under the big black sun: a fable
Mac once visited a church where everyone was nice. Really nice. It had old people and young people and everyone wore a lot of white. The building was pretty small, being a converted fast-food restaurant that had moved two blocks down and across Thomas Road to a newly built structure, leaving the old one to sit until it became a church.
The name—Mac had a hard time with the names of churches. The way he came to visit was this teenage boy who'd had a flat tire and Mac helped him out and had gotten invited as a kind of reward.
He attended Sunday service and sang and prayed with them and everybody had hugged him at the end. He didn't see the boy who'd invited him. Must have been thiry people in all, not including some little kids.
They made a point of letting him know about the evening get-together and when he came back everybody remembered his name. [He repeated a joke: This guy tried to sell me a Town Car one time. Yeah, I said, but what town?] He came back Wednesday night too. He greeted everyone effusively and gave evidence of having done the suggested between-church Bible reading.
Wednesday he noticed their enthusiasm had waned somewhat. Some of the ladies held their hands over their mouths when they talked to one another.
On Friday the pastor came up to him at Meyer's warehouse. Mac thought it was some kind of ordained coincidence.
"Well son. It's been wonderful having you. But I came to talk to you about your . . . problem."
"Great! Uh, which one?"
"Sister Caroline said you looked at her."
"Yeah, I did, I reckon. Which one was she?"
"There's no need to get smart. You just said you did do what she said you did."
"I did. I looked at everyone there. I couldn't get over how nice they all were."
"What she means was, in a way not becoming of an unmarried man toward a married woman. Now I understand the urges you feel, like all young men."
"Caroline was the hefty-set one with all the red-headed kids? Her husband Rodney's got a tattoo?"
The pastor grimaced. He was in shirt sleeves, like any guy. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way. Pleasingly plump, would be the kind manner of saying it. Now, I know she's had problems, but with love and the help of God she has come a long way and the church has too much invested in her to see her go now, and . . . well."
The pastor shook Mac's hand. "You'll find a church home, son. I know you will. Here's my card. If you think it over, give me a call and I can make some suggestions. God bless you."
Meyer was gone somewhere. Mac sat in his chair in the office a while. Finally he reached for the phone book. He told the lady at Goodwill he wasn't planning to come in and look at that suit any more.
