Fiery Rivers

by Daefyd Williams

  “C’mon, Dev. The water is nice once you git used to it,” Del encouraged. He was holding on to the end of the dock, in the water up to his neck.

  “You sure?” Devon queried. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I woulden lie to ya.”

  “OK, here I come.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Devon splashed into the water and hung on to the dock beside Del. “It’s c-c-cold!” he stammered. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  “Just wait a couple minutes. You’ll git used to it.”

  Sure enough, after several minutes, the water was no longer cold, and the boys began to splash each other.

  Carrie Lynn, the adopted daughter of Caryl, Grampa’s oldest son, and Evangeline, his wife, walked out and sat down at the end of the dock and dangled her legs in the water. She was a bleached blond and wore a one-piece dark blue bathing suit. She was holding a small pink plastic box in her right hand, from which the song, “Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” was coming. Her hair was bobbed, and she wore light pink lipstick. She was thirteen, the same age as Del. She was chewing bubble gum and would occasionally blow a bubble that would pop indecorously onto her chin and nose, which she would adroitly remove with her left hand and place back into her mouth.

  “Whatchou got there?” Del asked her. He and Devon had stopped splashing each other when they heard the music.

  “Transistor radio,” Carrie Lynn replied insouciantly.

  “Ya don’t hafta plug it in?” Devon inquired. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. “How’s it work?”

  “It’s got a battery in it.”

  “Neat!” Del said.

  “Mommy an’ Daddy always buy me whatever I want,” she stated haughtily, as she got up and joined Dollie and Lurlene, who were lying on a blanket on the bank close to the dock.

  Del turned his back to the bank to face Devon and whispered, “That girl’s crazy. When we were seven she pulled me under her bed an’ tried to unzip my pants.”

  “Really?” Devon whispered, remembering what he and Rig had done to Dollie. “Wha’djou do?” I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  “Nothin’. I pushed her hand away an’ got outa there lickety split.”

  “Oh,” Devon said, disappointed. He had hoped to hear something akin to Rig’s and his antics with Dollie.

  “WAH-HOO!” Uncle Dwayne suddenly yelled from the diving board. Everyone turned to look as he ran to the end of the board and performed a perfect swan dive into the water and then swam strongly to the bank. Everyone clapped and whistled when he surfaced. Dwayne, like all great athletes, was able to transfer his innate abilities to any sport which interested him. He and his brother, Butchie, had been star athletes on the West Elkton High School basketball team.

  “Let’s see if we can learn how to swim,” Del said to Devon. “I think all you gotta do is stretch your arms out in front o’ you an’ kick your legs.” This was the first time the boys had ever been swimming. The only contact they had had with water until then was when Marie had made them take a bath once a week.

  “Ya want me to help ya?” Travis asked. He and Rig had been joining in on the splashing. “I been swimmin’ since I was ten.”

  “Yeah,” Del said.

  “OK. All you gotta do is stretch one arm out in front o’ ya like you’re gonna touch the other bank, bring it down an’ back an’ then do the same thang with your other arm, while you kick your feet like you got flippers on ‘em. An’ o’ course, you gotta turn your head sideways an’ breathe while you’re movin’. Watch.”

  He swam smoothly and strongly all the way across the pond to the western bank. He stood up when he got to the shallows and yelled back to the boys, “See? That’s all there is to it.” He dove back in and swam to the dock and then reached up and grabbed onto its end. “Piece o’ cake. Now you try.”

  With Travis’s help, Del, Devon, and Rig were all swimming within the hour. Learning to swim gave Devon a unique sense of accomplishment. It was the first time in his life that he was able to do something physical and not be laughed at.

  “Dinner’s on! Come an’ git it!” Grampa yelled. “High-tail it outa the water, everyone!”

  Everyone complied. They knew it was not in their best interest to get on Grampa’s bad side. They all gathered along three wooden picnic tables that had been placed end-to-end behind Grampa’s trailer. They were draped with plastic tablecloths and laden with corn on the cob, potato salad, macaroni salad, hamburgers, hot dogs, Mike-sells potato chips, baked beans, watermelon, mush melon, German chocolate cake, cherry pie, apple pie, and two buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken that Uncle Butchie and Aunt Cheryl had brought. Adam and Marie had grilled the hamburgers and hot dogs while everyone was at the pond, because they believed that it was a sin to parade one’s body in a bathing suit in front of the opposite sex. A bucket of ice sat on the ground at one end of the tables filled with soda pop and beer.

  When everyone was seated, Adam announced that Marie would be saying grace before everyone dug in. “Everyone bow your heads an’ close your eyes now,” she instructed. They all bowed their heads, although not all closed their eyes. “Heavenly Father, we thank thee for gatherin’ us all together today on this beautiful Fourth o’ July, the birthday of our country. We praise thee for these bounties we are about to receive, an’ thank thee for allowin’ us to arrive safely. May your holy grace protect Dad’s pond an’ allow all who swim there never to come to any harm. We thank thee in advance for seein’ us all safely home. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  The redeemed sitting at the table—Uncle Rufus, Aunt Uma, Uncle Dwayne, and Aunt Melda echoed: “Amen.” Bowls and platters were quickly passed around, and soon everyone was enjoying the feast. Laughter and chatter filled the air. The hot Ohio sun beat down on the gathering through the haze.

  After dinner, Grampa forbade anyone going into the water for an hour. “I don’t want no one drownin’ on me the first day my pond’s open,” he declared.

  After the tables were cleared, the women sat on lawn chairs along the eastern bank of the pond to gossip. Some of the children—J.J. and Rebeccah, the son and daughter of Uncle Butchie and Aunt Cheryl; Dollie, Uncle Rufus and Aunt Uma’s daughter; Devon and Gloryann; Joe, Jonah, and Tina, the sons and daughter of Uncle Dwayne and Aunt Melda; and Terra, the daughter of Uncle Ray and Aunt Kat, all began a game of hide-and-go-seek behind Grampa’s trailer and among the trees in the yard between his trailer and Uncle Caryl and Aunt Evangeline’s house built on a rise to the south.

  The older boys—Del; Kane, the son of Uncle Ray and Aunt Kat; and Travis, Uncle Rufus and Aunt Uma’s son, placed plastic rings on the ground near the picnic tables and commenced a game of Jarts, the metal-tipped arrows plummeting to earth near, and sometimes in, the rings. Whoops of triumph filled the muggy air whenever a Jart arrow came down inside a ring. The older girls, Carrie Lynn and Lurlene, sat on the dock and listened to rock and roll music on Carrie’s transistor radio and shared their fantasies about boys.

  Uncle Caryl had built horseshoe pits in his backyard to provide something for people to do when they tired of swimming. Uncle Ray, Uncle Dwayne, and Uncle Butchie were on one team, and Uncle Caryl, Adam, and Uncle Rufus were on the other. Uncle Dwayne’s raucous yelp of “Ringer!” erupted whenever he succeeded in ringing the metal stake with a horseshoe. Uncle Butchie would usually toss his horseshoe so that it clanged around the stake atop Dwayne’s. Adam kept pace by matching them with ringers.

  When an hour had passed, Grampa announced: “Alright, young’uns, you kin go back in the pond if you got a mind to.”

  All of the children playing hide-and-go-seek, and the teenagers who had been playing with the Jarts, rushed back into the water. The men playing horseshoes kept playing until Uncle Dwayne and Uncle Butchie’s team roundly defeated Adam’s team. Uncle Caryl and Uncle Ray had never had an affinity for sports.

  Uncle Butchie disappeared for a few minutes, a
nd when he reappeared, he was holding a box of firecrackers that he had retrieved from the trunk of his car. As he opened the top of the cardboard box, he smiled broadly and said, “Let’s have some fun.”

  Inside the box were silver salutes, their stiff, green fuses jutting from the middle of their silver cylindrical sides; cherry bombs, looking for all the world like their namesakes—red orbs with black fuses projecting from them; inch-and-a-half firecrackers, thin fuses extending from one end; bottle rockets, firecrackers attached to long, slender pieces of wood; and sparklers, thin wires coated at one end with a hardened black batter.

  He handed the sparklers to the wives so that they could light them for the younger children. To the older boys, Del, Devon, Travis, Rig, Kane, Jonah, and Joe, he proffered the bottle rockets and inch-and-a-half firecrackers. The cherry bombs and silver salutes he reserved for the men so that they could compete to see who could throw them furthest away from the shore above the water.

  Naturally, Uncle Dwayne and Uncle Butchie threw their cherry bombs and silver salutes highest and furthest from the bank, their loud booms and bright flashes soon shattering the evening air. Adam asked Marie to light silver salutes for him, and he was soon matching their throws. He had stopped going to school after the second grade and had acquired a woodsman’s skills on his own in the hollows of Kentucky.

  Uncle Rufus, Uncle Ray, and Uncle Caryl were less adept at throwing the cherry bombs and silver salutes. Uncle Rufus preferred just to toss his into the water close to the bank, where they exploded with a deafening boom, evoking complaints from the women. Uncle Ray and Uncle Caryl were successful in heaving theirs into the air, but they tended to enter the water before they exploded and detonated like depth charges after they submerged.

  The boys lit the small firecrackers and launched the bottle rockets from pop bottles. Devon discovered that it was exciting to light his firecracker, watch the fuse burn, and then throw it just before it exploded. Sometimes the fuses burned too quickly or were too short, and the firecracker exploded in his hand, leaving his fingers stinging and a ringing in his ears. It was great fun.

  The sun set in a burst of gold on the horizon, and everyone went home sated and sunburned. Grampa was content. Opening day of his new pond had been a rousing success. “That’s why I dug it,” he thought to himself. “So ever’one could have a good time.” He belched and dug into his crack with his left hand to scratch his hemorrhoids, which had suddenly begun to itch.

  It was the second week of August, and Adam and Marie were planning on moving to their new home at the end of the third week, just a week hence. They had bought a two-story, three-bedroom white clapboard house on Hiawatha Drive in Northridge, a working class suburb north of Dayton. It was closer to Frigidaire and to the church. They had not yet sold the house on Marcella Drive that Adam had built, although the real estate agent had brought several interested couples through the three-bedroom home. Adam had mixed feelings about leaving. He knew that moving was what God wanted him to do. On the other hand, he was proud of the home he had built with his own hands and would be particularly saddened to leave behind the living room with its knotty pine eastern wall. He considered that to be his finest accomplishment in the house. Nevertheless, he was a man of God and was duty-bound to adhere to the inscrutable dictum of God.

  Del, Devon, and Rennie were riding their bikes east on Pennyroyal Road, heading toward Rennie’s house. At least Rennie and Del were riding. Devon was sitting atop Rennie’s handlebar with his feet on the front fender. The front tire of his bike was flat, and riding on the handlebar was the next best thing to riding his own bike, especially since Rennie could go faster on his ten-speed than Del could on his gearless bike. Rennie was zooming past Del down the dip just east of Williams Drive when it happened.

  Darkness and blankness and no thought.

  “. . . hates blood.”

  “No choice . . . bleedin’ too much.”

  Devon gradually realized that he was walking. Someone was pulling him by his arms. Something warm was streaming down his face. “Wha . . . where?” he managed to croak out.

  “We’re takin’ you to Miss Slusher’s house,” a voice said on his left. It was Del’s voice. “You’re hurt.”

  Devon did not understand. “Hurt?”

  “Yeah,” a voice said on the right. “You fell offa my bike.” It was Rennie.

  “Fell?” Devon repeated, still not comprehending.

  “Yeah, fell. The front wheel o’ my bike came off,” Rennie stated. “Knocked you out cold. We’re almost home.”

  Devon tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. There was something warm and salty flowing into them. A sharp, searing pain suddenly cut across his forehead. He moaned and began to cry.

  “Hush now. We’re almost to Rennie’s house,” Del soothed.

  “MOM! MOM!” Rennie shouted. “Devon’s hurt! Mom, come out now!”

  Leona came to the front screen door. “Rennie! What on earth are you shoutin’ for?” She suddenly saw Devon between Rennie and Del, blood streaming down his face, and blanched. She hated the sight of blood. She grabbed the door frame and steadied herself. “Oh, my Lord,” she whispered. “What happened?” she asked louder.

  “We were comin’ down the hill near Williams Drive an’ the front wheel o’ my bike came off. Devon was ridin’ on the handlebar. He fell off an’ it knocked him out.”

  “Well,” Leona said, regaining her strength, “take him around to the back porch an’ I’ll help him there. Don’t bring him through the house.”

  “OK,” Rennie replied. He and Del took Devon around to the back and set him on the bottom step of the porch with his back leaning against the top step. Devon was still sobbing.

  “It’ll be alright now, Dev,” Del tried to calm him. “Miss Slusher will help ya.”

  Leona came out onto the porch with a pan of warm water and a washcloth. The exigency of the moment had activated her maternal instinct, and she was calm and in control. She sat down beside Devon. “Now, Dev, let’s see how bad you’re cut up an’ if we need to take you to the hospital.” She dipped the washcloth into the water, squeezed the water out, and began mopping Devon’s brow. “Del, go inside an’ call your mother an’ tell her what happened. Don’t frighten her, though. Just tell her what happened an’ ask her to bring the car here in case we need to take ‘im to the hospital.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She looked at Rennie. “Where’djou leave your bikes?”

  “In the ditch at the bottom o’ the hill.”

  “When Marie gets here, you need to go back an’ get ‘em. Your father would have a conniption if someone stole your ten-speed.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rennie agreed.

  Devon stopped crying when Leona began to mop off the blood. The injuries proved to be minor, and nothing more was done.

  “We’re leavin’, Uncle Jonnie,” Devon announced to Uncle Jonnie’s back as he hoed the weeds between the corn rows. He turned around and leaned on the hoe. He pulled out a red-and-black handkerchief from the back pocket of his bib overalls and wiped his face with it.

  “All rat. When yo comin’ back?”

  “We ain’t. We’re movin’ to Dayton so Daddy can be closer to work an’ the church. This is our last week here.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  “Yo means yo ain’t nebbuh comin’ back no moe?” Uncle Jonnie asked plaintively.

  “No. I’m sorry.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  “Ah feels lack a hoss done set down on muh ches’. Yo ain’t pullin’ no fass one on Uncle Jonnie is yo, an’ pullin’ muh leg?” he asked hopefully.

  Devon shook his head slowly. “No, Uncle Jonnie. We’re really leavin’.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  Uncle Jonnie let the hoe drop across the corn row and got down on both knees. “Come heeah, chile, an’ let Uncle Jonnie gibs yo a big ol’ hug.”

  Devon took one step towards him, tears fillin
g his eyes.

  Uncle Jonnie wrapped his arms around Devon and held him close. Devon felt the roughness of his beard against his cheek and smelled his acrid sweat. Uncle Jonnie pulled away, put his hands on Devon’s shoulders, and looked into his eyes.

  “Ah doeknow how Ah’s gonna git ‘long ‘thout yo. Yo Jonnie’s bess frien’. Who Ah gonna lawn duh grasshoppuh song to iffen yo goes?”

  “You could teach it to Janice, or Doug, or Ron, or Rennie.”

  Uncle Jonnie shook his head. “Nah. Dey ain’t got duh speeuht. Dey tinks Jonnie ain’t nuttin’ but a fool.” He smoothed Devon’s hair with a gnarled hand. “Yo knows better’n dat.” He sighed. “Well, Ah guess dey ain’t nuttin’ to do but ‘sep it. Now, doan yo gibs up on Missuh Hoppuh jus’ cause yo leabin’. Yo gots to promise me dat yo keeps tryin’ till Missuh Hoppuh gibs some bacca juice to ya. Promise?”

  Devon smiled tearfully. “I promise.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  Uncle Jonnie grinned. “Dat’s muh boy.”

  “Hey, Dev!” Del shouted from the driveway. “We’re goin’ to watch some TV. You comin’?” Doug and Ron were walking beside him. They had been playing baseball in the spare lot.

  “Yeah, I’m comin’.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  “Go on an’ ‘joy yoself, chile. What day yo leabin’?”

  “Saturday, I think.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  “Ah comes obuh an’ sees ya ‘foe den.”

  “OK. Bye, Uncle Jonnie.”

  “Bye, chile.”

  Del and Devon could not really enjoy the reruns of Superman because Ron and Doug kept throwing pillows at each other and wrestling on the floor. Because Del and Devon had no TV, they sat quietly, trying to hear the dialogue over the roughhousing of the boys. Janice sat at one end of the threadbare sofa away from Del and Devon, leaning on the arm and sucking her thumb.

  After the show was over, the boys went outside and climbed up a ladder to the top of the storage shed at the west end of the driveway. “Hey, let’s be Superman,” Doug said. He jumped off, his arms stretched out like Superman. When he hit the ground, he rolled, and then bounced to his feet. He looked up at the three other boys sitting on the roof. “Who’s next?” he challenged.