The Best People in the World (15 page)

“Don't be such a martyr,” said Alice.

 

Everything was a different color green. The grass. The leaves. The bark of the trees was a kind of green. The water of the lake was a green reflection. The green glow on our faces. The greening shadows.

And then we arrived.

A garland of white flowers, the long, wilted stems plaited, were draped over the mailbox. A dozen adults used a parachute to toss a child into the air. They stood in a circle; every time the child landed, they leaned back and launched the tiny body heavenward. We got out of the car. The projectile wore underpants and nothing else. Maybe she was four. Every time they shot her up, she released a breathless scream.

The three of us stood, conspicuous for the distance we maintained between ourselves and this spectacle. A huge pair of arms reached from behind to lasso us together.

“Hello. It is Gregor.”

The group stopped firing the girl into the sky. She ran at Gregor, who set us free in order to snatch up the girl. He handed her to Alice.

“Sonya,” he said, “is the next generation.”

The girl hid her face in Alice's hair.

“Who's the shy one?” cooed Alice; her mincing fingers reduced the girl to jelly.

Shiloh said, “A kid would be lucky to be raised in a place like this. She doesn't have to wonder if she's appreciated.”

“This makes me happy that you have come.” It could embarrass you, the way Gregor had of pronouncing his thoughts. “I don't think you are eating well. Make sure Katie feeds you.”

We didn't know who Katie was.

“Katie is Sonya's mother,” said Shiloh.

“Who's your father?” Alice asked the girl.

But the girl didn't answer.

Gregor lifted the girl out of Alice's arms. He had business to
attend to, but he promised that we would talk to him later. We were to make ourselves at home. He and the girl disappeared into his house.

Despite Shiloh's insistence that we'd been invited, I felt like an intruder.

“Did I say something wrong?” asked Alice.

Shiloh made an ambiguous gesture. Forget about it.

Magdalena came out of the house and made a beeline for us.

We each received a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I'd never had anyone do that to me before. I felt clumsy and dull.

“So you have done well, I think. You have a place you are staying.”

“For the meantime,” said Alice.

“She means we're squatting,” said Shiloh.

“I know Gregor wants to help you find something more permanent. He loves all of you.”

“Where's Gregor from?” Alice asked.

“Utah.”

Shiloh nodded. More cars arrived and pickup trucks and camper vans. It was as if there was going to be a concert.

“But the accent?” Alice asked.

“English isn't his first language. His parents are missionaries. He was born in Chile. Actually, English was his fourth language.”

“He speaks four languages?” I asked.

“He speaks seven, including two types of Chinese.”

“Is everyone here tonight”—Alice searched for a word—“associated?”

“What a great word,” said Magdalena. “Gregor is such an amazing judge of people. But, I mean, I don't know. Do you feel associated?”

Alice waved her hands as if to ward off a piece of cake.

“He is very special. He recognized how churches traditionally bring people to God and he devised a way to bring God to people. It's very revolutionary. I mean, he's made enemies.”

“That will happen,” said Shiloh.

“What sorts of enemies?” asked Alice.

“It's not really my place to say. I know Gregor looks forward to talking with you.”

Two men came by carrying a long steel spit that was skewered through a whole pig. The animal had been cooked already and fat dripped off its shiny skin. Magdalena excused herself, then went trailing after the men.

We watched partygoers hug and kiss. With their short-sleeved shirts and their battered boots, the men seemed to have agreed to a uniform. And except for the little girl, everyone was older than me. We spotted four women sitting at a picnic table shucking peas; they wore peasant skirts and mood rings and one of the women had a fanciful design, like a tropical bird, that emerged from the corner of her eye, and each was so imminently pregnant that, seen together, it took on the aspect of spectacle.

Shiloh scraped his feet on the ground. He announced he was going to take a walk around. It wasn't an invitation. He wandered off.

People started to bring food out and set it on a few picnic tables. Alice and I got in line.

We piled our plates with fried chicken, lamb kebabs, curried rice, and pickled beans. There were punch bowls of lemonade and simmering teapots. Cider flowed from a spigot in a wooden cask. Alice and I found a place to sit by the edge of the pond. An older couple took up a place next to us.

“You have to wait,” the woman informed us, a plain woman with unmanageable brown hair and a receding chin. She pointed her fork at the food to explain herself. The guy she was with leaned forward to give us a sympathetic smile.

“You live here?” I asked.

“We're sharing a place,” the man answered, “until we can increase the family.”

“Congratulations,” said Alice. It was the perfect thing to say.

They introduced themselves. They were Pam and Don Fowler from Cleveland.

“We've just moved up here,” Alice said.

“You're going to love it,” Don assured us.

Alice asked how long they'd been here.

“May,” Pam said.

“This spring,” said Don.

We explained that we'd never been to one of these things before.

“You'll catch on quick,” Pam promised; her smile displayed a perfect set of teeth.

“You have fantastic teeth,” I said.

She clucked her tongue and spit them into her hand.

“I used to drink,” Don said. “That's my cross to bear.”

Pam pushed her teeth back into place.

There wasn't anything else for us to say. I searched and searched, but I didn't see Shiloh anywhere.

The crowd assumed an anxious silence. Alice tapped me on the shoulder.

In the center of the pond, a woman stalked about on the little island. Layers of colorful gauze, plum, mustard, pine, obscured all but her eyes. It appeared someone was putting on a play.

One of the pregnant women (it was impossible to differentiate one from another) walked to the edge of the water, then turned to face the audience: “We have all been stuck in the wilderness. Searching for answers and fellowship.”

Out on the island the woman moved about wildly.

The orator continued, “We have wandered through that desert called loneliness.”

On the island the costumed woman crawled on her knees like a legionnaire.

“Been pecked by those vultures that accompany failure.”

The actress swung her arms to ward off invisible attackers.

All around the woman this amazing thing was happening where yellow lights sparked just above the grass, as ephemeral as paper embers. I thought it was part of the show until it dawned on me: fireflies.

“Some of us even lost faith.”

Here the actress collapsed, as if her robes had been transmuted into stone.

“But in Jesus Christ we find strength to continue. To keep looking.” The pregnant woman wandered off, her part apparently through.

Sonya walked through the crowd with a hurricane lantern. She stopped just before the water.

The actress sat up. She rolled her neck, gazed at Sonya, and, as if in disbelief, turned away. She stood, brushed her clothes, and looked back at the little girl with the lamp. “Who are you?” the actress asked, her voice almost too soft to carry across the water.

“This light will guide you home,” said Sonya.

“Home? Do you know me?”

“I know you!” Sonya's voice pealed.

The actress unwound her veils.

“That's Sophie,” said Don.

“She used to be on television,” explained Pam.

Yards of gauze unrolled. I'd never seen a more beautiful person.

“Do you know me?” the actress asked again, directing the question at the rest of us.

“We know you,” we responded.

Down at the bottom of the valley came the sound of a car or a boat. Closer by, a cricket made a racket.

Gregor strode through the pond to the island. The water only came up to the base of his ribs. He plucked the woman up and carried her to shore. He set her on the ground, and man, woman, and child stood there, a tableau.

“What you have witnessed,” said the big man, “is a representation of the journey all of us have taken in order to reach this place. Maybe some of you are thinking that you've wound up at a pretty decent place. Well, I want you to consider that this place is not nearly as great as it would be to stand beside the Lord's throne in heaven. That's where I want this party to reconvene, in our due time, of course. The important thing to remember with a journey is that it's not where you start from but where you wind up that's important. If we could all join hands.” He paused to give us a chance to form a chain of souls. “Okay, people, can we bow our heads? Let's pray for this place on earth, for the safety of our friends. May our crops grow in abundance, and let us continue to receive the graces of our Lord. Now, if we could all take a moment to remember what we have to be thankful for.”

I was seventeen years old and already I had found the life I planned to lead. All we needed to do was stay in love and take care of the garden. I was thankful for Alice and Shiloh. And I hadn't forgotten my parents, my other family. Even if they didn't know where on God's green earth I was, I was still their son. Alice sat Indian style and her knees flapped up and down like wings.

5

Idyll

Apparently some of the people were nudists. The pond slowly filled with bodies. They had a beach ball that they batted around and around the island. The way they laughed and shrieked it seemed like the most fun in the world. Everyone seemed healthy and fresh. The pregnant women stalked around the yard, as if they were being led by their bellies. White chickens roosted in the low branches of a cedar tree.

A woman came over to give us a paper plate that held two wafers of honeycomb. It was another revelation. We could keep bees, I thought. Maybe that was where Shiloh had disappeared to. He was always looking for opportunities to learn about new things. He possessed a disciplined curiosity. For instance, he habitually asked people how they liked their cars. It wasn't that he'd consider buying a car; he just wanted to have an educated opinion. He was a big fan of Saabs—because the company also designed airplanes.

Alice and I were talking about the things we'd had to eat. Onion-mashed new potatoes and chicken ragout. Last year's apple cider. Alice buried her head in my neck and whispered one word: brownies. And did she want me to get these brownies? No. She needed me to get them.

I thought, I will feed her and when she is blind to eating, I could be her food. I checked the picnic tables for leftovers. Dogs were on their hind legs, whipping the platters with their tongues.

“Didn't get enough?” asked a woman's voice, the beauty from the play. She looked familiar, the way really attractive people look familiar.

When she shoved the dogs away from the table, they snapped at her, then sulked away with broken-looking necks. She showed me a cigarette. “You got fire?”

I didn't.

“What are you looking for?”

I told her about the brownies.

She motioned for me to follow her.

The only thing to differentiate one house from the next was the type of flowers planted in the window boxes. Gregor's house had yellow flowers. We walked past a house with pale blue flowers, past red geraniums, and then she led me up onto a porch with wilting orange petals that had turned black around the edges.

We passed through the sliding glass door. Sleeping bags had been spread across the floor, like an enormous patchwork quilt. Clothes hung from nails pounded into the rafters. The place resembled a stable more than a house. We pushed past sheet curtains and bead curtains, into the kitchen. There was a sink filled high with dishes and a camp stove on top of a card table. A bare bulb glared from a fixture on the wall. She plucked a match from out of an open box and got her cigarette going. In the rafters above our heads, a cat balanced on a beam and meowed down at us.

“I told Magdalena she's got to drown these cats while it's manageable. The whole place is going to sink under the weight of kitties, puppies, and bastard kids.”

I noticed the teats on the cat. It was pregnant, apparently.

She exhaled a stream of smoke toward the cat's face.

“I enjoyed the play,” I said.

She ashed the cigarette onto the card table. “That's very generous of you. I don't think it made any sense.” She took a quick pull on the cigarette, then used it to draw circles above her head. “I mean, it makes sense for what it is, but what is it?”

“I thought it was sort of an allegory.”

“Exactly,” she said. “It's not a play. A play is something an audience watches to try and figure out what's going on on the stage. Whereas what we did, everyone tries to figure out what it means
about them. The difference is in the audience.” She dropped the cigarette in the sink. “I don't feel well,” she said.

She said it so matter-of-factly that I almost didn't hear her. She reached out and grabbed my hand. Hers was damp and cool.

I followed her into a tiny room. There were clothes piled on the floor and on a dresser. She reached into a curtained closet and there was the sound of pipes shaking and then water. We were in a bathroom. The toilet had been hidden behind the door we'd come through.

She let go of my hand and then raised both of her arms straight above her head.