Kirby Bob Understands Heaven
by
Charles Harvey
“’Father, I
stretch my hands to thee,’ George Louse said before he gave up the ghost. Now he was a bad man—had chopped off people’s
heads and disemboweled their insides. He
bashed in a few baby’s skulls. But in
that ‘lectric chair—him the rankest sinner knew how to call on Jesus. Now you tellin’ me, Kirby Bob, little five
year old Kirby Bob, who’s just startin’ out sinnin’-- little tiny sinnin’ of
pullin’ his sister’s hair and throwin’ her doll in the mud, and climbin’ over
the fence when I’ve told him not to-- you tellin’ me this little boy won’t say
the prayer his poor tired Mother taught him so he can get into heaven and walk
with Jesus? Is you an imp that’s growin’ a tail, Kirby Bob?”
Kirby Bob had the thought to touch his
backside to see if he was indeed growing a long hairy cat’s tail back there.
But he saw something in Gretta’s wide legged hand on hips stance that made him
think she would think he was being sassy. He shifted his bunny slippers and
said, “No’m.”
“Well why
won’t you say your prayers, son?”
“I’m scared
to go to heaven, Mama.”
“Scared to
go to heaven? What you scared to go to heaven for, boy?”
“Cause you always
say that bad man, Meany George is going to be there.”
“So? What
that got to do with anything? “
The wheels in Gretta’s head turned as she tried to
understand the notion that was turning in Kirby Bob’s head. Her son had a strange way of processing the
world, Gretta thought. This was a boy
who arranged rocks, painted them, and pretended they were planets--who said he
was just like his big sister Grace, just turned inside out. This was a boy who had
stayed inside her womb all day Sunday and didn’t come out until the moon was
full on Sunday night almost five years ago to the day. It was Kirby Bob who survived unscathed
except for a purple patch on his left cheek, after eating a handful of oleander
petals.
“What’s Mean George
to heaven got to do with you?”
“Mama I
just don’t feel like getting my head chopped off.”
“Do Jesus,
boy, he ain’t going to be choppin no heads off in heaven. He prayed to the lord
to forgive him before they ‘lectrocuted him and the lord done forgave him his
sin and made him an angel. Heaven is a
good place to go.”
“Heaven is
too far away, Mama. It’s just too far away.”
“Well Kirby
Bob it is for some of us.” She cocked her head slightly and thought of her
husband in Miss Mandy’s yard way across town raking up the leaves that fell off
her chinaberry tree and singing. Gretta’s sister had called and pulled her
coat. The leaves, dead branches, and sharp dried berries from Gretta’s chinaberry
tree just blew all over the yard and stuck in Kirby Bob’s and Grace’s feet. But did Herbert care about his son and
daughter, Gretta asked herself? Hell no.
Kirby Bob’s and Grace’s life and soul was left up to her.
“You better get on your knees right now, young man and start
to prayin’ ‘else somebody’s birthday cake for tomorrow in my stove is goin’ to
be burnt to a crisp.” Gretta said in a sweet way more to soothe herself.
Kirby Bob
prayed and scooted into bed. He laid there, eyes wide as little glass jars. He
listened to the water running in the bathroom and afterward heard Gretta ease
into her squeaky bed. Kirby Bob sneaked out into the night through the window
next to his bed. He looked at the full
moon and raised his right hand above his head as if he was measuring the
distance above him. He jumped up and down trying to lift himself off the leafy
ground. His favorite tree shimmied and a
leaf fell at his feet. A notion came over Kirby Bob to climb up the tree and
put the leaf back. He sneaked very quietly into his window and walked down the
hall past Gretta’s room, and past Grace’s into the kitchen. He tucked a roll of scotch tape under his
pajama coat, walked past his cake looking like a large hat cooling in the
center of the kitchen table, and went back outside. He grabbed a low branch and swung himself
up. He climbed and climbed and climbed
until he reached almost the top of the tree.
He taped the leaf to a branch that he thought had the fewest leaves. He stayed there a moment looking up at the
sky thinking of heaven. He thought of the
silky glowing angels in Gretta’s big white bible. He closed his eyes and saw
them flitting around lambs, lions, and people rising up through the clouds toward
a golden fence. The angels had wings
just like birds’. He thought to himself,
why climb down? He had never seen an
angel or a bird climb anywhere. He spread his arms.
The next
morning as the sun and the moon sat in the same neon blue sky, Gretta was in
her kitchen making coffee for herself.
She looked out the window and fussed for a moment at the pile of rags
lying at the base of the chinaberry tree. She knew Herbert wouldn’t do a thing
about it. Would just move his head side to side like a snake’s as he made up a
lie to get down to that woman’s house. As she strained her eyes a little more
at the pile, something jumped in her heart and made her legs tremble.
“Herbert, come here,” she called softly just before her blue
linoleum floor like a big piece of heaven rose up to meet her.
Charles Harvey
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Christmas in The Bottoms
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