55
ATTICUS
Jeffrey made his grand appearance right on time the following day, pushing a rusted old wheelbarrow in front of him; it bumbled and swayed precariously on its one front wheel.
“What’s all that?” Thais asked as she went down the steps toward him.
I was sitting on the porch in a rocking chair.
“Your big surprise!” Jeffrey’s eyes were radiant, his smile enormous—his head had been bleeding, I noted.
“I found it! I looked all over Grandpa’s and found it!”
Jeffrey released the wooden handles, setting the wheelbarrow safely on the ground. In it was a small solar panel, a battery, and two black boxes wrapped in a cluttered swirl of black wires; some wires had been bound by electrical tape. Whatever the contraption was, I thought it looked like a fire hazard.
Jeffrey turned the boxes over. Ah, speakers, I realized.
Jeffrey and I set up the speakers, hooking this to that and tinkering with this and that, while Thais watched from the sofa.
“No, you stay there,” Jeffrey told Thais when she tried to help. “It’s your surprise.”
And so she sat back and let us put the contraption together, her legs drawn up on the cushion.
The small solar panel I placed on the porch railing where the sun was hitting; black cords extended from it into the open window behind Mr. Graham sitting in his rocking chair.
Lastly, Jeffrey produced a digital music player from the pocket of his overalls and hooked it into a USB.
When the first few seconds streamed through the speakers, Thais perked up and her eyes grew wide with wonder and her smile lit up her face like a child at a carnival awed by the flashing lights and bright colors.
“Music! It’s music, Thais! It’s your surprise!” Jeffrey hopped toward her on the sofa with his arms straight out in front of him. “Let’s dance!” Before he could reach for her hands, Thais had grabbed his.
“It’s so wonderful, Jeffrey! It’s the best surprise ever—thank you!”
They stood toe-to-toe, their fingers interlocked, their weight evenly distributed between them as they leaned backward and spun around in a wide circle.
And when the music picked up and Madonna sang Like A Prayer, Jeffrey and Thais were dancing around the room with joyful abandon, moving their hips and swinging their arms. Thais bounced and spun, and tried to sing along though it might’ve been her first time ever hearing the lyrics, but in a little time she knew the chorus by heart almost word-for-word. The hem of her yellow dress twirled around her legs, left and right as she changed direction; her long, dark hair whirled and fell against her back and into her face, only to float back around her again when she went into another graceful twirl.
I shoved the sofa out of the way to give them more space. And then I sat down on the floor and watched Thais with the biggest smile, fascinated by her carefree innocence and joy, adoring her. When the choir sang, Thais and Jeffrey raised their hands in the air and clapped.
Thais came over to me then, grabbing my hands, trying to pull me to my feet, but I wouldn’t budge, and was much too heavy for her to force, so she went back to dancing with Jeffrey.
As one song ended and others began, even I realized how much I had missed the sound of music: You Can Call Me Al by Paul Simon, Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, Stand By Me by Ben E. King, Billie Jean by Michael Jackson. And when Baby, I Can’t Wait by Nu Shooz and The Look by Roxette came on, Thais danced her little heart out, and although there was no real system to her moves and sometimes she appeared as awkward as Jeffrey with his big lumbering steps and chaotic twirls, Thais was still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.
“Play that one again!” Thais shouted, pointing at the speakers.
She hopped up and down on both feet, clapping her hands furiously in front of her chest with excitement. Don’t You Want Me by Human League was replayed four times before Thais remembered the lyrics, and not only did she and Jeffrey dance to it, but they also acted it out.
Thais tried once more to get me in on their fun.
“No! No!” I shouted over the music; a smile stretched my face. “I’m enjoying watching you two!”
And so, once again, she left me and went back to dance with Jeffrey.
After several songs, many of which I was familiar with, I finally gave in when Night Moves by Bob Seger came on, because not even I could resist that song.
I grabbed Thais around the waist, dipped her, twirled her around, and sang to her as we danced with feverish grace. And even though Thais didn’t have black hair, and I didn’t have a ‘60s Chevy, and even though we were in love, and not just bored and reckless and using each other, somehow we made the song about us anyway. And we danced and danced until finally Thais had danced so much her legs were sore.
“No, you can’t stop now!” I laughed, tried to pull her back to her feet.
Jeffrey cackled watching us; he smacked his big hands together with enthusiasm in front of his face.
“You wanted me to dance, and now I am!” I said.
“But I’m so tired!” Thais let all of her weight drop to keep me from pulling her back up; she hung from my hands.
In the end, I won, and Thais danced with me to I Will Wait by Mumford & Sons; we played air-banjo and air-guitar and air piano and air-tambourine.
THAIS
It truly was the best surprise, I thought as the music faded. It had been so long—years—since I’d heard recorded music, and I would never forget this day for as long as I lived.
I was worried about breaking the news to Jeffrey about Atticus and me moving on, and by early afternoon, I still had not found the right time, or the right words.
“Jeffrey,” I said, “what do you shave your hair with?”
The three of us were sitting on the back porch, eating noodles with powdered cheese, and, as always, fish, fish, and more fish—we had been lucky to catch fish every other day at least.
Jeffrey dragged his hand over his head, fingered the old scars, and touched the cuts that were sure to become new ones. His hair was already sprouting back in places, non-existent in others, and longer in some spots.
“I used a knife. And water.”
I winced.
“Don’t you ever get your grandpa to help you shave?” I asked.
I set my plate on the porch railing and went over to him in the rocking chair, and I touched his head.
Jeffrey wrinkled his nose. “Grandpa said he can’t do it.” He dug his fork into his noodles and took a giant bite.
Atticus spoke up from behind: “Jeffrey, why don’t you let me shave your head? I can show you a trick. So you won’t cut yourself so much.”
I beamed, thanking him with my eyes.
Atticus brought water up from the pond and sat Jeffrey down on the bottom step. He covered Jeffrey’s head with baby oil and shaved his head properly, told him he could use just about anything: lotion, shampoo, even the coconut and olive oil on the shelf at the supply cabin.
When I asked Jeffrey why he shaved his head, why he didn’t just let his hair grow out, Jeffrey responded, “My Dad had a shaved hair—I do it like my Dad.”
After shaving, Atticus took Jeffrey over to the rowboat-slash-canoe and worked with him for two hours, explained how it should be done, drilled the details into his head so he could finish the project on his own.
“You think you can finish the rowboat by yourself if you had to?” Atticus asked.
Jeffrey hacked away at the inside of the tree to shape it.
“I can do it,” he told Atticus. “I could make a good rowboat now. I know how now”—he hacked away a few smaller chunks of wood—“But I like it that you help too. I like it we make my rowboat together.”
Atticus and I shared a knowing look; I nodded to Atticus, and he knew then it was his cue to leave. It was time I tell Jeffrey the news.
Atticus kissed my cheek, and then left us alone.
Jeffrey barely looked up at me he was working so hard.
“Jeffrey,” I said in a motherly voice, “I need to talk to you about something.”
He looked up then, but his hands never stopped swinging the hatchet.
“Okay, Thais,” he said. “I’m listening to you, I’m just really hard working. I want to make the best rowboat. I want to show Atticus and Grandpa that I can make good rowboats.”
I placed my hand on his arm.
The hatchet stopped then, and Jeffrey looked over; he set the tool on the grass.
“Are you tired?” Jeffrey asked, and there was a look of anxiety in his face I did not immediately understand. He reached out and put his hand to my forehead. “Are you tired like my dad, and Grandma June was?” He shook his head rapidly. “Please don’t be tired, Thais. Please, please, please—”
“Oh no, Jeffrey,” I said, realizing. I took his hands and gave them a comforting squeeze. “I’m not tired at all. I promise. I just have to tell you something that might make you sad.”
Jeffrey cocked his head to one side, a confused look lingered in his big, curious eyes.
“What will make me sad?”
I paused, absently licked the dryness from my lips. Then I squeezed his hands a little tighter and smiled at him with gentle eyes.
“Me and Atticus have to go away,” I said, and Jeffrey’s face fell in an instant. “But one day we’re going to come back and visit you, and see how great a rowboat you made.”
“But why are you going away?”
“We have someplace we have to go,” I told him. “It’s a place far away, and there are many good people there, and it’s where we’re going to live.”
“But you live here. In Mr. Graham’s house.” Jeffrey pointed at the cabin. “Why do you have to go far away to live somewhere else?”
I sighed, looked at the grass finally turning green again after the last rain, and it took me a moment before I knew what to say.
“Jeffrey, it’s not safe living out here alone. Maybe you and your grandpa could come with us. We would like that very much.”
Jeffrey nodded contemplatively.
I had no confidence in Esra or Jeffrey agreeing to go with us, but resolved to at least try to convince them soon.
ATTICUS
I watched them from the window while Going to California by Led Zeppelin played from the makeshift stereo in the background. And I thought of Thais with flowers in her hair; I pictured dancing with her in the fields on the way to Shreveport, floating together down the Mississippi on a flat-bottom boat; I pictured her playing a guitar and singing in that sweet voice of hers; I pictured us arriving in Shreveport and being surrounded by thousands of good people who welcomed us and took us in. And I pictured Thais and I having a life together, a real life where we were living and not just surviving.
But when the song faded into its end, so did all of my thoughts, and I was left only with the reality of our life. Not the bright and cheerful illusion we were living now, but the dark and perilous certainty that lay ahead.
~~~
THAIS
As expected, Esra refused to leave his home, and also as expected, Jeffrey refused to leave his grandfather.
Everyone said their good-byes. Jeffrey hugged me so tight. It broke my heart to let him go. Esra let us fill up our backpacks with as much as we could carry from the supply cabin; and he gave Atticus another baggie full of bullets.
It was dusk when Atticus and I made it back to the cabin. We packed the rest of our belongings and prepared to leave.
“I’m going to say good-bye to Mr. Graham and his family,” I said with heaviness in my voice.
“Okay, love.”
I went out onto the front porch and talked to Mr. Graham’s skeleton for a few minutes, and then went to his wife and son’s graves and told them how sorry I was they had suffered so terribly. Then I went to the backyard to look for George, but my little friend was nowhere to be found.
“I’m going to miss you, George,” I called out. “Stay out of the open, and hidden in the tall grass so no one finds and eats you.”
Lastly, I carried the canteen down to the pond to fill it up for our trip.
I sat down on the grass.
And in the quiet, surrounded by darkness and water and trees and the summer breeze, I looked up at the star-filled sky and spoke. To God? To the glowing moon? To myself? To my dead sister and mother and father? In the moment, not even I knew.
“I am afraid,” I spoke softly. “This journey so far away is risky, I know, but I also know that what Atticus said is right. We can’t stay here; we can’t live alone the way things are, and the only way we’re going to survive, our only chance at any kind of life is in a place surrounded by other people like us. People who believe in equality, who are compassionate and moralistic and just, who will fight for each other against the darkness that has spread across the world—we are those people, Atticus and I. He is a good man; he is strong and kind and honorable and incredibly flawed but incredibly human, and to still be human is a feat in and of itself—he is so strong. But so am I.”
My gaze fixed on one star in particular in the heavens, the blackness around it staved off by its immense light, and my eyes ceased to blink. I pressed a fist to my chest.
After a moment, I plucked the canteen from the grass and stood.
“Help us get to Shreveport,” I said, looking at that solitary star again. “Guide us, light our way so that we move in the right direction; help us get there safely and I will always follow your light.”
God? Family? Light? I still did not know. All I knew was that I would never break that promise.
I moved silently over the grass and away from the pond; the water licking the shore lingered in my ears as I drifted farther away.
Making my way back to the cabin, I grabbed the clothes from the clothesline and tossed them over my shoulder. I went up the back steps and pushed open the door; it didn’t dawn on me immediately that I didn’t have to turn the knob; the door had been left cracked. And it didn’t strike me as odd right away that the candles left burning on the kitchen counter had been snuffed out, leaving the space in a dark blue haze lit only by the moon.
My feet moved softly over the cool floor; the wood creaked beneath my steps.
“Atticus?” I called out as I passed through the kitchen. “I filled the canteen. Though we might want to fill—”
The rest of my words evaporated before they could form sound. The canteen fell from my hand, clashed against the floor as my wide, frightened eyes took in the sight of more than ten armed men standing in the living room, staring back at me.
Atticus lay unconscious—or dead—on the floor at their feet.