Fiery Rivers

by Daefyd Williams

  “Rheumatic fever?” Marie repeated. “Is that bad?”

  Dr. Pincus nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The illness damaged her heart, the mitral valve, the valve on the left side of the heart between the atrium and ventricle. It is not closing properly, which is putting stress on the heart.”

  “But this can be fixed, can’t it?” Marie asked hopefully.

  “Unfortunately, because she is only eight years old, we would not want to risk surgery. All I can advise you to do is to take her home and enjoy her as long as you can.”

  Marie sat dumbfounded. “I’m gonna lose my baby!” she thought.

  “Mommy,” Gloryann turned to Marie with an ashen face and fear in her eyes. “Am I gonna die?”

  “Course not, honey,” Marie said reassuringly. “Jesus is gonna heal you.” She took Gloryann by the hand and stood up. “Thank you, doctor.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Hensley. I wish I had a better prognosis for you.”

  “It’s OK. God’s gonna heal her.”

  As they left the room, the doctor mused, “I wish I had her faith. May it be so.”

  Devon walked confidently to the microphone. This was his third and last spelling bee, as the national competition accepted students only through the eighth grade. He was certain that he would once again be attending the district competition, and from there, the state, and then the finals in Washington, D.C. There were three teachers seated at the judges’ table and a cafeteria filled with students watching the contest. Mrs. Maloney, a fifth grade teacher, was the pronouncer. “Laboratory,” she said slowly.

  “Ah, that’s easy,” Devon thought. “Laboratory,” he repeated, and then pictured the word in his mind and droned off the letters, “L-a-b-r-a-t-o-r-y. Laboratory.” As he was walking confidently back to his seat, he heard “Ding,” the bell in front of Mrs. Maloney ring. The students gasped.

  “What?” Devon thought. “I missed it?”

  “The correct spelling,” Mrs. Maloney stated, “is l-a-b-o-r-a-t-o-r-y. Laboratory.”

  “Shoot. Didden even win the school this year,” Devon mused, broken-hearted. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Ow. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Ow.

  The last week of school, Devon and David were standing at the northwest corner of the school on the blacktop talking when Mr. Wilson walked up to them and asked David if he could talk to Devon for a minute.

  “Sure,” David replied and walked over to the swings to watch the little children play.

  “I got some bad news today, Dev,” Mr. Wilson confided to Devon after David was out of earshot.

  “Oh?” Devon said, mildly interested.

  “Yeah, they’re gonna fire me,” he announced.

  “What for?” Devon asked.

  “They say I kissed one o’ my students, but I was just takin’ her to the science fair.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. I told her the story about me kissin’ a girl in the dark an’ feelin’ sump’n’ warm an’ salty in my mouth an’ turnin’ on the light an’ seein’ that her nose was bleedin’. Somehow, she got the story confused an’ told her parents I kissed her. Did I ever tell you that story?”

  “Yeah, you did. What’re you gonna do?”

  “I don’t know. Leave the state, prob’ly.”

  “Where you gonna go?”

  “Don’t know that either.”

  “Well, good luck.”

  “Thanks, Dev. I’m sorry you didn’t win the spelling bee this year.”

  “Ah, that’s alright. Can’t win ‘em all.”

  “That’s for damn sure. Anyway, it was nice havin’ you for a student, Dev. Bye.” He stuck out his hand and Devon shook it.

  “Bye, Mr. Wilson.” Devon never saw him again.

  Devon walked down the steps that led from the kitchen door carrying a plastic bag full of garbage. He was taking it to the garbage cans along the back fence, on the property line with the convenience store. He removed the aluminum garbage can lid and was dropping the bag into the can when he heard a low meow coming from the other can. A brown and white face peered tentatively from behind the can.

  “Feisty?” Devon said in disbelief.

  The cat completely emerged from behind the can. It was wet and dirty, with matted hair and an injured right paw, but it was Feisty. “Meow,” he cried again. He walked up to Devon, and he knelt and petted him on his back. He placed the garbage can lid back atop the can and gingerly picked up the cat. Feisty continued to meow as he carried him into the house.

  Inside the kitchen, Devon shouted, “Hey, everyone! Come an’ look who’s come back!”

  Gloryann came to the kitchen door first. She looked at the dirty cat in Devon’s arms and asked, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Feisty, Glory. Don’tchou remember him?”

  “Feisty?” And then she remembered. “Feisty!” She ran up and started stroking his matted fur.

  Marie appeared in the doorway. “Well, I’ll swan. It is Feisty. Wonder where he’s been.”

  Feisty had been gone two years. Devon had read stories about animals that had been abducted from their owners and somehow miraculously found their way back home after years of trekking across country. Apparently, Feisty was one of those animals. Wherever he had been, he had finally found his way back home. Other than his bedraggled condition and a certain feral look in his eyes, he was their cat, their Feisty.

  “Devon, give him some o’ that fried chicken we had for supper, an’ then take him upstairs an’ give him a bath,” Marie said.

  “OK.” Devon put him on the floor, opened the refrigerator door and removed a green plastic bowl covered with aluminum foil. He took out a chicken leg and tore pieces of it into a dessert bowl and placed it on the floor. Feisty sniffed it and then ravenously started eating. Gloryann and Denny stroked his back while he ate.

  Devon was no longer going to church. Adam and Marie were now allowing him to take care of the youngest four children when they went to church. He diapered and fed Jackie and Gina, and when they were sleeping, watched TV with Gloryann and Denny. They hardly saw Del anymore; he was either going to school, working, or spending time with Linda. Devon particularly liked watching Saturday morning cartoons with the kids. Mighty Mouse and Sky King were his favorites.

  One Saturday afternoon in early summer, Devon accompanied Adam to Uncle Dwayne and Aunt Melda’s house to deliver two bags of groceries, which they had bought with Del’s earnings. When they pulled into the driveway, Dwayne was outside playing basketball at a makeshift plywood backboard with a metal rim he had erected at the edge of the driveway opposite the garage. He was playing with his two sons, Joe and Jonah, and his daughter, Tina. Melda sat on the concrete porch watching the action. “Well, look what the cat drug in,” she said, as Devon and Adam got out of the car.

  “We brought you some groashries,” Adam said, as he walked to the back of the station wagon to take out the groceries.

  Melda stood up. “Well, bring ‘em on in an’ put ‘em on the table. There ain’t nothin’ needs freezin’, is there? Our freezer ain’t workin’ too good.”

  “No, we just bought stuff that didden need ‘frigeratin’.” He reached in and grabbed one of the bags and Devon took the other one. “Hot today, ain’t it?” he stated as they placed the groceries on the kitchen table.

  “Tell me about it. That’s why I’m settin’ outside. Too hot to be inside.” She looked inside one of the bags. “Now, let’s see what you brought us.” She did not utter a word of gratitude.

  Irritated, Adam looked at Devon and said, “Let’s go see what Uncle Dwayne is showin’ the young’uns.”

  “OK,” Devon replied.

  Dwayne was doing a layup as they walked towards him and the kids. The basketball fell cleanly through the hoop, and he pivoted quickly and caught his own rebound and passed it to his eldest son, Joe. “Now, you try it son. Just like Daddy di
d it. Hi, Adam. Hi, Dev. I see you brought us some food.”

  Joe dribbled the ball once and tried to emulate his father by shooting the ball with one hand. The ball did not even make it to the rim.

  “You know your sister woulden let you an’ your family go hungry,” Adam remarked.

  “You gotta run an’ then jump right before you git to the basket,” Dwayne advised Joe.

  “OK, lemme try it again,” Joe said. He tried it again, and this time the ball made it to the rim but did not go through.

  “Alright. Let Jonah try now. No, I know she woulden. You an’ Marie have been good at helpin’ us out.”

  “The Lord helps those who help themselves,” Adam said sharply.

  “Devon, do a coupla layups an’ show my boys how it’s done.” He passed the ball to Devon, and Devon dribbled it twice and did a layup which went in. He had been playing ball for Mr. Wilson for three years.

  “Thata boy!” Dwayne shouted. “Well, ya know, Brother Adam, I’d work if God wanted me to, but I can’t risk it.”

  “Can we talk?” Adam asked.

  “Sure,” Dwayne answered. “Alright, you kids just shoot the ball. Devon, show ‘em how to do a jump shot.”

  “OK.”

  Adam and Dwayne walked across the lawn into the shade of a willow tree on the eastern edge of the yard and sat down in two lawn chairs. Adam leaned forward and looked directly into Dwayne’s eyes. “Dwayne, I can’t hardly believe God would tell ya not to work or your son would die an’ then visit you again an’ tell you all you can eat is graham crackers an’ milk or you’ll die.”

  Dwayne shook his head. “I can’t explain it, Adam. All I can tell you is what I seen. I know it don’t make no sense, but I gotta do what God tells me, or me an’ my boy gonna be called home.”

  “Wha’d the angel look like?” Adam asked, probing further into this inexplicable mystery.

  “Well, like I done told you an’ Marie many times before, she was dressed like a nurse, with sort of a blue light around ‘er.”

  “Did you smell anything?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “Are you sure it was an angel o’ God?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure . . .” He paused. “Oh, I see what you’re gittin’ at. Ya think it mighta been one o’ the devil’s angels.”

  “You think it’s possible?”

  Dwayne pondered the question for a few minutes. He shook his head no and frowned. “No, Adam. I’m sure it was one o’ God’s angels. I been saved goin’ on fifteen years, an’ I’m sure it was one o’ God’s angels. I felt his presence, just like I was in church.”

  “OK. I just wanted to make sure. This dudden make no sense to me.”

  “It dudden to me, neither. But the ways o’ God are mysterious, not for us to question. I’m sure he’s got somethin’ better planned for me.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Adam stood up. “Well, we gotta be gittin’ back to Mom.”

  “Alright. Thanks for bringin’ the groashries. We can sure use ‘em.”

  “You’re welcome. Devon, we gotta git back!” he yelled over to him.

  “OK. Let Tina make this one last shot.” He was holding her by the waist underneath the basket so she could shoot the ball. She banked the basketball against the backboard and the ball dropped through the hoop without touching the rim. “Swish! Good job, Tina! See you guys later.” He put her down and walked towards the car.

  “Bye, Devon,” Dwayne said as he rejoined his children.

  “Bye, Dev,” Joe and Jonah said.

  Tina ran along the driveway, waving to them as they pulled out.

  “Bye, honey,” Adam said.

  “Bye,” she replied, still waving.

  As they turned right onto Wagoner Ford Road, Adam said, “I can’t hardly believe God would send one o’ his angels to tell a man to stop workin’ or his son’s gonna die, an’ visit him again an’ tell him that he’s gonna die if he don’t eat nothin’ but graham crackers an’ milk. That ain’t no God I wanta be servin’.”

  “Is that what he believes?” Devon asked. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Ow. “That don’t make no sense.”

  “It dudden make no sense to me neither. Listen, I gotta stop at a guy’s house for a few minutes before we go home.”

  “OK.”

  He got onto the ramp that led to Interstate 75 south and got off the freeway in downtown Dayton and drove west along Third Street.

  “Why are we goin’ here?” Devon thought. “We don’t know any black people.” Everyone on the street and in the stores and restaurants they passed was black. Adam turned left and up a little hill until the car was on a side street, pointing down towards Third Street.

  “See that yellow house down there across Third Street?” Adam asked, pointing to the house.

  “Yeah, I see it,” Devon replied. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Ow.

  “I’m gonna go down there an’ talk to a guy I know from work about sump’n’. You stay here in the car an’ wait till I come back.”

  “OK.”

  “Lock the doors when I leave.”

  “OK.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Ow.

  Adam got out of the car, walked down the hill, knocked on the door of the house, and went inside.

  Devon reached over and pushed down the lock on the driver’s side and then locked his door. “This is very strange,” he thought. “Why didden we park in front o’ the house? An’ why am I lockin’ the doors? It’s too hot to roll up the windows.” As he looked down at the yellow house, he wondered why his father had not asked him to go with him. “Is he meetin’ somebody he doesn’t want me to see? Maybe it’s a black woman. Maybe he’s got a girlfriend.” It thrilled him to think that his sanctimonious father was committing a sin right in front of him.

  In the heat and humidity of the interior of the car, his iteration of the Holy Ghost mantra, the flicking of his right wrist, and the clenching of his abdominal muscles slowly faded away. He lay down on the front seat and fell into a fitful sleep and had a dream that he was circling Rennie’s house on the go-kart with Dukie sitting on his lap and drooling onto the crotch of his pants. The car door opened and he awoke with a start.

  “Time to go home, son,” Adam said.

  Devon sat up groggily and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He looked at the clock on the dashboard. His father had been gone an hour. He did not ask him why he had been gone so long, and Adam said nothing. They drove home silently, Devon wondering and Adam reveling.

  Del and Devon stood in Uncle Caryl and Aunt Evangeline’s backyard and watched a bulldozer scoop up a load of dirt from the wild strawberry field from which they had once picked strawberries with Grampa and then trundle noisily towards the pond with its full bucket and dump the weeds and black earth into the water, belching black smoke from its exhaust pipe into the hot and humid air. Out of concern that his grandchildren not drown in his pond once he passed on, Grampa had left instructions in his will that the pond which Del and Devon had enjoyed and in which they had taught themselves to swim be filled in upon his death.

  “I guess we’ll never swim in that pond again,” Del stated the obvious.

  “Nope. Guess not,” Devon added. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Ow. He looked at the two workers dismantling the diving board. “Remember that time you fell off the divin’ board an’ fell into the mud?”

  “Yeah. I was lucky I didden kill myself.”

  “Yeah, you were. Remember that time when you an’ me were swimmin’ after dark by ourselves an’ I went number two in the water just to see if it would float?”

  “Huh huh,” Del laughed. “It did.”

  “Yeah it did,
an’ if I hadden lied to Mommy when she asked us if we had done it, we both woulda got a whuppin’.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Wrist flick. Abdomen clench. Ow.

  “Yeah, we woulda,” Del agreed.

  They watched the bulldozer scrape the slope until all that was left of the strawberry patch was a swath of black dirt at the edge of the dwindling pond.

  “Let’s go back to the house,” Devon said.

  “OK,” Del assented.

  When they entered the house, they found Adam and Uncle Caryl sitting at the kitchen table. Aunt Evangeline, Marie, and the children were in the living room. Adam asked, “They git it all filled in?”

  “Almost,” Del answered.

  “You boys want a drink o’ water?” Aunt Evangeline asked from the living room.

  “Sure,” Devon replied.

  She came into the kitchen and removed two plastic tumblers from the kitchen cupboard and handed them to the boys. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks,” Devon and Del said.

  “You’re welcome,” she said and went back into the living room.

  They walked over to the five-gallon bottle of water that sat beside the door and filled their glasses by lifting the blue plastic handle atop the spigot at the base of the inverted bottle. The water was chilled and delicious, the perfect antidote to a hot and muggy Ohio summer afternoon. Uncle Caryl and Aunt Evangeline were the only relatives they knew who could afford to splurge and have water delivered to their home.

  “I ever show you my coin collection, Adam?” Uncle Caryl asked Adam.

  Adam shook his head. “No, I don’t think you have.”

  “I’ll git it, then,” he said, getting up from the table and walking into the bedroom.

  While he was gone, Carrie Lynn came into the kitchen from outside with her transistor radio blaring “Johnny Angel.” She let the kitchen door slam.

  “Carrie!” Aunt Evangeline screamed from the living room. “Turn that racket down!”