Vikram/Twelve/ 1

Vikram
vikram@vikramswebsite.com

Twelve
His father said, Twelve is the best it ever is, and sucked on his longneck. When
he leaned his head back Tommy-Tom could see the veins on his red-speckled
throat.
A man is never more fearless than when he was a twelve-year old boy, his father
announced to the ceiling. Its all downhill from there.
What do you mean? said Tommy-Tom.
You ever hear me tell you You ought to know better?
Yes, sir.
Did you listen?
No.
Well there you go. Youre dumb as a stump now, whatever that school says. You
dont know better than anything. Thats the key. His father leaned down and
beer breath washed in waves out of him. Tommy-Tom was stretched out on the
floor next to him, a freshly-opened beer hidden behind the chair. If he timed it
right, he could pull his fathers longneck away while it was half-full, and hand
him the new one. Then hed have half a beer to take out onto the roof.
His father said, Its the knowing better that does you. You start to knowing
better and then you get scared of things. He cocked back and took another sip,
keeping his right eyeball fixed on Tommy-Tom the whole while.
Im not scared of anything, Tommy-Tom said.
See that? Too dumb to think of something and be scared of it at the same time.
His father pointed the bottle at him. Hold on to that, son.

Vikram/Twelve/ 2

Im not dumb, he said. Tommy-Tom heard the willow branches murmuring

outside the window and thought about being up on the roof, trying to feel drunk
on a warm half a beer, trying to feel scared of falling off. What do you know
about anything, anyway?
Watch that mouth, his father said, setting his longneck down. I would watch
that mouth of yours, if I were you. The bottle was still dewy from the bottom to
where his middle finger was.
Tommy-Tom started to say something.
Whats that? his father said, You fixing to say youre sorry?
Something like thatno.
You let me intimidate you. Lord, its worse than I thought.
What is?
You are. Whatever youre scared of on your thirteenth birthday will dog you to
the grave, son.
Says who?
Jesus.
Like hell.
His father reached for his beer. Tommy-Tom handed him the fresh one and
pulled the other behind the chair. Yes sir, your boyhood fears will be a lifelong
source of pain, his father said, turning back to his C-SPAN and chuckling. And
women.
What about women? said his mother, looking up from her chemistry
homework.
I was just explaining some philosophy to the boy.
He said I was dumb, Momma.

Vikram/Twelve/ 3

His mother lit another cigarette, looked at the beer behind the chair, and smiled.
Did you ask his opinion?
No.
She blew the smoke to one side and looked back down. Then youre not.

Up on the roof, he found a dry spot outside his window and sat. He poked his
thumb into the bottle till the knuckle caught, and dangled it that way between his
knees. He smelled the smoke from someones fireplace and the wet ground after
the rain. The crickets and cicadas competed for attention. Somewhere down the
street he could hear a fight. But not from his house, not tonight, not for a while
now.
Momma did her homework. His father drank Lone Star and watched C-SPAN
and imagined what hed have said if he gave the keynote speech at the 2000
Democratic Convention.
Orion stood directly above the house across the street, as though guarding it. In
the clear patches between the tattered clouds he saw the three points of his
sword, the middle point the Orion Nebula, where new stars were born. He
remembered a trip to the planetarium in fourth grade. The astronomy lady told
them about the Orion Nebula, and Shauna Choi asked if that was where babies
came from. The lady said no, and then Shauna said, But babies do come from
heaven, right?
One of the boys in the back row shouted, No, babies come out of your mom
because your dad fucked her!
The big ball in the middle of the room turned serenely as the teacher yelled at the
boys and Shauna started crying and the astronomy lady said she thought the visit
was quite over and the boys chanted Your Dad fucked your Mo-om! Your Dad
fucked your Mo-om! and twice-held-back Bill Elliot came up out of his stupor
and said, Huh-huh, your dads a motherfucker, and everyone giggled and said
they couldnt believe the boys were saying fuck just like that in front of the

Vikram/Twelve/ 4

teacher and the astronomy lady. And Orion and all the stars and nebulae
circumambulated Polaris as if none of it had happened or mattered.
Tommy-Tom watched Orion now to see if he could detect any movement, but he
couldnt, as usual. He decided he would spend the whole night out on the roof
some time to see if the sky really turned, slow and always, like a planetarium.
Few things hed seen happen had ever happened except of a sudden.
Downstairs lights started going out along the street, and bedroom lights came on.
The top right window lit up. The blinds were partly open. Tommy-Tom felt a
strange, hot quivering go up from his belly into his chest. It was like being scared,
but longer, like you took one big scare and stretched it out. Then she walked past
the window, tugging at the buttons of her shirt.
He pulled his thumb out of the beer bottle and took a long sip, watching her
window the whole time. She reappeared in her bra and sat on the bed with her
back to the window, at an angle so he could see that she was reading. She hardly
moved except to turn the page and tuck her hair behind her ear. Her bra was
white, and she had tan lines down her shoulder blades. Her back was rounded
and he could see the knobs of her spine. He couldnt see if she was still wearing
her jeans. He decided to imagine she wasnt.
He wondered what she was reading. He thought of the eighth-grade classes he
was going to take and which ones she might be taking. Then he remembered he
was in the gifted program and she wasnt. But then again, every time he watched
her through her window, if she wasnt being pawed by some high school boy, she
was reading some thick book. This one had a blue cover with a picture of a
nautilus shell. He squinted trying to see the title.
Then a voice in his head said, Who cares what shes reading? Shes
practically naked. Concentrate!
He drank more beer, saving a mouthful in the bottle, and leaned back against the
window frame. Oh baby, he said. Oh yeah.
His voice sounded too squeaky. He tried it again lower. Oh baby. Oh yeah. He
put the bottle sticking up from between his thighs and crossed his ankles. If his

Vikram/Twelve/ 5

friends saw that theyd giggle. They sat in the back of the bus and talked about
Racy Stacy. They said, Man Id like to do her.
They said, She does it with any guy that wants her.
They said, She does it for money. This high school dude told me.
Tommy-Tom just listened. He never told them hed seen her in her bra and
panties a hundred times. They might ask about the first time and hed have to tell
them he had come out on the roof to cry.
She tucked back a loop of hair and reached behind her. Her hand moved so
slowly as she went on reading, it reminded him of the sky again. Anything that
took its own sweet time reminded him of the night sky. But he didnt take his eyes
off her to look at Orion now. She scratched her back, up and down. She pinched
the back of her bra, straightened up, and undid the hook. Tommy-Tom held his
breath and uncrossed his ankles. The bottle slid, tipped, and rolled down the
roof, off the gutter, and shattered on the walkway. She turned. He scrambled
inside, knocking his head on the jamb. His father yelled, What the hell? When
he looked back, rubbing the top of his forehead, the blinds were closed.

Two days later he and his father were in the pickup coming home with some
flower-bushes theyd dug up from the park for his mother.
His father said, Three more days, son. What are you still scared of?
Nothing.
Bullshit. What are you scared of?
Your ugly face.
Not bad. You got to be quicker, though.
And your ugly butt.

Vikram/Twelve/ 6

His father squinted and shook his head. See, now thats not as funny, because
you have never actually seen my butt.
Seen half of it when you bend over, Tommy-Tom said quietly. Moonrise over
mom jeans.
His father turned the wrong way at an intersection. Tommy-Tom asked where
they were going.
Its around here somewhere, he said, slowing down and looking from side to
side.
What is?
I have decided that for your birthday, Im going to give you the truth about
where you came from.
No way, man. Youre getting me a real present this time. Not like that boom box
you took apart and told me it was a kit.
Aww!
No free dance lessons.
Its a special time when a father teaches his son to moonwalk.
You broke a lamp!
But didnt we have fun fixing it?
And Momma said no beer.
Now, that one is beyond me, said his father. How a boys supposed to grow
into a man without a few six packs is beyond my hmph. Feminism.
Uh, try responsible parenting? I think shed like something more meaningful
than watching her son and her husband-slash-ex-husband-slash-husband
throwing up together.

Vikram/Twelve/ 7

It could be our new tradition. Weve all got traditions. The Jews got their bar
mitzvah
Tommy-Tom said, And weve got a beer mitzvah? Is that what you were
lumbering towards?
Boy, you are no fun, whatsoever.
I want a real present. Not some piece of trash.
His father said, Funny you should say trash, and changed lanes to the right.
Thomas Thomas Quinn, it is time you knew the truth. April 4th is not really the
day you were born. There, thats the one! His father pointed to a parking lot.
They pulled into the parking lot, drove straight and fast across the lines and
between cars and came squealing to a stop in front of a rusted green dumpster.
His father said, Welcome home, son!
What the fuck?
Dont ever say fuck, son. Not ever. It comes from the Anglo-Saxon meaning 'to
strike or to hit, and you cannot talk about love with a word like that. Do you
understand?
No.
Never mind. See this dumpster?
Yeah, okay.
Well, thirteen years ago, your lovely mother and I were shopping at this very
Piggly Wiggly for a fuzzy toilet seat cover. I was fresh out of college, and we were
setting up housekeeping together. So were walking to the car, talking love talk to
one another, when what do we hear but the faint cries of a baby? Darling, says I,
talking to your
mother now, Theres a baby in that dumpster.
Tommy-Tom smiled and put his hands behind his head.

Vikram/Twelve/ 8

'And here we are,' says your mother. Longing for a child of our very own. Fetch
me that baby, wont you dear?'
Sugar plum, says I. Consider that baby fetched!' I climbed inside and there we
found you, wrapped up in the sports page, looking just as precious as any
dumpster baby ever did.
Pretty lame, said Tommy-Tom.
I swear!
I can subtract three days off of April 4th. Still, its a better story than the one
about you surviving in the wilderness by eating your own tapeworm.
All right, said his father. But think about this. When did I give your mother her
Valentines candy?
Two weeks ago.
Right. Have you ever known me to observe a holiday on time?
No.
So if I were going to pull an April Fools prank on you, Id wait till May, wouldnt
I? If you want proof, go home and ask for your birth certificate. You aint got
one.
He looked at the dumpster, then at his father again. Is that why Im TommyTom?
You think Id give you a name like that on purpose? Not sober, anyway. No, you
brought that ridicule on yourself. Teacher says, First name? and you say,
Tommy and then she says, Middle name? and you, on account of brain damage,
possibly from being dropped into a dumpster, say Tommy again. And then you
scream, and they have to take your word for it, since you got no papers.
Well, if you hadnt just dropped me off and left, they could have asked you.

Vikram/Twelve/ 9

Self-reliance, son. I figured you could handle the name part. His father said,
So, you want to leave some flowers by this dumpster, to commemorate the
occasion?
Tommy-Tom turned in his seat and looked out the back window. You know I
know the real story, he said. Lets just go home.
His father looked at him for a few seconds, then yanked on the gear shift and
reversed the car fifty yards across the entire parking lot and back onto the road.
They got onto the freeway and didnt talk for a while. His father said he figured
they could plant the flower bushes outside the bedroom window and put his
mothers desk next to it. She can look at em while shes studying, he said.
Shell like that, Tommy-Tom said. His father paused as if waiting for him to say
more.
Ah. Itll keep her off my back for a while. He started coughing and breathing
hard.
After a few more minutes, he sat leaning to his left, his face pink and pinched.
You all right?
Yeah, I must of ate somethingHis left hand dropped off the steering wheel
and lay curled in his lap.
His father said, I think Ill just pull over for a sec. Must of threw my back out.
He took his foot off the gas and turned the wheel to the right. They got onto the
shoulder, but they were going too fast. His father had his foot on the brake.
Mash my foot down, his father said. Help me out there, will you?
Tommy-Tom looked at him for a second, not understanding. His fathers face was
bright red and strained. Then he put his hand on his fathers knee and pressed it
onto the brake pedal. They slowed down. Tommy-Tom took the wheel.
The tires started squealing. Tommy-Tom looked at his father and saw him
slumped against the door. He looked forward again and saw he had pulled too far

Vikram/Twelve/ 10

to the right. They slipped off the shoulder into the grass by the roadside. He
straightened the wheel. They came to a stop, tilted to one side in a depression in
the grass.
Tommy-Tom pounded on the horn, shouting Somebody help! though the horn
drowned out his voice. He knelt on the floor and laid his father out on the bench
seat. He loosened his collar. He pushed the horn again. Cars whizzed past them
on the highway.
His father said, Youll have to water em. Shell forget. He let out a long, slow
breath and didnt take another one. Tommy-Tom felt his neck for a pulse. He
pulled his jawbone upwards and breathed into his mouth. It tasted like
toothpaste and fresh coffee. With his other hand he pressed on the horn. He got
up on his fathers chest with both hands and put all his weight on him to
compress it. He mashed the horn again and the loudness of it startled him. He
stopped for a second to catch his breath. Not now, he said to his father, Oh,
damn you. Its good now.
Then he started again, breath, horn, pressing on his chest. He kept doing it until
someone opened the door, pulled him off, and wrapped him in a blanket.

The next night he heard his mother crying in bed. He followed the sound to her
and put his arms around her and they held each other for a while. She said, Of
all the damn times for me to worry about money.
He was glad he couldnt see her face. She said it was just like the bastard to leave
his debts for her to pay. Then she said she didnt mean it. Tommy-Tom said he
could get a job after school. She said no, and besides the law said you had to be
fourteen.
He said, Not to sell crack.
His mother said nothing. He said, Sorry, I didnt mean to make jokes.

Vikram/Twelve/ 11

She said, Make them. Its what hed have wanted. After a moment she said,
The sonofabitch is getting a funeral with flowers he stole from the park.
Tommy-Tom chuckled and said, Yeah.
He asked her if he had a birth certificate. She said no, he wasnt born in a
hospital. He said then they could get a fake one that said he was fourteen. They
could say her secondhand smoke had stunted his growth. She still said no. She
said theyd figure something out.

His mother was by the phone all the next morning with yearbooks, phone books,
and address books around her, calmly calling his old college friends, her old high
school friends, his work friends, and no relatives. Tommy-Toms English teacher
came by to give her condolences and check on him. She said she wouldnt be able
to come to the funeral, but shed pray for them. His mother said thank you and
offered her coffee.
When they sat down in the living room the teacher started talking about a magnet
school across town for gifted students. I hate to bring it up at a time like this,
she said. but the deadline is this week. Ive taken the liberty of filling out the
forms. It just needs your signature.
Great, his mother said, taking the papers and signing without reading them.
He can help me with my homework.
Oh, thats right. Youre a student as well.
Just trying to stay ahead of him.
Tommy-Tom went to the kitchen when they started talking about what a genius
he was. But he listened.
After a while his mother said, Kids grow up so fast now.
His teacher said, I know. Sometimes I just want to scream.
His mother said, No, I meant it was a good thing.

Vikram/Twelve/ 12

The teacher told her that Tommy-Tom would be getting out later and with the
one-hour bus ride hed only get home after five. His mother said they were
thinking about him working after school. Their voices got quieter. He heard his
mother say welfare, in an angry tone. Then his teacher said it wasnt welfare.
They talked some more, then there was a pause.
His teacher put a little white card on the coffee table, stood up, and said in a
whisper he could hear clearly in the kitchen, Frankly, Mrs. Quinn, I dont
understand how you can be so selfish. His mother held the door open for her.

He came back out to find her vacuuming the living room carpet which had
obvious straight lines on it already. She said Mr. Moore from across the street
was coming over any minute now. She said he was a retired minister and he could
perform the funeral service at the house for free.
You mean theyre going to bring him here and not to a church or something?
Do you know how much a funeral costs?
I guess its all right. He never liked church anyway. Were not burying him here,
are we?
Dont be ridiculous.
Do we really need to invite all those people?
His mother stood perfectly still for a moment, then turned the vacuum back on.
Tommy-Tom was upstairs while Rev. Moore talked with his mother. He sat in
front of his window flipping through different books, and then looked across the
street. The blinds were pulled up, and in the daylight, the room looked like a little
girls room, all lace and pink and stuffed animals. He thought about the high
school boys she took up there, if they noticed what kind of room they were in.

Vikram/Twelve/ 13

At dinner his mother said, Hes got a daughter in your grade. Stacy. You know
her?
Yeah, Racy Stacy.
Whats that mean?
He shrugged. She puts out.
What does that mean, she puts out?
She has, you know
What?
You know.
Say it.
No.
You mean sex? Then say sex.
Im not going to say it to you.
Say it for Momma. Se-ex. Say Sex, Momma.
Quit it.
Cmon, sugar. Momma just wants to talk about sex with you.
Gross. Cut it out.
They ate without talking for a while. He started to hate the sound of forks
scraping plates. His mother put her fork down, took a sip of wine, and said, So
how would you know what she does, anyway?
Everybody knows. Everybody talks about her.

Vikram/Twelve/ 14

I sincerely hope youre not going to be messing with that. Ive not busted my ass
for you to get yourself and some girl in that kind of trouble. You understand me?
He wondered when hed even have the opportunity to get himself and some girl
in that kind of trouble. He said, Yes, maam.
Damn right, youd better.
So Momma... he said, and smirked.
What?
How old are you?
She looked at her plate. Fuck you, boy.
Lets see, twenty-nine minus thirteen. That makes
She looked up. You know what youre being now?
What?
Mean. Youre being mean. Is that what you want to be?
No.
Then be what you want to be.
Yes, maam. He wondered if his father had felt the way he did now, when he
had refused to play along with the dumpster game.
Im sorry I cussed, she said, taking her plate to the sink.
Its okay. I understand, though. I should be what I want to be, right?
Yes.
He said, I want to be a large, black woman.

Vikram/Twelve/ 15

His mother turned on the water and he heard the plate clink against the side of
the sink. He saw her shoulders shaking and hoped she was laughing.

A few minutes later she turned the water off and said, I didnt finish my point. Is
that all you know about Stacy, that she puts out?
I guess so. I never talked to her.
She came and sat next to him. She said, very softly, Then you dont know shit.
You understand me? Not shit.
Its just what everybody says. Whats the big deal?
You tell me, Mr. Magnet School. You tell me whats the big deal about this.
He looked down at the table and made lines in the vinyl tablecloth with his butter
knife. She waited for him.
Then he said, Because when you were sixteen back in Leakey, Texas, and
MommaDaddy said you were nothing better than a whore cause you were having
me, he knocked his front teeth out and said, Dont talk like that about my wife,
and thats how you found out he wanted to marry you.
Uh-uh, said his mother, smiling now. Say the whole thing.
Dont talk that way about my wife, the two of them said together, you sad,
nasty-ass, wrinkle-balled, old shit-kicker. They laughed.
Tommy-Tom said, What does that mean, exactly?
I dont know, his mother said. I dont know, but I forgave a dozen years of your
fathers crap because of that one moment he gave me.

That night he heard a car door slam across the street, then the front door of the
Moores house slam, and then, more faintly, her bedroom door slam as she

Vikram/Twelve/ 16

turned on the light. He went out on the roof and watched her at her window
again, only this time he saw everything: the room, the posters, the stuffed
animals, her. She threw her jacket on the bed, threw her shoes against the wall.
She took off her top and stood in front of the mirror, pinching her stomach. She
lifted her skirt and put her hands around her thighs.
She tore off her bra and stood sideways to the mirror, cupping her hands over her
breasts. Then she sank to the edge of the bed, kicked her skirt off of her foot, and
put her face in her hands. He climbed back inside his room and got a lighter from
his drawer. He came back and waited. Finally she lifted her face. He turned the
dial of the lighter to maximum, lit it, and waved it slowly back and forth. She
turned to him, came to the window in her panties and suddenly the light was
behind her and she was a silhouette.
He traced an arc with the lighter up and to the right and then down, then up and
to the left and down, a heart as big as he could make with outstretched arms in
the deepening night. He flicked the lighter off. She stood for a moment, then
closed the blinds.

For the funeral his mother wore a black polyester blouse and black slacks and her
real gold jewelry and a perfume that seemed familiar yet strange on her. TommyTom stood next to her and said thank you to each of the two dozen strangers who
came out of his fathers old life, before the drinking and the running off and the
7-to-10 cut to three because he finished his degree by correspondence and gave
reading lessons, from when he was a big shot Alpha Tau Omega at Texas A&M
and Momma was in high school waiting to go up and join him.
All of them seemed to know each other, and they told his mother that she looked
the same as ever, and that the house and everything looked beautiful, and they
should stay in touch. They looked rich and happy like people on TV and there
were clean new cars parked all down the street.
Momma told him to either stop saying Jesus loves you to everyone or go
outside, so he went to the waiting, open casket, the only other someone he knew
at the party. Just then he remembered the scent. It was his fathers Old Spice that

Vikram/Twelve/ 17

he wore whenever he went to church or when he took Momma out to dinner after
a fight.
He looked at his father in the casket. He looked less tired dead. Tommy-Tom
said, Nice suit. I hope it aint rented.
He cocked his ear downward and said, Whats that? You say my timing and
delivery were perfect? Why, thank you.
An older couple came to look at his father and he stepped to one side. The man
was Mommas English teacher, from the class where they had met and Momma
wrote all his papers for him. The lady said, He looks at peace, and looked at her
husband as though they had talked about him before.
When you fart in heaven, it smells like frankincense and myrrh, said TommyTom. He twitched his cheek a couple times for good measure.
The woman looked at him shocked. Her husband whispered, Thats the son.
She bent down and said, nodding, Dear, Im so sorry.
Tommy-Tom looked up, nodded back and said, I forgive you.
He went to the kitchen and found his mother there alone, staring at the table, her
eyebrows raised. When she looked stunned like this it meant something was her
fault. If she had just been crying, it would have been someone elses fault, and she
would soon let it go. She said, Did you see how rich they all are?
He said, Yeah, maybe we can sell them some stuff
His mother curled up and put her face in her hands. He was better than any of
them. He could have had such a good life.
You mean if you hadnt gotten pregnant?
She didnt look up. She took a sharp breath inward.
Wasnt it as much his doing as yours?

Vikram/Twelve/ 18

She didnt answer.

Im pretty sure it was. We had this in health class. Our friends, the
spermatozoa.
Are you trying to cheer me up?
Its his funeral. Its what hed have wanted. He brought her a glass of water.
You cancelled the stripper.
Look at them, she said, pointing out the window towards the back yard.
Mercedes Fucking Benz. Designer fucking everything.
He stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Mm-hmm. How much
of it would you have traded me for?
She pulled him to her and said, Not in a million years, baby. Not in a million
years.
He said, I know. I know Im the best thing that ever happened to you. He pulled
his
fathers handkerchief from his lapel pocket and wiped her tears.
You know that, do you?
Yup. He blew his nose in the hankie, loudly. And Im going to milk it for all its
worth.
After a moment, slow as the turning of a planetarium, his mother said, Lets go
bury your father.
He got a cold longneck bottle of Lone Star beer from the fridge, hid it under his
jacket, and went to the casket. He tucked the bottle inside, under his fathers
right hand. Im not sure where youre going, Motherfucker, he said. But you
might get thirsty.

Vikram/Twelve/ 19

The cemetery was nearby. The funeral was short. Rev. Moore said a few words
about his father that could have been about somebody else, or nobody at all. Then
he talked about God, and he wasnt much more specific. When Tommy-Tom
threw dirt on the coffin he recalled digging up the flower bushes three days
before with his father and just then, the stretched-out, quivering feeling hed felt
when he watched Stacy through her window was all bunched up again and he felt
scared and didnt know what of.
He put his hand to his mouth. He tasted earth and tears. The whole world
receded, and he felt as if, no matter how far he reached out, hed never be able to
touch anything or anyone again.
Rev. Moore walked towards him with Mrs. Moore on one side and Tommy-Toms
mother on the other. He put his hand on Tommy-Toms shoulder and spoke.
Behind him Tommy-Tom saw a girl approach, wearing a long black dress. It was
Stacy. He didnt know where shed been all this time, but he could have passed
her and never recognized her. Hed never seen her with so much clothing on, for
one thing.
She wore no makeup and she looked beautiful, angry, like his mother. She was a
full head taller than he was. She looked at him for a second, then looked away
across the cemetery lawn, her hair blowing in the breeze. He looked back up and
Rev. Moore was still talking to him.
Tommy-Tom burst in and said, Did yall know its my birthday today? He
looked at the Moores, one then the other.
They looked at his mother. It is, she said. Its his birthday.
Mrs. Moore said, Well, happy I mean...oh, dear God.
Rev. Moore cleared his throat and said, So, how old are you, son?
Mrs. Moore turned away and muttered, The poor thing.
Tommy-Tom stepped past him and strode toward Stacy, who looked alarmed but
stood where she was. He reached up and put his hands on either side of her face,
and slid them back until his fingers were nestled in the hair along the back of her

Vikram/Twelve/ 20

neck. He pulled her face down to his. She put her hand on his chest and pushed.
He pulled her down until she was close enough to kiss. He leaned to one side and
whispered in her ear. He whispered, Im sorry.
He whispered, Im not scared of you.
He whispered, You should be in the gifted program. She stopped pushing and
he stopped pulling and she stayed there as she was, her hand on his chest, her
fingertip playing with a button on his shirt. And just for a moment everything
that had happened to them and everything that had failed them, everyone dead
and living and afraid and not wheeled in a great, slow, beautiful circle around
them.
He whispered, Tonight Ill show you the Orion Nebula, where stars come from.
Slowly, slowly, slow as their night sky, Stacy slid her hand up and straightened
the knot of his tie.
You like warm beer?
She nodded.
He traced the curve of her ears with his thumbs and said, Did I mention I was
sorry?
She smiled just enough. He let go and stepped back.
Now just a minute here, said Rev. Moore. He put his arms around Stacy and
pulled her behind him. His wife put a hand on his shoulder and said, Jerry, its
the shock. His mother covered her mouth with her hand and smiled. Stacy
smiled over her fathers shoulder, blushing like sunrise.
Im fourteen today, sir, he said. He looked up into the Reverends flushed face.
You all right, sir?
Then Tommy-Tom said, Boo.