The Firefly Dance

by Sarah Addison Allen

  They pulled into the driveway and everyone poured out of the car.

  Daddy inhaled the air, deep and long, and said, “Ahhhhh.”

  Hill ran around sniffing everything.

  Momma set herself to being busy taking things into the house; Anna helped her.

  Petey stood by her daddy. He put his hand on her shoulder and held it there. It felt to Petey as if right then they were both the same person. But it was more like they were trees. Both their feet pushing down into the North Carolina earth, their faces lifted to the cool breeze, their ears listening to the creek rush rush rush, the birds singing, the air so sweet and clean—as sweet as sugar—the mountain ridges rising up around them. It was their home and that was that.

  Scarcely one week. That’s all they had there. Petey and her daddy stood rooted to the spot, and Petey just knew Daddy had to be thinking the same thing.

  They spent the first three days showing Anna around. Daddy drove onto the Blue Ridge Parkway and he explained how it was 469 miles from starting in North Carolina to finishing in Virginia. They hopped on I-40 to Asheville to eat and walk downtown with all the locals and tourists. On a drive out to a secret picnic place that hardly anyone knew about, Daddy had a high-ole-time laughing at Anna’s wide-eyes when on the skinny curvy road going up up, Daddy passed a car so close he could have reached out and flicked the other driver’s ear. Anna had her hand to her mouth, then over her eyes, saying “Oh! Oh dear.” In pretty little Maggie Valley they walked around the tourist shops, ate at Joey’s Pancakes, visited Ghost Town in the Sky. Finally to sweet Main Street Waynesville, with its shops and food and people waving and saying hello.

  On the fourth day, Petey met Angela at the ice cream shop. Everyone else was going to walk around and look at touristy things for Anna, things they used to laugh about, and still sometimes did.

  Petey didn’t hardly recognize her friend, for the pictures hadn’t shown how much Angela really had changed, not only in how she looked. Angela knew the differences between them, too. She stood a head taller than Petey, dressed in bell-bottomed jeans and a top that showed a bit of her belly, white sandals, and her hair just so, and to top it off, Angela wore not only lipgloss but also makeup. Petey wore plaid shorts and a cotton shirt, flip flops, and no make up, no lipgloss, her boring hair pulled back with a silver and turquoise barrette that Anna had given her. She’d been so proud of the barrette and had planned to tell Angela how it came from New Mexico and was handmade. She wasn’t so sure she’d tell her, not after seeing how Angela was so womanly and Petey was so girlingly.

  Angela hugged Petey, then they went to the counter to order. Petey ordered a banana split so she could eat until she split, just as they’d talked about doing before she knew she had to move away. But Angela said, “I think I’ll just have a small single cone.”

  Petey felt like a greedy gut when she was handed her banana split and Angela her tiny cone.

  They sat down with their treats and at first they had nothing to say, then Angela began talking about people Petey didn’t know. Petey listened, eating her banana split, everything Angela said bouncing around the ice cream shop and landing with a thud. None of it made any sense because it wasn’t familiar to her. It was as if she were in her dream, where North Carolina and Texas were the same place, different yet combined.

  Angela stopped to lick her ice cream, tapped her lips with her napkin, then she reached across to wipe Petey’s face and suddenly they were both laughing. Angela said, “Well, old habits die hard, I guess.”

  Petey thought how Angela even talked like a grown up. She asked her, very mysterious, “Do you have a mirror?”

  Angela cocked her eyebrow, said, “Yeah,” handed her cone to Petey to hold, pulled a mirror from her purse (Petey didn’t have a cute little purse; she kept her money in her pocket), and handed it to Petey.

  Petey gave back Angela’s cone, held the mirror up to her face and looked at her reflection, hummed like she was la tee dahing. Dabbed the rest of the ice cream from her face that Angela hadn’t wiped off, then handed the mirror back to Angela.

  Angela smiled at her, said, “Well, I’ll be!,” and put the mirror back into her purse. She opened her mouth to say something else, when someone from across the room called, “Angela!” and she turned, then waved, said to Petey, “I’ll be right back,” and jumped up to hurry to a table full of giggling girls.

  Petey finished off her banana split and tried to seem as if she didn’t mind that Angela hadn’t introduced her or asked her to go over there, or that she threw away her cone before she even finished it. Petey looked down at her shirt where she’d dripped chocolate syrup and when she tried to wipe it off, it smeared even worse until it was a brown blob. Finally when Angela was back, she said, “Sorry. I had to catch up on some gossip.”

  Even so, Angela glanced back at her friends every so often to see what they were doing until finally Petey said, “I guess I better get back to my parents.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. Grandma’s coming this evening. And I promised Momma and Anna I’d help cook.”

  “Anna. That’s the neighbor downstairs, right?”

  “She’s a part of our family now. Like adopted kinda sorta.”

  “Oh, right. Okay.” Angela smiled, then took lipstick from her purse and fixed her lips, smacked them together.

  Petey stood; Angela stood. Petey said, “Well, guess I’ll get going.”

  In a sudden rush, Angela grabbed Petey in a hug, squeezed her, and kissed her on the cheek with her sticky lip-sticky lips. She said, “I am so glad to see you again. I missed you. We were always such good friends. We still are, aren’t we?” She cocked her head at Petey.

  Petey’s eyes stung. She nodded at Angela, said, “We sure are,” then left the ice cream shop, turning once to see Angela sitting with her friends. Angela looked up, waved at Petey and mouthed, “See you later!” as if she really would see her later. That “See you later!” made Petey feel even better. It made her feel as if the world wasn’t quite so unbalanced, as if she’d step and the world wouldn’t crumble away like everything was built on loose dirt and weird dreams.

  Grandma came, and Momma, Anna, and Petey cooked like crazy-go-to-meeting. Grandma for once put up her feet on the porch. There was roast (Anna did the roast herself) with garlic, salt, pepper, and onion. Potatoes and carrots, green salad, Momma’s scratch-made special biscuits, white beans, and for dessert, strawberry shortcake. Anna made the whipped cream homemade. Petey was proud since she made the shortbread cakes all by herself.

  After supper, Hill went exploring in the creek while Daddy and Momma showed Grandma their new dance moves. Daddy then danced with Petey, and then with Anna, and then with Grandma. Then Momma danced with everyone. They all about busted open their guts laughing. When Petey was tired of dancing, she went exploring before it was too dark. She hoped to soon see the fireflies and hear the frogs and night bugs come calling. She walked up the road and at the curve she slipped through to the woods where the creek flowed down, down, and farther down into the bigger creek below. It was cool inside the woods, and Petey took off her flip flops and stuck her feet into the cold water. She searched for interesting stones, and when she saw one, she plucked it up and put it in her pocket. After a time, she made her way farther up and her pockets filled with pretty rocks.

  Off in the distance she heard howling and figured it surely must be Hill calling for his wolf clan. Petey found a log to sit on where she could listen to all the different sounds of the mountains. There was always movement and noise, but different movement and noise than from the city. The cities’ movements and noises were from people and where they were going or what they needed or how they lived. The mountain forests’ noises were from rushing water and animals scurrying and birds singing and wind in the trees. In the forest kind of quiet, Petey could hear some of the bird’s wings as th
ey rushed by her.

  She heard a branch crack and turned to see Daddy heading towards her. He sat beside her and they were quiet for a time.

  Then he said, “I know what you’re feeling. Or at least I know how this pulls at your innards, being here, knowing we have to leave.”

  Petey nodded.

  “It’s strange being here like a tourist, isn’t it?”

  She nodded again, reached down and plucked a rock from the ground, turned it over in her hands.

  “These mountains are some of the oldest mountains in the world; did I tell you that?”

  Petey nodded a third time.

  “They’ve been worn down by time and wind and rain. That’s why the mountains in the west are higher and rockier and all; they’ve not been here as long as our mountains.”

  She liked how he said “our mountains,” as if the mountains were still theirs. And maybe they were.

  Daddy plucked his own rock, shaped like a heart, wiped it on his pant leg, eyed it, and put it in his pocket. “I don’t know what’ll happen. But I want you to know that one day we all will come home.”

  A squirrel jittered down a tree and stared at them, a seed in its mouth.

  “No matter what your momma and me do, you’ll grow up and do what you have to do, or want to do. You see that? If you pine for these mountains, you’ll find your way back to them.”

  “But don’t you pine for them, Daddy?”

  Daddy looked around the woods, up towards the ridgetops. “Yes.”

  “Then you’ll find your way back to them, right?”

  “It’s not always that simple when you’re a man with a family.”

  “Why not?”

  “There’s responsibilities and bills and . . . all that kind of thing. There’s obligations.”

  Petey felt bad for being an obligation that kept her daddy from where he wanted to be.

  “I know that look.” Daddy pushed a strand of her hair back that had come undone from her barrette. “What me and your momma do we do for love. We had our family because we wanted a family together. I don’t want you going off thinking it’s your fault, like you’re the reason, you hear? Us being away from home, living in Texas, has to do with a lot of things. You’ll understand more as you get older.”

  “I guess so.” Petey stretched out her legs, studied her dirtied toes. “So, you think we’ll all come home one day?”

  Daddy smiled, said, “Yes. I do. I feel it in my bones. Your momma and me talk about it all the time, after you and Hill go to bed.” He looked at Petey with a light in his eyes. “And I know Hill isn’t always in bed when he should be; that boy is strange-wild.”

  Petey didn’t tell on him, but she didn’t say otherwise, either.

  “Keep an eye on your little brother when you can, hear?”

  “Yessir.” She watched the water tumble and bubble over the rocks. She had that good ole hope rise up in her. Hope hope. Hope.

  They sat for a while, listening to the sounds of their home. Petey was again in two pieces. North Carolina piece. Texas piece. She never thought she’d admit to herself how Texas had some good sides to it, and how her half-house was a pretty little house, and how Mary turned into a good friend, almost as good as Angela had been, and in some ways better, just different better. But Petey knew that even if she moved to North Carolina right that very day, she and Angela wouldn’t anymore be the kind of friends they’d been before. Things changed because that’s the way of the ole world.

  That night, everyone hunkered down for sleep. Petey and Hill were on pallets. Hill was so tired from running all over the woods, he didn’t even try to sneak out. His hands and legs jerked every so often, as if he were having a wolf-dream. Petey sneaked to the porch and sat on the rocking chair. Through a break in the trees she saw all the stars, more stars there than she could ever see in Texas. But the moon was just as bright as anywhere. She watched the moon, shining down on her with its cold light that made her feel warm all the same. She stayed there a while, hearing the rustling of nighttime animals, the creek that never stopped. When she couldn’t see the moon anymore, she went back to her pallet.

  The next morning, the day before they were to go back to Texas, Momma said it was time to visit Rock. Petey’s stomach grumbled at her and wouldn’t let her eat breakfast. She’d prayed and prayed to Jesus, or Grandpa, or God, or the Angels, that Momma wouldn’t slip back into the way she was before. Hill held onto Petey’s hand on the way over to the cemetery. Everyone was quiet. Momma had her box with her, held in her lap.

  They visited Daddy’s parents first. He knelt there a while, then he put the pretty rock he’d found by the creek between their two gravestones, turned, and nodded at Grandma. Everyone followed Grandma as she went to Grandpa’s grave, and everyone stood back as she talked to him. Then she turned and said, “That’ll do it.”

  Momma walked slow to Rock’s grave, a bunch of wildflowers picked from the mountain held tight in her right hand, the box in the other. They all followed behind, except Daddy, he went to Momma’s side, put his arm around her. At the grave, Momma put the flowers there, then sat on the grass. Everyone else stood.

  Momma opened the box and took out chimes with a little angel at the top. She said, “Sweet one, I surely miss you. I hope you’re behaving up there and helping Jesus.” She soothed her hand over the grass, as if smoothing a baby blanket. “My little one.” She then brushed away pieces of dirt, leaves, and twigs from the ground and the gravestone, kissed the ground, then stood, face turned up to the sky with her eyes closed. She then went to the tree with branches leaning over Rock’s grave and tied the chimes to the tree. The wind blew and the chimes sang their sweet tune. Momma sang, so soft and low Petey hardly heard her, “Don’t you hear the bells now ringing; don’t you hear the angels singing; ‘tis the glory hallelujah Jubilee; in that far off sweet forever; just beyond the shining river; when they ring the golden bells for you and me.”

  Grandma had sung the last part with her and then said, “Amen.”

  Momma said, “I’m ready.” Glancing back once at the grave, she then turned back to everyone, and said, “I know Rock isn’t here. He’s here,” she pointed to her heart. “And there,” she pointed to my heart, and then to Daddy, Hill’s, and Grandma’s heart. “And now, Anna.” She pointed to Anna’s heart. Then she smiled.

  Petey went to Momma and hugged her, and Momma stroked her hair, then said, “Let’s go now.”

  The chimes sang and sang as they made their way back to the car. The sun was warm as a loving hand on Petey’s head, and at first she thought it really was Daddy’s or Momma’s hand. Maybe it was Jesus’ hand. She didn’t know if she’d ever know. She didn’t know if she’d ever see Rock or Grandpa, or Daddy’s parents she’d never known, in heaven one day, but Momma was right, they all weren’t in that ground; they were all up inside people’s hearts and memories.

  The grownups spent the rest of the day sitting on the porch talking, or eating, baking, cooking, and eating again. Petey and Hill spent as much of their time in the woods and creek as they were allowed. The next morning, Grandma left first. She hugged Petey so hard it knocked her breath out. Before she climbed into her car, Grandma whispered to Petey, “I know you’ll come back home.” She sounded like Daddy even though she was Momma’s momma.

  When they were packed and ready to leave, Hill was nowhere to be found. They called and called and called some more. Daddy went off into the woods in one direction, Momma in another, and Petey in another still. Anna stayed behind in case he came back. Petey heard Daddy whistle his sharp calling home whistle. She whistled hers. Surely that would get Hill’s attention. She heard Daddy’s calls and whistles fade as he went farther into the woods.

  Petey called and called to Hill, her stomach fussed and grumbled and growled at her. She screamed out, “Hill, you stupid idiot! You stupid stupid fool
idiot!” Stomping through the woods, over the creek, standing on top of rocks, she yelled for her little brother to stop being a big ole brat and come on so they could go back to Texas.

  She went back to the cabin to see if he’d been found. Momma stood on the porch with her dress dirtied and torn in places—she must have gone through stickers and bushes. Daddy wasn’t back. Anna told Petey what she already knew from Momma’s look, “Not yet,” then she rubbed Momma’s back. Momma said, “He knew we were leaving. I told him not to go running off far. That boy is too wild.”

  Petey ran back into the woods. She tried to think where he’d go. What kind of animal he’d be. Other thoughts scratched her brain: what if a bear had him? What if he fell and hit his head on a rock? What if he was lost in the woods and no one could find him and he couldn’t find his way back?

  At a fork in the creek to the left and up on a bit of an incline, Petey saw rocks that huddled together making a tiny cave. She ran up to it. And sure enough, there inside was Hill, curled up like an animal would when hibernating. Petey hoped he was only asleep. She didn’t want to touch him, in case he was cold and hard, but she had to. She reached in and touched him and he was warm. She pushed against him, hard, “You stupid idiot!”

  He stirred and looked at her, feral-eyed, then brother-eyed. “What’s wrong? Why you look so funny? How come your eyes are red? Is it time to go home yet? I just got tired.”

  Petey wanted to hug him and wring his neck all at the same time. “We’ve been hollering and hollering for you. Momma’s upset and Daddy’s about to call the sheriff!”

  He scrabbled out. He had the look of oh no, now I’m in trouble.

  “Hurry, let’s go.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him fast as she could back to the log cabin. When Momma saw him, she ran faster than Petey’d ever seen her, grabbed him up and smacked his face with her lips over and over, while Hill kept saying, “Aw Momma, stop it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”