Percival Everett - Suder

Marsha is still running at us and yelling that she loves me and Thomas is coming to, shaking his head. Jincy and I are moving faster and I’m looking back every few steps.

“Go on,” Jincy says and she looks back at me. “I love you.” I turn and start running through the woods, naked, my wings under my arm, and soon I’m back on the trail.

It was early Saturday morning and it was unusually cool because it had rained the night before. Martin and I were on our bicycles behind Ma and Daddy as they ran. People stepped out onto their porches as we passed — the black people, anyway. The white people pulled their curtains back and gathered at their windows. The pace slowed greatly after about six miles, but with second winds Ma and Daddy picked up the tempo again.

After four hours I was very tired. Ma was falling forward and Daddy was limping, clutching at his sides. Weeks of practice had not caused them such pain. There was no talking.

Finally we were only a few blocks from home. People were stepping out of their houses and onto the street. Word of Ma’s approach spread down the street. Cars were standing in the middle of the road and people were sitting on hoods and roofs, watching.

I was behind Ma. Her back straightened as she drew closer to the end. She was merely falling into each step, finding her stride. The silence was broken by one person applauding and then everyone was clapping. Daddy stopped about twenty feet from our yard and applauded, also. I hopped off my bike and let it fall to the street. I stood by Daddy, clapping and watching as Ma ran off the street and into our driveway. She fell to her knees on the gravel. Daddy and I ran to her. Daddy dropped to one knee beside her and just looked at her. Ma looked at her bleeding knees and then at Daddy. Tears were rolling down her face. Daddy pulled her close and the neighbors became silent. Daddy picked Ma up and carried her toward the house. His eyes were wet.

Well, I’m on this rock and I’m looking down over the lake and I slip into my wings. The sky is clear and the wind is firm and what I do is step off Willet Rock. I free-fall for about fifty feet with my wings doing everything except what I want them to do and I pee because I’m so scared and all of a sudden I’m gliding.

My wings are full of the wind now and I’m a little dizzy because I’m flying in tight circles. I’m catching glimpses of figures in the woods far below. Then all hell breaks loose. I’m in a power dive, heading straight down, and let me tell you, there’s plenty of down to head into. The lake is still, like a mirror beneath me, and I can see my speck of a reflection. I think about that osprey pulling out of a dive and I pull up on the front of the wings and hold them as stiff as I can. And this ain’t easy because the wind is stretching my face around my head. I manage to pull out of the dive. In fact, when I pull out, I’m near this ridge and this blast of air sends me straight up. I realize now that there’s a lot I don’t know about air currents. Well, I’m starting to get the hang of it, but every now and then I find myself upside down or flying backwards.

Now I’m making big circles and I’m pretty much in charge and I’m slowly going down. I can see Jincy and Renoir by the lake and Jincy’s waving.

I’m feeling the wind on my face and listening to it roaring past my ears and I’ve got an erection. And I’m flying, goddamnit, I’m flying. Then I see Beckwith on a ridge with the hunters and he’s pointing up at me. I imagine him to say, “Homo sapiens.”

And I says, “Craig Suder.”