Pew(35)

Below me I heard Hilda call out across the house to Steven, heard Steven shout back, their voices muffled, urgent. I stayed still at my place beside the window, sat there looking out at the night. A firefly appeared and I touched the warm glass.
The door to the attic opened and Hilda’s voice echoed in the stairwell—Pew? Could you come downstairs a minute, please?
Several lamps glowed behind shades in the living room. The parrot inched across his caged perch. The room was still and quiet enough to hear his talons grip and ungrip.
We want you to know what’s going on, Steven said. All the decisions that have been made so far.
Yes, Hilda said, then we all sat silent again awhile. We thought it was important that you know.
The boys are staying over at their grandmother’s house tonight, Steven said. After today’s meeting, I talked with a few people from the community and they all agreed that it wasn’t a good idea to keep you so close to the boys. People had lots of different reasons for this and I have my own reasons, not that we need to get into them—
We don’t need to get into them, Hilda said, though Steven spoke over her.
—because they’re not really for you to know. It’s just a decision I’ve made about my family and it’s ultimately a private decision, a family decision. What I will say is that Jack’s behavior both at home and at school this week was very unusual for him.
He’s usually not so— Hilda stopped herself from continuing.
And I got the sense he may have been impolite to you—I didn’t see it directly, but that’s the sense I got—and I wanted to apologize for him. He’s really not that kind of young man and he’s been raised right, but he even got a detention this week at school, and that’s not like him, that’s not our Jack. He’s always loved going to church, the music, the morality of it … It just seems with everything going on, he’s been set off is all.
I hadn’t come here, I knew then. I had always been here, and I knew I had always been here but I didn’t say that. I hadn’t needed even to be born here because I had always been here; I hadn’t needed to be born at all. I didn’t say that either. I didn’t say anything.
My, it is warm, isn’t it? Hilda stood. Don’t you think I should turn the air conditioner up a little? Seems the summer just won’t quit. I keep thinking, tomorrow it’ll be cool, that it will finally cool off, but it keeps not happening.
She was talking to herself as she left the room, but I couldn’t make out the words.
The other thing I was told to discuss with you is that you’re going to be staying with the Corbin family, I believe, at least tomorrow night, maybe longer, we don’t know yet. Dr. Corbin is going to come get you in the morning.
Hilda had returned but stayed close to the door, fanning herself with her hands. She wiped sweat from her forehead.
He’s the reverend at Second Baptist, on the other side of town, which is, well, I suppose to put it bluntly it’s the black side of town, if that’s all right to say—is that all right to say, Hilda?
I—I think so, Hilda said.
Some people at the meeting today thought maybe you’d be more comfortable with them, that maybe you’d talk to those people if you won’t talk to us. Or maybe you’d rather live with someone over there if you don’t like living with us. Personally, I don’t know exactly why they decided for it to go this way, and I just don’t see why it should make any difference, but this is what I was told to tell you. I suppose there’s some disagreement about … well, I suppose some people think you look like one thing and some people think you look like something else and it seems you won’t speak up and break the tie so we’re just doing what we can. Now, I don’t mean for that to sound ugly, and I ain’t trying to be ugly to you. No one here is trying to be ugly, but we just—we never had this sort of issue before. Some people find it a little frustrating is all. But Dr. Corbin, from what I understand, is a very respected man, so you’ll stay over there for at least one night and they’ll bring you to the festival.
Hilda leaned down to whisper something in Steven’s ear.
Well, I thought they were going to be the ones to explain it, he said.
It’s just that Harold thought you might do a better job explaining, Hilda said, since they don’t even go to it anymore.
Steven squinted for a moment, then began—
The Forgiveness Festival—well, there’s a very long story about how it came to be and I’m afraid I’m not the right person to tell all the history about it, but what I can say is that the festival is what sets our community apart from other communities in the area. It’s one of the ways we’ve decided to actively reconcile with our past, unite both sides of our community, and acknowledge that everyone—every single one of us—everyone is born broken. That’s what we believe—you know—that’s a core part of Christianity. That we’re all broken without God. And a few years back all the preachers in town got together for a meeting because it was starting to feel like the whole country was particularly angry, and people were always accusing each other, and whole groups of people start blaming whole other groups of people for their problems—blacks and immigrants, for instance, and women, of course—but I’ll admit that, in some ways, it goes the other direction, too, I suppose. Everybody really blames everybody and never blames themselves. Well, our preachers decided this had gone on long enough, so they prayed about it and they read the Bible about it—and a peculiar thing happened, which is that God spoke to all our preachers, all at once—