Melanie Thon: Meteors in August

“Hey there,” said Rafe, putting his foot on the bottom step and waiting for an invitation.

“Hi yourself,” said Nina. She twisted a brassy curl around her finger.

“I heard you were back,” Rafe said, shading his face with his hand.

“Yeah, I’m back.”

“How long you staying?”

“Long as I want.”

“Mind if I get out of the sun?”

“I don’t mind,” she said.

He took the chair to Nina’s right, giving her a quick, sideways glance.

She rubbed her bare arms, and Rafe stared, his longing simple: he wanted nothing more than to touch those arms. Nina said, “Lizzie, honey, I’m about to drop from this heat. Be a sweet girl and get me a cool rag.”

I knew her, but how could I refuse?

When I returned with the damp cloth, it was just as I expected: Nina had moved to the swing. But Rafe still sat rigid in his chair.

Nina reached for the rag and read my mind, moving one leg onto the swing so I couldn’t plop down with her. I had to take the chair next to Rafe, bound like him to watch Nina wash her throat and the back of her neck. She dabbed at her arms. Rafe Carson had to sit on his hands to keep himself from begging her to let him wash her knees. She made each part of her body precious, then closed her eyes, oblivious to the suffering she caused this boy.

“I can’t remember a time I was ever this hot,” she said. “It wasn’t this hot when we were growing up, was it, Rafe?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, “it wasn’t.”

“Ma’am? Ma’am? What am I, your mama? Or some old woman on the street?” She leaned forward and the neck of her dress gaped, exposing a smooth white place the sun hadn’t touched.

“I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean that at all. You’re still the prettiest girl who ever lived in this town.”

“That’s not saying much.”

“In this county.”

“Thanks again. I feel like I’ve just been crowned Hog Queen at the state fair.”

Rafe Carson squirmed, thinking through his short list of compliments, tortured by his lack of words. “You know what I’m trying to say.”

“I’m tired of guessing what boys mean.” She stretched out on the porch swing; her eyes were slats. I wanted to warn Rafe that he’d better keep talking because Nina was apt to fall asleep the minute she got comfortable.

“I’m no good at talking to girls.”

“Well, it’s time you learned.”

“I haven’t had much practice.”

“What have you been doing for five years, living in a hole?”

“Something like that.”

“A monastery?”

“Not exactly.”

“Join the Army?”

“They wouldn’t take me.”

Nina sat up straight, truly looking at Rafe Carson for the first time. “They let anybody in the Army. Unless he’s some kind of cripple. Are you deformed, boy?” Something in her tone made me think she liked the idea and wouldn’t mind seeing a humpback or a clubfoot for herself.

“I’ve been in prison.”

“You mean that boys’ school, that country club for delinquents? That was ages ago. I didn’t think they even put stuff like that on your record.”

“They didn’t. I’ve been in a real prison. Over in Washington. Three years for armed robbery.”

“Three years? That’s all?”

“Well, the gun wasn’t loaded. Actually it wasn’t even a real gun, but the kid thought it was, crapped his pants, literally, said so in court. That’s why they gave me three years if you want to know the truth, three years for scaring the shit out of some pimple-faced kid.”

“Another gas station?”

“Seven-Eleven.”

“How much you get?”

“Nothing. Damn fool wouldn’t open the register. He was gonna die for minimum wage. How do you find a kid like that? Fifty lousy bucks, that’s all I wanted.”

“What for?”

“I was trying to get across the border before anybody got the bright idea of drafting me.”

“Why’d you go to Washington? You could have walked to Canada from here.”

“I had to throw my father off my trail. He wanted me to enlist. He would have tracked me all the way to the Northwest Territories if he knew how yellow I was. He’d rather kill me with his own hands than have people in this town call one of his boys a coward.”

“He’d rather have a convict than a coward?”

“Yeah, he would — as long as I don’t let on I didn’t have a real gun.”

“Well, you got out of it,” Nina said. “You didn’t have to go to Canada or Vietnam.”

“What a lucky guy.”

“I’d say so.”

“I missed a lot. I’m still missing it.” He stood up and paced. His face was dry and red, and he couldn’t look at Nina. “I feel like I got my arms cut off. You don’t know what it’s like, being locked up, looking at men every minute, never seeing a woman, never being alone. And then one day you’re staring at yourself in the mirror and you see there’s some guy behind you, and he’s watching you too because you’re skinny and the youngest one on the block, and he knows he can have you. He puts his hand on your shoulder, moves it down your spine. And you let him.”

Mom stood behind the screen door with a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses on a tray. Rafe yelled at her through the screen, “Do you know what I’m telling you?”

Mom said, “How about some nice lemonade?”

“No,” Rafe said, collecting himself, remembering his manners, “no, thank you, ma’am.”

“This heat can make a person crazy if you don’t get enough to drink.”

Rafe shook his head. This had nothing to do with the heat. As he walked away I imagined his shirt sleeves hung empty, flapping in the hot wind.

“That poor boy,” Mom said, pouring the lemonade. “I had no idea.”

Nina grunted and slumped down on the swing. She leaned back. Before I’d finished my drink, her lips fluttered and she snored like an old man.

“It’s all those cigarettes,” Mom said. “I don’t think that girl can breathe right anymore.”

I didn’t care if she could breathe or not. I thought there was something more seriously wrong with her than too much smoke if she could fall asleep after a man told her he felt as if he had no arms. A man with no arms can’t hold a woman. A man with no arms can’t break his fall.

That night Daddy came downstairs for dinner — the first meal he’d had at the table since the night of the fire. He even dressed himself, but his pants had grown baggy and he had to cinch his belt up two notches. His blond hair was beautiful, combed back, trimmed perfectly over his big ears, delicately curved on the neck. Mother set an extra place for him and acted as if this were nothing unusual. Nina sat beside Daddy. She let him hold her hand while he said grace, the old grace that he hadn’t said since we were children: “Father, we thank thee for these mercies.…”

Arlen showed up just as we finished supper. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said. “Lazarus has risen. A walking miracle. No, I stand corrected, a sitting miracle.” She cackled, and I thought this might send my father skittering back up the stairs to hide in his room for another three weeks, but Nina truly had worked a miracle.

“How are you, Arlen?” Dad said, as if he’d seen her just yesterday.

“Better than you. You look like a starved rat.”

“How’re Les and the kids?” Dad said, not taking the bait.

“Fine, they’re fine.” For once Arlen was short on words.

Nina said, “What have you got there, Arlen?”

“Oh, this. I almost forgot. I made pies today, apple. Thought you might like one.”

“Course we would,” said Nina.

I could see it now. Nina would wolf down half the pie and fall asleep with her head on the kitchen table.