Works and Days

 The Works of Our Hands

4

Thom Lewis’s face crumpled as he sat watching the news and he whined, “Patti, I swear that’s the last time I pose for your crazy father! I’m all over the place!”

“Shush, Thom,” Patti came to the couch. “This is my favorite part of the interview.”

“We spoke with the muse, Thomas Lewis, just yesterday....” Holly Gerrings was saying.

“Oh, God,” Thom moaned. “Patti can’t we change channels?”

“No.” Patti put her hand over Thom’s which was over the remote control.

Thom heard himself . “Uh, I, ah. It was done on Christmas Day. I wasn’t naked for it.... I swear... Is it coming down from City Hall anytime soon—?”

Then there was a cut to an aggrieved woman in a scarf yelling in front of the courthouse on Main Street.

“It’s a disgrace. It’s an outright disgrace that they’ve put that up....”

“I agree,” Thom said in his living room.

“And Thom Lewis is responsible for the corrupting of the youth of this city. If he were here right now—”

“Don’t make me beat you, woman,” Patti said to the television, putting a hand on her husband’s head as the doorbell rang, and then it flew open and Kathleen waltzed in.

“Dawlings!” she cried, then, “Russell!”

Russell, guitar in hand, came down the stairs. Kathleen said, “Family. Wonderful news. For the second time in a month a Lewis is going to be famous in Lothrop County.”

Russell guessed, “Dad’s a centerfold now—?”

“Young man!” Thom warned.

Russell, indifferent, twanged a guitar string.

“No. Mason Devalara and I talked, and the Geschichte Falls Art Council is going to be putting on Kathleen Lewis’s One Woman Show.”

“Really, Grandma!”

“It’s called, Russell,” Kathleen put a hand on her grandson’s shoulder, “A Night of Kate!”

“Good God,” Thom murmured.

“You’ve had your moment in the sun, Thomas—”

“Is that what you call it—?”

“Why shouldn’t I have mine?”

“Oh, dear,” Patti, started.

“I thought we’d been through this already, Patricia,” Kathleen said crisply. “It’ll be a good show.”

“Not that, Kathleen,” said Patricia, “On T.V. I just saw the Evervirgin’s been stolen—Russell? Russell! Why are you laughing? Russell Fennian Lewis, get up off the floor this minute. I mean it!”

 

Since Russell had been acting weird for the last few days, on Wednesday evening, after Russell had run off to Chayne’s, Thom finally said, “That’s it, this whole family’s crazy!”

“I agree,” said Patti.

“I’m gonna find out what that boy’s up to.”

“Up to?”

“I smell something rotten in the state of Denmark.”

“That’s a shame, Hon, but we’re in the state of Michigan.”

“Don’t you care?” Thom threw the paper down.

“No,” Patti said, “I’m used to the weirdness.”

Thom, not willing to endure the weirdness, got up, left the house, hopped into the station wagon, and headed for 1421 Curtain Street.

The hearse was not out front, but the lights were on, and Thom saw Diggs’ car.

“They’re in the alley!” Thom guessed, parked across from Chayne’s house and headed in that direction.

 

“Alright,” Chayne was saying, as he and Mickey grunted, lifting up the Evervirgin, “it’s time to get this thing out of my hearse and into a safe hiding place.”

“What if the police come looking for it?”

“Why would they look for it here, man?” Mickey said impatiently.

There was still some daylight left, and Mickey directed, “Ted, shield us. Diggs open up the backyard door so we can take this into the house.”

“How long are we gonna keep this thing, anyway?” Diggs asked.

“Just a couple of—”

“AH HA!”

Chayne and Mickey jumped ten feet in the air and came back in time to catch air while hearing a violent crash. Neither bothered to look down, but instead Chayne turned to see Thom Lewis, whose mouth was open and whose face was now stark white in the dying light of day.

Thom had been about to say, “Caught you!”

Now, he wasn’t sure what he’d caught them at, but he had a feeling he’d ruined it.

“Oh my God. Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Ted was murmuring as Thom approached, looking between Mickey and Chayne.

“Oh, my God!”

Chayne was shaking his head.

Diggs said flatly, “You broke the Evervirgin.”

“What are we going to do?” Ted wondered.

“We?” Diggs started.

“Well,” Chayne assessed, finally daring to look down at the remnants of the statue. “This is about four or five centuries in purgatory for each of us—except for Mickey and Edmund. Protestants just go to hell.”

“You guys,” Thom’s voice was weak, “stole the Evervirgin?”

“We thought it would be a funny joke,” Chayne said in a voice that was not at all humorous.

“Shouldn’t we...” Russell, the youngest of them spoke, “pick up the pieces?”

“Yeah,” said Chayne then, regaining himself, “yes. Yes we should! Mickey, please go into the basement and get a box while I get the major pieces.”

Thom just kept on murmuring, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

Exasperated, Chayne shook his head and said, “Thom, shut the fuck up.”

 

They carried the pieces of the Evervirgin to Chayne Kanzierski’s basement, to the cupboard at the bottom of the stairs, then, in silence, they returned to the kitchen.

“Hey Hey, people!” Nicky Ballantine hooted coming into the house.

“Nicky,” said Chayne.

“Let me get a look at her. Where is she?”

“Down in the basement.”

“Cool!” said Nicky, “This is so cool!”

Nicky ran down the stairs, then they heard a strangled cry and the boy came back up, white faced.

“We’re going to hell!” he cried.

“Well,” Russell said, turning to his father placidly. “This is as good a time to tell you as any: I’ve decided to get Confirmed.”

 

As Chayne rang the doorbell to the parish house, Russell asked, “Should we tell them about the statue?”

Pressing a smile onto his face, Chayne answered, “Don’t be ridiculous,” and Father Robert answered the door.

“Father Heinz,” Chayne greeted him.

“Bobby, remember?”

“Um... yeah.”

“Come in,” Robert Heinz gestured for them to enter. “Come in.”

“Russell, your aunt,” Robert Heinz went on, “is a Godsend,”

“Where is the old girl?” Chayne asked.

“I think she’s with Geoff—”

“And how do you feel about a hollandaise sauce on that?” Denise was asking as she pursued the other priest down the stairs.

“Sounds good,” Geoff was saying.

“And a marmalade glaze for the chicken? My husband used to love my marmalade glaze—hello, Russell. Chayne!”

“Chayne!” Geoff saw the man in the center of his living room. “Denise was just going over tonight’s menu—”

“The hollandaise sounds good?”

“Yes, Denise.”

“With what?” Robert Heinz inquired.

Denise Mc.Larchlahn smiled and answered: “Spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti? I dunno—”

“Just say yes,” Geoff hissed. “Chayne! Russell, can I help you guys?”

“Yes, uh, how long does it take to Confirm someone?”

“You haven’t been Confirmed, Chayne?” started Robert Heinz, and Chayne scowled at the young priest.

“I haven’t been Confirmed,” Russell told them.

“Well,” Geoff looked puzzled, “the process can take a year. Sometimes—like with the eighth graders, it’s nine months, and then at the end of the school year they get Confirmed. Or it can happen at the Easter Vigil. You know that, Chayne.”

“Can it happen for Russell by the Easter Vigil?” Chayne demanded.

“You wanna get Confirmed, Russell?”

“That’s exactly what the fuck he just said.”

Robert Heinz, not yet used to Chayne, blinked, but Geoff Ford didn’t even notice.

“I’ll be his sponsor again,” Chayne said. “He knows more now than most kids—or grownups—know when they come into the Church, so why not just get this thing done?”

“Because, Chayne,” now Robert Heinz, having regained his composure, spoke “that’s just not the way things are done. And speaking of the way things are done, I have this idea for a song the choir is going to—”

“That,’’ Chayne said, “is certainly not the way things are done. Come on, Geoff. If you all say no, I’ll just find a priest who will.”

“Like who?”

“I bet Father Branch, or any one of the priests at Evervirgin wouldn’t think of the implic—”

“You wouldn’t!” Geoff hised.

“Come, Russell,” Chayne said, preparing to leave.

Robert Heinz, who did not fully understand the depth of the rivalry with Evervirgin, said:

“Speaking of Evervirgin, I was talking to Father Walsh and Father Barnard from over there, and they were lamenting the loss of the statue. Dreadful shame.”

At the word statue, Russell felt the bottom of his stomach freeze. He wondered if Chayne felt the same thing too.

“Did you know?” Father Robert asked innocently, “that their little old Mary wasn’t even insured, which is a shame, because it’s worth about a million dollars. Maybe more.”

Russell picked his jaw up quickly. He looked toward Chayne, who smiled, blinked and said, “Isn’t that just a shame?”

Thank God for the Kandzierski poker face.