A Parchment of Leaves by Silas House Page A

that.”
    â€œWhat will it do?” I asked.
    â€œMake you wilder than hell, that’s what,” Saul said. I had never heard him talk so much since I had knowed him.
    The musicians started in on a whirling, stomping song that set my feet to patting until I couldn’t hardly stand it. I didn’t feel at all as I had expected to when drunk. I wasn’t dizzy or loud, or any of the things my cousins had said liquor made a person be. It was just that everything seemed heightened to me. Laughter from across the yard was high and sharp, like a pinprick on the darkness. When night smoothed itself out over us, the stars showed up in the sky like lights being turned on, one by one. I felt I had never seen it in this way before. The music sounded different, as if each note could be heard on its own. It seemed I could feel the blood running through all of my veins. Before long, the music got to me so bad that I began to move around on Saul’s lap, stomping my foot and swaying my hips as I sat there.
    I jumped off Saul’s knees and pulled at his arm. “Dance with me,” I said.
    â€œLord have mercy, woman, you’ve lost your mind,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I couldn’t dance to save my life.”
    â€œCome on, Saul. Clog with me.”
    â€œGet Aaron to. He can outdance the devil.”
    â€œHe’s playing the banjo, though.”
    Dave Conley leaned over. “I can take over that banjo,” he said. There was much guffawing, as he was known to always ask for the banjo when he got to drinking, although he couldn’t do much more that pluck at the strings. Aaron jumped down from the porch and started clogging out in the middle of the circle of people. His arms hung limply at his sides, as they were supposed to do, but every other part of his body seemed to be moving, matching the music. That boy could dance. He knowed just when to throw his knee high, when totap his toe. His feet touched the earth in perfect rhythm with the music. He finally held his hand out for me.
    â€œGo on,” Saul hollered. “Show em what you’re made of.”
    I took both of Aaron’s hands. We held our arms straight out in front of us so that we were very far apart, and we started to clog. He let go of my hand on the exact right note, and then we really set in to dancing. The music ran through me, churning and pumping. We were both awful good, I have to say, but in very different ways. He had learned clogging in the fashion of the Irish, and I had learned it by watching my mother, whose Indian stomp dances had been flavored by flat-out clogging. Somehow this worked to our favor, and we matched step for step. On every move I made, he met me in perfect stride. We danced so good together that it must have looked like we had rehearsed it. I could feel everybody watching us, clapping, the circle of people a blur of teeth in smiling faces. The music ran up and down my legs, flew around me, lifted my arms and my legs. I felt like I was celebrating the birth of the world.
    The pickers played harder and harder, and Aaron and me started to rush in a circle around the yard, looking each other in the eye. I couldn’t help but laugh, although Aaron held a straight face. His eyes were so serious that I felt I ought to look away.
    When the music swelled until it seemed it would bust wide open, Aaron took my hands once again and we held on to each other, moving round and round so quick that I couldn’t make out anything but his face. I caught his eye and for a minute it felt like he was looking deeper into me than Saul ever had. I felt like he could read my mind. I felt naked. It struck me as not being right, how he was looking at me. Even his hands seemed abnormally hot, as if he had held them over a licking fire. The ends of my own fingers tingled within his palms. Just when I was about to jerk away, the music stopped. Everybody jumped up and clapped like we were just back from