Henry of Atlantic City (20 page)

Father Rogan looked at Father Crowley and Henry and then turned back to Dr. Alt. He ran his hand back and forth over his bald head as if he were shining it. “I don’t see how this has anything to do with anything.”

“I’m a little puzzled too,” Father Crowley agreed.

“I’m sorry. All I mean to say is that you are merely stating the obvious when you say Henry is regurgitating. He is doing
exactly
that. Regurgitation is the only way to recover what has been lost inside us. But it is a process of
returning
—returning, as a whirlpool returns in on itself, engulfs itself, swallows itself. Its symbol is the Uroboros.”

“Uroboros?”

“The snake that devours its own tail. It is a perpetual act of recovery and return. The material that is being recovered and returned is the texts that the boy is regurgitating.”

Father Rogan rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry I asked.”

Dr. Alt patted Henry’s knee. “I’ve been consulting on Henry’s case with an old friend, an expert on the gnostics. He believes there are all sorts of implications.”

“The only implications that concern me are what is going to happen when we get into court.”

Father Crowley nodded. “I agree. But I also think it is important for Dr. Alt to pursue his investigations.”

Father Rogan put on his reading glasses. “I think you’re both making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s the same old story. A child gets paraded around and all the latest theories get trotted out until the novelty wears off and everybody realizes that their expectations have been exaggerated. They return to their articles and their seminars. And where does the child end up?” He took off his reading glasses and fixed a stern look on his fellow priests. “In the end you’re left
with a few highly developed but debatable insights into the human psyche or gnosticism or piano playing or long division or what have you—and one confused and very unhappy child.”

Father Crowley crossed his legs and cracked his ankle. Dr. Alt pulled out his handkerchief and began to clean his glasses.

“If it were up to me,” Father Rogan said, “I’d take the religion out of psychology and the psychology out of religion altogether.”

Dr. Alt put his glasses back. “You are oversimplifying.”

“Maybe a little simplification is exactly what’s needed.”

“Let’s not argue,” Father Crowley said.

“Perhaps it would be better if Henry and I spoke alone after all,” Dr. Alt said. “I didn’t come to debate or have an argument. I only wanted to speak openly so that Henry feels he has all of our support and guidance. As to your critique of psychology and religion, I can only restate what my mentor once stated.”

“And what is that?” Father Rogan asked.

“That symbols are the essence both of the psyche and of religious experience, and in understanding
symbols
we comprehend our
selves
.” He picked up his cane from beside the chair with an old-man grunt and tapped it on the floor.

Father Rogan stood up. “You may go now, Henry,” he said.

Henry got up and Father Crowley reached out and took his arm and pulled him closer. He looked at Henry’s
bruised eye. “I really do think it should be looked at right away.”

“It can wait until Monday,” Father Rogan replied. Then he nodded at Henry and told him to say good-bye to their guests.

Henry and the three priests drove together to Philadelphia. To get to Philadelphia you could go along the coast or on the inland road. If you went along the coast you passed through Prusa and Pergamum and Smyrna and Sardis but if you didn’t want to go through those cities you could take a ship and get off at Ephesus and from there it took only a day. It was too early in the morning for breakfast so Father Rogan gave Henry a sandwich wrapped in plastic. Nobody talked much and Henry watched out the window. After a while he fell asleep.

When he woke up they were at the courthouse. Henry followed the three priests inside. They were like angels dressed all in black, one old and crabbed and two not so old. Father Rogan asked a guard for directions and the guard took them to a big room called family court.

The room was full and the judge sat up front behind a big desk. He was dressed in black too but he didn’t look like a priest or an angel. All you could see was his head and shoulders, which looked sort of like a small piece of fruit resting on a big pedestal. The seal of the State of Pennsylvania was on the wall behind him. There were
flags too. When Henry and the three priests entered, the judge didn’t even look up but went on talking to the people standing in front of his desk. A guard showed them where to sit. Then he went up to the front of the courtroom and gave the judge a piece of paper and Henry unwrapped his sandwich and began to eat it.

“Put that away,” Father Rogan said. “You’re not allowed to eat in court.”

Henry wrapped the sandwich back up and held it in his lap. He looked around the room to see if there were any windows but there were none. There were only chairs and tables and doors. The lights in the ceiling made every surface reflect and there was a humming in the background like the humming in Henry’s ear.

The judge drank a glass of water and then looked at his watch. Father Crowley and Father Rogan were whispering and Dr. Alt had his cane between his knees and his hands on top and his eyes closed.

Theodora was across the room. There was a man sitting next to her. She smiled and waved to Henry but Henry didn’t wave back. Father Crowley leaned over to Father Rogan. “That’s her lawyer,” he whispered. Henry didn’t want to look at Theodora but he couldn’t help it. She was dressed all in blue and didn’t look like Porphyrius the whale anymore but like a demon in human form. Henry was scared. He wondered why Theodora was there and if she had come to send him underground just like his father. He wondered
if his father had enough water and food to stay underground for a long time. Being underground meant living farther from the light than any other fallen creature.

Then Farley and Shumacher came into the room. They were wearing their police uniforms and carrying papers under their arms. They sat down at the table next to the man with the briefcase. Farley opened up a folder and Shumacher folded his hands on the table and looked straight ahead.

“Who is the probation officer?” the judge asked.

Farley stood up. “I am, your honor.”

“And the law guardian?”

“I just saw him in the hall, your honor,” Farley said. Just then a man walked into the courtroom. He was young and had a mustache. “Excuse me, your honor,” he said. He came over to Henry.

“You must be Henry,” the man whispered and offered his hand.

Henry shook the man’s hand.

“Mr. Downey is your court-appointed law guardian,” Father Crowley said.

“Is the representative from social services present?” the judge asked.

“They’re on the way, your honor.” Mr. Downey opened his briefcase.

“Well, I can’t wait any longer,” the judge said and told Mr. Downey to proceed.

Mr. Downey took some papers up to the judge. They talked for a minute, then Mr. Downey went back to his seat.

“Has there been a hearing?” the judge asked Farley.

Farley stood up. “There are no charges being filed, your honor.” Then she said something about parental-rights termination.

The judge held up a folder. “I have the paperwork right here.” Farley took some more papers up to him and Mr. Downey looked at the papers in his briefcase as though he didn’t care what anyone else in the room was doing. The man sitting next to Theodora did the same thing and Shumacher sat with his hands folded on the table and looked straight ahead. He had the same sore look on his face as when he told Henry that Big Nekkid was dead and it was all Henry’s fault.

After a little while Farley went back and sat down. The judge shuffled papers, then he looked over to where Henry and the priests were sitting. Father Crowley smiled and nodded but he didn’t say anything.

The judge lifted the stack of papers up and dropped them back down on his desk. “We have a lot of ground to cover,” he said. “Is there a Father Rogan present?”

“Yes, your honor.” Father Rogan stood up.

“You are aware that adoption procedures have been initiated, Father?” He nodded in the direction of Theodora and the man with the briefcase.

“I am, your honor,” Father Rogan said.

“What grounds do you have for contesting the adoption?”

“The grounds that the boy’s interests and needs would best be met at Saint Jude’s. I believe that Henry should remain there.”

The man with the briefcase stood up. “May I approach the bench?”

The judge nodded.

The man took up a pile of papers and they talked for a minute and the judge looked over at Theodora, who returned the judge’s look with a sterner one, and then the man went back and sat down at his table. The judge looked at his watch. “We will adjourn until after lunch,” he said.

A saint could be in different places at the same time without going anywhere. Saints brought their surroundings with them and that’s why people called them holy. If it was raining outside a saint could walk around as if the sun were shining and if there were plagues and wars a saint went around as if they were nothing dangerous. If you didn’t care it didn’t matter, and it if didn’t matter nothing bad could ever happen to you. Sometimes people got angry at saints. They stoned them and crucified them and cut their limbs off one by one and skinned them alive and boiled them and tried to get them to come down to earth. But saints were already down-to-earth and the only thing that made a saint a saint was that a saint knew it more fully and felt it more deeply than other people.

They were sitting at a table in the lunchroom. Henry ate his sandwich while the three priests and Mr. Downey talked about what they were going to do. Mr. Downey ate two hot dogs and drank a Diet Coke. He wasn’t fat but he looked like he was. He sweated when he ate. The priests didn’t eat because it was Lent and at Saint Jude’s the priests ate only one meal a day during Lent.

“We’re fighting a losing battle,” Mr. Downey said. “The court almost always chooses a family situation over an institutional one.”

“There is no way,” Father Rogan said, “that a single woman who runs a casino can be considered a family situation.”

“You may be right about that, Father,” Mr. Downey said. “All I’m saying is that the court will choose a stable and responsible individual over an institution any day, especially if the individual is a woman with money and political influence.”

“What about Mrs. Fontane?” Father Crowley asked. “She is willing to subsidize Henry’s entire education. Why wouldn’t that be enough?”

“It’s a question of parental rights,” Mr. Downey said. “If Mrs. Fontane were the legal guardian, she could send Henry to any school and pay for as much education as she wants. But she isn’t.”

The priests looked at Henry. “Still hungry?” Father Rogan asked.

Henry shook his head.

“In my opinion our time would have been better spent trying to persuade her privately,” Mr. Downey said. “But it’s too late for that.”

Father Rogan didn’t say anything. He looked into his glass of water and Henry could see his temples beating in his bald head.

“I think I’ll go out for some fresh air,” Dr. Alt said. “Care to join me?” he asked Henry.

“We have to be back in court at two o’clock,” Mr. Downey said.

“We’ll be there.” Dr. Alt stood up. He waved his cane and said, “Lead the way, Henry.”

Outside the courthouse was a fountain. Dr. Alt and Henry sat next to it. “I like fountains,” the priest said. Pro-copius said there were fountains and aqueducts everywhere in Byzantium. Water was brought into the city from the hills and stored in cisterns and was always plentiful.

“Things aren’t going too well, I hate to say.” Dr. Alt laid his cane against the side of the fountain and put his hand in the water. “It’s nice and cool,” he said. “Father Rogan is putting up a good fight, Henry. He wants you to remain at Saint Jude’s.” He stirred the water with his hand. “We’ll have to wait and see what happens.”

People came in and out of the courthouse. Around the plaza, people were talking and sitting on the benches that ringed the fountain, reading and feeding pigeons and eating lunches from paper bags. There was lots of traffic on the street. Cars and taxis pulled up to the curb and people
got in and out. Most people carried briefcases. Lots of people were wearing sunglasses.

Henry asked Dr. Alt if he had sunglasses.

“I have a pair of clip-ons,” he said. “But I forgot to bring them with me. Sometimes I forget that I’m wearing them altogether. You know what’s funny? Because I’m old and walk with a cane people think I’m blind and get out of the way when they see me coming.”

Henry said when a blind man and one who sees are both together in darkness, they are no different from one another.

Dr. Alt chuckled and patted Henry on the cheek.

Henry said when the light comes, then he who sees will see the light and he who is blind will remain in darkness.

Dr. Alt splashed the water with his hand. “That is very profound, Henry. Is it your angel talking?”

Henry asked Dr. Alt if sunglasses were expensive.

“Some are and some aren’t,” Dr. Alt said. “My clip-ons sure were.”

Henry asked if Dr. Alt would buy him a pair of sunglasses.

Dr. Alt took his hand out of the water and wiped it dry on his pants. “I’d be glad to, Henry. I’d be glad to. But would you do me a favor first?”

Henry asked what.

“I’d like to play a game with you.”

Henry asked what game.

“A word game. I’ll say a word and you say the first word that comes to mind after hearing it.”

Henry said go ahead.

“Up,” Dr. Alt said.

Henry said down.

“Sky.”

Henry said earth.

“Man.”

Henry said woman.

“Child.”

Henry said mother.

“Cup.”

Henry said water.

“Tree.”

Henry said fruit.

“Fish.”

Henry said sea.

“Dark.”

Henry said light.

“One.”

Henry said many.