Red Ribbons and Angel Pins
By Kathryn Brackett

“Stop it Bobby Ray!” I yelled tryin to runaway from the edge of the pond. “You gettin me wet!” 

“Louise May, it’s only water. It ain’t goan bite you. Besides, it’s so hot out here. Don’t you want a little cool water?” Bobby Ray swooped up a handful of water and threw it at me, grinning.

I dodged the water’s path. “Not when it’s in my hair!” I yelled. “Mama has a time straightenin my hair when it’s wet.” I picked up a couple of stones and skidded them across the pond. Bobby Ray did the same.

It was so quiet that Saturday afternoon. Birds were flying here and there. If you were real quiet you could even hear them whisperin to each other. The sun was shinin extra hard that day, and the air felt so clean. A soft wind is always comin from somewhere, feels like someone takin a deep breath and blowin it slowly all over us. Goose Creek always feels like this, though. It’s a small town in Whitfield, Mississippi, that I’ve lived in ever since I was born. It’s a place where everybody stays in everybody else’s business. Mr. Wakefield know what kind of groceries Ms. Madison got in her bag every time she come back from the store; Mr. Jacobs know exactly what time Ms. Lucy turn off her lights to go to bed; and everyone know that Ms. Althea foolin around with Mr. Lee. There ain’t no secrets here in this town. We just like a bunch of bees, tryin to get away from each other but lovin each other just the same.

“Bobby Ray, do you wanna go to Mr. Albert J’s and get some bubble gum?” I asked, throwin my last stone.

“Yeah,” said Bobby Ray slowly, staring out at the pond. His green eyes were in a daze. Bobby Ray is the same age as me, but he’s a lot lighter than I am. His hair is wavy and curly. He could pass for white if he had to. Everyday he wears the same pair of blue dusty overalls with a red shirt, brown boots, no socks, and a stupid lookin black, wide-brimmed hat that’s too small for his big head.

He snapped out of his trance, pushed down his hat, and started to walk off down the dirt road without me. I followed him.

As we walked toward a big pile of bushes, somethin shiny caught my eye, almost as if someone had shined the sun right down on it. 
“What’s that?” I asked pointin at the bush. Before I could get close enough, Bobby Ray ran in front of me and snatched up whatever it was. 

“Bobby Ray!” I smacked him on the shoulder. “That’s mine. I saw it first!”

“Louise May, this ain’t yours! You don’t even know what it is. Besides, I saw it first.” He clutched whatever it was in his hand.

“You did not!” I yelled. “What is it anyway?”

“I don’t know. I ain’t looked at it! You were yelling at me!” said Bobby Ray.

He opened his hand and a tiny pin lay there. It was a small, gold, and glassy object. A red cross was in the middle and two tiny naked angels were on each side of it. Their arms were stretched out towards the cross. Little silvery tears fell down their cheeks.

“Oh wow! Don’t it look like it just fell straight from heaven, Louise May?” Bobby Ray asked.

“It sure is pretty. I could pin it on my overalls,” I said tryin to grab it from him.

“The clasp is broken. I’ll just have to keep my pin in my pocket,” said Bobby Ray slippin it into his overall pocket.

“Oh no you don’t Bobby Ray! I’ll snatch off your overalls if I have to.” I tugged at his pants. “Let me see it,” I whined.

“Oh all right,” he said harshly and handed it to me.

I looked it over carefully. “This kinda remind me of Papa Dell’s red ribbon,” I said, rollin the pin in my hand. “Don’t you ever wonder why Papa Dell got that ribbon tied around his wrist?” 

“I reckon so his hand won’t fall off. He’s so old, you know. He like 100 or something,” said Bobby Ray laughin.

“I reckon it’s cause he just like ribbons and wanna be close to em, kinda like how people have somethin they specially like and wanna be close to it. Mama specially like Daddy and wanna be close to him all the time,” I said.

“You wanna be close to me, don’t you Louise May?” said Bobby Ray, puttin his arm around me.

“Boy, get your arm off of me! I don’t want you!” I scrunched up my face at him.

“Give me back my pin!” he shouted, snatchin back his arm and grabbin the pin from me.

“But Bobby Ray,” I whined, “I want something of my own too. I need something.” 

“You got me, Louise May. You’ll always have me,” said Bobby Ray rubbin his neck. “Now let’s go get some gum.”

“Okay,” I said, ignorin his comment. Bobby Ray skipped off in front of me. He wasn’t runnin like he usually did. In fact, I hadn’t seen him runnin in the past week. He looked like his legs were hurtin him, and he was limpin a little.

Just before we got to Albert J’s Grocery Store, Bobby Ray remembered that he had to help his mama clean the house for Sunday dinner tomorrow. Reverend Tobias was coming to eat with em, and she wanted everythin to look extra clean.

“I think the Reverend like your Mama, Bobby Ray,” I said as he walked away from me.

“I ain’t lookin for no other Daddy. My Daddy right here.” He pointed at his heart. Bobby Ray’s father died when he was seven. He don’t talk bout him much though.

“I’ll see you later at our special place!” he yelled.

“Okay. Bye!”

I had to pick up some sweet potatoes for Mama so I walked into the store and bought some. As I walked out, I saw Papa Dell leanin over some apples. 

Papa Dell is the nicest man I ever did meet. Everyone in Goose Creek call him Papa Dell, I reckon cause he’s so old. Everyone respects him though. He tall and skinny, kinda stooped over like somethin been sittin on his back for a long time and it’s weighin him down. He real friendly though, always speak to me when he see me, but I think he losin his sight cause he always squintin through his shabby dusty glasses, like he tryin to make sure what he see is real. He ain’t got a lick of hair on him, not even on his arms. Some say he got Indian in his blood. Bobby Ray told me that Indians don’t have no hair on em other than they head, but he can’t be Indian cause he blacker than me. 

“Hello, Papa Dell. How you today?” I asked.

Papa Dell turned his head slowly, kinda in a crooked way like he was tryin to stretch out a kink in his neck.

“Hello Ms. Louise May. I’m fine. How are you?” He still got a strong deep voice, not like most old people who talk so soft that you practically sittin in they lap tryin to hear what they say.

“I’m just fine. I had to pick up some sweet potatoes for Mama. She making a pie,” I said shufflin the big potatoes in my hands.

Papa Dell smiled. He still had all his teeth too. Bobby Ray say they ain’t his, but gosh I sure as heck don’t see how someone can have someone else’s teeth in they mouth. 

“That sounds real good there, Louise May. Maybe your mother will send me a piece over to the house.” His pale spidery hands shook a little while he handled the apples. That was another thing bout Papa Dell. As skinny as he was, he could eat a whole truckload of food and not gain a pound. One time I saw him eat two big pieces of catfish, some butter beans, collard greens, canned yams, cornbread, and three pieces of apple pie afterwards.

I noticed the ribbon on his wrist. “Papa Dell, can I ask you something?” 

“Why yes. What is it?” He turned his head again in the same way. It looked painful almost. 

“Well, I was just wonderin why you always wear that there red ribbon around your wrist. Ever since I’ve known you, you had it on. You don’t never take it off.”

Papa Dell straightened up as best he could. He took off his hat and put four apples in it. He slowly crept over to the bench that ran right in front of the bus stop. “Have a seat, Louise May.” I walked over and sat down. Papa Dell grabbed the edge of the seat and squeezed it so tight I thought his knuckles were goan to tear through his hands. I moved over a bit figurin that I should help him sit down, cause Mama always told me to help out old people but by the time that I stood up he was already sittin down. He let out a deep heavy breath. 

I sat down again, my short legs barely reachin the ground.

Papa Dell put out his arm for me to see. Little black veins ran up and down his thin hands. They looked like little ants travelin in packs.

“This here ribbon,” said Papa Dell gently rubbin it, “is a special thing to me. I’ve had it ever since I became a Christian when I was just a boy. The ribbon is like a piece of thread. It’s weak and fragile, but when it’s tied like this in a bow it means somethin stronger. The knot here symbolizes my knot with God. By bindin my life to him, I’m made into a stronger bow everyday. Why I been on this earth for 92 years, Louise May, and I done seen a lot of things. I’ve seen people bein born and people dyin. Death is all around me, and it ain’t too far from here. Why every morning I reckon I can feel him breathin on me, just waitin to take me away from this land where I done grown up for so many long years. You can’t let it scare you though. You got to keep growin and livin. That’s why this here bow helps to remind me of why I’m here. It helps me stay strong and connected to God.”

“But why’s it red?” I asked.

“It’s the color of the blood that Christ shed for me.” Papa Dell pressed the bow gently to his skin. I thought I saw his eyes tear up like he was secretly thankin that piece of ribbon for somethin that I couldn’t see or even understand.

“Why don’t everyone have a ribbon like that then? It seem pretty important to me.”

“Everyone has somethin of their own to show their faith. Look at Reverend Tobias. He wears a silver cross around his neck. There ain’t been a day that I’ve known him that he hadn’t worn it. And your Mama, she sing hymnals all the time. It’s her way of thankin the Lord for allowing her to be here.” His hands began to shake more. He had little chill bumps runnin up his arms too. It wasn’t cold to me, heck it was like 90 degrees out here.

“But how you keep it lookin so neat and clean, Papa Dell? I mean it always look so new.”

“When it starts to look worn out, I take it off and put it in my special box at home. I cut off a new ribbon from the spool that Ms. Becky give me a while back. I don’t never throw em away, it’d be like throwin away a part of my past, a part of my soul.”

I just stared at him, his tired wet eyes lookin like they needed to rest, needed to be made new again. The bus came and Papa Dell scooted himself slowly off the bench as I helped him get up. I never noticed before how drawn up and wrinkled he was, kinda like how my dog’s hair look when I wet him. Before he stepped onto the bus he looked down at me. 

“Louise May,” he said weakly, “always remember that the Lord got people on this here earth for a reason. They’s special people. You find somethin special to call your own, to remind you of how special and connected you are to God. You praise it, cause when the time comes that memory will be all you really have.” He patted me on the hand, his eyes lookin real peculiar to me, like a glaze was covering em, the kind of shiny glaze Mama puts over her pound cakes after they cool. It’s like he was lookin at somethin way off far, somethin I couldn’t see. He smiled and walked onto the bus. That was the first time I noticed that Papa Dell didn’t use a cane. If I didn’t know no better, I’d say somethin else looked like it held him up, somethin that wasn’t meant to be seen.

After takin the potatoes home to Mama, I walked over to Bobby Ray and mine’s special place. We hang out around an old beat-up garage. Broken liquor bottles, old washed out tires, torn rags, smashed in dusty windows, and rotted trees are the only things left there. It used to belong to Mr. Robinson, but he died a long time ago of some evil disease that Mama said everyone could get. Shortly after he died, I heard someone say they found a piece of rope around his neck and his hands had been tied. I told Mama bout it and all she said was, “Ain’t no mind of yours, ain’t no mind of yours.” I still don’t understand.

Bobby Ray and me built our hut out of an old stable that the church used a long time ago for the Christmas plays. I think Reverend Tobias left it behind the station because he didn’t know what else to do with it. We found some old dried up pinewood and nailed it to the sides of the stable. It’s real cozy like. I pulled up a couple of plants from the ground near the station and put em outside of the hut. Bobby Ray made a sign and nailed it outside the door. It read “Ceep Out! Bewair of Dog!” We didn’t have no dog, but we still thought it would be scary enough.

I walked into the hut and saw Bobby Ray sittin straight up like an Indian with his long legs crossed. He reminded me of that skinny scarecrow that Mr. Jackson puts in his front yard when it gets cold. He had this twisted, pinched expression on his face. His eyes were closed and hands cupped inside one another. He was hummin.

“What the heck you doing Bobby Ray?” I asked standin over him.

“Shh-I’m thinkin.” He squinted his eyes tighter. His round head was leaned to one side, shakin back and forth. He looked like he was havin a seizure, like the kind his Daddy used to have.

“Don’t tell me to shh! What are you doing?” I hit him on the back of his head hard and he fell over sideways.

“Louise May, stop it!” He threw up his hands at me, clawin at the air. “I’m tryin to think better.” He positioned himself like he was before.

“Whatcha talkin bout, Bobby Ray?” I sat down beside him.

“I saw Ms. Ilenda doin this when I took her a bowl of Mama’s potato salad. She told me that it helps her to think better. I figured I’d try it.” He started hummin again.

“You so stupid!” I pushed him again. “You can’t even hum right. You sound like my dog when he tryin to cough up somethin that went down the wrong way.” 

Bobby Ray rolled his light green eyes at me. “You late. Where you been?”

“I was talkin to Papa Dell. I asked him bout the ribbon, and he said that it ties him to God.”

“Why everyone in this town so damn religious?” Bobby Ray sat up on his knees and started to rock.

“Don’t use that word, Bobby Ray. If your Mama heard you say that she’d beat you upside your big head with a pan.”

“Papa used to say it all the time and Mama didn’t care. Why can’t I say it?” He kept rockin.

“Cause we young and cussin for old people.”

“I don’t like you spendin your time with Papa Dell when you could have been spendin it with me,” said Bobby Ray quickly, tryin to spit out the words real fast before I could stop him. 

“Bobby Ray, you ain’t the boss of me!” I shouted.

“What else Papa Dell say to you?” He got up and walked over to the bag of peanuts sittin on the floor. A bloody rag was on the ground.

“What’s that?” I asked pointin at the rag.

Bobby Ray looked down. “Oh, my nose was bleedin earlier. I forgot to throw it away.” He picked it up and put it in his pocket.

“Papa Dell told me to find somethin to call my own cause that’s all I would have when the time comes,” I said.

“When the time comes?” he asked, “what’s he mean by that?” He cracked open a peanut. The shell fell down on the ground.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I reckon he means when I get ready to die.”

“You ain’t goan die, Louise May. We gonna stay this way forever and we gonna get married and have ten children.”

“The heck we will! You must be fool! I ain’t marrying you and sure as heck ain’t goan have no babies.” I bent over to pick up the peanut shells.

“We young,” Bobby Ray said. “Young people don’t die early.” He stretched out his long neck and bent back his head. He threw a peanut up in the air and it fell into his mouth.

“You better stop that, Bobby Ray. You goan get choked.” I threw the shells out the door.

“Louise May,” he tilted his head slowly to one side, “Whatcha suppose happen to us when we die?” He looked so stiff, stiffer than the last time that I saw him.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I reckon we just sleep for a long time and when we don’t feel like sleepin no more we do whatever we want to do without our Mama’s yellin at us.” I tried to make my hair lay flat. It was all over my head.

Bobby Ray folded the top of the bag, making a crumplin sound like little fireworks goin off in his hand.

“I think,” he paused, “we get to wear nice clothes when we die and we don’t never have to worry bout being hungry and being cold in the winter. I think we get to walk around anywhere we want to in this town without being fraid of some people. I think when we die no one calls us bad names, cause they don’t know our names. I think we’re all the same.” He stood there clutchin the bag, lookin real peculiar, like he’d stopped breathin.

“Bobby Ray, why the heck you askin me bout all this religious stuff? I don’t know what happens when we die. Mama says we get to see the Lord and be happy. I guess I believe what she say.”

“I guess so,” he said slowly. He shivered.

“You gettin sick or somethin? You got chills runnin up your arms.” I stood up and walked over to him. That red rash on his arm hadn’t goan away yet. He said he’d gotten into some poison ivy, but it was gettin worse.

“Louise May, you ever just feel different?”

“Whatcha mean, different? Like growin different? Mama say that I’m startin to fill out a bit in my shirt and that feel real different but-”

“No! I mean like somethin’s changin inside of you. I mean I feel things around me and I never see nothin. It’s feels so far away, but so close too. I can’t touch it.”

I stood with my mouth open. What in the heck was he talkin about?

“I feel like somethin’s with me, gettin me ready.”

His eyes looked like Papa Dell’s did before he got on the bus. I backed away from him slowly. He looked too serious. “Bobby Ray, what in the hell you talkin about?” He was the only person who could start me to cussin. “You stop this foolish talkin! Did Johnny tell you to scare me cause I put a frog down his pants last week?”

His eyes floated in my direction. He was blinkin so slowly. Outside the soft tap of the wind scratchin through the pinewood was the only thing I could hear, that and my heart poundin through my ears.

He wasn’t lookin at me; at least I didn’t think so. It’s like he was lookin through me at someone or somethin else. I walked right up to him and slapped him across the face.

“Bobby Ray!” I yelled. “Snap out of it!”

He grabbed his cheek, cuppin and rubbin it. His face was red in that one spot, like I’d burned him with a hot piece of wood in the shape of my hand.

“Whatcha do that for?!” He started to cry.

“Cause you scarin the heck out of me!” I paced around the hut shakin my hand up and down tryin to get rid of the sting. “What’s wrong with you? You ain’t actin like you!”

“Well, that ain’t no reason to hit me!” Now his whole face looked like a red cherry with green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what happened. You just looked so faraway, like somethin else was standin in front of me in your body.

“I just feel different Louise May,” he rubbed his eyes, his long eyelashes brushin in a sweepin motion across his face.

“You seemed fine earlier,” I said.

“I didn’t feel as strange as I do now,” he said rubbin his forehead. We stood there in silence for a long time.

“Well umm, wanna go skip some more stones on Mr. Hatcher’s Pond?” I asked.

“Naw, I’m not in the mood. You go on,” he said.

Somethin was really wrong with him, cause Bobby Ray lived for two things only—to skip stones and to eat bubble gum.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Okay,” I said walkin off. I left him where I’d found him.

Mama was still in the kitchen cookin when I got home. The whole house smelled like collards. 

“I hate those things!” I yelled opening a window.

“Well you goan eat em,” she said. “They good for you, keep your insides clean.” She put some pepper in em.

“They smell like a big pile of rotten-”

“Sit down, Louise May Palcott and hush your mouth!” She walked over to the sink and washed her hands. Mama had such smooth hands. Her whole body was like that, sweet and gentle. Running into her arms was really falling into a bundle of scented cotton. She had on her routine gray apron and a blue dress, fillin it out in all the important places. Her hair was pinned up high like a beehive’s nest with little strands of her hair drippin down from the sides of her ears. She’s got real strong cheekbones and her eyebrows curve as if they’ve been painted real light on her face. Mama’s the same color as me, but her eyes are light gray when you get real close to her. I still can’t figure that one out. She brushed her hands through my head, jerkin it a little.

“Louise May, I gotta straighten your hair again. Whatcha been into?” Her hands were cool and damp and felt real good on my hot forehead.

“Mama it’s too hot for a straightenin comb,” I whined. Really I just wasn’t in the mood to get my ears burned off that night.

“Come on over here to the stove so I can straighten this mess.” I pulled up a chair. Mama had already heated the comb. 

“Look at all these buckshot’s in your kitchen!” she yelled pullin at the kinks with a comb at the back of my neck. She swiftly combed the hot iron through my hair, and I felt the heat of it singe my scalp.

“Aww, Mama you burned me!” I jumped forward.

She pushed me back into the seat. “I ain’t burn you, child. Sit still. It’s all in your head.”

I did as I was told feelin the warm comb pull the kinks out of my hair. She started hummin “Amazing Grace.” I needed some amazin grace to keep her from burning my ears.

“Mama I saw Papa Dell today. He told me to tell you to send him a piece of pie.” She neared my ears. I sat real still and held my breath.

“I declare that man could put away a whole cow by himself if someone let him.” The heat of the comb breathed lightly near my ear.

“Oh my collards!” Mama screeched. She forgot bout the hot comb in her hand and let it touch me. Fire lit my ear.

“AWWWW!” I grabbed my ear jumpin out of my seat. You woulda thought I was dancin on hot coals.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry!” said Mama. “Let me look. Let me look.” She placed her soft hands on my right ear. The skin was broken. She walked me over to the sink and wet a dishrag. I was sobbin.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She picked me up and cradled me like the big baby I was.

I laid my head on her shoulder near her neck. How did she always manage to smell so good, like sweet spices and sugar plumes on a warm summer night. She put some butter on my scab and finished my hair.

Later on that night I sat on the back porch and looked at the stars. The sky was full of them, like God had diamonds for teeth and was smilin real wide. I heard a crack in the bushes to my left and sat up fast. “Who’s there?” I yelled. “I got a fist and ain’t afraid to use it!”

The bush shook and Bobby Ray, dressed in his same clothes, popped out.

“Bobby Ray, whatcha doin here so late? Your Mama goan whoop your butt when she find out you goan!”

“Naw, she think I’m asleep. I put the dog under the sheets and told him to lay real still. I hope his tail don’t give me away.” We laughed.

“Louise May,” he sat down on the porch swing, “you look real nice. You got your hair straightened, didn’t you?” He raised his hand to touch my hair.

“Don’t! Mama burned me real bad,” I said pushin away his hand. They were real cold and wrinkled, but sweat was running down the top of his forehead.

“Bobby Ray, did you go swimmin without me?” I asked suspiciously.

“No, Mama had me washing collard greens with her.”

“Oh, okay,” I said.

“I helped her cut em up too,” he said proudly, stickin up his yellow nose.

“You did not,” I said doubtfully. “You don’t even know which end’s up and which end’s down!”

“Oh hush, Louise May. You don’t know nothin,” he said nastily. “You can’t cook.”

“Don’t you tell me I don’t know nothin Bobby Ray with your high-yella self. I know that collards smell like somethin awful when they cookin and that yams taste better with molasses than they do without it, and I sure as heck know how to hit you right between your big ‘ol green eyes with my fist!” I balled up my little fist and pushed it right between Bobby Ray’s eyes. His face looked a little swollen tonight.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! You done hit me once already today!” He brushed his cheek where I’d hit him earlier.

I calmed myself down. We rocked lightly in the swing. It squeaked as Bobby Ray pushed it with his long feet as if it were hummin its own song.

“Louise May, I been thinkin bout whatcha said earlier,” he said quietly.

“What’d I say?”

“You said that Papa Dell told you that you needed to find somethin of your own for when your time comes.” He wiggled his hands into his right pocket. “I want you to have this pin. I can find somethin else.” He placed the pin in my hand.

“Really Bobby Ray, I can have it? Thanks,” I said smilin.

“Although I done told you once Louise May that you don’t need nothin cause you got me.” He jerked his head fast to one side to look at me. “Ouch,” he said, rubbin his long fingers through his neck.

“See, that’s whatcha get for being so stupid!” I said. “You don’t know whatcha talkin bout. You think you always right. Besides, I don’t want you, Bobby Ray.” I slumped down in the swing and pushed out my bottom lip.

“Someday you will.” I looked up at Bobby Ray, his curly black hair creepin out wildly from his straw hat. The moon reflected his shadow on the porch. He was two halves of the same person cut into. I wanted to make him whole again.

“Louise May, why you reckon some stars twinkle more than others?” he asked lookin up at the sky, still rubbin the back of his neck.

“I think them stars is people and that they always got somethin in they eyes and they tryin to get it out,” I said. “Or maybe some of them just wink more than others, and they wink real hard at the people they like.”

“I’ll wink extra hard at you when I see you,” said Bobby Ray calmly.

He ain’t never said nothin like that to me before. As I sat there swingin next to him, I realized that I missed the Bobby Ray that I knew. Even though he sat there right next to me, a part of me still missed him, missed his old self. I missed the boy who made mud pies and dared me to eat em, the boy who used to steal Ms. Celie’s panties from off her clothesline just to see her get mad. I missed the Bobby Ray who used to put five rolls of bubble gum in his mouth to see how big a bubble he could make, the boy who I always chased bullfrogs with down at Mr. Hatcher’s pond. Where did he go, and when did he leave me?

“Bobby Ray, what’s wrong?” I asked.

He looked at me, his eyes droopy and red. 

“I gotta go Louise May. It’s gettin late. You know how Mama is bout praisin the Lord on Sunday’s. She always say that the spirit can’t move through you if you fallin asleep during the sermon. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stood up slowly holdin his back as if it hurt real bad. He walked down the steps, not bendin his knees. He turned around and looked at me. I felt glued to the swing.

“We always gonna be together Louise May. We’s like two mosquitoes bitin one another. We’ll always feel each other real close.” He smiled and for the first time in eleven years I noticed how pretty Bobby Ray’s smile really was. He turned around and walked out the yard. I couldn’t find no words to say to him.

Bobby Ray wasn’t at church today. I walked over to his house afterwards and his Mama told me he was sick.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.

“His stomach hurts, sweetie.” Bobby Ray looked a lot like his Mama.

“I told him that swallowin bubble gum could do all sorts of things to his insides,” I said. She smiled, but she looked a little sad and worried. 

“Ms. Hattie, you okay? You look sad,” I said.

“Yeah baby, I’m fine. I’m just a little worried bout Bobby Ray, but he’s gonna be just fine. Don’t you worry.” She brushed her soft hand across my cheek. There was just somethin bout mamas and their touches.

“Ms. Hattie, I’ll go get that stuffed animal that Bobby Ray won for me at the fair last year. That’ll make him smile,” I said.

“Baby, I don’t want you to get too close to him. Whatever he’s got might be catching,” she said. 

“Okay then. Well tell him that I hope that he feels better,” I said. Ms. Hattie bit her lip and nodded her head. She looked like she was goin to cry.

“Bye Ms. Hattie.”

“Bye baby.”

I ran home to find Mama but she wasn’t there. I sat down and laid my head on the kitchen table. I don’t know when I drifted off to sleep. I had a dream bout Bobby Ray. I was standing at the edge of Mr. Hatcher’s Pond lookin at the water. It was so pretty, kinda reminded me of how the trees look in autumn, full of beauty and goodness. I always thought that every leaf that fell from an autumn tree spread a special goodness and color to whatever it touched, specially in a pond because the leaves make the water look so pure and real. But this time the pond wasn’t covered in leaves; it was covered in red ribbons. Bobby Ray was swimmin through the water towards me, tryin to tell me something, but I couldn’t hear him. I tried to read his lips, thinkin that the words “you got me” were comin from his mouth. The ribbons draped softly around his bare arms and chest almost as if they were cleansin him of some hidden sin. He looked so peaceful though, and he was laughing. I tried to reach out to him but every time that I put my hand in the water, the mere touch of it sent a chillin feelin through my veins causin me to jerk back, like it wasn’t my turn to touch it.

A door slammed and I woke up. It was Mama.

“Hey Mama,” I said rubbin my eyes.

She was still dressed in her Sunday clothes but her hair was down. As she got closer to me, I noticed that her eyes were red and misty. Her forehead was scrunched and wet with sweat. She looked at me and hot tears ran down her face stainin her cheeks. I stopped breathin. The worst feelin in the world was to see Mama cry. 

“Mama, Mama,” I said softly, “what’s wrong?”

Mama sat down. She pulled her chair real close to me. Her chest was going up and down. I swear I could see her heart beatin through her.

“Louise May,” her voice shook, “I just got back from Hattie’s house to see how she was doin. Baby, she told me that Bobby Ray wasn’t feelin too good.”

“I know,” I interrupted. “I just came from there.”

She reached out and held my little face in her smooth hands. “Baby, you remember when Bobby Ray went and visited his Uncle Jimmy a couple weeks ago up north?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Remember that he had that real bad cold when he came home. Didn’t he say his throat was hurtin him real bad?”

“Yes Ma’am. He was out of school for a whole week.”

“He got over his cold bout a week ago,” she said. “The doctor took care of it, at least he thought he did.” She took a deep breath. Her hands felt moist on my skin. “But his cold didn’t really get better Louise May. It grew into somethin else.”

“Whatcha mean Mama?”

“Baby, I mean that Bobby Ray started feelin different. Hattie noticed a rash on his arm but she didn’t think nothin of it cause he’d gotten into some poison ivy a week ago. She said his stomach was hurtin him a lot and his muscles too.” I remembered his back and knees from last night. “This mornin he got a real high fever and the doctor couldn’t get it to go down. Baby, Bobby Ray had rheumatic fever.” She tightened her hands around my face. “Baby, Bobby Ray didn’t make it.”

“Whatcha mean Mama?”

“He died, Louise May.”

My insides crashed down inside of me. “But, but, Mama I just saw Ms. Hattie and she told me that his stomach hurt. He was fine. He was fine,” I said, thinking that if I said the words quick enough they’d erase what she just told me. Everythin suddenly felt so far away from me.

All Mama could say was, “I know baby, I know baby” over and over again. I unglued her hands from my face and stood up. My throat closed. I opened out my arms wide, tryin to create a new space for me, a space for me alone to breath, a space to convince myself that Bobby Ray wasn’t really dead. I fell down on the floor and the only thing I could see was Mama’s knees by my head. I felt someone’s arms around me clutchin me, rockin me, hummin to me. I felt my body separate in two. I passed out.

On the day of the funeral it rained. It rained so hard I thought that everybody in heaven was cryin for Bobby Ray. There was a large crowd of people, everyone there for one reason only—to say goodbye to him. The brown wooden box with Bobby Ray’s body in it was open. I was standin in line waitin to see him. I saw Ms. Hattie up front. Two men were on each side of her holdin her up as she looked down at her baby in his coffin. She kept yellin, “I should have known what was wrong with him. Mamas always know what’s wrong with their babies. Mamas always know.” Her legs gave way and one of the men carried her to the pew. She looked like a broken child swept up in big arms.

As I neared Bobby Ray, I felt myself fadin away. The slow melody from the choir swam through me like a hundred scaldin oceans of pain. 

The choir sang,
Precious lord take my hand.
Lead me on. Let me stand. 
I am tired, I am weak, and I am worn.
Through the storm and through the night, lead me on to the light. 
Take my hand, precious Lord, and lead me home.

I walked up to the casket. “Lead him home, Lord. Don’t leave him alone,” I said quietly. My heart was achin, swellin so bad I wanted to rip it out. It ached and ached.

My thoughts swallowed me whole as I looked at his swollen white face. “I’m missin you Bobby Ray. I’m missin you Bobby Ray. I’m missin only you,” I said. He had little bumps on his face like he used to get when he ate too much chocolate. He was dressed in his black suit with a small black tie. He looked bigger in it than he really was. His hair was fresh and curly. They’d crossed his hands together on top of his stomach, and his straw hat lay next to them. How could I walk away from him like this? How could I ever watch stars again without him? How could I ever feel the wind blow through me the same way again, the way it used to when we walked together along the pond skippin stones?

“I’m missin you Bobby Ray.”

I clutched his pin in my hand. Just Bobby Ray and me were in the church, everyone else felt like a distant memory. I broke the pin in half, separatin the naked angels. I kept one half for myself and placed the other in Bobby Ray’s stiff hands. I didn’t want to let go of him. I wanted him to open his eyes one more time and speak to me, speak only to me.

I walked over to my seat and sat down next to Papa Dell. He looked down at me, his eyes so at peace. He held my right hand, his ribbon brushin lightly against my arm. I held my half of the pin in my left hand. I felt numb. I closed my eyes, lettin the music guide my tears and my thoughts.

“I’m missin you Bobby Ray. I’m missin you Bobby Ray. I’m missin only you.”

That night Mama let me go to Mr. Hatcher’s Pond. I was so tired, so tired from cryin, tired from thinkin bout the last time that I saw Bobby Ray. I picked up a couple of stones and skipped em across the pond. The sky was crowded with hundreds of stars, stars that I wanted to believe would save me from what I’d just gone through in church, save me from the thought of my friend buried underground and not tucked in his usual bed. I rolled my half of the pin through my hands and looked up into the sky. I looked back down into the pond and saw the stars reflected in the water. A soft wind blew from somewhere causin the water to move and the stars to sway, remindin me of the soft hips of a woman dancin to a magical tune. I wondered if what I’d told Bobby Ray was true, so I just stood there lookin at the stars in the water, waitin for him to wink at me.