Dog Catching in Space

I watched him laid low that morning from behind a tree. The box jerked slow downward, till Jimmy let his end slip so the top tilted haphazard, like it was trying to escape. The preacher paused and then went on, Jimmy holding tight trying to pull his end up backwards, trying to undo it. I willed him to pull harder, pull further farther backward and up up but he stopped when his edge was even so I slid further behind the bark, scratching my fingers along the rough edge. I wanted to cry and make it official but the water wouldn’t come, not for a flood.

Mother would look at me and tell me it wasn’t right, I ought to cry, I ought to hurt. So I slid my hand and then my arm along the bark, and squinted my eyes closed tight. But he still laid low and the box just careened jerkily downward and downward until it clunked hollow on its final ground.

Father had J.R. hitch up Jessie and woke me early. He carried my sleeping form down the stairs as the sun started working, and I woke truly to Anita pulling on my boots. She plopped down my porridge and told me to eat, eat faster, or it would get cold.

“Quiet down,” she said, “your Momma’s sleeping,” she said. Father came in and then walked out and I followed him trying to wriggle my right foot further into the boot.

“Do you have your scarf?” He asked, tugging on my mittens and cinching sleeves. I nodded and he tugged my hat around my cheeks, patting, and I smiled up at him and he smiled back.

In the carriage I snuggled close to him as he shook the reigns, and watched my breath ice from my mouth. I fell asleep on his shoulder pressed close to his coat, and when I sat up we stopped.

“What do you think, little one?” he asked me. “This is your town.” I looked at him, his eyes snapped in the cold, his voice merried. “Soon, it will grow big enough, and you too, and you’ll be able to meet each other in the middle. You’ll walk here from Willow.” I smiled at him, and with little ice breaths whispered to him

“Mother says we ought to get in bed and be quiet.” The night was warm and the sun was stopping. We crept around the back, Benny, Jimmy and me. Jimmy kept stop pausing, but I wanted to know about the party, must be a party, Anita ran around straight one place to the next jostling me outta the way. So I dragged Jimmy around back and Benny wanted to see, too, so Jimmy pushed him, and we rolled over around to the back windows. All the lights but the hallway were on.

I reached down for his hand ‘cause I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I was standing on the edge of the grass at Willow creek, looking over at the muddy water, and I pulled him up. He smelled like honeysuckle, almost too ripe. He smiled at me when he was up, shook his hand out and took off running across the thick green. I shielded my eyes to watch his shirt tails, untucked and flapping. Then the quiet of the field closed around me, wind rustling leaves and grass, birds singing sleepy. All a sudden I felt lonely, left where nothing happened, and without even thought my body lurched forward and I ran after him, padding the grass in the same places he had.

In town I didn’t see him, I saw Lennox eating an apple core, chewing dreamily. He crouched underneath nothing, his own imaginary shelter. He spit a seed and grinned at me, tooth missing. I bent down and reached for the apple, wordlessness getting me the core. I twisted off the stem and handed back the rest, chewing on my new treasure. Lennox grinned silently.

Out of the corner of my eye and saw something flying at me. I threw up my hand in front of my face. The mud hit the side of my palm and ricocheted across my cheek. I opened my eyes and saw him running from me, laughing. I saved him from the sludge of Willow creek and he thanked me with it.

Lennox reached out slowly and wiped the mud from my face.

I reached up and grabbed branches to pull my self up into the light. Jimmy hissed and Benny bit his lip, but I only pulled up harder. Then I was in the light and I saw through the window (?) Mother was sitting on the edge of a bed, and Anita standing by with red red all down her front. I wanted to let go the branch but Anita held me to her with the red, she looked at the bed and I tried to see forward, through the bed, out to the other side.

“Oh honey,” Anita glowered at me. “I done told you notta play in the creek.” She wet a towel and dabbed at my face. It stung where the bits of rock from the mud had cut it and I batted her hand away. “Stop that.” She said, batting in turn, and grimacing, I let her wipe clumsily at my cheek. She deemed me clean and let go of me. I stole a lemon from the counter top and ran through the kitchen, shedding my cover alls, out to the gravel.

I set the lemon down gingerly by my feet. Standing in my underwear on the curb, I gripped my fists, steeling myself. I drew in a huge breath and let my knees buckle onto the ground. I felt the skin scrape against the gravel and fell forward onto my palms. Catching my breath I fell back to sit, examining my battle scars. Pretty good. Little spots of blood started to emerge from the scraped red skin. Good enough.

Digging into the lemon’s yellow skin with my thumbnail I pulled off a portion of peel. Gripping the underside of the rind I pulled off a large section. I squeezed with all my might onto my knee and gasped with release as the acid ran over the bleeding, tender skin. Mud could not hurt me. Only I could hurt me.

“What is it?” Jimmy called up holding Benny from rolling away. Benny craned his neck up to look and bit his lip, but I only looked into the light. Anita looked so sad and I couldn’t look at mother. My hand slipped and scratched along the bark and I squinted and held it to my chest to ease away the red.

I ran down to the creek that morning, ignoring Anita’s call. My new shoes stuck in the mud so I kicked them off. Lennox and Cole and Tommy were already wet, catching crayfish. I slid down the edge in the mud, hopping over the roots that reared up to trip me. Leaning over to try and cup the little fish that gathered around my bare toes and nipped at my skin, I smelled ripe honeysuckle.

I turned and he was there, gripping a huge crayfish between thumb and forefinger, gazing at it, gripping hard. It wriggled in his fingers until he encased it whole hand and squeezed the wriggle out of it. He dropped it into a bucket. I looked at my feet and stepped, avoiding fish that did a much better job of avoiding me as my feet hit watery down. I got closer to him and ignored him. He looked intent at the water, standing stock still and letting the little creatures lure themselves in. I sent little ripples his way and willed the crayfish to stay far away. I saw by my foot the brown outline and reached down swift