A Vagrant Story (39 page)

“Damn … I’d almost forgotten the gun-man. Rat bastard. You know, I even felt sorry for the guy. How long did he get?”

“Ten years - served one. He’s out now and lives quite the lifestyle. Nowadays he has his own army of youths doing the hold ups for him. Maybe you’ve heard of him before. His name is Jack Matters.”

Rum’s eye twitched for the familiar name. “Jack Matters? Yeah, I think I’ve heard of him.”

“Are you … familiar with that scene then?”

“Not even close. I don’t know how we do it but me and my group always managed to stay away from gangs - tough as it is sometimes. Not to say we haven’t had our run-ins with crime.”

“On the receiving end, I imagine.”

Rum grinned in response.

“Have you had such encounters with Jack Matters since?” the priest asked.

“Indirectly. We’ve visited his bar and scuffled with some of his goons. Then there was that fire too – see, when we first decided to set out on this fascicle adventure we came across this burning building. Two of my friends went in to help someone escape. All three wound up in hospital. As I understand it Mr. Matters has a reputation for setting rival property on fire.”

“That’s true … rival meaning anyone who makes money. Whatever doesn’t sell out gets burned down. It’s one of those public secrets. Everyone knows except the police. In reality he’s a coward, and a stupid one at that. He’s going out of his way to draw so much attention to his name, inevitably it’ll be his downfall.”

“Yeah, he seems to be quite the vocal one that. It’s a sure sign of a small time amateur. If a man wants to think big, he has to hide in the dark and sort out the pieces from off stage. Anything else is suicide.”  

“You don’t sound in any way surprised. Doesn’t it surprise you to know how you and he are connected?”

“One week ago I didn’t know there was a Jack Matters. One hour ago I didn’t know the gunman’s name. One year from now no one will ever have to hear his name again. It doesn’t matter what connection he has to me. Either way he’s a murdering bastard with a bull’s eye on his head.”

“You don’t wish he finds his own redemption? Some people seem to think God has a plan for all of us.”

“Good luck to him. Good riddance too. I hope he finds a place on God’s twisted plan train.”

“There’s always a reason. Jack Matters, no matter his life choice, still has purpose to him. In time I’ve even come to see the death of my baby brother and mother as more than coincidence. Same goes for your coming here today.”

“If this is all a plan I don‘t see it working to well.”

“People rarely do. It’s not about seeing it. It’s about looking back at it when everything is done and finished. Your life now in this instant is like one square on a huge mosaic. Finish it, then try looking at the big picture.”

“And this is your big picture – become a priest? That’s it? No offence intended, padre.”

“Well, it’s important to remember that your completed mural is but one section on the wall of life. It’s all one enormous canvas with some murals intersecting and others staying on their own. Some cross each other in ways we’re never even meant to see. The beauty of it is that we lay every piece ourselves. God will do little but guide our hands. Inevitably, it is we who decide whether we intersect or whether we stay alone.”

“That’s some speech but it doesn’t answer my question.”

“That was my answer. Since I became a priest that is how I view the world. It helps me cope, you could say. My closeness to God allows me to stand back and become more familiar with the canvas we call life.”

“So you understand God’s plan for us all then?”

“No. I’m more like a guide at an art gallery helping tourists understand the meaning behind their own pictures. Some people listen. Some people wander off on their own.”

“But four people died in my picture … that’s a lot of red paint.”   

“Three people, actually. Not that I’m any happier to tell you.”

“Three people?”

“I’d feel bad for your miscalculation, if you hadn’t disappeared quickly after the incident.”

“Yes … father,” Rum paused to absorb the repeated scolding. “So … who survived?”

“Leon. You remember Leon?”

“Leon … yeah sure. I remember. He was that scrawny little four eyed clerk who couldn’t stand up for himself - actually reminds me of a friend of mine. How the hell did that wimp take a bullet?”

“He didn’t. He fainted when the gun fired. They revived him in hospital later that night.”

“You’ve really done your research on the whole thing. I mean, you even knew what happened to the gun-man.”

“I told you. I was obsessed. I know what happened to everyone involved that day, everyone from the police who arrived first to the paramedics who left last. I made it my business to know … but to be honest I never did pay much attention to Leon. I just sort of glossed over him during my investigations, I guess.”

“At least the mistake’s not so rare,” Rum said with a guilty shrug. “But … how did you find all this out then?”

“He came to me. Shortly after I became a priest in this church he showed up here to commemorate the event. This was the church she would take us to, you see. Like myself, he arrived at this place in honour of her memory. It was a grand coincidence.”

“Of intersecting mosaics.”

“One’s which crossed right under this altar. We each stood there aside one another, each miserable with our heads bowed, until we looked at one another … then nodded greeting. In light of the bigger picture I now see that nod as a subtle gesture from God to reward my faith.”

“And what about Leon’s fate?”

“That was the topic of the hour. We got to talking, of course. It turned out Leon hadn’t faired so well since that day – he had horrible, horrible luck which isn’t in my place to divulge. So we talked anyway. He came back almost daily and we talked more and more until he eventually became part of my congregation. And then, eventually, we began to talk about missionary work. Leon saw it as his calling and accepted the offer with open arms. Who was I to disagree with a man’s calling?”

“And he just dropped everything and ran off?”

“Yes … to Africa. He did leave a younger brother behind but he was at that age by then – too old to be held, too old to hang on”

“Leon found his calling through you. Intersecting mosaics … I think I see what you mean. I understand now.”

“We never really understand – not really. We never understand the picture. We can only understand ourselves … where we stand and who we really are - not the cloak we put on show for others.”

“Who I really am? Where do I stand? Are these things yet to be revealed, or has my doorway closed for good?”

“It opens when you decide.”

“Father!” Rum bolted to his feet. “I’ve enjoyed our time together.”

“Pity, I can’t say it was all too entertaining for me.”

“Sorry doc, bad word choice,” Rum said with a nod. “I don’t mean to run off but…”

“You have your friends waiting for you. I understand. Perhaps you, like Leon before, would return some day.”

“So I can join your congregation too?”

“It is quite small.”

“Sorry father. Not even sure I buy this whole God thing to be honest … sorry.”

“Then perhaps … I might give you this instead…”

Rum held out his hand to receive what he knew would come. He took the small pocket bible and tucked it safely to his deep trench coat pocket.

“I’ll read it if I find time.”

“You’re lying. You’re a bum. You have nothing but time.”

“True that. So … maybe next time we can talk outside in the real world? Man to man – you know?”

“Sure, we’ll grab a burger somewhere. Bathe first.”

“Only if you lay off the philosophical ramblings.”

“It comes with the position. Maybe the atmosphere of the local burger joint will ease my edge a little.”

“Make sure to pick one I don’t already own.”

“Could you even tell?”

“Not really. That list got away from me a long time ago.”

Rum laughed wryly under breath, which the priest did in kind. It was when they finished and found themselves with nothing left to say, that Rum turned and made a hand gesture toward the exit. The priest nodded understanding and bid him last farewell.

It wasn’t quite that they ran out things to say, but more so the realisation of the gathering crowd building outside the confessional booth. A crowd of five or so elderly gathered, one old lady stared her watch down as though waiting for a bus which had never once come late.

With the old bum already making way back down the aisle, the priest couldn’t help but pass over the crowd and watch him make exit.

“You are a strange God,” he thought to himself, “all this time building one man’s faith and you end up testing mine. Intersecting mosaics … it had turned out to be a useful saying in the end. Those religious documentary sets I purchased finally paid off.”

The priest quickly blessed himself to prevent his blasphemous thoughts from polluting the air. He then picked up some air freshener to lessen the other more literal pollutant lingering about, and trailing that old bum out the door.

***

Immediately after descending the church steps, old Rum examined the pocket bible. The way it suddenly appeared in his hand he couldn’t help but feel like a tourist at the airport.

“A bible? Seriously?”

He shuffled the pages with passive interest then turned to the nearest passer by with renewed interest.

“Hey buddy!” Rum called to the blue suited man. “Here, take this. You’ll need it more than I do.”

“I don’t want it!” the blue suited man cried back, bible having been slammed into his hand.

“Yeah whatever. Go with Christ.”

“Fucking bums! They have you people on strings these days!” the man yelled again, but his target already got away. He shrugged for it then tucked the small book into shirt pocket as any man would for many of the brochures tossed in his face throughout the day.

***

Alex, Sierra and Henry waited at their restaurant of choice. The place didn’t make any effort presenting itself as the fanciest dive in town, or the finest tasting, but it was situated on the lower floor of the shopping centre with a clear view of the main entrance should Rum decide to stumble through at some point. Which, talk at the table suggested he would be doing.

“That’s it,” Sierra said, “he’s off getting drunk.”

“But he’s got no money,” Henry replied.

“What else could keep Rum this long?”

“You’ve got me there.”

“Maybe we should go look for him.”

“I don’t know. I’m sort of enjoying the … atmosphere here,” Henry replied, inclining her attention toward a television set up on the wall. “I don’t get to see TV much these days. I’m hoping they show some anime. That would be great.”

Sierra sighed. “Can’t see them doing that, this place looks geared more toward adults. Christ, Henry, you’re such a nerd.”

Henry laughed. “Guilty.”

“Doesn’t look like you’d have much hope anyway. Everyone’s glued to the news.”

The television had been placed for customer benefit but currently much of the staff dropped their duties to gather around its ever enticing screen. It looked like a news report. Whatever it was or whatever it said didn’t go far into the attentive vision of the bums.

Sierra lay back in her seat and rested her eyes. “It’s just the news. Who gives a fuck?”

“Looks like it could be interesting,” Henry replied.

“None of our business.”

“Looks like a local report.”

“How do you figure?”

“People are paying attention. It’s either really big news or small enough for this city.”

“No reason it should keep us. Terrorists won’t ruin my day.”

“I’d still just like to watch it for a while.”

Sierra sighed. “This is stupid. Maybe we should just vote on what we should be doing? Alex, you on for tracking Rum down or watching the news?”

Alex didn’t reply. He sat staring into his coffee, idly stirring it over and over again. He hunched over a table like a man nights without sleep.

“Alex?” Sierra asked, leaning his direction. “What are you doing?”

“Watching…” he replied.

“Watching?”

“Watching … telly.” He continued stirring and staring into his coffee.

Sierra fell away slowly with certain weariness. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Both Sierra and Henry looked at one another quite perplexed but all too familiar with Alex and his attitudes. They let it pass and sipped drinks in silence. Another hour, they’d give Rum.

Of course time wouldn’t pass in peace. Loud but distant police sirens rang forebodingly onto their ears. Their tires screeched round corners and drove on faster yet again.

Triumphant yells came from those in the restaurant who gazed fixedly at the news report.

“Can you believe it!?” one yelled.