like a huge topaz mirror. I love this place. Before Daddy’s soul got trapped in a liquor bottle, we used to come here all the time. An image comes to me of a five-year-old girl standing in a blue wooden fishing boat, yelling and jerking on a small cane pole. Her daddy lays down his fishing rod, wraps his arms around her, and helps her land a big catfish. Then he gently removes the hook from the catfish’smouth and shows her the tricky fins. She touches the silky smooth skin. Her daddy lets the fish slide into the bucket with the other fish. The little girl looks up at her daddy, then at the fish swirling around in the bucket, thinking about how much that catfish loved the river. After all this time, I still feel that girl’s heart thumpety-thumping inside of me.
“Hey, what you staring at?” Billy Ray appears out of nowhere.
“Damn, Billy Ray, don’t sneak up on me like that.”
He climbs onto the concrete ledge of the bridge, stands up, and looks out at the water, almost as if he’s in a trance.
“Billy Ray, come on, let’s go.” He ignores me and throws his arms out wide, like he’s enraptured with life. A cool breeze is blowing and the water in the reservoir has gotten choppy. Slowly, he turns around and holds his hand out to me. “Come on up.”
I take his hand and scoot up the wall in my Converse sneakers until I’m standing beside him. Goose bumps pop out all over me. “It’s scary up here.”
He holds my hand tight. “There’s nothing for YOU to be scared of,” he says with conviction. We stand there looking up at the lavender sky, our hands absorbing each other’s light.
After a while I manage to speak. “The sun looks like a giant egg yolk about to drop off the edge of the world.”
“Yeah, it does.” He squeezes my hand.
“Don’t you love how dependable the sun is, how it shows up for work every morning, then disappears every evening like a happy servant in a hurry to get home?” Billy Ray doesn’tsay anything, just keeps his hand wrapped around mine. I sigh deep and long, then glance sideways in his direction, afraid to turn my head while standing on the ledge.
He glances sideways and our eyes meet. “You sure are in a poetical mood.”
“It just gripes me how scientists say our sun is an ordinary star, like the hundred billion others in the galaxy. Because when I look at that ball of fire in the sky, I see God’s Eye—and it’s looking at you and me, Billy Ray. That Eye knows exactly where we are right
now—
standing on this bridge outside Red Clover, South Carolina—on the East Coast of the United States—on the continent of North America—on a planet named Earth.” The silky stream of words floats out of my mouth and hangs in the air. We stand there holding hands, bedazzled by the sun.
When the sun disappears, Billy Ray hops from the ledge and holds out his arms. I slide into them and my head fits snugly under his chin. We stand that way, close, but not too close, listening to the Catawba gnawing on its red clay banks.
8 thau·ma·tur·gy
1: the performance of miracles or magic
As soon as we reach the campsite, Noah runs up and tugs on Billy Ray’s pant leg. “We caught nine fishes and two of them had a bunch of little yellow eggs inside their bellies.”
Then Josh yanks on my arm.
“Kaw-leen
, our tent is about to fall down. You have to fix it.”
“Come on, I’ll help you!” Billy Ray hoists Josh up to his shoulders and carries him toward the saggy tent. Noah skips alongside.
“Hey, Billy Ray!” Crawdad’s sitting on the end of the picnic table with his feet on the bench. “Where in the hell you been?”
Billy Ray turns around. “At the reservoir, watching the sun go down.”
“Well, ain’t that sweet, Teeny? Preacher Boy’s been watching the sunset,” he says to Billy Ray’s mama, who’s sitting on our green metal Coleman cooler.
“Don’t you start on him.” Teeny gives Crawdad a hateful look.
“Leave the boy alone,” Daddy says.
“Hey, what you staring at?” Billy Ray appears out of nowhere.
“Damn, Billy Ray, don’t sneak up on me like that.”
He climbs onto the concrete ledge of the bridge, stands up, and looks out at the water, almost as if he’s in a trance.
“Billy Ray, come on, let’s go.” He ignores me and throws his arms out wide, like he’s enraptured with life. A cool breeze is blowing and the water in the reservoir has gotten choppy. Slowly, he turns around and holds his hand out to me. “Come on up.”
I take his hand and scoot up the wall in my Converse sneakers until I’m standing beside him. Goose bumps pop out all over me. “It’s scary up here.”
He holds my hand tight. “There’s nothing for YOU to be scared of,” he says with conviction. We stand there looking up at the lavender sky, our hands absorbing each other’s light.
After a while I manage to speak. “The sun looks like a giant egg yolk about to drop off the edge of the world.”
“Yeah, it does.” He squeezes my hand.
“Don’t you love how dependable the sun is, how it shows up for work every morning, then disappears every evening like a happy servant in a hurry to get home?” Billy Ray doesn’tsay anything, just keeps his hand wrapped around mine. I sigh deep and long, then glance sideways in his direction, afraid to turn my head while standing on the ledge.
He glances sideways and our eyes meet. “You sure are in a poetical mood.”
“It just gripes me how scientists say our sun is an ordinary star, like the hundred billion others in the galaxy. Because when I look at that ball of fire in the sky, I see God’s Eye—and it’s looking at you and me, Billy Ray. That Eye knows exactly where we are right
now—
standing on this bridge outside Red Clover, South Carolina—on the East Coast of the United States—on the continent of North America—on a planet named Earth.” The silky stream of words floats out of my mouth and hangs in the air. We stand there holding hands, bedazzled by the sun.
When the sun disappears, Billy Ray hops from the ledge and holds out his arms. I slide into them and my head fits snugly under his chin. We stand that way, close, but not too close, listening to the Catawba gnawing on its red clay banks.
8 thau·ma·tur·gy
1: the performance of miracles or magic
As soon as we reach the campsite, Noah runs up and tugs on Billy Ray’s pant leg. “We caught nine fishes and two of them had a bunch of little yellow eggs inside their bellies.”
Then Josh yanks on my arm.
“Kaw-leen
, our tent is about to fall down. You have to fix it.”
“Come on, I’ll help you!” Billy Ray hoists Josh up to his shoulders and carries him toward the saggy tent. Noah skips alongside.
“Hey, Billy Ray!” Crawdad’s sitting on the end of the picnic table with his feet on the bench. “Where in the hell you been?”
Billy Ray turns around. “At the reservoir, watching the sun go down.”
“Well, ain’t that sweet, Teeny? Preacher Boy’s been watching the sunset,” he says to Billy Ray’s mama, who’s sitting on our green metal Coleman cooler.
“Don’t you start on him.” Teeny gives Crawdad a hateful look.
“Leave the boy alone,” Daddy says.
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