Alligator Bayou - Donna Jo Napoli [35]
The church bell rings and Patricia’s uncle Paul holds up a hand. He makes a speech about the graduates, who look proud. And the whole crowd says, “Amen.”
A man leads us in prayer and everyone closes their eyes.
But I can’t. Patricia looks soft and floaty in her pale yellow dress. Her hair hangs loose over her shoulders, glossy and thick, all wavy from being in braids most of the time. Her lips glisten.
Everyone sings “We’ll walk in the light, the beautiful light.” Then another song. And another. And another.
A band plays and people dance, singing along. Where’s Patricia gone?
A man comes through the crowd announcing, “No spitting. No card playing. No crap shooting. No whisky drinking. No cursing. This here celebration is for the young-uns. Just dancing and singing.”
Another man calls out dance figures and everyone’s spinning each other, raising hands high for a clap.
“Give it a try,” says a voice from behind. Rock. I think I like him best of the three boys. “Come on,” says Rock. “It ain’t hard to conquer. Just do what I do.”
If I dance, I won’t be able to keep my eye out for Patricia. “Later.”
“Y’all better stir now, before the party over.” Rock gives me a light punch in the arm. “I need to find Dancer and Charles. They ain’t no scaredy-cats.” He walks off.
And there’s Patricia. I finally catch her eye. I lift a hand, but a girlfriend whisks her off to dance.
Before I know it, people are kissing goodbye. It’s not that late; the party can’t be over yet. No! Two girls pass me with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. That’s how girls in Tallulah like to walk together. Bumping along, half tripping each other.
Francesco gathers us. “Time to leave.”
“It can’t be.” My voice comes out as a whine. I want to snatch it back, but I can’t help it. The bowl I made is still in the wagon. I couldn’t give it to Patricia without breaking through a circle of friends—and that would have made it seem like some big thing, when all it is is a bowl.
“Get in the back,” says Francesco.
I look around one last time. Patricia must have gone inside the church.
I lift the bowl from the wagon and race off.
“You be quick,” Francesco calls after me.
I’m going into the back of the church when I almost smack into Patricia. “Here.” I thrust the bowl into her hands. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” She lifts it up and down. “A bunch of ferns with a rock in the middle?”
“I made it for you.” I’m walking backward down the path. “It’s nothing.”
“Thanks for nothing, then.” She’s walking toward me.
It takes me a second to get it. Then I laugh.
“Where you going?”
“Home.”
“Stay while I open it, at least.”
“Francesco’s in the wagon. He said be quick.”
“You always do things on time? Like a clock?”
“Don’t you?”
“Sometimes the clock slow.”
I smile.
“Sometimes it behind something, so you don’t even see it.”
I smile bigger.
“Sometimes ain’t no clock at all.”
I laugh. “But you don’t know Francesco. If he says quick, he means it.”
“Well, then, I’ll wait to open this present till I see you again.”
Good. That way I have to see her again soon. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Y’all get enough to eat?”
“More than enough. Good night, Patricia.”
“Night, Calogero. Sweet dreams.” Her voice teases.
The wagon is already lurching through the grass. I have to run and catch the side boards and throw myself on. Cirone grabs me by the seat of my pants and lugs me up. I scramble to the front of the wagon bed and sit with my arms hugging my knees.
I talked to her. I’ve talked to her so many times, but it was never like this. This time she couldn’t think it was accidental, just me happening to be in her path. She knows I came to find her. I talked to her and she was funny. She’s always funny.
“They ate them all.” Carlo sits with his legs straight out in front of him and a pile of pie tins on his lap. “Every single one.”
“Ten pies,” I say.
“What do you mean, ten? Twelve. Americans do things by the dozen.”
“Twelve.” I give a whistle of approval. Americans do that, too.
“They loved them,” says Carlo.
“What did you think of that alligator?