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Timothy and his younger brother Jackson step out into the backyard with
the flashlight and observe the weather. The rain is falling very hard,
making a commotion not unlike the sound of an airport or bus station.
Millions of raindrops fumble from the sky with suitcases tucked in their
bellies, eagerly anticipating a chance to see something different.
Water’s two favorite things are travel and fishing.
Fishing. Think about it.
Timothy holds his hand out to make a few calculations then addresses his
brother. "I'm afraid it's far too heavy for kites, though the wind
is right."
Jackson trembles from the wetness. "Am I going to run down? I don't
want to run down!"
"Follow me, I'll fix you up."
"Where are we going?"
Timothy is an expert on timing, he always knows exactly when and how to
use the flashlight to better juxtapose his meaning. He is a strong believer
in dramatics. " –The Tool Shed."
Inside the tool shed, Timothy keeps himself busy rummaging through available
ingredients. He finds a metal rake, old radio antennas, copper wire, aluminum
snow shovels, and thin piping for all sorts of electrical purposes. He
drops them all into a loud pile that wreaks havoc on the calming patter
of the rain.
Timothy finds the electrical tape and binds the pieces together. Pitchfork
taped to metal rake twisted with copper wire, snow shovel, TV and radio
antennas to form a leafless metal tree. The two boys have to drag its
superior length from the shed into the rain in order to build out further.
They are careful to keep the tape dry and reserve a watchful eye for any
sign of their parents in the windows.
When they finish, the tool shed looks as empty an Egyptian tomb, with
only a topographical map made of dust to ever prove the existence of the
treasures once kept.
The boys lean their lightning rod against the gutter of the house, and
climb a nearby tree to make their way onto the roof. It's quite a lot
of trouble hoisting up their metal claw, but working silently they manage
to lift it up together and brace it against the chimney.
From far away, the boys look like a mighty hood ornament on the Roman
nose of a 1928 Chrysler Imperial. If you've never had the pleasure, I
really recommend anyone with a license to try driving one.
The storm strikes a distant tree miles away to cast their shadows for
a thousand yards. The two of them clutching the jagged antennae reaching
far above their elementary school heads like a pair of arborists saving
a tree from a hurricane.
On the roof, they struggle to pin the tower against the brick chimney.
The heavy rain causes their sneakers to slip on the shingles as they balance.
When Timothy is convinced that his brother Jackson can handle it on his
own, he lets go and takes a step back. Another bolt casts an even greater
shadow.
Timothy shouts over the rain, "Just hold it steady, and let me know
if it's too much."
Jackson is terrified. "I'm scared Tim. I don't want to run down!"
The wind abruptly changes directions, blowing against the boys' backs
and pinning Jack's lightning rod against the chimney.
"Just hold on Jack. Do you got it?"
Jackson winds out a moan-- "Yeah I got it."
The clouds scrape over each other like charcoal portraits.
The trees panic, looking for anywhere to hide.
The ground shakes like a tank of hungry fish and the air becomes very
dry between the raindrops.
At that moment, the road is clear, and sixteen million volts of refugees
set immediate departure from the thundercloud for the tiny fingers reaching
skyward from the Shoemaker's Victorian two-story house. An overwhelming
jealousy posses Timothy and he reaches for the pole too.
The lightning strikes like a thousand bowling alleys battling a thousand
pirate ships over rain-drops in the slightest sides of a single moment.
For those of you who haven't heard, a moment typically has 7 sides. That's
two good sides, two bad sides, and three left to chance. Those are the
brigadiers and the pirates.
This particular moment is unique, because in nine years and three months,
when Lois Franklin Shoemaker dies in an automobile accident, she will
be allowed to visit this place every so often. The scene is like a painting,
with the boys standing in the center of a celestial light bulb, and there
is a baby grand Steinway on the far side of the roof. She likes to play
“Autumn Leaves,” and sometimes she practices “The Entertainer”
but never seems to improve one bit.
The moment passes on to the next like a heartbeat and the storm finishes
discharging all sixteen million volts through the tiny prepubescent bodies
of Timothy and Jackson Shoemaker.
The kitchen lights turn back on and the windows open their eyes and look
over the hedges in the front yard just in time to watch a small lifeless
body drop from the roof. It being such a late hour, the house decides
to worry about it in the morning and goes back to sleep.
[B]
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Dedication
Chapter 1 - Two Bookends
On A Couch
Chapter 2 - Battery Fluid
Chapter 3 - Whose Fuse Is The Muse
Chapter 4 - Why Widows Sing The Blues
Chapter 5 - Welcome to Sears
Chapter 6 - Fortress of Solitude
Chapter 7 - Rite of Passage
Chapter 8 - Letters of Arrival
Chapter 9 - Keeping Busy
Chapter 10 - You Can’t Teach a Gorilla
to Golf
Chapter 11 - Satellite
of Love
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