The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,106
inspect the damage. A young man in a little Japanese pickup hops out and starts sputtering apologies: “My bad, my bad.”
Deedee, stopped behind the pickup, cranes her neck out to see what’s happened. As we gather around the back bumper, Marlene pulls alongside with Jed beside her and Eli in back.
“Go on ahead,” Rick tells them.
The little pickup appears undamaged apart from a scrape on the chrome. The VW has not been so lucky. The bumper has a notch in it that looks like somebody chopped it with a giant, blunted axe blade. The left taillight’s busted too. On the ground there’s a shower of yellow and red plastic bits, some fine slivers of metal, and a bent Jesus fish.
I stoop down and retrieve the fish. The shiny surface has lost its sheen. The collision’s impact had an effect similar to scrubbing the plastic with a wire brush.
The pickup driver offers Rick his insurance information, still murmuring apologies. To my surprise, Rick declines. “It doesn’t look too bad. Nobody’s hurt. The guy responsible is the one who ran the light. Let’s just call it even, all right?”
“Are you sure?”
After much reassurance, we all get back in the VW.
“Maybe you should drive,” I tell Rick. “That was nice, letting him off the hook.”
“Today of all days, I’m in the mood to be forgiving.”
“If he’d rear-ended my Maserati, I don’t think I could be so calm,” Jim says.
Rick laughs. “I hear you. Anyway, that guy did us a favor. I’ve wanted to get rid of that fish ever since Beth stuck it on the car.”
“Don’t be down on the Jesus fish,” I say. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
In my lap, I nestle the broken Jesus fish, carefully probing the damage with my fingertip. All beat up, I think I like it a whole lot more.
Chas Worthing knows how to turn a drum circle into a street party. A row of grills stands along the sidewalk outside Mission Up, manned by Chas, Barber, and even Vernon, who turns out to have at least one shirt in his closet not devoted to the legalization of cannabis (even if it does read BAN WALL STREET in angry black letters on a white background). Most of the familiar faces from the Rent-a-Mob have shown up, along with friends roped in for the occasion. True to his word, Chas has even managed to get a WBAL news van out here. Get Mother Z on camera and hopefully she’ll receive some more support for the community. She was game. I think she’s got a lot of showmanship inside that body.
“You’re a pushover,” I say, giving him a big hug.
He laughs, unaccustomed to the contact. “Hey, I get it. Like I told Marlene, I’m not above helping out other people’s causes.”
One day Chas will see there are no such things as causes. Only people. But that’s not going to come overnight. Believe me, I know.
I say hello to Barber, who’s already handing out hot dogs to some neighborhood kids, then sidle up to Vernon.
“You’re here,” I say.
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this. There’s actually something to do here. That’s what excites me. And besides, if things get out of hand, turn a little ugly, we both know I can handle myself.”
“Yes, we do.”
Marlene passes behind us. I reach for her hand before she can get away. “Thanks for everything.”
“It’s cool,” she says. “I told you they’d love to be part of it.”
“And you were right.”
I give her a hug before turning her loose. If I’m not careful, hugging people is going to become the theme of the day. And so many people! I have to walk up the steps for a better view of the crowd. In addition to the Rent-a-Mob, there are the women and kids of Mission Up, along with plenty of others from the neighborhood. The news cameraman jerks this way and that, uncertain what exactly to film. I feel the same way. The amazing thing is, most of these people weren’t even a part of my life a month ago. Now they’re all here together, mingling, getting to know each other.
Holly arrives, dragging a reluctant Eric behind her. She’s dressed to work in paint-flecked jeans and a pullover sweater. Eric carries swinging cans of paint in each hand. She finds Deedee and in two minutes flat, they’ve got the cans open and they’re discussing color. From a distance, I see a dipstick covered in hot pink.