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I looked at it so long that Apollo said I should keep it. I couldn’t risk taking it home, but I asked her to bring it back the next day so I could look again. Every time I did, I saw something different. I tried to imagine what my daddy might have looked like. Was he tall like me? Did his voice sound like mine? Did he love to read to? Now, I imagine what my life might have been like if he hadn’t died.
At the dinner table, I try to see him sitting where Jeremiah does. Maybe I’d be like Apollo, going to school. Traveling. Reading. Happy.
But more than anything, I wanted so much more than I had.
I wanted to read the rest of the books listed at the end of The Hobbit. I wanted to visit the house called Monticello where a man named Thomas Jefferson had invented things and had written books and papers that even hundreds of years later still mattered. I wanted to ride a bus and fly on a plane like the one Apollo talked about.
I can feel the freedom in the air as soon as I step out of the cornfield that’s in front of Apollo’s house. It’s like a whole new world. When I get to the beginning of the white gravel drive that leads up to the house on the top of the hill, I stop.
A few days ago, I walked Apollo all the way home, and when we got to the drive, I’d stopped. I didn’t believe all of the stories of damnation and perdition Jeremiah shouted from his pulpit. But, I’d still never ventured this far before. She grabbed my hand when I hesitated and pulled me along. As we walked, sin and damnation had been the last things on my mind.
Apollo’s warm hand felt like protection—like flesh and blood deliverance from evil.
The sunlight made the stones shine like clusters of white tipped waves. And like an ocean, it dips and rises, rolls and sways on its way to the white picket fence that wraps around their little house.
Tonight, it’s pitch black. I can’t see the moon, and the only light is from the stars and it creates fluttering shadows from the leafy trees that line the path.
I gaze up the road at the house. Just like she said it would, the bright light of Apollo’s bedroom shines like a beacon, promising that if I can get there, I’ll be safe. I start walking toward it, every step I take bringing me closer to something I never imagined I would have. My friend.
I pick up a couple of the rocks under my feet and when I get to the side of the house, I fling one at Apollo’s window. It bounces off with a crack that makes me look at the rest of the house for signs of her aunt waking up. She told me her aunt took some special medicine to help her sleep and that even if she wasn’t asleep she wouldn’t mind if I came over, but I’d rather not see her.
When nothing happens, I pull my arm back to throw another rock. Right then, Apollo’s dark head appears in the window. She grins down at me and waves wildly before she points for me to go ‘round the back of the house and then her head disappears again.
When I get to the back door, she’s standing in the open door, her tiny flashlight pointed out into the night.
“You shouldn’t hold the door open. The ‘squitas will get in and chew y’all up while you’re sleepin,” I scold her as I step into the kitchen. I grab the flashlight from her. “Turn that off before your auntie wakes up.”
I flip the switch. It plunges us into darkness and Apollo whimpers as she grabs it from me to turn it back on. “I hate the dark. It scares me. I sleep with this on,” she says quietly and then she slips her hand into mine and tugs me toward the stairs.
“Your hair is getting long,” Apollo whispers without turning around.
“Yeah, I’m growing it,” I say casually, but I’m really happy she noticed.
She stops and turns around. She shines the light at my head
“How come? You said hair was for sissies and girls,” she whispers, but I can hear the teasing in her voice. I’m glad it’s dark, and she can’t see my blush.
“Yeah, well, I just wanted to see … I mean, you said it was nice, so I thought …” I’m stammering and feel stupid.
“Thought what?” She prods my shoulder with her finger.
“Well, you know … that I’d wait for you to leave before I cut it, since ...” I
blow out a deep breath and look down at the steps.
“Do you mean you’re letting it grow because I like it?” she asks, not whispering this time.
“Shhh, you’re talking too loud. And don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I told you, my aunt won’t wake up. She could sleep through an earthquake. I’m not making a big deal out of it. I think it’s nice. ” She snickers, but quietly now and turns to walk up the stairs again, but her grip on my hand is tighter now.
Each creak of the steps has me wanting to turn and run out of the house. But, I won’t. It’s not just because of the telescope either.
She’s leaving in a few days.
The thought of her being gone, of reading at the lake without her, makes my stomach hurt.
Like she can feel the pain in my gut, she squeezes my hand and then shoots a grin at me over her shoulder. Even in the dark stairwell, it feels like a burst of sunlight through a cloud, and my stomach eases. The smile I give her in return comes straight from my grateful heart.
