Page 87 of A Boy Called Lovesong

“It’s not rude at all. I don’t mind you asking questions. If someone’s curious, I’d rather them ask than just assume, or worse still, look down on me with pity without bothering to know what it’s like.”

“I just don’t want to—”

“Upset me?” He leaned forward and lightly kissed me. “I think it would take a lot for you to upset me.”

I wasn’t sure I agreed, considering the secret I was keeping from him.

The tape…

The reason for Joel’s death…

The reason I was there in the first place.

I tried to push it all out of my mind and quickly returned to our conversation. “So, whatdoyou see? Do you see darkness? Is everything black?”

“I don’t really know what black is, I’ve never seen it. I know you’re going to say that it’s like the night sky or a deep hole. Those are things I knowyousee as black, Leroy described them to me once when we were kids. But I’ve never seen those things either, so I don’t know.”

“What do you see then?”

He sighed as he pondered the question. “It’s a sort of… nothingness.”

“Isn’t that the same as the night sky or a deep hole?”

“No. Night skies are full of stars, or so I’m told. And all deep holes have a bottom. Nothingness is different.”

“But what does it look like?”

“It’s hard to describe. It’s like me asking you to describe what you see behind you.”

I turned, and instinctively he reached out and stopped me, knowing it was exactly what I would do. “No, I mean, what do you see behind you without turning around.”

“Nothing,” I said.

“What do you see with your toes? What do you see with your elbows? What do you see with your nose?”

I went quiet.

He smiled. “It’s okay. I sense things that you don’t.”

“Like what?”

“Like… the rain before it comes. Or the cotton before it blooms. And sometimes I sense bad things, just before they happen. It sounds strange, I know.”

I shook my head. “No. It doesn’t sound strange. It sounds… lonely.”

He paused. Then quietly said, “It is. Except for when there’s someone there to take your hand.”

Without a second’s hesitation, I reached forward and took him by the hand.

He squeezed my hand in return and smiled. “You’re a good person, Noah Van Owen. Where have you been hiding, huh? Or maybe it’s my fault for not seeking y’all out in the first place. If I was a braver man, maybe you and me might have bumped into one another on a New York sidewalk. Maybe someday I’ll finally find the courage to leave Clara’s Crossing. Although I can only imagine what my folks would have to say about that.”

“Oh shit. Speaking of your folks, I’m supposed to be having supper at their place after church.”

“You are? Why?”

“They asked me. I don’t know. It seemed impolite not to say yes. I need to get changed out of these clothes.”

“Me too. My father will definitely not approve of me turning up to church stinking like a swamp rat.”

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