The Lord and pink neon had arrived simultaneously at the DelMar Diner,a train-car diner sandwiched between John's Brakeworks and the LaFontana Innat the intersection of Bridge Street and Route 10. After thirteenmonths ofhints and innuendoes, the Del Mar's owner, George Hall, had finallysuccumbedto his wife Gloria's irrepressible need to redecorate. Gloria leftthe traincar structure intact, as George had demanded, but the marine-themedlithographs were gone, as were the yellowed portraits of notablepatrons ofthe Del Mar (all were gone, that is, except Tony Bennett--hereGeorge drew anindelible line). In came a mind-boggling array of religiousparaphernalia:crucifixes sized from toddler to big and tall, illuminations,crochetedinspirational phrases, a splinter purported to be from the cross ofone of thethieves hung with Christ, and Gloria's crowning achievement, aphosphorescentcreche. Gloria had found religion during her most recent mid-lifecrises andalthough she found the vagaries of doctrine convoluted, she lovedtheresurrection. As he watched the renovation move forward, Georgeswore to highheaven about Gloria's exploitation of his permission to decorate.Why couldn'tshe have a normal mid-life crisis and change her damn haircolor?
Almost as an afterthought, Gloria installed pink neon aroundthe diner'swindows. George found this color scheme so appalling and wasalready soflabbergasted by the religious decoration that he simply could notfind thewords to comment. Gloria took his silence as approval.
The minute the renovation work was finished, Gloria began towork up thenext step of her scheme. Now that she had come to consider God apersonalfriend, she couldn't bear not sharing Him. George, however, did nottake tothis as she had hoped, did not joyfully leap for the Lord, not evento thepoint of allowing her to change menu items to the Hallelujah!Burger and whatnot. It would be, she realized, harder than she had expected. Shewould haveto wait to spring the Lord upon George until he was in the midst ofa momentof psychic weakness and his guard was down.
Gloria watched George during the late night hours of theholiday season,when the crush of customers could beat a man down to a childhoodtantrum anddestroy his spiritual resistance. She noted the times of day whenhe was wontto crash plates onto their piles with a little extra vigor, when hewould mis-add, swear, and re-add bills two and three times. Sheplanned; she notated.
At long last, she was sure that the day had come. Christmashad passedtwo days previously and George was exhausted from shoveling anearly snowstormand serving an unexpected influx of late night patrons. Inaddition, the cashregister had broken again, sending his irritation into resignedapathy. Heslumped against the cash register with a blank stare and weaksmile, a manwide open, she believed, to ecclesiastic suggestion. Gloria placedthe coffeepot in the brewer at the far end of the counter, measured coffeeinto thefilter, and pressed the starter button. It was 12:43 in the morningand therest of the staff had left early to avoid the snow. Noting that thepink neonlooked especially pretty reflected on the snow, Gloria turned toher prey.
As she walked toward the cashier's stand, Gloria habituallytuned intothe conversation between the only customers left from the nightrush. Two men,one heavy, muscular, gregarious, and one quite different, a sicklyopposite tothe first, sat in conversation over coffee and fries. Gloria knewthe largerman, Tommy Ramos, but knew nothing of his shadowy companion.
Tommy was a bear-sized man, maybe six foot two, with thick,black, curlyhair. He grinned and laughed with hopeful persistence, as if simplebeliefmight change the course of history. Still, those who knew him werenot fooledby his apparently dopey simplicity. They knew that, once crossed,he had thecapacity to keep his laugh going while beating a man to tears. Butas one ofthe union representatives at the steel mill, Philips Steel Works,he wasusually on better behavior than that, a smooth talker and anorganizer.Lately, however, his job had grown more difficult as the millgradually andgracelessly fell apart. Sinking orders and increasing layoffs hadtaken theirtoll.
"Happy belated birthday, Lenny," Tommy Ramos said, grinning."You gettwice the presents when your birthday is on Christmas, or you justget fuckedby the confusion?"
Tommy laughed to himself and, along with Gloria, eyed the manacross thetable and awaited a reply. Gloria assumed that this other manworked at thesteel mill with Tommy. The other man rubbed his stubbly beard andfell intocontemplation. His skin was fair and dark circles loitered underhis eyes. Hisbrown hair was thinning on top and it was styled long in back. Hewore a navyblue parka vest.
"Well," the other man said, and then paused. "I've beenthinking aboutthat a lot these days."
Tommy nodded and motioned for the skinny man to continue.
"You see, I'm Jesus. You know, back from the dead. I know thatsoundsweird, but this birthday/Christmas thing got me thinking, and Ithink I justmight be Christ," he said.
"Huh?" Tommy said.
At this moment Gloria felt a joyous exaltation shudder throughher bodyfrom crown to heel, something re-configured in the very fiber ofher being.The sign she had awaited with such constipated ecstasy had arrived;the Son ofGod was in her diner. George would be forced to face up to Him, nomatter whatGeorge might desire. With an exhalation that almost emptied her,Gloria turnedaside in apostrophe and whispered thank you. Then, notwanting to be seeneavesdropping nor wanting to miss a word, Gloria turned to her leftand beganvigorously scrubbing the counter. She slid slowly to her right asshescrubbed, easing up to, and then past, the table.
"That's the crazy thing, you see. I'm not exactly sure if I amor I'mnot. I'm pretty sure, you know, but I'm not positive. And you'dthink somebodywould know if he was Jesus, right? The other day I almost hadmyself convincedthat I wasn't, because of my confusion. But then I thought tomyself, maybethis is a test. You know what I'm saying? Maybe I'm supposed tofind myselfbefore I can really do anything."
"What makes you think you're Jesus, other than having the samebirthday?" Tommy said slowly.
Because he is, Gloria thought, look at thathair.
"It's a lot of stuff," the man answered. He looked aroundnervously. "Tommy, you won't tell anyone, will you? I need to besure beforeI tellpeople."
I don't envy you. Look at what happened to you lasttime.
Gloria realized that she had begun to stare at Tommy and hisfriend. TheChrist-Child looked to Gloria and smiled benignly. Gloria blushed,turned backto the counter and gave the formica a final swipe. She then walkedback to thecashier's station.
"That guy over there with Tommy is Jesus Christ." Gloriamotioned to theChrist-Child with her eyes. She spoke with palpable excitement.
"What?" George asked as if just waking. Gloria noticed thathis curlygrey hair, usually so neat, had fallen into disarray. She pitiedhis anguishand executed a quick prayer for his acceptance of religion.
"He said that he thinks that he's Jesus come back, you know,for thesecond time. Like they said he would in the Bible," she said, andpaused. "Andhis birthday's on Christmas."
Gloria leaned close to George's face and nodded.
"He really said that he thinks he's Jesus?" George askeddoubtfully.
"I heard it with my own ears."
"You're sure he didn't say that his name is Jesus, like theSpanishname. Ramos' dad is Puerto Rican. Maybe the guy is one of hisPuerto Ricanfriends or a cousin or something like that." George shrugged andsmiled.
"I said I heard it with my own ears," Gloria said, moreheatedly.
"Okay, Gloria."
"He said that although he wasn't quite sure, he thought thathe wasJesus Christ come around again, and his birthday is the same. Andhe lookslike Jesus, with that hair," Gloria demanded, frustrated byGeorge'sunwillingness to face facts.
"Gloria, don't be pathetic." George paused.
"You're such a crab, George," Gloria said, her frustrationvisible inher sad eyes and downturned lips. "Why can't you ever open up? It'sjust likethat time you wouldn't even consider those rhinestone jumpsuits forthewaitresses."
George shook his head and wiped his hands on his apron. Hebegan to walktoward the kitchen.
"God bless you," Gloria said, mostly to herself, and stompedher foot.Poor, poor man.
Gloria eyed Ramos and the Christ-Child as they talkedintently. She justknew it was all true.
* * *
Several weeks passed and the holidays segued into pleasantmemory.George's mood brightened and he took to greeting customers with hisusualferocious cordiality. Although happy with George's surging mood,Gloria wasappalled by how little respect he paid to the appearance of apossible savior.It seemed strange and careless, even for a doubter likehimself.
Then, George's mood again began to wane as he suffered fromthe dismalattitude of the customers. Philips Steel Works had announced newlayoffs and,though the pink slips hadn't been distributed yet, those on thechopping blockknew who they were. Gloria watched helplessly as George's mood sunkwith therest.
Gloria had considered giving up proselytizing to George on thepiouslife, feeling, along with him, the weight of the town on her back.However, itseemed to her that to not keep virtue on the front burnerwould be a failurebeyond redress; when George went to judgment, she reasoned,there would be noextenuating circumstances.
On a night when she had planned to make another strong pushfor God(she'd conferenced with several Jehovah's witnesses and a localcable-accesstelevangelist earlier that day), Tommy and the Christ-Childreturned. She didnot know whether to take this as a sign or a chance occurrence, butit seemedinevitably part of a larger plan. The diner was packed. Tommy andthe Christ-Child dodged Mary Harper and Lynn Reed, the twowaitresses on duty, and walkeddown the aisle to the last available booth. The Christ-Child lookedmoreragged than before, and his eyes were underlined with darkerpouches. This isthe last supper, thought Gloria, and this idea fascinatedher.
After getting them the coffee they ordered, Gloria walkedbehind thecounter and picked this time to polish the glasses stacked directlyoppositetheir table. George looked at her quizzically and then, noticingthe table shefaced, began to laugh.
"I know you predicted that things were going to go bad in thistown. Andyou were right. But figuring that out just doesn't make you areligiousfigure. I'm sorry, bro," Tommy said. "Everybody knows that the millis introuble. Just because you made your prediction and then the millannouncedlayoffs doesn't mean you have a direct line to God. It's not likeit was hardto predict. You just got to stop telling me how you're Jesus,because I'mstarting to think you're fucked in the head. At first it was funny,but..."Tommy shook his head and looked at the Christ-Child with a mixtureof concernand irritation.
"You just don't see it, do you? The same thing happened thelast time Iwas here. Did you know that? At first, nobody believed me. Theythought I wasa scam artist. And they killed me." As the Christ-Child spoke, hisvoicepicked up strength and confidence.
Right on.
"We need to have a serious discussion of strategy. Shit. Youcan't behaving these fantasies. I got a job to do." Tommy shook his headand sippedhis coffee.
Gloria began to polish the glasses for a second time.
"I know what you're saying. I used to think that way, that Iwas nothingbut a workgroup leader at a mill. But now I see. I will lead themto thepromised land," the Christ-Child said.
"Oh, God, please help me," Tommy mumbled to himself. "Just sothepromised land is keeping our jobs. What you do in your spare timeis your ownproblem."
"Yes. That's true," the Christ-Child said. He smiled into thedistance."Wasn't that wonderful, what happened at lunch the other day?"
The Christ-Child seemed proud.
"What?" Tommy said, amazement opening his eyes wide as herealized theChrist-Child's reference. "My God. Antonio's delivered you an extraorder offries, so you got two for the price of one. You didn't feed themasses. Youjust gave french fries to people in the lunchroom. Get that throughyour thickhead," Tommy said.
The Christ-Child looked into his coffee, as if looking for asign fromthe Father. He shook his head sadly and said nothing.
"How's the wife?" Tommy asked in an abrupt shift. "You guysworked itout yet?"
"Tina's still at her mother's," the Christ-Child began, hislips pursedsadly. What that woman is missing, thought Gloria, theSon of God must begreat in the sack. "She thinks I'm going nowhere and that I'mnot realistic."
"And?" Tommy asked. "Just shut up about the Jesus thing, takeher out todinner, buy her flowers, and for Christ's sake wash your hair."
"I know," the Christ-Child mumbled. "I just have so much on mymind."
Gloria walked to George's place at the cashier's station. Sherealizedthat the entrance of the Christ-Child had lifted George's spirits,butsuspected that they had not been lifted for the purelyecclesiastical motivesshe desired.
"I know, I know. Jesus is back again," George said. Hechuckled.
"He really does think he's the second coming," Gloriawhispered.
"Wouldn't this be the fifth or sixth coming for him, at leastaround thediner here?" George asked and laughed.
"He can feed the people, like in the loaves and fishes story,"Gloriasaid adamantly.
"You don't believe in this, do you? He's just some friend ofTommy,that's all. Tommy has to talk to everybody at the mill, even thestrange ones.That's his job," George explained, worry creeping into hisvoice.
"No, listen, there's something really big going on here,"Gloriainsisted. "Don't make fun of me."
"That's bullshit!" a young man in a red flannel shirt saidloudly. Hesat in the third booth behind the cashier's stand. George andGloria quicklyturned, both alerted to the possibility of damage to theirestablishment.George poised to enter the fray. Gloria squeezed his arm withconcern.
The young man stood up. The man seated opposite him was older,perhapssixty, with a thick grey pompadour and a lined, but expressionless,face. Theold man looked into his coffee.
"'They know what's best for the company.' My ass. Them peopledon't knowshit about how to run a mill. That's why I'm out of a job."
The old man did not look up from the table. Instead, he calmlyliftedhis coffee and took a dignified sip. This seemed to infuriate theman in theflannel.
"I know you can hear me, old man. Just because you didn't getfired thistime around don't mean everything's okay. You're next. You're justtoo stupidto see that."
At the end of this diatribe, the young man's voice had turnedinto ayell and his pale face had begun to flush to the red color of hisshirt. Theold man took one more sip from his coffee. The diner had otherwisefallensilent except for the sound of grease sputtering on the grill.
The old man looked up at the young man's face and smiled,almost sadly.
"Whatever happens," he said, then paused. "Is God's will."
The young man slapped his hands down upon the table and thenswiped thecoffee cup to the floor. He lifted his hands to his face and shookhis head.
"Shit," he said.
The young man threw two dollars onto the table and stomped outof thediner. The conversation returned to most of the tables, with thegeneralconsensus being, as Gloria heard it, that the young man was rightabout theowners but wrong to act in the style he did.
"Might as well be God's will," Gloria heard one man say.
George walked over to the old man's table and offered the mananothercup. After he silently declined, the old man paid. With his facestillexpressionless, he too walked out the door.
* * *
Over the next two weeks, things at the mill grew worse. Therange oflayoffs was expanded. The last-hired, first-fired axiom was inplace asalways, but twenty year employees were getting their pink slips.The customersat the Del Mar got surlier, sadder, and many arrived sunk in themelancholy ofdefeat, men who needed a few coffees and a little time before theyreturnedhome to their wives and children and bills. They sat silently andsippedcoffee. It came with free refills.
Beside the bars, the diner was the only place in town that wasexperiencing a business boom. It was open twenty-four hours a daytoaccommodate the business, and it was almost always full. Those withpink slipssuddenly had an unwanted vacation on their hands.
Tommy came in every day to strategize, and to keep the peopleunified,but the Christ-Child was nowhere to be found. Gloria did not ask,not wantingto let on to Tommy that she had overheard their conversations. Shewatched andwaited, and prayed (oh, did she pray) for two weeks, but there wasstill nosign of Him.
* * *
It was late one Thursday night when the Christ-Childreappeared. He waseven more bedraggled than his last visit; his hair was matted andclumped intovague dreadlocks and his army jacket was spotted with grease stainsand paint.He shuffled to the booth where Tommy sat alone.
Tommy had arrived at the Del Mar four hours before and hadbeencontinuously kibitzing with other union officials. When the variousemissariesarrived, they would sit for several minutes, sip distractedly fromtheircoffees, and talk in muted tones. As she passed by to refill theircups,Gloria heard words of strikes, and lawsuits, and other difficultthings. Shespoke to George about the approaching events, the upcomingcrusade, but he wasdistracted. George did not have hope for the workers, even withtheir strikesand lawsuits. Gloria tried to speak to him about the sustainingpower offaith, about how it was often better sustenance than food, butGeorge wouldnot listen, simply refused.
Tommy had just finished one of his impromptu meetings when theChrist-Child arrived. The Christ-Child sat without greeting Tommyand began to pickat the grease and dirt under his nails. He barely looked up whenTommy spoketo him, and his only responses were nods and shrugs. When Gloriaasked him ifhe wanted coffee, he grunted affirmatively.
"He's back," Gloria said to George. He did not answer.
"Did you hear me?" Gloria added, honestly more worried thanhercontentious question suggested.
"Gloria, I love you, I really do," George began. "And I reallymeanthat. But you just don't understand. I don't have time for thisright now."
George's face did not move when he spoke and he did not meetGloria'seyes. His words seemed to slip out of his mouth like speech comingfrom amannequin.
"This is the last good business you and me are going to see,"Georgesaid. "Right now I can't be thinking about some guy who thinks he'sGod. Hell,maybe he is for all I know. I just don't have the time rightnow."
George shook his head sadly. His eyes pleaded forunderstanding.Something in the way George spoke and moved told Gloria not toreply, told herthat this was just not the time, and she tried totake heed.
"Don't worry so much, George. Remember," Gloria said. "I loveyou."
"I know," George said, his voice tender.
Gloria walked back behind the counter towards the table whereTommy andthe Christ-Child sat.
As Gloria began to rearrange the forks, she was againsurprised by howbedraggled and downtrodden the Christ-Child looked. Four of hisfingers werewrapped in some kind of makeshift bandage and there was a skein ofdirt on hisface.
After he had finished cleaning out his fingernails, theChrist-Childbegan to nibble on a callous. Tommy quietly lectured theChrist-Child as hedid this, and Gloria had to strain past the sounds of cooking foodandscraping flatware to hear the conversation.
"The pickets begin on Saturday at ten a.m. so we can get TVcoverage andso everybody can sleep off their drunk. We start at the bridgeright at ten.You got it? " Tommy said.
The Christ Child nodded noncommittally.
"We will overcome this," the Christ-Child began, then paused."You see,this is just like what happened when the Romans saw that I wasconverting thepeople. They tried to stop me. But in the end, I overcamethem."
Tommy looked as if he was planning to yell at theChrist-Child, but thenhe checked his anger and spoke calmly.
"Maybe you need to get some counseling or something. For youand Tina,"Tommy continued. "Are you guys talking?"
"No," the Christ-Child admitted.
"Have you tried?" Tommy asked with genuine concern.
"She wouldn't talk to me. I know her."
"You've got to call her. Have a little humility," Tommyadvised andGloria agreed. She had trouble swallowing this. Christ's got apride problem.Still, it made sense. With all that power and such, she supposed itwould behard to admit mistakes.
"But for now, all I care about is that you call the peoplefrom yourworkgroup to come out for the picketing. I have to be able to counton you.Don't flake out on me." Tommy spoke without pretense ofpoliteness.
"Yeah. I've always been there for you." For a moment, itseemed toGloria that the Christ-Child had returned to his earthlypersonality. Hesounded like nothing more than a tired and worried man.
"I know," Tommy said, smiling with true friendship.
"They will follow in my footsteps," the Christ-Child saidserenely, onceagain in full religious fervor.
Tommy shook his head.
"Whatever. See you Saturday." Tommy paused, tapping a tattooupon thetable top. "And call Tina."
Tommy rose to leave. Gloria's heart skipped several beats asshe thoughtabout the strike and pickets and about the Son-of-God's familydrama. The lastunion action had gone violent.
* * *
On Friday, the Philips Commerce broke the story of asecret Board ofDirectors meeting. The mill was going to close when all currentorders hadbeen filled. There was just no way around it. No one needed a milllike that.They'd like to stay open, the board members said, but it was justimpossible.Disbelief turned to sadness and then segued to anger.
The mayor called the governor and the governor called theNationalGuard. The National Guard colonel begged Tommy to stop the march,but therewas no backing down.
* * *
The march came together at the borough line, where BridgeStreet crossesthe canal into Mount Rena, with Tommy and the shop stewards andunionofficials at the front. The Christ-Child walked two rows behindRamos and,though he did not speak, the tension of the moment clouded hisface. Theworkers milled around and talked loudly. Demonstrators continued topour in,well after the march was slated to begin. The turnout was farbeyond whatanyone had expected. The National Guardsmen paced.
George had, at the last moment, joined the march. In spite ofhiswarning to wait at the restaurant, Gloria went directly to hersister Anna'shouse, which had a second floor porch on Bridge Street directlyopposite themill's management offices. That was also where the guardsmen stood,ready tostop any unruly passions. Gloria fingered her cross pendant andprayed forGeorge, for the Christ-Child, for Tommy, and for whomever she mighthavemissed.
* * *
Gloria could hear the protesters begin to shout as the marchcommenced.At first it sounded like a mess of hoots and screams, but then thevoices cametogether into the chants Gloria had heard in past strikes and inthe unionhall when she had gone with her father. The crowd seemed to go onfor milesand the guardsmen nervously shifted their weight from left foot toright. Asthe crowd of marchers came closer, they shouted the slogans withnew volume.Their words seemed to push the guardsmen back. Gloria forgot aboutthe diner,and about the Christ-Child, and about everything but the march.
They came closer. Their marching and their chants became evenmoretightly organized. Gloria began to believe that no one on Earthwould dareturn down their demands, that no Board of Directors could sayno.
The marchers came close to the guardsmen and stopped, directlyin frontof Gloria. They fell silent. Tommy turned his back to the guardsmenand facedthe marchers. He said something Gloria could not hear and the massofmarchers began to sing. At first, Gloria could not decipher whatsong theywere attempting, as their singing was so off-key, but then itdawned on herthat it was the national anthem. At the end of the song there wasa profoundsilence, and everyone, with the exception of the guardsmen, beganto cheer.
Somewhere from the middle of the march, a brick flew throughone of theplate glass windows on the front of the management office building.Thecheering fell off and turned ugly and Gloria then understood that,no matterhow many songs and marches they had, the mill would close.
Gloria was looking down at her feet, saddened by herrealization, whenshe heard her sister Anna gasp. She looked up and saw theChrist-Child walkout from the front of the crowd, toward the line of guardsmen. Heheld hisarms wide. Gloria saw Tommy start to yell at what the Christ-Childwas doing.
Suddenly, the Christ-Child dropped his left arm and, with hisright arm,threw a rock directly into the mass of guardsmen. The suddenmovement threwthe scene into chaos and one of the guardsmen fired a shot. It madea smalland lonely pop and the Christ-Child fell to theground.
The crowd fell into a complete silence. Marchers then began toyell assurprise gave way to anger. The colonel of the guardsmen quicklyordered aretreat. Gloria watched Tommy as he yelled vainly at the marchersto stop, butmost ran after the guardsmen. Some did stay, however, and proceededto lootthe management building. Gloria looked frantically for George andwas relievedto see him far behind the other marchers, following after theguardsmen. Hewas safe there, too slow to get into the action. She ran down tothe street tosee the Christ-Child.
Gloria walked, trance-like, to where Tommy was crouched overthe Christ-Child. She stopped about five feet from Tommy, andstared down at him and theChrist-Child. The Christ-Child opened his eyes and spoke in afeeble voice.
"They're going to kill me again," he said, clutching hisabdomen. "TellTina I love her."
"You tell her that you love her. You're not going to die,"Tommy yelledback at him. "It was a warning shot, into the air. You're fine. Noone's goingto die. See?"
Tommy ripped open the Christ-Child's shirt. There was nowound. Tommypointed at this, but the Christ-Child did not take notice.
"The ignorant will always persecute the righteous. It is ourfight, tohelp them see the light," the Christ-Child said.
"Shut the fuck up," Tommy screamed. "You're going to be fine.Do youunderstand?"
Tommy slapped the Christ-Child's face. The Christ-Child smiledvacantly.
"Ours is not to reason why," the Christ-Child said. "Ours isbut to doand die."
He passed out again, smiling.
"That's an army slogan, not a Bible quote. Shit. Don't youunderstand?"Tommy screamed, shaking the Christ-Child. "It's all over." Hestopped, hisbreath heavy and ragged. "Don't you know how much I wish you wereJesus-fucking-Christ?"
Gloria thought about the Christ-Child and his wife, andwondered if theyhad lost their virginity before marriage. This struck her as an oddthought tobe having at that time and place, but probably as good as anyother. Tommyturned toward Gloria and they stared at each other silently. It wasthen thatshe realized she had begun to cry.
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