V A R D A M A N
I see him. He is sitting there past the grassy area, down at the sandy, dusty banks. He is by the raft. We are both just about the same age. Two boys. Two country boys. Neither of us are town boys. I wonder if he has seen the train. It is not in the window anymore. We know each other, but we do not. I know his name; I call him Huck Finn. We met a while ago, and I rather like him.
"Huck! What are you doing?" I said.
"I reckon I am a-goin' to leave soon if Tom Sawyer don't show up," Huck said.
"Leave? But for where?"
"Anywhere. I ain't stayin' here for too long," he says.
I nod. Huck and I may be friends. But he is leaving soon. Huck nods back at me. I wonder what his ma is. He says he has no ma. My mother is a fish. If he has no ma, maybe he's like Darl. If Darl has a ma, then it is was. But it is. Huck has no ma. His ma was.
Huck has a pa though. But his pa is not anymore. His pa is a fish. My ma is a fish too. I know who kilt my ma. I don't think Huck knows who kilt his pa though. His pa is a fish. A fish in the water.
Huck Finn is a country boy. He is a smart boy too, and he knows a lot of things. But he does not know everything. Sometimes he feels like he is nothing, but his friend Tom Sawyer is everything. Huck sees things as they are. He knows the world, and he sees it. He knows how society is a hypocrite. I know he sees it, even if everyone else says he is wrong. He has these people inside him. But he knows what to do if he tries. He helped free a slave before. It sounded like an adventure, with all of the issues he crossed. He met lots of people. He was in the wilderness, on the open river, and then he was in different towns. He headed south. He saw a feud, and he saw people die. There was blood. He didn't know what to do when those two royal scoundrels came about, but eventually, things turned out well enough for them. They got tarred-and-feathered. Like birds, they probably looked a lot like birds. Like fat chickens tied up to be roasted, with all their melty feathers sticking to their pouting skin in the heat. They are sticky roasted fish.
"Are you leaving now?" I ask. I don't want him to leave. He is someone I like. I do not have friends. I am quiet. I want a friend. I want it.
Who is it?
Huck shakes his head. He says he will wait a while longer for Tom Sawyer. They are friends. Huck says that Tom might be caught up in some sort of adventure. I sit down next to him, and I feel the dirt and sand crunching beneath my shoes. The river is flowing nicely. It's all going somewhere. Somewhere far away. Friend.
Huck looks up at the sky. It is paling out now, no longer the deep blue it was before. It looks golden now, with frayed bits of pinks and oranges splashed about and spotted with violet clouds. The sun is saying good-bye soon. I can hear it.
I look over at Huck and I wonder if I can ever go off on a raft like him. I glance back over my shoulder in the direction of my home. Is it home? It is. Pa is there. Cash is still limping but working. Jewel has that horse of his. Jewel's ma is a horse. My ma is a fish.
Darl has no ma. Neither does Huck Finn.
"Vardaman!" It is Dewey Dell. She is calling me; she does not want me out here so late. Huck nods, as if he is giving me permission to leave.
I don't want to get up. But my legs stand up anyways. I look up at the skies. The sun is saying good-bye. The colorful paints are now a dull mixture of deep violets and blues, and there are only a few tendrils of gold left up there above. The sun is saying good-bye.
"Good-bye," I say.
Huck stands up, and we shake hands.
I say good-bye.