Chapter Four: Darkness & Dreams

Papa used to tell us that when we couldn't sleep, it was 'cause our eyes were open in someone else's dreams.

It was an old folk's tale Papa would say just to get us to bed, but as I get older, I'm starting to see the truth in it. That's what I'm thinking as I toss and turn in the middle of the night. I flip my pillow over twice, wishing the cool air from the vents would beat the Mississippi heat. Jessie and AJ are fast asleep when I hear a ping hitting against my window. I wait a few seconds and it happens again, only louder. Sliding out of bed, I walk towards the window and look below. It's too dark to see anything, but something else is thrown that makes me jump backwards.

"Cotton!"

It's the loudest whisper I've ever heard through glass, so I slide the windowpane up.

"Cotton!"

A dark figure waves its arms back and forth, and though I can't see clearly, I'd recognize that drawl from anywhere.

"Rowdy?"

"Come down!"

"What?" I hiss loudly. "No! Go home Rowdy!"

"Come down!" he repeats it, like he doesn't hear me refusing. Sighing, I close the window softly, hoping I don't wake my sisters up. In my bare feet, I tiptoe out of my room, down the dark stairs, and through the hallway. I quietly open the front door, praying I don't get a splinter from the wood. When I reach the side of the house, Rowdy is still there waving his arms.

"It's three in the mornin'! Are you crazy?"

He's still dressed in the clothes he had on earlier, but his eyes shine underneath the moonlight sky. He shrugs in the warm, still night.

"I couldn't sleep."

Groaning, I cross my arms. "And waking me up is going to help that?"

He chuckles. "Naw. But I could use the company."

"Go home."

"C'mon, Cotton," he pleads. "Just sit with me for a few minutes. I'll leave afterwards, I swear."

Rowdy is a convincing one and I'm not the type to turn down a beggar.

"Fine." I lead him towards the sycamore tree a few feet away. I don't want to go on the front porch, just in case Papa wakes up.

I start to sit on the grass but Rowdy yanks off his plaid shirt, laying it on the ground for me and then taking a seat beside it. I look at him in awe until he pats the spot. "Sit."

Cautiously, I position myself on his shirt as he grabs a weed and puts it in between his lips.

"Why'd you come here for?" I ask.

"Don't know. I just did."

He's quieter in the nighttime. Not his boisterous self from earlier and it takes me moments to wrap my head around it. I wonder if he just acts like that around other people or just me.

Rowdy's not really giving me an answer and he doesn't look like he's going to explain either. I stretch out my legs, leaning against the bark of the tree, admiring the night sky. There are stars—plenty of 'em—shining in patterns I'd never know the name of.

We sit in silence until Rowdy moans as he adjusts his sitting position.

"What's wrong?" Not that I'm concerned about his well-being, but it doesn't seem right not to at least show some manners.

"My back," he says simply. "It's why I couldn't sleep. Keeps me up sometimes."

"You been to a doctor?" I question. That's where I went the time I broke my wrist on the trampoline with Jessie.

He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "We can't afford no doctor, Cotton. We only moved from Rosedale 'cause Pop lost his job and it won't nothin' else there. Why do you think Mama doesn't know what she's having yet? That there is for rich folks. 'Sides, it's not a big deal. I was moving furniture earlier and Pop was busy outside, so I did it by myself. Should have waited for him, that's all."

"Okay." He winces again, and even though he was a nuisance to me earlier, I can't be one back. It ain't in my nature to just ignore his suffering. "Turn around."

"What?" Rowdy fixes his surprised gaze on me and I crack my knuckles in response.

"Turn around," I repeat. He looks wearily at me before slowly turning his broad back to me. His white shirt is covered in dirt and has holes here and there. Papa would wear his back out like this sometimes after a long day and us girls would take turns karate chopping his back.

Until the time AJ went all black belt and Papa pulled a muscle.

I don't know what I'm doing, but I start at the top, rubbing my thumbs deeply into his shoulders blades.

"Oh God," he moans. I can't focus on his blasphemy; I just knead the parts where the muscles are pulled too tightly. He leans his head forward, giving me access to his neck. I ache to touch his hair, but I steer clear and remind myself I'm only doing this to help him.

It doesn't help that the sounds coming out of his mouth are making me tingle.

"Breathe," I say. "Don't tense up."

I rub soothing circles up and down his back, making sure I don't miss any spots. I feel him relaxing beneath my touch and breathing deeply when I hit the middle of his lower spine. I've never given a massage like this before, but it doesn't seem to faze him. His painful gasps turn into soft sighs as I figure ten minutes is enough.

"Thank you," he says gratefully when I drop my hands. He spins back around, facing me. "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

Somehow, when his green eyes gaze at me, they're a brighter green this time. It's as if the moonlight has illuminated his pupils, catching bits of light that weren't there before.

"Sorry I made fun of you before supper. It won't right. Sometimes I forget how it is to be around folks."

I raise my eyebrows, not understanding what he means. "Didn't you go to school?"

"Sometimes. Pop needed help on the farm, so I was home more than anything. They just kept passin' me along. That's why I'm not too good with the reading and the numbers and such."

I open my mouth without meaning to. "Y-you can't read?"

Rowdy looks away, embarrassed. "A few words. They just get mixed up, you know? Ain't nobody took their time to help me, and my folks never did graduate, so…"

He trails off and I feel a world of pity for him. How could he go through life not being able to read?

"I can help you," I offer before I can stop myself. "We've got tons of books in the library."

"You ain't gotta fret o'er me."

"No, I can do it. Won't be a bother. I like reading."

"You mean it?"

I do but I don't know why.

I nod. "But you gotta promise me you'll show up when you say you will. I've got a lot of baton practicing this summer for the pageants and I've got to keep my schedule."

"Pageants?"

"They're like beauty and talent contests. Been doing 'em since before I could walk."

"Oh." He doesn't seem too interested so he just nods. "All right, I promise."

A light suddenly shines on from the window, breaking up our conversation.

"That must be Jessie. She's too scared to walk in the dark to go to the bathroom. I best get going."

I stand up and Rowdy does too, dusting off his pants. We both lean down to pick up his shirt and his fingers brush against mine. It ain't like earlier in my bedroom or when we were sitting in the sunroom. This time, his touch has a more gentle feeling about it. I quickly let go of his shirt and he begins walking back in the direction of his house.

"Cotton?" Rowdy turns around to look at me.

"Yeah?"

"I lied," he admits, shuffling his feet. "I was sleeping just fine, but I had to wake myself up out of my dream. Was too good to be true, I reckon."

"Why's that?" I ask softly.

"'Cause," he answers. Rowdy stuffs his hands in his pockets and I have to strain to hear his whispered words.

"It was about you."