The Hubbub

Sandy recovered. It took him two days before he was able to wake up, and three more for him to be able to sit straight. He tried to stand, but it seemed that his wings were toying with his posture, as if he was being pulled backwards and at first he always had to bow in order to balance his weight.

The wings were heavy. They were far heavier than his limbs combined, and this weight became a source of another sort of back pain for Sandy, who already has to bear the intense ache from the area where his wings were attached to his back.

 

***

The storm had left. The people of Povoir have started to repair their roofs, fences, and windows; they have started to sweep the roads, reinforce their walls, and live out their lives just like before.

Oh and yes, they’re already talking about Alexander Okamoto.

The market was abuzz with stories of him. Some said he had two wings, or that he had four; that he had a tail; that Ansushi was cruel to drag the poor boy all the way to his clinic, or that Sandy’s mother was a member of an evil cult.

Most prominent of the versions came from the meat stalls, where Sarah, a fat woman with strong hands for cutting meat and stronger jaws for speaking out her mind, swiftly ran her cleaver into the chicken before her, while ranting against the local doctor.

“No, no, no, no,” bellowed Sarah to the chicken, then turning her sights on Hazel, the vendor to her right. “It was the old man’s idea. The other boys could do nothing. That old man wants to charge heavy.”

Disapproving cries. Ansushi, it seems, has his supporters.

“Beh!” continued Sarah. “He knows Mr. okamoto owns this market. Does he give a damn whether anyone here got hurt in the storm yesterday? He closed his damn clinic while five people outside!”

“Five, including you?” It was Gundy, the vendor opposite Sarah.

“Shut up, you ungrateful pig! You still owe me fifty!” Sarah was not to be crossed with, especially if you owe her.

“What will become of him?” asked Hazel.

“Hmmmm… he can play an angel every Christmas…” Gundy replied.

The chuckles that followed were stifled when Sarah glared at her debtor. “That depends whether the old man keeps him around…”

“It’s horrible, just horrible.” Vincent, a calm bulk of a butcher and husband of Sarah, has just arrived. “You don’t have to make it more horrible by fighting about it, guys. The customers are waiting for their meat. Get over it.”

***

 

In the rectory, the parish priest was quietly eating his rice and fried fish. His assistant priest has just arrived. The young man joined his superior at table, sitting by the latter’s right hand. He crossed himself, both to bless the food before him and to hope that the old man won’t ave to ask—

“Late again, Louis?”

“Sorry, Father. Confession.”

The curé stared at him. Louis knew it, but still he tried to prepare his first spoonful without trembling.

The curé resumed his meal. Silence.

Silence.

Chew. Silence.

Swallow. Chew. Silence.

Sil—

“If I may ask, Father,” inquired Louis, trying to look at the old man’s face but ending up looking at the forehead, “there’s been a lot of confusion, a lot of gossip going on about Sandy Okamoto.” It’s quite scary, I think.”

The curé continued eating as if he heard nothing. Louis somehow took it as a sign to continue. “What should I tell the people? Is it supernatural? Is Sandy a freak? Is he possessed?”

The senior laid his fork on his plate. He stared at the window in front of him, and for a few seconds did nothing more. Louis tried to eat.

“I baptized that boy,” the old man finally replied. It’s not his fault, whatever happened to him, and I am not to condemn what God has planned for him.”

“But what should I tell the people?” asked Louis.

“That he is Alexander Okamoto, son of this town and a human being. We will treat him for who he is, not for what he had become.”

***

In the hills south of the town, five children were lying on the grass, watching the sun set while talking about their neighbor’s transformation.

“Do you think Sandy’s an angel?” asked Rizza.

“Nope,” answered David.

“Then where did he get those wings?”

“Birds have wings,” retorted Bowie.

“Sandy doesn’t have a tail,” said Rizza.

“Who cares? What’s important is that he can fly now. He can see the enemy from above,” commented Samantha.

“Can he end the war?” asked April.

“Surely he can. The other side’s a bunch of losers,” replied Bowie.

“I sure hope so.” April sat up. “Then Dad can go home. I miss him.”

“Of course your dad’s going home… None of us will lose anyone, now that we’ve got Sandy the angel,” sniped Jossen.

“He’s not an angel,” said David.