hirt yells at James Stewart to stop
talking Donna Reed to death and just kiss her. I couldn't agree more, but he
doesn't. Instead he steps on her robe and she walks obliviously out of it, and the
next thing you know she's hiding naked in a large hydrangea bush.
A commercial for Pizza Hut comes on and Alicia turns off the sound. "Um,
Clare?"
"Yeah?"
"Has Henry ever been here before?"
Uh-oh. "No, I don't think so, why?"
She shifts uneasily and looks away for a second. "You're gonna think I'm
nuts."
"What?"
"See, I had this weird thing happen. A long time ago...I was, like, about
twelve, and I was supposed to be practicing, but then I remembered that I didn't
have a clean shirt for this audition or something, and Etta and everybody were
out someplace and Mark was supposed to be baby-sitting but he was in his room
doing bongs or whatever.... Anyway, so I went downstairs, to the laundry room,
and I was looking for my shirt, and I heard this noise, you know, like the door at
the south end of the basement, the one that goes into the room with all the
bicycles, that sort of whoosh noise? So I thought it was Peter, right? So I was
standing in the door of the laundry room, sort of listening, and the door to the
bicycle room opens and Clare, you won't believe this, it was this totally naked
guy who looked just like Henry."
When I start laughing it sounds fake. "Oh, come on."
Alicia grins. "See, I knew you would think it was nuts. But I swear, it really
happened. So this guy just looks a little surprised, you know, I mean I'm
standing there with my mouth hanging open and wondering if this naked guy is
going to, you know, rape me or kill me or something, and he just looks at me and
goes, 'Oh, hi, Alicia,' and walks into the Reading Room and shuts the door."
"Huh?"
"So I run upstairs, and I'm banging on Mark's door and he's telling me to buzz
off, and so finally I get him to open the door and he's so stoned that it takes a
while before he gets what I'm talking about and then, of course, he doesn't
believe me but finally I get him to come downstairs and he knocks on the
Reading Room door and we are both really scared, it's like Nancy Drew, you
know, where you're thinking, 'Those girls are really dumb, they should just call
the police,' but nothing happens, and then Mark opens the door and there's
nobody there, and he is mad at me, for, like, making it up, but then we think the
man went upstairs, so we both go and sit in the kitchen next to the phone with
Nell's big carving knife on the counter."
"How come you never told me about this?"
"Well, by the time you all got home I felt kind of stupid, and I knew that
Daddy especially would think it was a big deal, and nothing really happened..
.but it wasn't funny, either, and I didn't feel like talking about it." Alicia laughs.
"I asked Grandma once if there were any ghosts in the house, but she said there
weren't any she knew of."
"And this guy, or ghost, looked like Henry?"
"Yeah! I swear, Clare, I almost died when you guys came in and I saw him, I
mean, he's the guy! Even his voice is the same. Well, the one I saw in the
basement had shorter hair, and he was older, maybe around forty..."
"But if that guy was forty, and it was five years ago-Henry is only
twenty-eight, so he would have been twenty-three then, Alicia."
"Oh. Huh. But Clare, it's too weird-does he have a brother?"
"No. His dad doesn't look much like him."
"Maybe it was, you know, astral projection or something."
"Time travel," I offer, smiling.
"Oh, yeah, right. God, how bizarre." The TV screen is dark for a moment, then
we are back with Donna in her hydrangea bush and Jimmy Stewart walking
around it with her bathrobe draped over one arm. He's teasing her, telling her
he's going to sell tickets to see her. The cad, I think, even as I blush remembering
worse things I've said and done to Henry vis a vis the issue of
clothing/nakedness. But then a car rolls up and Jimmy Stewart throws Donna her
bathrobe. "Your father's had a stroke!" says someone in the car, and off he goes
with hardly a backward glance, as Donna Reed stands bereft in her foliage. My
eyes tear up. "Jeez, Clare, it's okay, he'll be back," Alicia reminds me. I smile, and
we settle in to watch Mr. Potter taunting poor Jimmy Stewart into giving up
college and running a doomed savings and loan. "Bastard," Alicia says.
"Bastard," I agree.
Henry: As we walk out of the cold night air into the warmth and light of the
church my guts are churning. I've never been to a Catholic Mass. The last time I
attended any sort of religious service was my mom's funeral. I am holding on to
Clare's arm like a blind man as she leads us up the central aisle, and we file into
an empty pew. Clare and her family kneel on the cushioned kneelers and I sit, as
Clare has told me to. We are early. Alicia has disappeared, and Nell is sitting
behind us with her husband and their son, who is on leave from the Navy. Dulcie
sits with a contemporary of hers. Clare, Mark, Sharon, and Philip kneel side by
side in varying attitudes: Clare is self-conscious, Mark perfunctory, Sharon calm
and absorbed, Philip exhausted. The church is full of poinsettias. It smells like
wax and wet coats. There's an elaborate stable scene with Mary and Joseph and
their entourage to the right of the altar. People are filing in, choosing seats,
greeting each other. Clare slides onto the seat next to me, and Mark and Philip
follow suit; Sharon remains on her knees for a few more minutes and then we are
all sitting quietly in a row, waiting. A man in a suit walks onto the stage-altar,
whatever-and tests the microphones that are attached to the little reading stands,
then disappears into the back again. There are many more people now, it's
crowded. Alicia and two other women and a man appear stage left, carrying their
instruments. The blond woman is a violinist and the mousy brown-haired
woman is the viola player; the man, who is so elderly that he stoops and shuffles,
is another violinist. They are all wearing black. They sit in their folding chairs,
turn on the lights over their music stands, rattle their sheet music, plink at
various strings, and look at each other, for consensus. People are suddenly quiet
and into this quiet comes a long, slow, low note that fills the space, that connects
to no known piece of music but simply exists, sustains. Alicia is bowing as
slowly as it is possible for a human to bow, and the sound she is producing
seems to emerge from nowhere, seems to originate between my ears, resonates
through my skull like fingers stroking my brain. Then she stops. The silence that
follows is brief but absolute. Then all four musicians surge into action. After the
simplicity of that single note their music is dissonant, modern and jarring and I
think Bartok? but then I resolve what I am hearing and realize that they are
playing Silent Night. I can't figure out why it sounds so weird until I see the blond
violinist kick Alicia's chair and after a beat the piece comes into focus. Clare
glances over at me and smiles. Everyone in the church relaxes. Silent Night gives
way to a hymn I don't recognize. Everyone stands. They turn toward the back of
the church, and the priest walks up the central aisle with a large retinue of small
boys and a few men in suits. They solemnly march to the front of the church and
take up their positions. The music abruptly stops. Oh, no, I think, what now?
Clare takes my hand, and we stand together, in the crowd, and if there is a God,
then God, let me just stand here quietly and inconspicuously, here and now, here
and now.
Clare: Henry looks as though he's about to pass out. Dear God, please don't let
him disappear now. Father Compton is welcoming us in his radio announcer
voice. I reach into Henry's coat pocket, push my fingers through the hole at the
bottom, find his cock, and squeeze. He jumps as though I've administered an
electric shock. "The Lord be with you," says Father Compton. "And also with
you," we all reply serenely. The same, everything the same. And yet, here we are,
at last, for anyone to see. I can feel Helen's eyes boring into my back. Ruth is
sitting five rows behind us, with her brother and parents. Nancy, Laura, Mary
Christina, Patty, Dave, and Chris, and even Jason Everleigh; it seems like
everyone I went to school with is here tonight. I look over at Henry, who is
oblivious to all this. He is sweating. He glances at me, raises one eyebrow. The
Mass proceeds. The readings, the Kyrie, Peace be with you: and also with you. We all
stand for the gospel, Luke, Chapter 2. Everyone in the Roman Empire, traveling
to their home towns, to be taxed, Joseph and Mary, great with child, the birth,
miraculous, humble. The swaddling clothes, the manger. The logic of it has
always escaped me, but the beauty of the thing is undeniable. The shepherds,
abiding in the field. The angel: Fear not: for, behold,
I bring you good tidings of great joy...Henry is jiggling his leg in a very distracting
way. He has his eyes closed and he is biting his lip. Multitudes of angels. Father
Compton intones, " But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart"
"Amen," we say, and sit down for the sermon. Henry leans over and whispers,
"Where is the restroom?"
"Through that door," I tell him, pointing at the door Alicia and Frank and the
others came in through. "How do I get there?"
"Walk to the back of the church and then down the side aisle."
"If I don't come back-"
"You have to come back." As Father Compton says, "On this most joyous of
nights..." Henry stands and walks quickly away. Father's eyes follow him as he
walks back and over and up to the door. I watch as he slips out the door and it
swings shut behind him.
Henry: I'm standing in what appears to be the hallway of an elementary school.
Don't panic, I repeat to myself. No one can see yo