’s a cop-out.”
“God doesn’t make bad things happen, he lets them happen because a lot of them are our own fault,” Shelley said hastily.
“Tornadoes and hurricanes are our own fault?” I asked, astonished. I began to wish I were taking notes. If the subject ignited so much feeling here, maybe it was a topic we could explore in The Edge.
“Some things He causes and some things He just lets happen?” asked Mark, studying Shelley, his legs dangling off the wall. “He just sits up there and lets that mother drown her four daughters, one by one? Lets that man kill his wife?”
Justin was looking from one of us to the other.
“Here’s the way our minister explained it,” said Shelley. “He brought a tapestry once to church—something his wife was working on. On one side of the cloth was a lighthouse against a rocky shore. It was all so clean and neat, you could see the whitecaps on the waves. But when he turned it over and showed us the other side, all you could make out were knots and loose threads that seemed to go nowhere. Nothing made sense. You had no idea that there was a lighthouse on the other side. And that’s the way life is. From where we sit, all we can see are the knots and tangles and threads that seem to go nowhere. But from where God sits, everything is where it should be according to His plan.”
We sat for a few moments thinking that over. It was a good analogy, I’ll give her that.
“Look, Shelley, yo
u can prove almost anything by saying we can’t understand it now, but it’s God’s plan,” said Austin. “If something good happens, it’s God. If something bad happens, well, it’s part of His mysterious plan. Crap! You win no matter what. I could claim there’s a great horned toad controlling the universe, and no one can disprove it.”
“You’re a nonbeliever too, then?” Shelley asked in a small voice.
“Maybe I believe in a God who created a world and then washed His hands of it,” said Austin. “But whatever, I’m the one who decides what religion is right for me.”
“You can’t just pick and choose a religion like you’re buying a pair of shoes! Scholars have been studying biblical history for centuries!” said Shelley.
“And they’ve been studying the teachings of Buddha even longer,” said Danny. “What makes you think Christianity is the one true way to go?”
“Because I know!” Shelley said. “I feel it! I live it! It’s my faith, my life!”
“And if someone else feels the same way about his religion?” Danny asked. “A Jew? A Muslim? A Hindu?”
Shelley shook her head.
There was a commotion somewhere down the alley, and we could hear two men shouting at each other. Three, maybe.
“You braggin’, thievin’ son of a bitch!”
“You’re full of it, brother.”
“Uh-oh,” said Liz. “Maybe this isn’t a great place to be after dark.”
The yelling continued. “You took my damn tarp!”
A third man’s voice: “Just take it back, Eddie, and let’s go.”
“Like he was takin’ rolls there at the table. You seen that, didn’t you? Wasn’t the first time he done that.”
“Someone from here?” I asked the others.
A yell. “Get your hands off me!”
“C’mon, Eddie …”
A cry of pain. A scream.
Austin and Keeno were on their feet.
“Don’t go down there!” Pamela said as Mark jumped up too. “They could have knives!”
Intensely Alice Page 11
