Page 48 of Possibly Texas

My hands slowly slid from my ears, shaking as they traveled down my body to rest at my hips once again. A hot tear trailed from the corner of my eye over the apple of my cheek as I watched the woman stand in the golden sunlight, unbothered by what had just happened to her. My bottom lip quivered as I stared at the no-longer white toga of the woman. Rotten, smashed fruit lay at her feet in fetid heaps as she stood there, basking in the rays of light that streamed through the skylight. Then, the group of people that circled around her at the edge of the clearing began to move.

Watching from the safety of my own tile, my hands shaking at my sides and tears slowly leaking from the corners of my eyes, I watched as the citizens of Possibly approached the woman quietly. I didn’t know what to expect—were they going to slaughter her now? What other torment did they have in store for this poor woman who had endured their taunting and physical abuse?

How is this not a cult? I thought to myself. This is messed up.

Much to my shock, the woman’s eyes opened, and she welcomed the people who had just pelted her with fruit and verbal abuse with open arms. What happened wasn’t further violence or screaming, but a big, silent, group hug. The woman’s arms found and patted as many backs and shoulders as she could as the citizens of Possibly hugged her warmly.

Sunlight continued to bathe the woman—and now the citizens of Possibly—in golden rays as they stood in the center of the circle of grass and hugged each other warmly. I slumped against the pillar at my side and let tears run down my cheeks. My hands were shaky, but I managed to reach up and wipe my cheeks dry with the backs of my wrists. Still, the people hugged quietly and bathed in the warmth of the sun at the center of The Pueblo.

What. The. Crap?

After walking around downtown no less than six times, my hands finally stopped shaking and my cheeks were dry, though my eyes were surely beet red. Auggie walked alongside me quietly the whole while, though I wasn’t sure if he was silent out of fear of what I’d have to say, or respect for my need to process what had happened at The Pueblo. As we walked around and around, my eyes flicked and darted over to other Possibilians, wondering if they would randomly and violently throw something at me, too. Would they suddenly boo or hiss at me?

Auggie seemed to pick up on my uneasiness at what had happened during the church service and didn’t offer to explain anything. He didn’t defend it, either. He simply let me walk along, kicking at the dirt and pavement as I processed my own thoughts. Walking alongside me through town was his way of keeping me company without being intrusive. Every now and then, my eyes would dart over to him, and I saw that he wasn’t staring at me, either. He was giving me as much space as he could without actually leaving me to be alone.

When I finally found myself walking by the backside of Mystic Molly’s tent, I stopped on the side of the road. Then I flopped down in the grass, my legs jutting out directly in front of me as my hands came to rest in my lap. My eyes stared out at nothing as I tried to process my feelings about the woman, the violence, the screaming…my stomach was in knots and I suddenly realized that I hadn’t had any breakfast that morning. It was probably a good thing because I might have upchucked all of it right there in the grass behind Mystic Molly’s.

Auggie stood on the road for a while, watching me, obviously unsure if he was welcome to sit with me. However, he finally stepped onto the grass and sat down next to me. He pulled his legs underneath himself into the lotus position and hunched down, sitting comfortably next to me. I’m not sure how much time passed before my stomach stopped feeling like acrobats were performing in it, but I finally started to feel somewhat normal. I pulled my legs in and mirrored Auggie’s position. My hands felt steadier and my eyes no longer felt like they might start flooding tears at the slightest thing. A soft, warm breeze blew through town, ruffling my hair and the hem of Molly’s tent behind us.

“Why would you guys do that?” I muttered, my eyes on my lap.

Auggie didn’t respond.

“What does it mean?” I asked the question in a new way.

My sitting partner kicked his legs out in front of himself in the grass and leaned back to prop himself up with the palms of his hands.

“What’s it about?” I asked.

“What do you want it to be about?” Auggie finally asked.

I didn’t have an answer for that. I would have preferred that nothing had happened at all. Then I wouldn’t have felt sick to my stomach, wondering what was wrong with the people of Possibly.

“That’s the church service they’ve been doing at The Pueblo as far back as I can remember,” Auggie said. “We gather and throw fruit at her.”

“Why?” I murmured, my eyes darting around nervously.

Auggie let that question hang on the warm summer breeze, flittering about our skulls for a few moments, then he shifted and sighed.

“The woman?” Auggie asked. “That’s God.”

I just stared.

“To me,” Auggie continued, “it means that no matter how awful we are—humans—no matter how much destruction we cause. No matter how mean we are to each other. No matter how far we stray from God’s goodness, she’ll always welcome us back with open arms. She still loves us. It’s never too late. To, uh, remember who you are. To be your best self.”

Warm air ruffled my hair again and Molly’s tent rustled in the breeze behind us. Wyatt’s gun went off somewhere near Lovelorn Pass Bridge. I could hear the metallic “ding” of Earl Dean’s pickaxe on pavement over on Liberty Lane. Fill Your Heart by Tiny Tim was AMOR’s choice of song for the day. The grass tickled at the back of my knees and traced like tiny fingers along my bare calves. My nose picked up the scent of brewing coffee drifting over from Starbuck’s. Possibly had gone back to what passed for normal in the space of minutes. All while I had been walking around in a stupor, wondering what the hell was wrong with everyone.

“It was unsettling the first time I went,” Auggie said. “But I was kinda young then, too.”

I reached up and picked at the salty tracks in the corners of my eyes.

“I probably shouldn’t say this—”

“Go ahead,” I said. “I’m already so weirded out.”

“—but, it’s kind of performance art,” Auggie said. “Just like any other church. The Pueblo just gets to the point faster.”

“The point?” I hissed, though I didn’t mean to use such a harsh tone.