Chapter 2
The Slave Boy

Elijah Gerald’s Journal:
September 16th, 1851
I don’t wanna keep writing anymore of this stupid journal, but Mary says I got no choice. She says that slaves hardly ever get to learn to write and that it’s a privilege. Then she pulled the mama thing and told me that mama would want me to practice writing all the time, and then she got Curtis to tell me the same. I told them I says, you two ain’t the boss of me, you just my brother and sister. But, they says that I gotta write this journal every day because now I know how to read and write and they don’t want me to forget. Then I told them that I’m a 14 year old man and that men don’t write journals. They don’t listen though, so I suppose I might as well just keep writing…
I went to town today, which ain’t nothin outa the ordinary. My master told me to go get him some bread, so I went to go get him some bread. I wasn’t gone for too long when I ran into some boy I ain’t never met before. He was pretty tall, almost taller than me, and he had bright blue eyes, short but shaggy brown hair, and he was wearing nothing but rags, which kinda made me feel better about myself. Anyway, so he just randomly approached me and said if I knew where another grocery store was. I said well yeah I know where it is, it’s just down the block there. But, he said that it was closed for the day because the owner was outa town visiting someone or something, and that he needed to find another grocery store so he could get some food. Well, I told him I didn’t have no clue where another dang grocery store was, and I was kinda starting to panic because my master may be a good master, but I didn’t know if he’d take well to the idea of not having any bread when he wanted some bread. So, the boy and me decided to take a look around the town and see if we could find any other store that sold the stuff we needed to find. I was kinda shy around that boy. He seemed nice and all, but he was white, and I don’t take fast to no white people. But, it wasn’t too bad because he didn’t seem so talkative himself. Something seemed to be bothering him, because he never talked to me hardly and when I tried talking to him he always seemed off in a daze and had to ask me to repeat what I had just said.
So, anyway, we were walking around for a time. We didn’t find no place that sold bread and milk for a while, but eventually we found a small little store on the far end of town, and once we saw it we both remembered it. It just opened up a little while ago. So, we got the food we both needed, and then when we each said we best be going we started to talk to each other. He asked me what my name was and where I was from. I said I’m Elijah Gerald and I live at the plantation down the road a long ways. Then I asked him the same and he said his name was Lawrence Rutherford, but that people just call him Lewey. I think that’s a girl name, but whatever. Then he said that he lived on the other end of town on a little farm with his pa and sister. He asked me who was all in my family. I told him it was just me and my sister and brother. He asked me why I ain’t got no parents and I told them that they got sold three years ago. Then he just kinda looked at me blankly for a while, as if he didn’t hear what I had said. Then he just said oh, sorry to hear that that’s real sad. I couldn’t believe he didn’t know I was a slave. I mean, what kind of stupid white boy is he that he don’t know a slave when he see one? Well, none the less it kinda made me feel good… I don’t always like it when people look at me like I ain’t nothing better than the dirt on their shoes.

~

It was September 16th, 1851, and Lawrence was outside doing some menial work for no real good reason. He had been chopping wood –or something of the sort- when his father emerged from within the house and started to yell.
“Boy, you gotta go to the grocery store and get us some damn flour, now!”
There was a slamming of the door, the soft clatter of change on wood, and Lewey was alone once again.
Whatever, he mouthed to himself as he threw the ax down at the ground and started to stomp off towards the patio where he picked up the change furiously and threw it in his pocket. Whatever will take me farther away from you.
He ran to the small, run down stable where there were three horses nibbling some hay. He went right up to a large, black horse who stared back at him with eyes so dark you could swear you were looking into the depths of the universe. He saddled her up as fast as he could, swung himself up on top of her and raced off down the road. Her name was Patriot, and she was one of his most favorite animals of all time.
As he raced her into town he felt a strange sort of thrill. The wind breezed through his hair, throwing gusts of coldness into his face. His baggy shirt went flying behind him like an off-white flag, and it didn’t seem to take too long before he could see the faint figures of buildings off in the distance.
He slowed Patriot down and they trotted up to the outskirts of Arlington. The buildings got bigger as they got closer, and pretty soon they were able to hear the faint sound of voices. Lawrence let out a sigh, a sigh of relief, perhaps. His lips curved up into a smile as he allowed the sense of freedom to rush over him. His eye had gotten much better, and it was hardly noticeable anymore. He was happy to be in town among other people who didn’t treat him like garbage.
Patriot and him slowly traversed the crowded streets as occasional people stared up at him curiously, entranced for some odd reason by his filthy clothes and bruised arms.
Eventually they reached their destination; a small little grocery store on the edge of town. Lawrence always went here when he had to get some food for his father. The owner was a nice old man named Louis Francisco. He was an immigrant from France and spoke only a little bit of English, and he treated Lawrence like his own son. It was only a couple of years ago that Lawrence wanted people to start calling him Lewey, not only because it was easier to say and sounded more personal, but also because he wanted to be just like that sweet old man at that grocery store.
He hopped down from his horse, tied her up to a small fence post next to the building, and approached the front door. He stopped short of entering though because there was a small white note:
Left for capital to visit relatives. Will be back by the 20th.
Of course, Lewey told himself as he threw his hands in the air and then place them on his hips. I’ve only been here enough to know where one grocery store is and it’s just gotta be closed when I need some food. Just my luck; always.
He turned around helplessly, watching all of the people walking by him. Well, there’s obviously gotta be another grocery store around here somewhere. It’s just a matter of findin’ one soon enough before Pa starts to get suspicious.
He went up to Patriot, patted her softly on the back and told her; “I’ll be back in just a little while, girl, don’t you worry. I just gotta go find a store real quick so I can get us some flour, but I won’t go too far and I won’t be gone long.”
Lawrence started to walk. He zigzagged in between the people who crowded the streets, trying his hardest not to bump shoulders with them or plow over the young children. Eventually she reached a more secluded street where only a few common passersby walked. He was finding himself slowly becoming more and more lost as he turned corners that lead him into streets with few or no people on them. It wasn’t until nearly ten minutes of frantic walking that he finally came across a boy about his age that seemed to be casually sauntering along.
This boy had skin as dark as night, and his brown eyes were as deep as the sea. His curly black hair was up in the air, and wore nothing but rags, even though they were better than those that Lewey wore.
“Hey, you!” Lewey shouted, running up to the boy and stopping in his path. “Can you help me out real quick?”
The boy looked down at Lawrence with a confused and awkward frown. He seemed unable to speak; his lips moved, but no sound came out.
“Do you know where the nearest grocery store would be?” Lewey asked, hoping he could coax the other boy to talk.
He nodded his head slowly, and he pointed a long, dark finger down the street in which he was walking. “There best be a grocery store just down this here street I recon.” His voice was quiet and shy, sounding as if he hadn’t spoken to another soul in years.
“You ain’t talkin about the Francisco grocery store are ya?”
The boy furrowed his brow and looked down at Lawrence for a long couple of seconds. “Well, that’s the only one I know of. I ain’t knowin’ of any other.”
Lewey shook his head. “Well, that store is closed because the owner is out visitin’ some relatives in D.C. I was wonderin’ if you would know of any other store ‘round here.”
The boy’s face suddenly seemed to grow cold and scared. His brown eyes grew wide, and his black skin seemed to go pale. He looked away from Lewey and down the street with some odd, blank stare, and it seemed like hours before he finally answered. “Well, I don’t know where any other grocery store might be. I just know of that one down there. I ain’t never heard o’ no other one.”
“Were you headin’ to that grocery store by any chance?” asked Lewey, hoping that the boy was so they could search the city for another store together.
The boy nodded his head slowly, still keeping his eyes averted from Lewey.
“Well…” started Lawrence tentatively. “Ya wanna try and find another store together? It might go quicker if we ain’t alone.”
This seemed to make the boy feel better and he nodded his head faster this time, turning his soft, kind eyes back to the white boy. Lewey forced a smile; something he didn’t do often, and then they started to walk.
It seemed like a longer walk than it really was. Neither of them talked much; they both seemed to be lost in their own little worlds. Lawrence walked with his head down, unwilling to look at any of the people passing by, and his shoulders slumped as if he had nothing to his name. The other boy walked in much the same manner, but he was just a bit more proud. He kept his head up, glancing nervously at all of the people that passed him by. Occasionally he would look over at the sulking figure beside him, wondering what was bothering him.
“Which turn you recon we should make up here?” the boy asked as they stopped at a fork between two streets.
Lewey awoke from his daze, his head shooting up and his eyes darting around the area. “What?”
“Which turn should we make?” the boy asked slowly, pointing to each of the separate paths.
“Um…” Lawrence hesitated as he looked down each one as if he was trying to see what resided at the end. “Let’s take a left.”
So, they took a left, and the awkward walk continued. Lewey was getting worried; he didn’t want to be stuck in town all day just so he could get home to receive a brutal beating from his father who would be filled with the utmost suspicion. The more he thought about his home and his father, the faster he started to walk down the street. Were they ever going to be able to find another grocery store by midday? And, if they did, would he be able to find his way back to Patriot and race home before his father started to get angry? His blood began to pump, his eyes began to blur. He stared down at the cracked pavement before him and refused to look up. He didn’t want to get beaten when he got home. He just didn’t.
“Whoa, slow down, would ya?”
Lewey shot out of his daze once again and stopped in his tracks. Beside him stood the boy about his age with his big, black brows furrowed. He looked down at Lewey with an expression of confusion and rage, and his long fingers were clasped around Lawrence’s elbow.
Lewey was still confused. “What?”
“You were wlakin’ so fast you were pretty much runin’!” the boy told him in an exasperated tone, throwing his hands up in the air. “What the hell’s the matter with ya?”
Lawrence shook his head and looked back down at the ground. “Nothin’… Nothin’s wrong, I just wanna get home is all. Sorry, I didn’t mean to walk so fast.”
The other boy didn’t respond, he just let go of Lewey’s arm, emitted a loud “Humph”, and continued on his way.
It didn’t take them long to finally find a grocery store. It was quite a ways away from where Lewey had left his horse, but it seemed to be the only other one that they could find. It was a small building, found at the end of a long line of other stores. Its walls were made of a fine, new wood, painted a soft brown that seemed to soak in the sunlight and brighten up the atmosphere around it. The windows were spotless, serving as a porthole that made visible the immaculate interior of the building. It was a new store, Lawrence remembered now, and he feared that it would be too expensive for him.
“Finally!” the black boy exclaimed as he started running for the door.
Lewey hurried after him, catching the stainless wooden door and stepping into the cool air. He faintly heard the door shut behind him as he inhaled the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread and apple pie. He didn’t know how long he stood there just taking it all in, but when he opened his eyes the owner of the establishment was looking at him with one eyebrow cocked upwards.
“Can I help you, boy?” the man asked.
Lewey could feel his hands start to shake in his nervous fear, and he averted his eyes from the manager instantly. “Yeah, could I get some flour? You got any?”
“Yeah, we should have some left on that shelf just over there,” the man told him as he pointed to the far end of the small store. Lewey turned around silently and went to where the man had told him to go.
“And what is your business here, boy?” the man asked.
Lawrence was about to force himself to answer, but then he heard the other boy he had traveled with answer.
“I just gotta get some bread for my master.” The voice Lewey heard was just like the voice he had heard earlier when he had met the boy. The voice was soft and shaky. It was the tone of a submissive and oppressed child, Lawrence was very aware of this.
“And which one’s your master?”
“Master Harkins. He owns the plantation down the road.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know Harkins. Well, hurry it up, would you? I don’t want other people thinking that I willingly sell my items to slaves like you.”
For some odd reason, Lawrence was shocked to hear this. It hadn’t hit him that the boy was a slave, but why hadn’t it? He was black, wasn’t he? How could he be so blind as to not even notice the color of a man’s skin? It was what America was based on. He was becoming so isolated from the changing society that he didn’t even recognize a slave when he saw one. He shook his head in self-disgust and grabbed the bag of flour that sat before him. He brought it up to the owner, plopped it down on the white counter, and started to dig the change out of his pocket.
“Thirteen cents,” the man chimed, staring down at Lawrence with his beady brown eyes.
Lewey’s heart froze as he looked down at the coins in his hand. One dime and two pennies. One dime and two God damn pennies…. One dime and two pennies…
“Looks like you only got twelve there, boy.”
“How much you need?” the slave boy asked Lewey in a quite voice from behind him.
“Thirteen.”
“Here then,” Lewey felt the weight of another penny being dropped in his palm. “I got extra, just hurry up so we can get outa here.”
Lewey opened his mouth to say thanks, but the owner let out an angry “tsk”. “Take your money from a slave, huh? What kind of man does that make you? You really are just a naïve little boy, ain’t you?” the man took the change from Lewey’s hand and threw it below the counter somewhere, scribbled something on a piece of paper, and shoved the flour towards Lawrence.
The slave boy went up next. He paid for his bread, and then the two of them left the store before the owner could shoot any more insults at them.
“Man, that guy wasn’t no sweetheart, was he?” Lawrence asked as they started walking back the way they had come.
The slave boy didn’t say anything at first; he just looked down at the ground and hugged the loaf of bread close to his chest. “I best be goin’. I’m gonna take a different route this time, since I know where we are… so… yeah. Goo’bye.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Lawrence crowed as he gently held the slave boy back by the wrist. “I didn’t even get to catch your name. I can’t say no real thanks if I don’t got no real name from ya.”
“My names Elijah Gerald,” the slave boy murmured in a quiet voice.
“Well then, thanks Elijah for helpin’ me find this here store. It sure was nice.” Lewey gave the boy a smile, but he didn’t return it. “Where ya from, Elijah?”
“Whataya mean?”
“Where ya live? What side o’ town?”
“I live at the plantation down the road a long ways, on the other side of town there,” he lifted his long, skinny arm and pointed to the side of him. There was a long silence as the two of them just stood there. Lewey didn’t know what to say, he never could keep a conversation going it seemed. “What’s your name?” Elijah asked.
“My names Lawrence Rutherford,” he answered back with a sour smile as his father’s last named rolled off his tongue. “But people just call me Lewey for short, or, some people do, anyway. Most people don’t even know who I am.”
For the first time the slave boy seemed to laugh, but just as his lips were curving up into a smile and his eyes were beginning to squint, it was all lost and he stood there staring into nothingness with only the faintest glimmer of joy in his deep eyes.
“What’s so funny about that?” Lewey asked with narrowed eyes.
“Nothin’” Elijah murmured as he looked away. “I just got something in my eyes, that’s all.”
Lewey nodded his head once as he narrowed his eyes further.
“So… uh, where do you live?” Elijah asked as his smile faded completely.
“Down that way,” Lewey replied, pointing his thumb behind him. “I live on a little farm with my pa and my sister. We ain’t got much, but we got enough to get by.”
“That’s nice,” the slave boy replied, looking around wearily as if to make sure no one was getting suspicious of them.
“Who’s all in your family?” Lewey asked. “Got any siblin’s?”
“Yeah,” Elijah replied. “I still got my brother and my sister with me.”
“Don’t you got your parents too?”
Elijah’s face seemed to grow stone cold, and his dark skin seemed to go pale. He shook his head slowly, his lips twitched as if he was going to say something, but no words were emitted from his mouth.
“Why don’t you live with your parents no more?”
Elijah furrowed his brow at Lewey with what seemed like frustration. “They got sold three years ago. I don’t even know where they are anymore. I just got my brother and sister left.”
Lewey didn’t reply right away, he just stared at the slave in front of him blankly as if he didn’t understand what was being said. Then he remembered. Elijah was a slave. He had forgotten. How could he had been so stupid as to forget that he was a slave? Not only was he dumb enough not to recognize a slave when he saw one, but now he couldn’t even remember someone was a slave when he figured it out. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he so color blind? “Oh, sorry to hear that… That’s real sad.”
Elijah nodded in sorrowful agreement as his deep brown eyes fell to the ground. “Right, well, I best be on my way before my master gets mad at how long this took me.”
“Right,” Lewey concurred. “Same here.”
“Goo’bye,” Elijah murmured with a lifeless wave as he turned and started down a separate path.
“See ya,” Lewey replied as he too turned his back.
What kind of dumb white boy was he? Who was he? ... That was the question he had been asking his entire life.

~

“How you doin’, Emmy?”
“Alright, I guess,” his sister answered feebly as she sat up in bed. “My throats a little sore, but nothin’ outa the ordinary.”
Lewey knelt down beside her bed and rested his thin hands on her scrawny knee. “That’s good, that’s good. How has Pa been acting?”
Emmy shrugged her small shoulders. Her face was pale, her brown hair was stringy, and yet there was still some kind of strange beauty radiating from her as if she was a furnace. “He hasn’t said much. Just kinda been sittin’ in the parlor drinkin’ his whiskey, so nothin’ outa the ordinary there neither.”
Lewey let out a soft laugh and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I suppose that’s better than havin’ him goin’ crazy, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” Emmy laughed a little bit, but it was more of a forced laugh than a true laugh. Then her bright blue eyes turned back to her brother. “He was gettin’ a little on edge when you were in town though. He was talkin’ to himself a mighty lot, sayin’ thin’s like ‘what’s takin’ that boy so long?’ and ‘when’s he gonna be back?’ and whatnot. You were gone and awfully long time, Lewey. Where had ya gone off too?”
“I just went into town to get flour like Pa told me to. The store that I usually go to was closed though, so I had to find a new one. That’s why it took me so long. It took forever for me and Elijah to find another grocery store, and the one we found was awful bad.”
“Elijah?”
Lewey paused, staring ahead of himself blankly. He wasn’t going to tell anyone about the humiliating episode with that slave. He didn’t want anyone to know that he had been so stupid as to converse and travel with a slave. “He was just another boy I met, he was goin’ to the same store as I was, so we were both lost.”
“Was he nice?”
“Yeah, he wasn’t bad. Nicer than a lot of the other people around here.”
“Where does he live?”
“His dad owns a plantation on the other side of the town. It’s a big plantation, with slaves and everything.”
Emmy’s eyes suddenly lit up and a smile came to her face. “You sayin’ you got a friend, Lewey?”
Lewey chuckled softly as he closed his eyes and rubbed his face. “Nah, I don’t think he’s really a friend of mine. We just talked a bit and helped each other out, that’s all.”
“Sounds like a friend to me.”
“I wouldn’t mind bein’ his friend,” Lawrence mumbled as he stared at the ground. “He ain’t a bad kid, he’s nice and stuff. And I think we’d get along good and all, I just don’t think we’re ever gonna see each other again. His pa is kinda like ours, he doesn’t let him leave a lot, unless he sends him to go get somethin’. He was just a kid that helped me out today, that’s all.”
“Well maybe you can bring him around here sometime.”
Lewey laughed and shook his head. She wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. “Yeah, Emmy, maybe someday I will.”
“And we can all play outside.”
“Yeah, maybe we can do that.”

~


Elijah Gerald’s Journal

September 17th 1851,

I like my master, and I like my family. For being a slave I sure got it damn good. There ain’t nothing to say about today, that’s just was what was on my mind earlier today when I was picking in the cotton field. I was thinking about how good I actually got it. I know that there are a lot of slaves out there who don’t have no one left with them who’s related to them. I know that there’s a lot of slaves out there who work on plantations with more than a hundred other slaves, and that they have to sleep on wood floors and hay. So, I came to the agreement that I got it damn good. I still got my brother and my sister, I work with no more than about fifteen other slaves, and my master isn’t that bad of a man. He lets me go to town every now and then, just to have some fun. He gives me a nice mattress to sleep on at night. He gives me good food and treats me almost like another human being. I got this crazy idea in my head, and I kinda wish it would just go away. I keep thinking, maybe, someday, he’ll let me go free.
But that’s just a crazy idea. Like Curtis said, I ain’t ever gonna be free. I’m gonna be a slave forever. And, even worse, I ain’t gonna be with this master forever. That’s what I’m scared about.

Chapter 3
The Tavern

After Lewey met Elijah, the days continued to go by in the same dreary routine as had been going on for the past four years. For nearly two weeks he didn’t get to see his slave friend, and for nearly two weeks he was locked up in the house and back yard, doing work from dusk until dawn, falling into his bed late at night as a crumpled mass, diving into the deep depths of dreams the moment his head hit his dusty pillow. It was nothing that he hadn’t already expected. He didn’t expect that he would suddenly be let free after he met this new boy, or that he would suddenly have the courage to rebel, he knew that life would go on just as it always had for him. But, one day, near the end of September, his life truly did begin to change.
He had been outside working in the garden. He had been out there since early in the morning, and hadn’t had even a simple lunch break. When he finally finished the outside work that his father had commanded him to do the sun was nearly entirely set over the horizon, and he was ready to go to sleep. He forced his long, gangly legs to carry him up the front steps, and from there his thin arms used all the strength they had left to heave the heavy door open. For once he actually felt like the gaunt boy he was. He felt as though he had no strength and that the slightest breeze would blow him to the ground. He didn’t like that feeling. Usually he felt empowered, wrapped in muscle and able to do any task that was asked of him. But right then he was so exhausted that he felt he could collapse in the middle of that rickety hallway and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
“You think you’re done already, huh, boy?”
His father had said that. Lewey turned his head and found the filthy man sitting in his mother’s rocking chair, guzzling away a full glass of whiskey. His brown hair was strewn about in a mess, and his dark eyes seemed to be completely lost in the world of drunkenness. This made Lawrence freeze up where he stood and lock his jaw tight. It was at a time like this when his father would beat him. When his mind was entirely engrossed in the alcohol and his body was the slave of nothing; that was when things went wrong.
“Y-Yeah, I’m done out there.”
“And what exactly do you think you’re done with, then?”
Lewey took in a shaky break and said all that he could force out of his mouth. “I did all that work you wanted done in the garden, I took care of all the fencin’ that was fallin’ apart, I cleaned them barns… I did everythin’ you asked of me to do.”
“Hm,” his father grunted as he took a long gulp of whiskey from the glass, smacking his lips when he was done, allowing a few droplets of the clear liquid to dribble down his chin. “Now, I find that there hard to believe. Why don’t you get your ass back out there and do it right.”
“But, I did it all, can’t I just go to bed for now…”
“Get your ass back out there and do it right! Didn’t you hear me the first time, boy?” now his father was getting mad. His gruff voice was rising, and his beady brown eyes had turned to his son and were piercing him with absolute drunken hate. If Lewey pushed any further he’d just get pushed right back.
“Right. I heard ya the first time.”
“Well, then, do as I say! Do you really think you can just go disrespectin’ your father like that, boy?!”
Lewey shook his head, staring at the ground in humiliated defeat. All he wanted was to be able to rest. And whenever he seemed to want something his father seemed to know, and then he’d do all in his power to make sure Lewey didn’t get it.
“Then go start workin’ in that there garden, and do it right! I want a good turn out this year and I don’t wanna have to go to no town to get me my food!”
Lawrence spun around on his heels and stormed out of the house. Of course, this was just his luck. He probably wouldn’t be allowed back inside until his father had passed out, or was too drunk to care anymore. He’d be better off just sleeping in the barn with the cows and the pigs. He stood before his garden and looked at the long, vining plants and the big, green leaves. He couldn’t find anything that had to be done. He thought about just sitting there and watching the sunset for the next half hour or so, but the last time he had done that it had resulted in one of the worst beatings he had ever received.
He turned around and looked up at his home. It was a sad excuse of a house. It was barely two stories high, and its walls were falling apart, colored a sickening grey like the castle of Count Dracula. The windows were all grimed over and were no longer a portal that could be seen through into another world, they were as good as a wall themselves. His house had never been that pathetic when his mother was still around. It had been beautiful and welcoming… He decided that he was done being pushed around. He was 14 years old, old enough to think for himself and start acting like a man. He started towards the front door with a determined stride, that feeling of masculinity and virility coming back to him. He was going to tell his father point blank that he had worked enough and that he was going to bed. And he wasn’t going to let him beat him this time.
He threw open the door with all of his might, storming into the parlor as he was constantly telling himself that this was the right thing to do and that he was strong enough to do it. He turned to his father who sat silently in the rocking chair and opened his mouth to speak when he realized that his father was no longer awake. His drinking glass lay sideways on his lap, and his pants were wet from where his whiskey had poured out. His eyes were closed and his mouth was agape. He had passed out.
Lewey stood there motionlessly for a couple of seconds, unable to decide what to do. He could just walk past his father’s figure and go to sleep, or he could finally rebel and do something out of the ordinary, something not allowed… something fun.
It was a decision he made without allowing himself to think twice. He spun around on his heels and bolted out the door. Adrenaline was racing through his veins as the cold night wind blew back his hair, and he sprinted out toward the stable like he had never sprinted before. He quickly strapped some reins on his shiny black horse, jumped up on top of her bare back, and raced out of the yard as fast as he could.
He was free for the night.





Elijah Gerald’s Journal
September 29th, 1851
I had the weirdest night of my life today. It was so outa the ordinary I don’t even know what to say about it. Master said I could go out and have some fun, you see. He said he don’t like the way things are heating up between the north and the south, and he said that he wouldn’t want me to never have had any fun if the south was to get real bad and take over his farm or something. I don’t know. It was the same speech he always seems to give. So, anyway, I went out to town. I went to the tavern I usually go to because the bartender there is nice and he gives me drinks even though the people in there don’t like no slaves. He even used to let me sit in the building before when people weren’t so hyped up about the slavery or no slavery thing. So, I went into the tavern just for a few seconds and went to go see the bartender, Vector. I told him I wanted the weakest drink they got ‘cause I didn’t want to be sick in the morning. He said alright, gave me a kinda sad and sorry frown, and then I went to go wait outside. He came and gave me the drink, said he was sorry that I didn’t get to sit inside like the rest of the people and that he don’t think it’s right that I don’t get treated like a human being just ‘cause I’m black. I just nodded my head and sipped my drink. There seem to be a lot of people that say that to me these days. Virginia is weird like that. We allow slavery here, but there seem to be a lot of people that don’t approve of it no more. They just won’t say anything unless it’s a little “I’m sorry you gotta live this way,” or “I hope you get outa here one day.” That’s a good thing I suppose. I’m just scared we’re gonna go into a war over it or something. Anyway, so then Lewey -the kid that I met about two weeks ago when I was trying to find a grocery store- showed up. He was real nice. I can’t believe it but I think I actually started to miss him. So, he brought me into the tavern which I was mighty worried about because there are a lot of men in there who don’t approve of no slaves, but he brought me in just the same and all confident like.
I gotta go. The other slaves want me to put out my light. I’ll tell you about the rest tomorrow.

~
Patriot and Lawrence trotted around the near empty town for what seemed like a long time. He liked the leisure. His exhaustion was almost entirely gone, and he felt eerily exhilarated. He stared up at the starry sky with a smile he almost never got to feel. He had the entire night to do whatever he pleased. He may be tired the next morning, but he decided that it was worth the fun.
He went through town only a little while longer when he came to the place he had been searching for. It was called the East-Side Tavern. It was one of the most often visited taverns in the whole town, and he figured it would be a nice place to go sit down and enjoy the company of others.
It was a small but nice building. The walls were made of dark wood, giving it a rustic look that was so desirable for saloons. Through the small windows Lewey could make out the faint glimmer of light and the swirling colors of dresses as people danced around. The night was still young; the people were not yet dead drunk.
Lawrence eagerly jumped off his horse and tied her up next to a couple of others that were nearby. He tucked his baggy white shirt into his baggy brown pants, hoping that he didn’t look too pathetic but knowing that he inevitably did, and then he started towards the door. He could hear the loud voices of the zealous people inside, and in the background he heard the beautiful whine of a solo violin. He heard the pouring of whiskey, the slamming of glasses, the hollers of men, the laughter of women, and the tapping of shoes as he stood outside the door, trying to soak it all in. he could smell the distinct odor of alcohol that he had become so accustomed to. He could feel the joyous atmosphere begin to engulf him already.
As he was reaching for the door handle he noticed the slightest movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned immediately, staring into the near darkness at the small black figure that sat before him. It was a boy. He was sitting against the wall, bringing his knees up to his chin and holding a glass tenderly in one of his hands. “Whataya doin’ out here?” Lewey asked the stranger, taking a tentative step forward in a feeble attempt to see him better.
“Just drinkin’. Don’t bother me, I ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong.”
The voice was familiar. A voice he had heard only for a day but a day that was not too long ago. The figure was dark, the skin was black. His arms and legs were thin like Lewey’s, and the way he held himself was like that of a cowering boy.
“Elijah? That ain’t you, is it?”
The figure tensed up and his head shot up to look at Lawrence. He didn’t speak for a long while, he almost seemed scared. But, after a couple of long seconds passed by the boy opened his mouth slowly and muttered a few words. “Yeah, I’m Elijah. Y-You Lewey?”
Lawrence couldn’t help but smile as he took another step toward the boy. “Yeah, I sure am. Whataya doin’ out here in the cold when you could be inside havin’ fun?”
Elijah looked up at him like he was the stupidest boy that ever lived. “I’m a slave, don’t ya know? They don’t want no slaves goin’ in there. There are a lot of men in there that would kill me if they saw me go in there with no master of any sort. They don’t want me walkin’ around like I’m equal to them.”
“Oh,” Lewey’s eyes fell to the ground in humiliation. “Right. I suppose, there are a lot of people like that.”
Elijah replied with only the slight nod of his head as he rested back against the wall and took a small sip from his glass.
“What if I pretended to be your master, though?” Lawrence asked eagerly, his head shooting up and his eyes illuminating. He had thought that he would have had fun if it was just him and him alone, but if he could spend the night with the friend he thought he’d never again meet, well, that would be even more fun.
Elijah slowly peered up at the white boy with narrowed eyes of thought. He sat like that a long time; staring absently at Lewey as he pondered the idea. Finally, he smacked his lips and nodded his head. “That just might work actually. That just might work…”
“So then let’s do it.” Lawrence urged with a wide grin. “I’ll bring ya inside and then we can have a good time. Then I don’t gotta feel no guilt when I know you’re sittin’ out here in this damn cold.”
Elijah just sat there for a while as if he were afraid to get up. His dark eyes stared ahead at the concrete before him, and his thin arms were rested on his knees. Finally, he let out a simple sigh as he shot up. “Why not? I suppose it can’t hurt us, can it?”
“Nah, it can’t,” Lewey assured him with a grin.
The two poorly clad boys walked side-by-side into the tavern, basking in the candlelight when they finally stepped inside. Men and women appeared to be seated at every table, guzzling down alcohol and speaking in louder voices than necessary. There were two waitresses going around to each of the crowded tables and dropping off more glasses of whiskey and beer. Lewey stared at all of the people having fun and being obnoxious, and he was entranced.
“Why don’t we get a table that ain’t in main sight?” Elijah asked as he grabbed Lawrence’s sleeve and started pulling him to a desolate and dark corner to the left of the door. They sat down on the wooden chairs silently and looked around to make sure that they hadn’t attracted any attention.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Lewey stated as thought he were trying to convince himself. “Nobody hardly noticed us, and those who did didn’t even seem to care. This ain’t so bad after all.”
“Yeah, but the waitress is sure to notice me,” Elijah mumbled without looking up from the wooden table in which he was focused. “She’ll come by and I bet ya she’ll kick me outa here. She knows me.”
“She knows you?”
Elijah nodded. “Yeah, they all do. I come here all the time when my master lets me off for a night. The bartender doesn’t mind me much, he brings me drinks for free and everythin’, but those waitresses sure as hell don’t like me not one bit. If they come and recognize me they’ll throw me out and I’ll haveta sit outside again.”
“Nah, ya won’t,” Lewey assured him as he saw a lady in a pretty purple dress come walking towards them. “Like I said, I’ll say you’re my slave and everythin’s gonna be fine.”
“But I told you, they know who I am. They know who my master really is,” Elijah told him earnestly before the waitress got to their table. “You can’t say you’re my master…”
“Hey there boys,” the lady said with a killer smile as she stopped only a couple of feet before them. “Now, you two don’t look old enough to be in an establishment like this, do you? Are you supposed to be here?”
The two boys froze up for a couple of seconds, their eyes locked on each other in mute terror. “Um, y-yeah we are, actually.” Lewey stuttered as his blue eyes shifted from Elijah to the pretty woman beside him. “M-My uncle told me that, uh, I could come here and have a f-few drinks if I wanted. And I b-brought one o’ his slaves ‘cause he asked me to.”
The woman didn’t say anything for a few seconds as her bright eyes looked from Elijah to Lewey. She was truly beautiful. She had curly and voluminous blond hair that landed on her shoulders in perfect locks. Her dress was a fine purple silk that had a promiscuous lace around her arms and neck. Frankly, Lewey hadn’t seen anyone like her. “You Elijah?” she asked of the slave suddenly, her dark, red lips pursing in suspicion.
Elijah nodded slowly, without looking up.
Then the woman turned to Lewey. Her lips were pursed for a couple of seconds, but then she loosened up and started to grin ever so slightly. “You’re a cute boy, aren’t ya, now?” she paused as she looked over at Elijah. “You say you’re the nephew of Andrew Harkins?”
Lawrence nodded.
The woman laughed and bit her lip. “And you’re bringin’ a slave out to have some drinks?”
“He’s my friend,” Lawrence stated defensively. “I wanted to spend some time with him so I brought him here. Do you have a problem with that?”
The woman seemed quite taken back. Her green eyes widened and her ruby grin was lost. “I suppose if you really are who you say you are… I mean, Harkins’s let his slaves go out to town before, I suppose it ain’t totally outa the ordinary. But, no one in here takes to kindly to them blacks sittin’ around in their bar, you must know that, boy.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lawrence muttered in a shaky voice. He was speaking like he had never spoken before. He hadn’t talked to a stranger with this much fluency in years. “They’re just gonna haveta deal with it, though. He ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. He ain’t gonna be no disturbance.”
The woman raised her eyebrows and turned her gaze to the hunched over, dark mass sitting in the shadows. “I suppose I’ll let him stay… but if he causes any trouble of any kind then he’s outa here, you hear?”
“Yes ma’am,” Lewey stated with a swift nod of his head. “We’ll both leave with no fight.”
The woman smiled slightly. “You’re a cute boy, now ain’t ya? How come I ain’t never met you before if you one of Harkins’s relatives?”
“I’m up visitin’, just for a time,” Lawrence lied easily, feeling a surge of power as he did so. “My ma and pa wanted to send me up here to experience what it’s like elsewhere besides just where I live. We live in southern Virginia, you see.”
The woman nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I see. So, what’ll two boys be wantin’, then?”
Lewey opened his mouth to answer but not a sound escaped. He patted the pockets of his baggy trousers frantically, but there was no money to be found. He had forgotten to grab any when he had left, seeing as he didn’t know where he would be going anyway.
“Elijah, you got any money?” he asked of his friend in a whisper, hoping to God he did because if he didn’t they may as well be thrown out.
The slave boy raised his head to look at Lewey and shook it slowly. “You think a slave got money?”
Lawrence didn’t answer. His eyes shifted to the table in front of him and he bit his lip. “I suppose we ain’t got any money to get no drinks, so I suppose we ain’t gonna get no drinks…”
“Well, if you ain’t gonna get any drinks then I ain’t supposed to let ya stay here. You’d just be takin’ up room that could be for payin’ customers,” the woman said plainly but without any real conviction. “You know that, don’t you?”
Lewey nodded and started to stand up. “Yeah, I do. We’ll get out.”
The woman reached out a long, slim hand and placed her slender fingers on his shoulder. He half stood and half sat as he peered up at the pretty lady. “I suppose I can let you boys stay,” she muttered as she pushed Lawrence back down into his seat. “But only because you’re one cute boy. It ain’t ever gonna happen again, you hear? Next time you bring money.”
“Yes ma’am,” Lewey stated with a grin and he ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair. “Next time we bring money, I promise.” No way in hell there’s gonna be a next time anyway.
“Okay then,” the woman muttered, shooting one last glance at Elijah’s silent figure and finally walking away. Her curved hips swung back and forth, and as she approached the bar two drunken men whistled at her.
“So,” Lewey started, turning to his friend. “What is there to do in a place like this?”
“Drink,” Elijah mumbled.
“And…?”
“Drink.”
“There ain’t nothin’ else to do but that?”
Elijah shrugged his scrawny shoulders. “Not really. It’s a bar, don’t ya know? It’s centered ‘round drinkin’. I suppose you could dance to that there violin if ya really wanted to, but it ain’t late enough in the night yet. Most people get to dancin’ when they’re dead drunk.”
“Why?”
The slave shrugged once again. “I don’t know, I guess. Probably just ‘cause it ain’t no ballroom. This ain’t really a spot for dancin’.”
Lewey didn’t reply, instead he stared at the violinist sitting alone in the far corner of the tavern. It was an older man. His white hair was wavy and hung over his bent head like a curtain of snow. Lawrence could faintly make out the man’s fingers that were moving constantly up and down the fingerboard of the small, intricate instrument.
“I can’t even hardly hear that violin,” Lawrence muttered as he strained his ears to hear the beautiful hymn he had heard just a little bit earlier outside of the tavern. The voices of everyone else was too loud, the strength of the violinist was too weak. “Why ain’t he playin’ loud like he was earlier?”
“Do you think I know the answers to everythin’?” Elijah asked in a slightly annoyed tone. “Maybe he’s playin’ quieter ‘cause he’ startin’ to fall asleep. Maybe it’s ‘cause he just don’t feel like playin’ no more. Or, maybe it’s ‘cause someone asked him to play somethin’ loud enough for them to hear earlier. If you wanna know so bad, why don’t ya just go ask him yourself?”
Lawrence hesitated as he continued to stare over at the old man. He looked so somber in his hunched over position, but yet there was something about him that stuck Lewey as graceful and talented. Something about his posture not only screamed out his age, but also his wisdom, his experience, and his dedication to what he had been doing all his life. Lewey had never seen a man like this before. He had never seen someone who seemed so absolutely lost in what they were doing. Who seemed so utterly entranced by the music they were creating that they were oblivious to all else.
“Wanna go closer so we can hear him?” Lawrence asked.
Elijah looked up at him as if he were crazy. His brown eyes were a mirror to all else that was going on in the tavern, and his thick eye brows were furrowed in confusion. He looked so lonely as he sat there in that huddled mass with his knees up near his chin and his arms crossed around his legs. He looked as though he had been lost all his life. As if there was something he was waiting for that would never come. “Why would we wanna go out in front of everyone just to listen to some violin play?”
Lawrence looked away from his friend and instead stared at everyone else in the saloon. They were all preoccupied, never to be disturbed by two boys walking across the floor. The men were drinking, the women were laughing, and everyone was having a good time. “‘Cause I wanna know what it sounds like up close. I can’t hardly hear a thin’ back here.”
“You can go,” Elijah told him as his eyes fell back to the floor. “I’ll stay back here so as not to draw no attention.”
Lawrence sighed and turned to his friend. “You’ll attract more attention when your back here alone then if you’re with me and you know it. As long as you’re by me everythin’s alright ‘cause they think I’m your master. And besides, I don’t wanna go up there alone. It ain’t no fun to do thin’s by yourself.”
Elijah didn’t respond for a long couple of seconds. He was so quiet. He was always so quiet. What’s wrong with him that he don’t ever talk? Lewey wondered to himself. I hardly ever even get to leave the house and I ain’t as quiet as this boy.
“I suppose,” Elijah muttered as he stood up from his chair tentatively, looking around the room as if to make sure he wasn’t drawing too much attention by simply leaving his seat. “But let’s not be over there too long. We belong in this corner where no one will notice us. The waitress don’t even really want us here.”
“I don’t give a damn about who the other people do and don’t want in this here tavern,” Lewey grumbled as he too stood up from his chair. “We got every right to be here just as much as they do. Don’t ya agree?”
Elijah stared at his friend for a long time, showing no emotion whatsoever. Then, he turned and started to walk to the far corner of the bar. “I wish everyone thought like you,” he mumbled in a voice so quiet that Lewey didn’t even hear him emit a sound, but he had said it.
As the two of them drew nearer to the violist the sound became more audible over the drunken shouts and laughter. It was a beautiful noise. Lawrence found himself becoming more and more lost in it with every step he took. He hadn’t heard the beautiful whine of a violin since he was nine and at his cousin’s wedding. He felt himself stepping into the memory, smelling the sweet aroma of fine wine and white roses. Feeling himself draped in the most expensive fabric he had ever owned, feeling it cling to him when he danced. He heard the distinctive tap his shoes made on the wooden floor. It had been a church. A beautiful, lovely church.
“You’re a pretty good dancer, for a nine-year-old,” his cousin had told him as they spun around together across the floor.
She had been so beautiful that day in her bright white dress that sailed around her and accentuated every part of her body. Her brown hair was up in a bun, and stray pieces trailed down her shoulders with the most elegant grace. Her whole life was ahead of her and she was going to live every moment to the fullest. As he looked up at her gorgeous face that seemed to be carved by angels he remembered praying to God that Emmy would be just like their cousin. Healthy and happy…
Two years later his cousin’s husband and was killed by a lunatic, and three weeks after that she hung herself. They had had one child. He was left entirely alone.
The violin changed tone and the music slowed. The notes elongated and vibrated through Lewey’s head in an entrancing way. The music was so stunning, so dramatic that is threw him entirely off guard. The two of them stood there in the darkness, not too far way from the old man, simply staring at him. Elijah stared blankly, not really lost, not really entranced. He just stood there as though it were a chore, as though he had to. But, Lawrence stood there like a spellbound zombie; staring at the man with eyes so deep that when you peered back at him you fell into an abyss of absolute nothingness. His stare was not blank, it was the exact opposite. His stare was one of pure calculation. A stare of acute awareness, taking note of every detail that was to be taken note of. He was not only conscious of the beauty of the music; he was in love with it.
The music suddenly stopped, and the white curtain that hid the old man’s face opened, and he looked up at the two boys standing near the wall. His face was wrinkled from top to bottom, and his hair fell evenly on both sides of his head. His clothes were rather nice, but also rather out of style. If you saw past the aged man that was sitting on that stool, though, you would be able to notice the young, vibrant, talented, and handsome man that lay within. Lewey was able to envision him on a stage playing his violin solo. He saw him in a gold and blue jacket with tan trousers, tapping across the stage to the beat of the music he created. The women flocked to him, the men envied him, and he had his whole life to look forward to. And then he ended up in a lonely little tavern sitting on his lonely little stool in his lonely little corner.
“Can I help you two boys?” the man asked in a dry and raspy voice. It wasn’t low, it wasn’t intimidating, but it wasn’t high and shrill. His voice was once beautiful, just as his music was still beautiful then. It was soft and assuring. Subtle and entrancing. The old man looked from Lewey to Elijah, his eyes lingering on the slave for just the shortest second longer.
Lawrence was still lost in the music that had already ended. The long, gorgeous notes still resonated through his mind, singing to him like the glorious angels of heaven…
He shook his head and shot back to reality, turning his full attention to the man that was staring at them with narrowed and confused eyes. “S-Sorry, sir,” he muttered, his shyness and nervousness awakening once again. “We just w-wanted to listen to you. We couldn’t hear you f-from where we were sitting. We hope you don’t mind…”
The man laughed sadly and looked down at his violin. “Do I mind?” he laughed again. “No, I don’t mind. Not at all. I appreciate it, actually. I wish more people would want to listen to me.” he traced his fingers along the delicate wood of his instrument. “I used to be great. A legend, from where I grew up. Everyone came to see me play… all the time…”
There was a silence as the three of them dozed off. The man was looking at his violin, Elijah was scratching his forehead and looking at the floor jadedly, and Lawrence was still lost in the music, trying to remember every second of it so he could hum it the next day when he would be working out in the fields.
“What’re your names?” the man asked suddenly, looking up at the two of them with eyes now not of confusion but of curiosity and delight.
“I’m Lawrence,” Lewey stated simply with a slight smile. “Lawrence Rutherford.”
“I’m Elijah Gerald.”
“Ah,” the man muttered with a nod of the head. “Good names, good names. I am Gregory Frasier. It is nice to meet you two. Do either of you play an instrument?”
They both shook their heads instantly, each having their own reasons as to why they were not musically educated.
“Ah, sadly it does not surprise me,” the man stated, his eyes darkening and his smile fading. “Nobody seems to be too enthralled in the beauty of music anymore. It seems to be vanishing completely from our society today. It’s a shame, it really is.”
“What made you wanna play the violin?” Lawrence asked impulsively.
“The beauty of it. I heard it one day and I was entirely captured in its grace and elegance. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the notes, about the tone and the splendor. Eventually I gave in and learned how to play it. My father got me lessons from some of the finest musicians in Virginia.”
Neither of the boys replied; they didn’t know what to say. Lewey’s father wouldn’t even let him look at a violin much less own one and play one. Elijah was a slave. The rest should be obvious. They simply stared at the instrument in awe, wondering what could have been but would have been.
“Do you want to play it, boy?” the old man asked of Lewey, staring at him with his dark and deep eyes.
Lawrence was caught off guard and didn’t know what to say. His mouth hung open as if he was going to say something but was unable to produce sound.
Gregory held out the violin for Lewey to take, raising his eyebrows in confusing. “Don’t you want to give it a try? See what it’s like?”
Lawrence reached his hand out tentatively to take the violin. His fingers coiled around the neck, feeling the thin strings press down against his force. He brought it back to himself slowly, staring down at the dark wood that it was made of, noting every little crevice and every intricate detail. He grabbed the bow with the other hand, gently brushing a finger across the horsehair, then brushing the rosin off on his pants.
“Go on, boy,” The man urged. “Give it a go.”
Lewey looked to Gregory, and then to Elijah, and then back to the violin. It was so beautiful, so small, so delicate… what if he was to break it? What would he do then? He wouldn’t have any money to pay the man and he would never be able to work it off without telling his father what he had done. And if his father knew that he had left the house without permission then… then he would probably kill him.
“Come on we don’t have all night!” Gregory encouraged in a more demanding voice. “Just bring it up to your chin, place your fingers on the fingerboard, and give it a try. You wont’ be perfect, and that’s alright. Nobody’s listening anyway.”
Lawrence did as the man said. He rested the violin against his collar bone, placing his chin on the top to steady it. He gripped the neck in one hand and the bow in the other. It was comfortable… It was right. He gently placed the bow on the highest string, took in a deep breath, and began to play.
He didn’t know how he did it, it just kind of happened. His fingers moved across the fingerboard on their own accord, and the bow went back and forth as though it had a mind of its own. He was playing the only song he had in his head, and that was the one the man had been playing earlier. He remembered every note. He remembered how long they were held and which ones were flats and which ones were sharps. He pressed the bow down harder as he went on, making the music louder and louder with every stroke he took. The whining was beautiful, the notes glorious. He played on and on, hymning along as he did so. It had been a gorgeous tune, one he never wanted to forget.
And then he was finished.
He lowered the violin from his chin, staring at it as if it had just possessed him and rendered him impervious. The tavern was still filled with voices, but not as many as there had been before. He turned his head to look at the people behind him and noticed that a select few were staring at him. They were staring at him like he was a freak, like there was something wrong with him.
“What did I do wrong?” he asked of Gregory with a heart broken frown. “Why are they looking at me like that? What did I do?”
Gregory’s mouth was hung wide open, and he stared at Lawrence just as everyone else did. His eyes were wide, and it was a couple of seconds before he finally answered the boy. He shook his head in disbelief and whispered; “You did nothing wrong, boy. You did nothing wrong at all… I thought you said you didn’t play an instrument.”
“I don’t,” Lewey mumbled, glancing down at the violin he held in his hands. He didn’t want to let it go. He didn’t want to leave it.
“Then how did you do that, just there?” the man asked with narrowed eyes. “Where did you learn to play like that?”
Lawrence shrugged. “I never learned. I’ve never even held one of these things before.”
“Impossible,” the man declared. His eyes were still wide open and staring at his violin as though it had just come alive. “Absolutely impossible. I’ve never heard of someone who can play so well the first time they picked up an instrument.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Elijah muttered quietly, looking around to make sure he wasn’t attracting any attention. All of the people had gone back to their conversations, all was well. “I’ve heard of people who ain’t never held no instrument before in their hands, then they pick it up and they can play any tune they ever heard. It’s somethin’ to do with the brain. Somethin’ to do with how they’re made up or somethin’. Maybe you’re one of them, Lewey. Maybe you’re one of them… ah, what’s the word? Err… prodigies!”
Lewey laughed at the absurdity of the proposition and forced the violin back to the old man. “I ain’t no prodigy, I swear. That there was probably just a fluke. I couldn’t play anythin’ else if you held a gun to my head and told me to.”
“That’s irrelevant,” the man stated as he thumbed at the strings of his violin. “The point is that you can play any tune, just as long as you hear it first. Shall we try again?”
The two boys looked at each other momentarily. Elijah gave his friend a nod of encouragement, and after a long couple of seconds Lewey accepted it. “Fine,” he muttered helplessly. “Why not?”
The old man hoisted the instrument up to his neck and played it. This time the tune was upbeat and fast paced. His fingers moved as fast as lighting up and down the fingerboard, across the strings, and back again. Lewey watched with awe and concentration, trying to remember where the man’s fingers were in case he didn’t remember the hymn of the tune.
When Gregory was finished he handed the violin to Lewey and he too hoisted it up by his neck. He gripped the bow lightly, placed it on the strings and started to play. The music flowed out of him like a never ending stream of notes. His fingers moved on their own accord, all he had to do was remember how the tune had gone. Remember what it had sounded like.
And then he too was finished.
Gregory shook his head once more in disbelief as he took the violin from Lewey. “I am utterly astonished, to say the least. I cannot believe this, I truly cannot. I have never seen anything like it.”
Lewey couldn’t help but blush. He looked down at the ground in shame. He didn’t like this attention, not the way most people would. He didn’t like having someone tell him how strange he was, how out of the ordinary he was. He didn’t like to be looked at as a freak. He just wanted to be normal. “It ain’t nothin’ sir, It really ain’t.”
“Ain’t nothing,” the man scoffed. “It’s amazing, boy. Don’t you get that?” Gregory looked down at his violin once more and thrust it out to Lawrence. “Here,” he commanded eagerly. “Take it, take it now. I want you to have it. You could be famous, boy. You could be traveling the world.”
Lewey shook his head and took a step back. “No, no I don’t want it. I ain’t nothin’ sir, I promise you that. I’m just a poor boy from down the road, I swear. I ain’t nothin’ and I sure as hell don’t deserve that violin o’ yours. It’s too pretty to just give away.”
The man puffed and waved his hand. “This violin doesn’t mean anything to me, boy, I promise you. I have about three that are just like this one. I got it years ago when I had more money than I knew what to do with. I would be honored if you would take this, just so long as you promise to tell everyone that I was the man who gave you your start.”
Lewey hesitated for a long couple of seconds. He stared at the violin and its extravagant beauty. It seemed to be calling to him, begging him to take it and keep it forever. He could feel the light weight of it in his fingers again; he could feel the rosin on the horse hair of the bow… “I can’t,” Lewey stated plainly, finally making his decision clear. “I’m really sorry, sir, but I just can’t. I don’t think I deserve it… not yet, at least. Besides, if I bring it home…” father will destroy it in the blink of an eye… “I’ll probably end up breaking it. Why don’t you keep it for now, and I’ll come see you again sometime and we can play together in this here tavern? Then I don’t gotta learn on my own. You said yourself I can’t play nothin’ unless I hear what is to be played.”
The man’s eyes fell in sorrow, but after he mulled it over for a little while he seemed to be satisfied again. “Actually, boy, that sounds like a fine idea. You two can come see me again sometime, that’ll be great. I play here almost every night, so just come in whenever. I look forward to seeing you, Lawrence.”
Lewey stared at the man for a long time. Nobody’s called me Lawrence since… since… “Alright then,” he stated with a forced smile. “We’ll see ya later then, mister.”
“Goodbye, now,” the old man said with a genuine smile. He waved, the boys waved, and they went their separate ways.
Lewey and Elijah left the tavern, stepping into the brisk breeze of the autumn night.
“You were mighty good in there,” Elijah stated as he crossed his arms and huddled himself together.
“Sorry we didn’t get to do much. Next time I’ll bring money and buy us some drinks, I promise.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
There was a silence.
“Hey, Lewey, can I ask ya somethin’?” Elijah inquired in a quiet and tentative tone. His head was bowed, he wouldn’t look up.
“Sure, I guess so.”
“Why… Why are ya spendin’ time with me?”
“Whataya mean?”
“Why are ya spendin’ time with me? Don’t ya know I’m a slave? Don’t ya know that white and black people don’t spend time together? I just don’t understand you at all. I’m thinkin’ that maybe ya just want somethin’. If that’s the case, just ask for it and I’ll give it to ya. I don’t wanna play this game no more.”
Lawrence stared over at his friend long and hard. He was his first real friend and he thought that Lewey was just messing with him. “Why would ya think that?”
“Because you’re white!” Elijah nearly shouted in an exasperated tone. “Don’t ya get it, Lewey? Don’t ya get anythin’? Were ya locked up yer whole life? Black people and white people aren’t supposed to be friends with one another, that ain’t the way this country works. I ain’t never heard o’ no white boy who’s willin’ to be friends with a slave and openly tell people that.”
“Well howdeedo, then,” Lewey stated plainly as he turned slightly to start walking away. “My names Lawrence Rutherford and I ain’t afraid to be friends with a slave; it’s nice to meet ya.” He turned his back and started to walk away towards his horse. On his way he cocked his head and shouted; “I’m gonna try and be here again same time next week, why don’t you try too?”
Elijah seemed dumbfounded for a long couple of seconds. His mouth was slightly agape and he watched as Lawrence rode away on his horse. “Okay,” he mumbled to himself. “I’ll give it a try.”


Elijah Gerald’s Journal

September 30th, 1851
I don’t know what to think of that Lewey. He’s a weird kid to say the least. I ain’t saying I don’t like him though, because I kind of do. He’s nice, and I like how he don’t judge me by the color of my skin. I like how he treats me like a real human being and demands respect for me. It’s different. I ain’t never heard of it before.
I think I have a friend. A real friend.

Chapter 4
The Sweet Taste of Rebellion

Lewey trotted home on his horse with a satisfied grin glued to his face. It was so easy to have a good time, and he hadn’t even realized it. The fact had never occurred to him before that when his father was drunk it was equivalent to freedom. He liked the taste of rebellion, it was sweet and gratifying.
The night was dark, but the full moon guided him home. As he and his horse went onward they were surrounded by the silence that was filled with nothing but the incessant whine of the crickets. Each house they passed by was dark and hushed, giving no hint at life within whatsoever. He felt like one of those cowboys he had heard so much about. He felt like a lone rider, a breaker of laws; a rebel.
Eventually he reached the worn down shack he called home, and lead Patriot to the stable. He tied her up and ran his fingers through her long, black mane. “You’re a pretty horse,” he told her in a hushed whisper. “Now don’t you ever tell pa about this, ya hear? I don’t want no one knowin’ nothin’ about what was done tonight. Then, in a couple o’ nights we’ll do it again. How does that sound?”
Patriot didn’t make a noise; she just stared at him through her big, glassy eyes. Lewey laughed lightly and patted her on the neck. “G’night girl,” he told her as he left the stable and headed towards the house. “See ya in the mornin’!”
Lewey ran to the house with a smile plastered on his face. His large white teeth seemed to glisten in the nighttime glow, and his brown hair was pushed back by the breeze. He hadn’t been so happy in nearly four years; he had forgotten what bliss truly felt like. When he reached the front door, though, his smile faded. He stood before it motionlessly, trying to pick up the simplest noise that may be made within. What if his father had awoken when he was away? What if he had realized that Lewey had left and now sat half drunk in his mother’s rocking chair with that rifle in his hand waiting, just waiting for Lewey to come home so he could shoot him square in between the eyes?
Lawrence had no alternative anyway. The window to his room was sealed shut with time, and there was no other way in to his room except through the living room, down the hallway and in through the door. It was the only way in or out. That was the fact.
Lewey forced himself to reach his hand out and grasp the small wooden handle of the front door. All that was to be heard was the faint whine of the crickets in the grass, and the soft rustle of the wind. Nothing stirred inside the house.
He opened the door slowly -tentatively- hoping that he would be able to at least see what was in front of him before he felt that bullet sink into his skull and penetrate every layer of his brain, leaving him dead, or wishing he were dead. But, he was able to open the door to its full extent and nothing stopped him from doing so. He stared into the darkness of the living room whose only light was the soft glimmer emitted by the dying fire in the fireplace. He stood with his hand on the door handle, one foot in the house, the other one on the porch, searching for his father who had to be somewhere. And, he was. He was just where Lewey always found him, sitting in his mother’s rocking chair. His head was bent back as if he was staring at the ceiling, and his arms were hanging over the arm rests. Bottles of whiskey lay at his feet.
Lewey let out an inaudible sigh of relief, shut the door, and started his trek across the living room and down the hall to his bedroom. He wasn’t able to get far, though, when his father’s raspy voice stopped him. “Whataya think you’re doin’, boy?”
Lewey froze where he stood, staring blankly ahead into the dark hallway that stood before him. “I’m done workin’,” he muttered. He could feel the lie burning inside of him like a hot flame. He knew his father was drunk, but he still feared that he would see right through him.
“You done workin’, you say?”
Lewey nodded slowly, still unable to turn around and face his father, afraid that his lie would be distinctive on his face and give it all away.
“What time is it, boy?” his voice was low and hoarse, as though he had been screaming all night long. It was calm though, unlike how Lewey had heard it forever before. It was the state of drunken calmness that comes after the drunkenness has left.
“It’s late,” Lewey murmured. “Late night. The sun’ll be risin’ soon, I know of it.”
“Hm,” his father closed his eyes and rested his head against the backboard of the chair. “Well, then, go to bed. I expect ya to be up early tomorrow, you got work to do, ya hear?”
“Yeah, I hear,” Lewey grumbled and walked off down the hall. His destination was his bedroom, but he was sidetracked as he walked past the small white door that lead into his sister’s room. It was cracked open ever so slightly, and when he stood there without making a sound he could hear her faint breaths. They weren’t the breaths of a slumbering child, she was fully awake.
He opened the door and took a step inside. Through the darkness he could see the small, dark figure of his sister lying in her bed with the blankets brought up to her chin. She was shaking. Her face was pale. Her teeth were chattering.
“Emmy, you feelin’ alright?” Lewey inquired in a hushed voice as he knelt tenderly beside her bed. “What’s wrong? Why you seem so cold?”
“I-I think I’m just sick again, Lewey,” she stuttered as she took in a pained breath. “It ain’t nothin’ to worry about, just another cold is all.”
“Well, when’d you start feelin’ this way? Weren’t ya all fine this mornin’?”
Emeline nodded slowly, the pain she was feeling became more and more evident with every minor move she made. “Yeah, I was. But, ya know colds; they just come and go as they please. I bet ya I’ll be fine and dandy in the mornin’. It ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”
“I sure hope it ain’t.” Lewey ran his fingers through her soft brown hair. It was so long and so pure. It was like silk. It was like his mother’s.
“Did ya just get inside? Were ya out workin’ this whole time?” Emeline questioned as she changed the subject. She always did that. Always.
“Nah, I wasn’t workin’ the whole time.” Lewey’s voice went low and quiet. He turned his head to make sure no daunting figure was lurking behind him, and then turned back to his sister, moving in closer so she could hear. “I was out.”
“Out?”
“Yeah, out. I was out in the town. I went to a tavern. I ran into Elijah. You remember me talkin’ about Elijah, right? The slave? Yeah, well, I ran into him and we went in a tavern and had a jolly good time. I can’t even describe it.”
“You sayin’ you left?” Emeline’s eyes grew wide, but not with contempt or disdain, but with genuine surprise and a glimmer of joy. “You left, just like that?”
Lewey nodded his head, unable to withhold his smile any longer. “Just like that.”
Emeline’s lips curved up into a grin as well. Her blue eyes brightened up and her strength seemed to come back to some extent. “Lewey, that’s sure amazin’. What did ya do in town? How’d ya get away without pa findin’ out? Does he even know that you left now?”
“Nah, he don’t have a clue. He was dead drunk when I left; completely passed out. When I left he hadn’t even heard a single noise. I just went. I was goin’ to a tavern so I could pass the time when I ran into Elijah. I brought him in the tavern with me, but turns out neither of us had no money so we just had to sit there. But, get this Emmy, there was a violinist in the corner and I got to listen to him play. It was the most beautiful music I have ever heard, you’d a’ died, Emmy, I swear to it. So, we went to listen to the man play, you see, ‘cause we couldn’t hear over the ruckus everyone was makin’ so we went closer. He told us his name was Gregory somethin’, and then we told him who we were. Then –this is the best part- he let me play his violin.”
“He what?!”
“Yeah!” Lewey was getting excited. His voice was rising, he had to check himself to make sure he didn’t get too loud. “Yeah, he let me play it, and I guess I wasn’t too bad at it neither. He told me I was pretty good, even offered me the violin.”
“Well, where is it?”
“I didn’t accept it o’ course. I can’t just take a man’s violin.”
“But, Lewey, I wanna hear you play it,” Emmy whined in her soft and high voice, her baby blue eyes glistening in the moonlight that filtered in through the shoddy window. “I haven’t gotten to hear no violin play since that wedding we went to forever ago.”
“Yeah, I know; me neither. Until last night o’ course.”
“So, what was it like? What did it feel like, Lewey, to hold the violin?”
Lewey narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips, and looked at the ground. “I can’t really explain it… I guess it felt right. Ya know, like I had been playin’ it all my life. It was fun too… yeah, I liked it.”
“I wish you had brought it home,” Emmy huffed as she sunk back into her bed. “I wanna hear it, Lewey. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear a good song, a good hymn. You know I love to sing and dance. You know I do.”
“I know, I know.” Lewey continued to stroke his sister’s hair, trying to think of what to say to comfort her. “Well, I told him that I’d try to go back. That I’d try to go back to the tavern. He said he’ll be there and that I can play the violin again, maybe he’ll offer for me to have it again.”
Emeline smiled and patted Lawrence on the shoulder. “That’s good,” she murmured. “You just gotta be careful so that pa don’t learn o’ none o’ this. If he finds out you been runin’ around town playin’ a violin he’ll kill ya, Lewey. Ya know he’ll kill ya.”
“Yeah, I know.” Lewey stood up from Emeline’s bedside and turned towards the door. “But, that ain’t right, is it?”
“What ain’t right?”
“That pa’ll kill me just for havin’ some fun.”
“Course it ain’t right, Lewey. We’ve known this forever.”
Lawrence stared at the floor blankly, thinking about nothing in particular. Then he turned to leave. “G’night, Emmy,” he whispered as he opened the creaky door. “I hope you feel tons better in the mornin’.”
Emmy smiled and wished him a goodnight as well.
Lewey continued his trek down the hallway and soon entered his bedroom. He fell into the small little cot in the corner of the desolate area and his eyes closed immediately. He didn’t realize the full extent of his exhaustion until he had hit his bed. His muscles ached from a long day of work and his head hurt with all of the noises that were still lurking there from inside the tavern. He let out a long breath as he tried to drift off into the short sleep he was going to be allotted.
He dreamt of music, of orchestras, and of taverns. He dreamt of fancy clothes and old cigars. He dreamt of fun and joy.
He dreamt of his mother.

~

Lewey was awoken the next morning by the storming footsteps and angry cries of his father. He heard the slamming of kitchen cabinets, the breaking of glass, and knew that his father was sick because he drank too much the night before.
Lawrence let out a sad sigh and heaved himself out of bed. Another terrible morning was about to commence, and his father was probably going to beat most of the life out of him.
He opened the door of his bedroom tentatively; peering into the hallway for a couple of seconds to make sure no one was there. He heard his father in the kitchen throwing a fit, and he didn’t want that fit to start storming down towards him… He started to tip toe down the hallway, hoping he could make it to his sister’s room to check on her before his father called for him… He had no such luck.
“Boy!” a growly and low voice boomed. “Get your ass in here right now!”
Lewey bit his lip and forced himself to continue walking. Here it comes. I’m gonna get it now.
When he finally reached he kitchen he saw that it was a complete and utter mess. Silverware and china were on the floor, food was scattered about, and his father stood amongst it all with stains covering his overalls and his hair falling on his shoulders in a matted mess. His father stared at him blankly for a long time, a frown of utter contempt glued to his aged and drunken face. His murky, brown eyes were bloodshot from the night before. He looked sick. He looked disgusting.
“Why the hell are you just gettin’ up, boy?” he asked menacingly.
Lewey didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t scared of his father; or, he didn’t think he was. He was just entirely and utterly intimidated by his large, massive stature. “I don’t know, pa… Probably ‘cause I had to work so late into the night…”
“So now you blamin’ me for your laziness, are ya?!”
Oh dear God, here it comes. “Nah, nah I ain’t blamin’ you for it. I’m just sayin’…”
“Sayin’ that I’m the reason you’re so God damn lazy. Don’t worry, boy, I know exactly what you’re sayin’.” His face was cold and hard, glaring at Lewey with a look of complete hatred and rage. No love for his only son resided in his eyes whatsoever. There was no love in his heart. Not for Lewey, not for Emmy, not for anyone.
“I ain’t sayin’ that…”
“Then what the hell are ya sayin’?” his father boomed, taking a stomp forward and bearing his teeth as he let out an angry humph.
Lewey opened his mouth to reply but he couldn’t force any words out. His voice was lost to fear and his body was immobilized by it.
“Can’t ya talk anymore?!” his father snapped, taking another step… And another one. “Are ya gonna blame me for that one too? Is it my fault that you’re worthless and can’t talk ‘cause you’re scared o’ everythin’? Is it all because of me?!”
Lewey shook his head helplessly, stumbling backwards so as to keep a safe distance from his hostile father, but it was no use.
“You just think everythin’ is my fault, don’t ya? It’s all ‘cause o’ me, all of it! You probably think the reason your no-good mother left was ‘cause o’ me too, don’t ya?” his father reached a burly hand out and grabbed a hold of the thin linen of Lewey’s shirt, pulling him forward and nearly hoisting him off the ground. “Don’t ya?!”
Lewey’s eyes were wide, his voice was gone, and all he could do was shake his head as quickly as was possible. No hesitation… Don’t hesitate. You’ve been through this before Lewey, just wait it out. Don’t say anything, don’t imply anything, and just don’t do a God damn thing.
His father snickered softly, his lips curving back in a menacing smile to reveal his yellow and chipped teeth. His dark eyes seemed to lead directly to the pits of hell and never once did they look away from Lewey. “Well, at least you’re smart enough to know that much.” He leaned forward until he was right in Lewey’s face. His breath was hot and smelt like whiskey. Lawrence could hardly stand it. “She didn’t leave ‘cause o’ me, no way in hell she did. She left ‘cause o’ you two. You and your rotten little sister. You two pushed her over the edge with your annoyin’ complaints ‘bout everythin’. She hated havin’ kids; always had. Ever since you were born she hated it. We had been happy together. Happy as can be. Until you came along.”
Lewey didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to think. He still drunk, that’s all. He’s drunk and mad and he’s makin’ these thin’s up so you’ll get mad and lash out and then he’ll have a reason to beat you, that’s all. All you gotta do is stay calm and remember that ma always loved ya. She always loved ya; she said it every single day. She left to go get Emmy medicine, that was all. She didn’t leave ‘cause she hated us, she left ‘cause she loved us. Lewey didn’t move a muscle and he didn’t say a word, he just continued to stare frightfully up at his father. He felt lifeless and limp, nearly hanging from his shirt in which his father had grabbed in his hands.
“Do ya get that, boy? Do ya understand?! You’re the reason this ain’t no jolly and happy family. You’re the reason your stupid sister’s sick and won’t never get outa bed. You’re the reason I got no job and got no wife. Are ya piecin’ it all together yet?”
don’t say anything. Just keep quiet.
“Everythin’ is your fault, not mine!” his father shouted with rage as he threw Lewey to the floor. Lawrence hit the wood with a hard thud, his head banging against it twice as it bounced up the first time. He kept telling himself that he needed to get up, and he needed to get up quick or otherwise his father would just continue to beat him while he was down, but no matter how hard he tried he wasn’t able to force himself up right away. Everything was blurry, and black stars twinkled around him. He told himself to move his arms but he wasn’t able to feel them right away. Everything was numb for a second.
“You need to be taught a lesson, boy,” his father murmured as his heavy boots thudded against the floor.
He’s walking away. He’s leaving. Everythin’s alright Lewey, Everythin’s gonna be okay. You just gotta get up…
Lewey lifted his arm, and this time he felt it moving. He placed his palm against the dry wood below him and started to hoist himself up. The stars went away and his vision was once again clear. He could feel every part of his body and he sat up on his knees. He was about to lift one foot so he could stand up. He was so close. He could feel his bare foot sliding out from under him like he had told it too when he was struck from behind. It lashed against his back with a sickening crack, sending him sprawling back to the floor in agonizing pain.
His father had grabbed the whip.
He saw no stars this time, and his vision was fine, but his body was convulsing with pain that shot throughout his spine. He tried not to let out any moans of pain, for he didn’t want Emmy to start worrying about him, but he couldn’t quite help it. He wanted to scream so badly, he felt it bubbling in his throat, but he suppressed it none the less. He held everything back and all that escaped his lips was a low grumble.
“Do you not understand how damn lucky you are that I take care of you, give you a bed, and give you food to eat?!” his father let another crack of the whip, and this one hit Lewey even harder in the back. He clenched his teeth and clawed at the floor, but nothing could get rid of the pain. “I don’t haveta give you any o’ that, but I do! I don’t even know why the hell I do, for all I care you can go sleep in the barn with that beloved horse o’ yours!”
Another crack, another shot of pain.
Lewey’s father was about to start screaming again, and he had raised the whip high over his head so as to get a hard strike, when there was a furious knock at the door. Rutherford said nothing and his head shot in the direction of the noise. He stood motionless for a long couple of seconds as if he were unsure that noise he had heard was even real. But then there was another furious couple of knocks. They were fast, rapid, and urgent.
Lewey still lay on the floor, clenching his teeth, twitching, and clawing in agony, but he forced himself to not let out a single sound. He felt the big burly hands of his father grab him by his arms and pull him up off the ground. He was placed on his feet and he stood there somehow, unable to understand how he was able to maintain his balance.
“Don’t say a God damn word, boy, you hear?” his father’s voice was a whisper, his face was one of rage and fear, and his big, fat finger was in Lewey’s face.
Lawrence nodded slowly as he tried to hide his pain.
His father threw the whip off into a corner and slowly approached the door. There was another hard rasp, and then voices. “Rutherford, you better open up, now! If you don’t, we’ll get the sheriff to come talk to ya!”
Lewey’s father let out an angry groan and grabbed the door handle. He lurched the door open and glared angrily at the people before him. There were three. It was the Anderson’s. They were the family that lived just down the road from them. There were ten of them total; two adults and eight kids. At their doorstep stood Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, and their oldest child, Henry, who was nearly 18. Mr. Anderson stood closest to Lewey’s father, tall, handsome, and well cleaned. His black hair waved neatly against his head and his large, dark eyes glared up at Rutherford angrily. “What the hell is going on in here?!” he asked, looking around inside of the house, his eyes resting on Lewey for a long couple of seconds.
“Whataya mean?” Lewey’s father asked in a snappish tone, taking a step forward so he was blocking their view of the kitchen.
“We heard a mighty ruckus!” Henry replied from behind his father. Henry was nearly as handsome as his father and almost a spitting image of him too. He had wavy black hair and soft brown eyes. He was just a couple inches shorter than his old man, and if there wasn’t that difference then there would be no difference at all. “We heard dishes breaking and doors slamming and someone screaming for the longest time. So, what the hell was goin’ on?!”
“Nothin’ was goin’ on!” Rutherford shouted back in defense. “And, if anythin’ was goin’ on anyway, it ain’t none o’ your damn business! This is my house, this is my land, and I have a right to do whatever the hell I wanna do on it, ya hear?!”
“Lewey, honey,” Mrs. Anderson addressed in her high and sweet voice. Lewey looked over to her at the doorway and saw her looking back at him. Her dark, blond hair was undone and fell down her shoulder in loose curls. Her eyes were a dark blue and her face was beautiful. She was like an angel incarnate. “Was anything going on in here that you want to tell us about?”
Lewey was about to shake his head no when his father interrupted; “O’ course there ain’t nothin’ he wants ta tell ya about ‘cause ain’t nothin’ goin’ on in here! You people ain’t got no right ta come trottin’ into my land like ya own the place and go askin’ about my business! Now, get the hell off my land!”
“Lewey, are you alright?” Mr. Anderson asked with a worried frown. “You look sorta pale. What’s wrong?”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with him!” Rutherford shouted before Lewey could answer for himself. “He just woke up and he’s got some chills, that’s all! I was just gonna send him to town to go get himself whatever the hell he’s gonna need to get better so he can go work. Wanna ask any more questions, Mr. Asserson?”
Mr. Anderson glared at Rutherford incessantly. “Well, then, we’ll give your son a ride into town seein’ as we’re goin’ in anyway.”
“He don’t need no ride, he’s got a perfectly good horse and he can go by himself!”
“But you said he had a case of the chills. No boy should go into town by themselves if they ain’t feeling alright.”
“Then how the hell is he gonna learn to go up?” Rutherford growled. “If he don’t gotta take care o’ himself how the hell is he ever gonna learn to be a man? Huh?”
“Mr. Rutherford,” Mrs. Anderson started softly. “If we take your son with us then he will get back sooner, do you understand that? Then he’ll have more time to work and can get more things done. Why wouldn’t you want that?”
Lewey’s brow furrowed and he looked over at the woman. I thought she was on my side.
Rutherford let out an angry sigh and stepped away from the door. “Whatever, I don’t get a damn anyway. Go, boy, get the hell outa here then and go with them there bastards, I don’t care. But you damn well better get back soon ‘cause there’s a lot o’ work that’s gotta be done, you hear?”
Lewey nodded, looked to the floor, and started out the door towards the Anderson’s. Once he was out of the house his father slammed the door behind him and he could hear his heavy footsteps storming away to the kitchen.
“Did he drink too much last night?” Mr. Anderson asked as he wrapped his arm around Lewey’s shoulders and led him down the porch steps.
Lewey felt weird having Mr. Anderson’s arm wrapped around him. It felt comforting and warm, something he hadn’t felt in years. “Yeah, he did.”
“Wanna come over to our house for a while?” Henry asked. “You can come inside and relax; something I’m sure you never get to do around here.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Lewey assured. “I’ll just go on to town. And you guys don’t gotta give me a ride, I can bring myself in.”
“No, no we insist,” Mrs. Anderson urged. “We don’t see any reason for you to have to bring yourself into town just because your father is too lazy to take care of you.”
“What is this on your back?” Mr. Anderson asked all of a sudden, taking his arm away from Lewey’s shoulder and pulling the cloth away from the skin of his back. “Is that… blood? What the hell was your father doing to you, Lewey?”
Lewey panicked and started to walk away, turning his back away from them so they could not see. “It’s nothing, I promise. I just cut myself on some barbed wire last night and haven’t gotten a chance to wash this shirt yet. Anyway, I’ll go to town on my own, no big deal, then you guys don’t gotta bring me back. It’s alright, I promise. But thanks anyway.”
The three Anderson’s looked surprised and shocked, as if they didn’t know what to do. They didn’t say anything to Lewey as he turned and started running to the stable, they just stood in the same spots they had been when he started to walk away. Lewey reached his horse’s stable and hid behind the nearest wall. He peeked a single eye through a hole in the wall and watched as the three people exchanged nervous glances and started to walk away. None of them looked back.
Lewey let out a sad sigh and turned to Patriot. “I can’t take this anymore, girl. I just can’t.”

~

Lewey ended up at a church. He didn’t know why he had gone there, or what his purpose was, he had just simply gone there. He sat below one of the large, stained-glass windows and could faintly hear the preacher through the thick walls. They were talking about God and Jesus and salvation. They were talking about heaven and happiness and the importance of family. The preacher was telling them that if they were to remain pure and innocent and to never sin without admitting fault, then God would protect them and give them a life worth living.
Well what did I ever do wrong that I got the life I’m livin’ right now? Why didn’t God protect me and give me a life worth livin’?
Lewey just continued to sit below that tainted window in dismay as he listened to the preacher preach his beautiful speech. Those uplifting words of God almost inspired him and lifted his spirits, but something kept on bringing him down whenever his hopes were raised.
Then, suddenly, it was all over. The Pastor had finished talking, and Lewey could hear the sound of people leaving their seats and rushing for the door. Lawrence shot to his feet and started to walk away, so as not to look suspicious, looking over his shoulder just one last time before he was going to leave for good.
And then he saw her. She was part of the last family to walk out of the church. She walked slowly, swinging her hips from side to side, flipping her hair out of her face, and ruffling her pink skirt up. She had porcelain white skin that made her look like a perfect china doll.
Lewey’s mouth nearly dropped to the floor when he saw her walk by. His eyes grew wide and he found himself involuntarily taking a couple of steps toward her. She stopped near a wall of the Church, leaning against it and talking to two other girls beside her as he parents walked away to go talk to some other parents. She was amazingly beautiful. She was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen.
One of the girls nudged the blond girl, and Lewey found her staring back at him. Her eyes were a bright blue, just like his. They were so bright that it looked like a pool of ice. A beautiful pool of ice.
“H-Hi,” Lewey found himself saying without knowing he was going to speak. “My name’s L-Lewey.”
The blond girl’s eyebrows rose as if she couldn’t believe he was talking to her, and then she too began to speak. Her voice was pure and flowing, like the hymn of a violin. “My name’s Mary Osborn. Do you go to this church? I haven’t seen you ever before. And, no offense, but you don’t exactly look dressed like you would be going to church, or anywhere other than a grave, for that matter.”
Lewey looked down at his raggedy clothes and then ran his fingers through his oily and shaggy hair, completely ignoring the insult that had just been flung at him. “Nah, I don’t go here, I was just passin’ through. And then I saw you and I thought… I thought I should say hi.”
The two other girls began to giggle underneath their breath, but the blond girl just raised her eyebrows again and wrinkled her nose. “Well, hi. Anything else you need?”
“I… well, I was… I was just kinda wonderin’ if… well, I don’t know… if you wanna…”
The other two girls started to laugh like crazy then, patting their friend on the shoulder. “He’s gonna ask you on a date, Mary! He’s gonna ask you on a date! Why don’t you say yes? He sure seems like your kind of guy!”
Mary shook her head and started to laugh then too. Then she and her two friends walked away without another word to Lewey. He just stood there alone in his raggedy clothes that were stained with blood, pain still shooting up his back, and a self-confidence level that had just fell lower then it had ever been before.

Chapter 5
Out Again

“What did ya say her name was?”
“Mary. Mary Osborn.”
“Don’t sound like a nice name to me,” Emmy scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a mean girl to me, don’t it sound like that to you?”
Lewey’s heart still stung where Marry had tore him down, but he was already putting that behind him. Besides, she didn’t exactly say anything mean to him. For all he knew she had to be somewhere and simply forgot to say goodbye. “Nah. It sounds to me like the name of a goddess. She was so purrty Emmy, you don’t even understand. She had long, blond hair that was all shiny and soft. And she had big blue eyes that were icy, like mine! And she wore this dress…”
“Lewey, Lewey, wait a second,” Emeline cut in. “You ain’t never gonna see this girl again, so why you gettin’ so giddy ‘bout her?”
“Hey, you never know, maybe I will see her again!” Lewey exclaimed with a happy grin. “I ran into Elijah a second time, didn’t I? Who says I won’t run into this Mary again?”
Emmy let out a long sigh and rested back into her pillow. “Whatever you say, Lewey, whatever you say.”
Lewey stood up from where he was kneeling at her bedside. “I think I’m gonna try and go to town again tonight. I told Elijah I would try, so I think I’m gonna.”
“What if Pa don’t get drunk tonight?” Emeline asked.
Lewey thought for a long, hard second and then smiled. “Oh, he’ll get drunk. Dead drunk. I’ll make sure of that.”

~

That night Lawrence had a plan. He was walking around the house, doing menial work that didn’t really make any difference. His father sat in his mother’s rocking chair, reading a dirty paper that sat in his lap, and drinking a bottle of whiskey that was clasped in his hand. Little did he know that whenever he set down a nearly empty bottle Lewey went behind him and swiped it out for a full one.
“Why is this here bottle o’ whiskey full?” he’d ask. “Didn’t I just finish it?”
“Nah, pa,” Lewey would reply as he washed the kitchen counter for the forth or fifth time. “You’ve hardly drank anythin’ tonight so far.”
And then his father would take another long swig.
It didn’t take long until he passed out.
Before Lewey left he made up a bowl of soup and brought it to his sickly sister.
“It’s tomato soup,” he told her as he rested it in her frail lap. “It’s homemade. It ain’t much but I hope you like it.”
Emmy took a small sip from her spoon and smiled up at her older brother. “I love it, Lewey. It’s great.”
Lewey smiled back and turned to leave.
“You headin’ out to the town?”
Lewey nodded and couldn’t suppress his joy. “Yeah, I am. I’m gonna see if Elijah is there and if that Gregory man is still there too.”
“Will ya bring the violin back? For me?”
Lewey didn’t know what to say. His smile was lost as he thought of all the terrible things that could happen if he brought that violin home. If his father found it he’d not only destroy the fragile instrument but he’d destroy Lewey as well. Or, if he hid it in the wrong spot it could get broken in a countless number of different ways. Or what if he just simply lost it? He wanted the violin more than anything he could ever imagine, but he just didn’t know if it was the right choice. “I’ll see,” he replied as he took a couple steps toward the door. “I might, I might not. It all depends.”
“Well, alrighty then, see ya in the mornin’!”
Lewey smiled at his little sister, bid her a good night, and left the house in haste.

~

Lewey knew right where to go and exactly how to get there. It had been all he had been thinking about for the past week. His stomach ached with anticipation and the little bit of money he was able to steal from his father’s wallet jingled in his pocket. The moon was full and the night was brisk. The autumn air bit at his skin like a rattlesnake, sending chills down his spine.
And then, he saw it. The tavern stood alone, its rustic walls unique from the other buildings around it. The windows were lit up, and from where Lewey and Patriot stood he could hear the sounds of voices. He smiled and continued towards it.
Just as he had expected he found Elijah sitting outside the door. A small drink in his hand and a sad frown on his face.
“Well, howdy,” Lewey greeted with a swift wave of his hand as he jumped off his horse and tied her up. “You made it!”
Elijah nodded his head and drank what was left in the glass. “Yeah, I did. It took a mighty lot o’ convincin’ for my master to let me go, but he let me leave anyway.”
“Damn nice o’ yer master to do somethin’ like that.”
Elijah nodded again, staring at his empty glass helplessly. “Yeah, it sure as hell is. He’s one o’ the nicest white men I ever met… well; he is the nicest white men I ever met.”
Lewey approached his friend and stood only feet before him, his bare feet tickled by the soft gravel. “Don’t you know any nice white men?”
Elijah shook his head as he stood up. “Nah, I ain’t never really met a white man that was nice to me, ya know, like one that would stick up for me. White women, now they’re a different story. A lot o’ them are sweet and kind, they just won’t talk to me in front o’ other people. They don’t wanna be embarrassed, you see.”
Lewey puffed and waved his hand. “Who needs any o’ those jerks anyway? Let’s just forget ‘bout them for a while and go in this here tavern. I brought money this time.” Lewey smiled and jingled the change in his pocket.
Elijah couldn’t help but grin back and the two of them entered into the establishment. Once again they were immersed in laughter and shouting that hurt their ear drums. The place was filled with people. Men dressed like cowboys, women in colorful dresses, and drinks covering every table. Lewey couldn’t hear a violin this time, though. But, when he looked over in the corner sure enough there sat the old man with hair like a curtain. His head was bent and in his hands sat his beloved instrument, but he was playing too quietly for anyone to hear.
“Let’s go over here,” Elijah told his friend as he pointed to a desolate and dark table on the far side of the bar, in the shadows.
Lewey complied and followed the slave to where they were going to sit. They each took a seat and stared out at the crowd of people blankly.
“I sure like this,” Lewey muttered with a smile. “I wish I could come here every night.”
“Just wait ‘till you get drunk,” Elijah retorted with a slight laugh. “When you get sick the next mornin’ you won’t wanna come back for another week, at least. I guarantee it.”
“I don’t wanna get drunk,” Lewey stated adamantly with a suddenly serious frown. “I don’t ever wanna get drunk. I don’t see no reason to. I don’t even really wanna drink, but the waitress lady says we ain’t welcome unless we buy somethin’. That’s the only reason I even brought any damn money.”
“Suit yourself,” Elijah muttered under his breath. “I ain’t got no right to tell ya what to do.”
“Well, I remember you boys,” a clear and flowing voice said behind them. Lewey turned around and sure enough there stood the blond waitress that had served them before. “I didn’t think you two would ever be back. But, since you are, I sure hope you brought some money to pay me with.”
“Sure did,” Lewey replied as he dug into his pocket and pulled out the quarters he had nabbed. “A dollar and twenty five cents. That’s gotta buy me somethin’, right?”
“Sure will,” the woman told him with a smile. “It’ll buy ya both a bunch of drinks for the rest of the night. Whataya want?”
“Well, what do you want, Elijah?” Lewey asked of his friend.
Elijah looked nervously up at the waitress, and then down at the table. “I don’t want nothin’.”
“Well, sure ya do!” Lewey urged. “Now, tell me, whataya want? I don’t know any o’ the drinks here, so I can’t just order ya nothin’ on my own!”
“I don’t want anythin’,” Elijah replied slowly, his voice turning his anger.
“You buy drinks for your slaves?” the lady asked with raised eyebrows. “I always knew Harkins was mighty messed up but I never thought his nephew would be too.”
Lewey sighed and shook his head. “Well, I’ll just have the smallest drink you got, I guess.”
“We got a mighty lot of small drinks, boy. Ya gotta narrow it down.”
Lewey paused for a long second. “How about a glass o’ bourbon?”
“Comin’ right up.” And the waitress was gone.
“Who the hell ya think ya are?!” Elijah suddenly snapped as he leaned across the table and looked Lawrence square in the eye. His dark eyes seemed deeper than they ever had before. Lewey saw something in them now… He saw sadness… He saw fear.
“Whataya talkin’ about?”
“What the hell ya think you’re doin’ askin’ me what I want? Don’t ya know I’m a slave? Do ya really think it’s alright to ask a slave what they wanna drink like they some equal to ya?!”
Lewey shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know nothin’ about this whole slave business, Elijah, I swear to it. I ain’t never even really seen a slave before I met you. I wasn’t raised like that.”
Elijah let out a sigh and rested back in his seat. “Well don’t do it again. It ain’t alright, Lewey, It just ain’t. You’re gonna get yerself hurt if ya keep talking like that. People don’t like white people that are nice to us slaves. They just don’t.”
“Well, I don’t care what other people like and don’t like,” Lewey muttered under his breath. “They ain’t me and I ain’t them.”
Elijah opened his mouth to reply but he didn’t seem to be able to say anything. His brow was furrowed in confusion and he just stared at his friend for a long couple of seconds.
“Here ya are, boy,” the waitress said as she set down a glass before him. “You’re damn lucky I don’t ask how old ya are, otherwise you wouldn’t be havin’ this drink or any other drink tonight! The only reason I let you stay is ‘cause I know you’re uncle, you hear? You damn well better tell nobody, understand?”
Lewey nodded as he picked up the small glass of bourbon. “Yes ma’am, I won’t tell no one, I promise.”
The waitress smiled her dazzling smile, patted Lewey on the shoulder, collected her five cents, and walked away.
“Ain’t ya ever drank before?” Elijah asked as Lewey stared at his drink with a grimace of disgust and contempt.
Lewey shook his head. “Nah, I ain’t, and I don’t know if I really wanna.”
“Just give it a try. It’ll loosen ya up. I bet you’ll like it.”
Lewey looked from the dark liquid to his friend, and eventually forced himself to take a sip. It was terrible. The taste stung his tongue and nearly made him start to gag. He had only drank about half of the glass when he started coughing and sputtering. “That was awful,” he said in between breaths. “How the hell can anyone drink this stuff?”
Elijah laughed quietly, his skin crinkling around his dark eyes and his lips curving back to reveal his straight teeth. Lewey hadn’t seen him laugh before; it was kind of weird to see. “Well, I suppose you build up a like for it after a while. Maybe someday you’ll like it more.”
Lewey puffed and pushed the glass over to his friend. “Yeah, maybe someday, but not today.”
Elijah drank the rest of the glass in one gulp and smacked his lips. “Sometimes I’ll sneak some of master’s alcohol from the kitchen and he don’t ever notice. I sure feel mighty guilty afterwards but it don’t ever do anythin’ anyway.”
“You sure got a damn nice master.”
Elijah nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Lewey was about to say something back when a movement caught the corner of his eye. From the corner of the tavern Gregory had stopped playing his violin and motioned for the two of them to come over. He had two stools next to his.
“That’s Gregory over there,” Lewey told his friend with a jerk of his head. “He wants us to come over. Ya mind if we go over there now?”
“Nah, I don’t have no problem with it.”
As the two of them approached the old man the huge smile on his face became more evident and the small violin he held in his hands became visible. “Well, if it isn’t nice to see you two again. How are you Lawrence? Elijah?”
“Good,” they both replied quietly as they stopped in front of the man.
“Well don’t just stand there,” Gregory told them with a soft laugh. “Take a seat. I nabbed two stools from the back for you two boys. Sit down.”
Lewey and Elijah exchanged glances and then finally sat down on either side of Gregory. Lewey gazed at the violin the man held in s hands. It was much different than the one he had seen before. This one was more antique and intricate. It was a lighter color, a soft brown, with highlights slowly streaking across the shiny wood. It was beautiful, unlike anything Lewey had ever seen before. “That ain’t the violin you had last time,” Lewey stated quietly, still entranced by the instruments beauty.
Gregory looked down at what he held in his hands and then laughed. “No, it is not. You have a keen eye, boy. Even I didn’t remember that this wasn’t the violin I usually bring here. But, rest assured, I brought the violin I had last time anyway. Just for you.” The old man spun around in his stool and pulled another violin out from a small, black case. This one Lewey was familiar with. It’s dark and intricate surface was exactly like the one he had seen a week earlier. He stared at it and it seemed to stare back. It was as if it was calling his name. “Do you wish to play with me tonight?”
Lewey looked from the violin, to the old man, to Elijah, and then back again. “I-I don’t know… would you mind, sir?”
Gregory threw his head back and laughed. His long, wavy, white hair fell behind him like a drapery, and his yellowing teeth reflected the dim light of the tavern. “Do you realize that you are asking if I mind if you play for me right after I asked you to play for me? Boy, you need to start thinking things through! If you don’t then you will be pushed all over the place when you reach stardom! Other people are not so kind to the ignorant!”
Lewey’s eyes fell to the floor and he hung his head. “Oh… Sorry, sir.” I know I’m stupid, but why does he gotta say it like that?
“No, no, don’t be sorry, lad. Just take the violin and play with me already!” the old man held out the dark violin urgently. Lewey couldn’t help but oblige. He grabbed the violin in his thin hands, found his spot next to Gregory, poised his arm and bow, and started to play.
He didn’t know how he did it, especially since Gregory hadn’t told him the slightest on what to do. But, he found a way, none the less. The old man had started the tune, and Lewey followed only two beats behind. He listened intently to every note Gregory hit, hoping that he wouldn’t miss a single one. And, just as he had expected, he didn’t. The music flowed from the violins like an elixir of splendor, floating through Lewey’s ears as a river of bliss. He fell in love instantly. He played with his eyes closed and his head swaying to the slow beat of the tune. His shaggy, greasy hair swayed with him, and to anyone who couldn’t hear his music, he looked like a drunken boy. But he was nothing of the sort. He was a virtuoso through and through. He was born to be on stage, to be playing at weddings and concerts across the country. And, the best part of it all was that he was completely aware of it.
They finished and looked at one another with smiles of pride.
“You did quite well there, Lawrence,” Gregory told him. “I wanna try an experiment, if you don’t mind.”
Lewey furrowed his eyebrows at the old man. “What kind o’ experiment we talkin’ about here?”
“I just want you to play. I want you to play anything that comes to your head, anything that isn’t already a song somewhere. I want you to make up your own song and play it on my violin. Do you think you could try that, boy?”
Lewey looked down at the violin with a doubtful frown. “I don’t think I can, sir. You said yourself; I can only play songs I’ve heard before.”
“Well, see if you can prove me wrong,” Gregory urged with a grin. “I want to hear you play a song that doesn’t yet exist. I want you to make up your own song.”
Lewey let out a sigh and hoisted to violin up on his clavicle. “Alright, but I ain’t promisin’ nothin’.” With his brow low in determination and his mouth locked in a grit, Lewey began to play. He didn’t think of anything at all. He tried to keep his mind completely blank. The music that flowed beneath his fingers exemplified the way he felt. The tone was sweet, the rhythm was upbeat, and he played it with such force that it was audible through out the entire tavern. Voices ceased, heads turned, and everyone’s attention was turned towards the scrawny violinist in the corner.
And then he stopped playing.
His eyes looked across the building at all of the other eyes staring back at him, and then they fell to the floor. He removed the violin from below his chin, rested it on his knee, and then mumbled; “That’s the best I got, sir.”
“The best… the best you…” Gregory was out of words and shook his head. “Boy, that was the best anyone’s got! Don’t ya see all of the people that are still staring at you?”
Lewey looked up briefly and saw that some people had resumed their conversations, but that there were a lot of whispering people who were still looking over in his direction. “Starin’ don’t mean nothin’, sir. People stare at freaks and weirdoes too.”
“They also stare at the famous and the rich. Don’t you understand, boy? You have something that no one ever hardly gets to possess. You are blessed and you don’t even realize it!”
Lewey opened his mouth to reply when he noticed a young man walking towards the three of them. This man was probably in his early twenties, for he still held that gangly stature of a teenage boy but the proud and strong posture of a man. He had short, sandy blond hair and dark blue eyes. He was tall and he was handsome, and he approached Lewey with a smile.
“Hey there,” he greeted, sticking his hands in his pockets and stopping a couple feet in front of them. “You’re a mighty good violinist there, boy. How long you’ve been playin’?”
Lewey shrugged his shoulders and didn’t reply. He was numb with nervousness and didn’t know what to say, he just stared up at the young man in apprehension.
“He just started about a week ago,” Gregory said with a smile. “I am his teacher.”
“No kiddin’, huh?” The man shook his head as he grinned down at Lewey with a sort of disbelieving awe. “You just started a week ago? Is that even possible?”
Lewey shrugged his shoulders again. What the hell’s the matter with ya, Lewey? Ain’t ya got no voice? Does some damn cat got your tongue? Why don’t’ ya say somethin’? You’re makin’ a fool outa yourself!
“It sure is,” Gregory spoke for Lewey, shooting him a confused glance. “It’s something a select few people are born with. It’s like a sixth sense… A profound sense of music and melody… it’s amazing.”
“Well, good for you,” the man said with a smile. “But, I actually came over here to ask you a favor, if you don’t mind.”
“What’s the favor?” asked Gregory.
“I was wondering if you two could play a specific song for me. You see that girl over there by the bar? In the red dress?”
All of them strained there necks to see the tall, pretty woman standing alone. They nodded their heads.
“Well, I asked her on a date, you see, and she rejected me. Flat out rejected me. So, I was thinkin’ that if you two could play a good tune and I could dance with her I might be able to convince her to go on a date with me. You think you could do that for me?”
“Well, I don’t see why not,” Gregory stated. “It simply depends on the song you want.”
The man thought for a long second and then shrugged his shoulders. “Anything slow and romantic, I guess. Can ya do that?”
Gregory smiled and nodded his head. “Sure we can.” The young man walked away and Gregory and Lewey hoisted their violins up under their chins. “Remember,” the old man said in a quiet voice. “Follow my lead.”
Gregory started to play, and Lewey –unlike the last time he had played with the old man- started to play the harmony to Gregory’s melody. The tune was soft and slow. To Lewey it reminded him of what the ocean must seem like. Vast, endless, and beautiful. He could almost smell the breeze brought in from the sea, could almost feel the foamy saltwater rushing in-between his toes and then back out again. It felt so pure, so true… so perfect.
Gregory had stopped long before Lewey was aware that the song was ending. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he just kept playing on, getting louder and louder as he did. The notes drowned on, and the melody became even more beautiful and more romantic. And, when he finally shot back to reality, he lowered the violin immediately and stopped playing.
“What were you doing? Didn’t you know I stopped?” Gregory asked.
Lewey shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t hear you stop… I didn’t hear anythin’ really… I just played.”
The young man was walking across the tavern towards them again, but this time his head was hanging low and he was brushing his fingers through his hair. “No such luck fellas,” he told them when he finally got close enough. “That lady’s just too damn tough to flatter, I tell ya. I asked her to a dance and she flat out rejected me, again! What’s wrong with me?”
None of them said anything; they just glanced over uneasily at one another.
The man sighed and shook his head. “I suppose it don’t matter, right? I mean, she’s just one girl, there are millions of them out there, right?”
“O’ course there are,” Lewey said quietly with an encouraging smile. “You’ll find another one, and when ya do we’ll be right here to play a tune for ya.”
The man laughed lightly. “Well that’s good to know, kid. That’s good to know. Say, what’s your name, by the way?”
“Lawrence Rutherford, but everyone calls me Lewey.”
“Well what a coincidence, my middle name is Lawrence.” The man held his hand out and shook Lewey’s. “My whole name is Thomas Lawrence Crawford.”
“Nice to meet ya,” Lewey said with a smile.
“Nice to meet ya too. Say, you here every night?”
Lewey shook his head sadly. “Nah, only sometimes. And I don’t ever know really when I’ll be here. Sometimes it just don’t… work out.”
“Well then, I’ll keep my eyes peeled. I come here about every other night to relax, so if you’re ever here and ya see me, say hi, won’t ya?”
Lewey nodded eagerly.
Thomas laughed and patted Lewey on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll see ya’ll later then.”
“See ya,” Lewey nearly whispered as he watched the young man walk away.
“You’re going to be getting a lot of more people requesting songs and coming up to you if you keep playing the way you are,” Gregory told him with a kind smile. “You’re doing great, boy. There isn’t anything you can’t do.”
Lawrence laughed at the statement and handed the violin back to the old man. “Well, I’ll be sure to look forward to that then.” He stood up and motioned for Elijah to do the same.
“Are you two leaving already?” Gregory asked in dismay as he held both violins in either hand.
Lewey nodded his head. “Yes sir, I gotta be gettin’ home.”
Gregory sighed and nodded his head. “Yes, I suppose your parents must be worrying about you, huh? Why don’t you bring them along some night? Then they can see you play? Do they even know how good you are?”
Lewey’s breath got caught in his throat and he looked away. “They don’t really care, sir. They’re kinda busy most o’ the time. They don’t have time to come with.”
“Oh, I see,” Gregory looked down at his shoes and then suddenly thrust one of the violins out towards Lawrence. “Well then, will you take this violin home so you can show them how great you are when they have time? I told you once already that you can have it, why don’t you take it now?”
Lewey looked at the beautiful instrument for a long couple of seconds and didn’t move a muscle. Pa’ll kill me if he finds it… he’ll murder me, I just know it… but Emmy really wants me to bring it home… all she wants is to hear it… eventually, Lawrence let out a long and regretful sigh and held out his hands. “Thanks, sir. It means a lot to me that you’d let me have this.”
“Oh, no, no, not a problem at all, my boy.” Gregory handed the violin over to the boy and then knelt down to get him the case to carry it in. “You take good care of it, though. I may have quite a few but I can’t just give you a new one every other week.”
Lewey grabbed the case from him and tenderly placed the violin inside. “Don’t worry, sir. I won’t even let it get scratched.”
Gregory smiled up at him. “That’s good. Now go home. Go, before your parents get too worried.”
Lewey and Elijah left the bar, getting looks from people the entire way out. Whether it was because Elijah was in their bar and was a slave or because Lewey had played that violin so noticeably well he couldn’t decide, but he hated it none the less.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad, I guess,” Elijah muttered under his breath once they had finally stepped out into the cold, autumn air.
“Nah, I suppose not. Coulda been worse, I guess. Sorry ya didn’t get to do much, that was my bad. I didn’t think we’d be over there for that long.”
Elijah waved his hand. “It ain’t no problem, I’m fine with it. It ain’t like I like bein’ the center o’ attention or nothin’.”
“Well, how ‘bout I make it up to you tomorrow?” Lewey proposed. “Why don’t ya meet me in town tomorrow mornin’ by Louis’s grocery store? I gotta show ya somethin’ anyway.”
“Whataya gotta show me?”
Lewey smiled and turned to walk away. “You’ll see tomorrow.”

Chapter 6
The Exquisite Mary Osborne

Elijah Gerald’s Journal

October 5th, 1851
I ain’t got no idea what the hell’s the matter with that Lewey kid, but he’s kind of growing on me. He ain’t like no other boy I ever met before. He’s nice and he’s stupid, I don’t’ really get it. Usually the kids that are stupid are mean because they don’t’ want no one making fun of them because they’re stupid. But, Lewey ain’t stupid in the math and English sort of way. No, he’s stupid in the naive sort of way. I mean, he’s so stupid he don’t even know a slave when he sees one! There ain’t no other American like that, I tell you!
But I’m really starting to like that kid. I went with him to the tavern tonight and it wasn’t that bad. I tell you, that boy can play. He plays the violin like I ain’t ever seen anyone ever play it before. The music he makes is so beautiful that it almost makes me want to cry. There are some songs he plays that make me see things…. I can’t even really explain it. But, when he plays a song images pop into my head, and I don’t even ask them to, they just show up. He played a couple of songs tonight, and the last one he played made me think of ma and pa… I didn’t like that too much. It reminded me of how much I miss them… and of where they are now….
Lewey invited me to go meet him in town tomorrow, he says he’s gotta show me something. I ain’t got no idea what it is but I’m kind of excited to see. It feels good to have something to look forward to. It feels good to have a friend.
I’m just going to have to make up some sort of excuse so Master’ll let me out to the town. He’s starting to get mad with me leaving all the time. Yesterday he said that I’m starting to take advantage of all the leeway he gives me… I ain’t denying that I do, because I do. After a while I start feeling bad about acting like I’m one of his children, but then I remember; if I didn’t have black skin I wouldn’t be feeling no guilt at all. It wouldn’t be a privilege, it’d be a right.

Lewey’s eyes fluttered open at the soft sound of birds outside his window. Vague images of the previous night’s endeavors floated through his mind. He remembered how sweet freedom had tasted that night, and how he had brought some of it back home with him…
His hand flew down from his side and searched underneath his bed. Far back in the darkness his fingers brushed against the hard leather of a violin case. He smiled and got out of bed.
He was already starting to feel better about everything. When he had gotten home the night before he came to find his father dead drunk in the rocking chair, again. Emmy was fast asleep in her bedroom, and Lewey was able to crawl into his own bed and fall asleep without the slightest worry.
As he left his bedroom and started down the hallway he intently listened to the beautiful calls of the birds outside. He didn’t know how anything could go wrong that day.
“Boy, get your ass in the kitchen, now!”
There it is.
“It’s Sunday, don’t ya know! It’s Sunday and it’s 6 and I don’t see no damn pancakes on our table!”
Lewey sighed and slumped on towards the kitchen. Every Sunday since his mother had gone away he had to wake up early and make pancakes for his father. He and Emmy weren’t allowed to have any, only his father. The two children were allowed to eat only what they got to eat every other morning; a couple pieces of bread and anything else they could scrounge up without their father seeing. Usually Lewey got up at 5:30 to start making breakfast on Sundays, but he had forgotten this morning. That ain’t no good way to start off a day. Especially when you been goin’ behind pa’s back and playin’ a violin. You gotta keep on your toes, Lewey. You can’t be doin’ none o’ this nonsense.
Lewey entered the kitchen and found his father standing there with a hand on his hip and the other wrapped around a bottle of whiskey. Drinkin’ already, huh pa? It ain’t gonna be hard to slip by you today.
“Well? Whataya standin’ there lookin’ at me for? Don’t ya got somethin’ better to do ya big pathetic little child?!”
Lewey bowed his head and headed toward the wood stove. He grabbed the flour and other ingredients from the cabinet and started to mix them together in a small bowl. With every move he took he felt a pang of fear vibrate through his heart at the thought of father yelling at him again. Every time he did something he feared he was doing it wrong and that he would get thrown to the floor and whipped again. He could feel the presence of his father behind him, and could hear the foul rasp of his breaths. I gotta get outa here. I hate bein’ here. I wanna go and see Elijah. I need to go and see Elijah.
After Lewey had dug out the frying pan and started to bake a single pancake over wood stove his father began to walk away. Lawrence could hear his footsteps leave the kitchen and head towards the living room.
Lewey began to think. He began to think of all the excuses he could come up with for a reason to go to town. He was thinking that he could just go; just leave and come back whenever he pleased, but he decided against it. His father would be enraged beyond belief and when Lewey finally did come back he would receive a beating far greater than he had ever received before. And, besides, once he had left without permission he would never be allowed to leave again, and then his days of freedom would be gone forever.
No, he had to come up with some sort of excuse, and it had to be good. He couldn’t wait for his father to pass out because that wouldn’t be until later that night, and he needed to go to town during the day if he wanted to show Elijah what he wanted to show him. While the pancake slowly cooked in the pan Lewey frantically looked about the kitchen for some ideas. There was hardly anything there that they didn’t have growing in their back yard already, and everything else they had to go to town to get was in full supply. Eventually Lewey had to succumb to the fact that there was going to be no excuse that would get him into town and he picked up the small spatula to flip the pancake. It was only a few seconds after he had flipped it that he realized the bag of flour sitting right before him; the bag he had used to make the pancake batter. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure his father was no where to be seen. When he was sure he was alone in the kitchen he grabbed the half-full bag of flour, stepped out the back door, and poured all of the contents into the dirt. The white powder stood out like a sore thumb, and Lawrence began to panic. He fell to his knees and began to mix it in with the rocky dirt, trying his best to make it unnoticeable. It took him several long seconds but the dirt below him soon held no hint of flour, and in his hand he now held an empty bag. It’s a damn good excuse.
“What the hell do I smell burnin’ in here?!” a low and gruff voice shouted from inside the house. “You ain’t burnin’ my breakfast, are ya, boy?!”
Lewey heard the hard pounding of boots on the wooden floor and dashed inside through the back door. He closed it behind him as fast as he could, threw the empty bag of flour on the counter, and retrieved the burning pancake from the frying pan. “It ain’t burnt bad,” he nearly whispered in dismay as he placed it on a plate. “It’s just a little hot is all.”
“A little hot?!” his father stormed up next to him and grabbed the small pancake off of the plate, reveling the black side underneath. “This is what you call a little hot?! What the hell’s the matter with ya, boy?!”
Lewey said nothing as he hung his head and poured some more batter onto the frying pan. Don’t say anythin’ Lewey. Don’t go bein’ a smart ass either. You just keep your mouth shut and pretty soon he’ll go away.
His father let out an angry groan as he threw the ruined pancake on the floor and spit on it. “That’s what I think o’ your God damn cookin’. This is the one thing I miss about your mother. At least she was able to cook.”
His father turned to walk away, but right before his foot hit the floor to storm off into the living room he stopped. “What the hell is this?” he asked as he picked up the empty flour bag.
“We’re all out o’ flour,” Lewey murmured as he flipped the pancake, revealing a perfectly cooked side. “We just ran out this mornin’.”
“Didn’t we just get some damn flour?!”
Lewey nodded his head slowly. “Yeah, we did, but it was over a week ago. We’ve made a lot o’ things with flour in the recipe in the last couple o’ days. We run outa it fast.”
His father let out another angry groan as he threw the empty bag back onto the counter. “Then you better go to town today and get some, boy. I want some cornbread tonight, you hear?”
Lewey nodded as he placed the pancake on his father’s plate, trying to suppress his victorious smile. “Yes, Sir, I will.”

~

Lewey jumped off his horse at the front of Louis’ grocery store and tied her up. He sat down next to the old, wooden wall and rested his back against it, looked up at all of the people passing by. He saw quite a few people that looked like the man named Thomas that he met the night before. He saw quite a few people that looked like his raggedy, old father. And, he saw quite a few beautiful women too, but no one quite like that Mary Osborne.
“You come in, boy?” a familiar voice asked in a very foreign accent.
Lewey turned his head and found a tall, lanky, and nearly toothless old man standing in the doorway of the store. His thin, white, hair hung down along his head like lifeless straw, and his worn out clothes draped from his body like curtains. Lewey smiled big and wide and stood up from where he was sitting. “You’re back!” He ran up to the old man and patted him lovingly on the shoulder. “I sure missed ya Mr. Louis!”
The old man smiled back and patted Lawrence on the shoulder as well. “I missed you. Went to Washington, visit family.”
“Yeah, I read the note ya left on your door there,” Lewey replied back. “Sure glad you’re back!”
“Me too. Good to be back. Missed my store and my people.” Louis’ accent was so strong Lawrence would have found it nearly impossible to understand him if he hadn’t been talking to him for the last several years. “Anything good happen when I gone?”
Lewey shook his head with sly smile. “Nah, nothin’ much. Just the same ol’ same ol’. I’m actually just sittin’ here waitin’ to meet a friend o’ mine. His name’s Elijah.”
“Well, that’s some good and some new,” Louis said with a nearly toothless grin. “What you boys going do?”
“Just gonna walk around and talk and what not,” Lewey replied with another sly grin. “There’s always somethin’ to do anyway.”
“Is that him? Standing there alone looking at ground?”
Lewey turned around and found Elijah’s slumped figure moping behind him. His head was hung low and all that was visible was his thick, black hair. His shoeless feet played with the soft dirt. “Hey there Elijah!” Lewey greeted with a wave of his hand. Turning back to Louis he gave him one last smile and a; “See ya later Mr. Louis!”
“By, Lawrence. I’ll watch horse of yours,” Louis shouted to him in his soft voice as the two boys continued on their travels. Elijah and Lewey walked side by side, a silence was the only barrier between them, but it was no awkward loss of sound, they just simply had nothing to say. Lewey liked not having to talk, not having to make up some awkward conversation just to fill a void. He liked that he had found a friend that was so much like him, that understood him and was in a similar situation as he was.
Wow, Lewey, you’re in the same situation as a slave, huh? What is that sayin’ ‘bout you?
“So where exactly we goin’?” Elijah asked after a long stretch of silence.
Lewey’s lips involuntarily curved up into a smile as he continued to stare ahead at the crowded road ahead of him. “You’ll see soon enough. You ain’t gonna be disappointed though, I can promise you that.”
“You ain’t bringin’ me to no store, are ya?” Elijah asked with a skeptical frown. “’cause I seen ‘bout every store this town has to offer, there ain’t no stores I wanna see.”
“Nah, nah,” Lewey replied with a wave of his hand. “It ain’t no store, that ain’t even close. It’s somethin’ else, somethin’ much, much better. I promise.”
“You sure are makin’ a lot of promises,” Elijah mumbled. “It better be as good as you say.”
Lewey tried to hide the smile that was creeping up on his lips. “It will be, don’t you worry.”
After what felt like an eternity of silent walking they finally reached Lewey’s destination. Only a ways down the road before them stood a tall, gray building with arches in the roof that reached up to the heavens. The stained-glass windows soaked up the early morning sunlight and seemed to glisten with beauty. Lewey could almost hear the reassuring voice of the preacher telling everyone what lays before them in life. He could almost see the rows of pews filled with people wondering if their actions have made them worthy of heaven. He could almost hear their worried thoughts racing through their mind, their thoughts telling them that worrying was pointless because they would end up in heaven anyway, but worrying none the less. They were staring at a tall, beautiful church.
“Ya brought me all the way ‘cross town just to see a damn church?” Elijah asked with a disappointed frown. “You think I ain’t never seen no church before?”
Lewey laughed and shook his head, continuing his antsy walk forward. “Nah, I didn’t bring ya here to see the church, I brought ya here to see what’s inside of the church. Don’t worry; I’m sure you ain’t never seen nothin’ like this before.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve been in this church before,” Elijah murmured with a frown. “So, whatever it is ya wanna show me I’m sure it ain’t gonna be nothin’ I ain’t seen before.”
Lewey sighed and stopped in his tracks, turning to look at his friend. “Will ya please just shut-up, just for a little bit? I already promised you like five times that you ain’t never seen nothin’ like what I’m ‘bout to show ya, can’t ya just accept my promise?”
Elijah let out a soft sigh himself, looked at the ground, and reluctantly nodded his head. Lewey nodded back in agreement and they continued on their way. When they reached the front doors of the church the booming voice of the reverend was still audible, but by the sounds of it he was nearing the end of his speech.
“Do ya know what time church gets let out?” Lewey asked as he and Elijah took a seat in the dying grass beneath one of the large, stained-glass window.
Elijah shook his head, but just when he was about to open his mouth the preacher boomed “So, I bless you all, and bid you a good day.” And, there was a sudden clash of noise as people began to speak and stand up from their pews.
“I think it gets let out about now,” Elijah replied with a smart smirk.
The two of them stood up quickly, just in time to move out of the way as the two, heavy and large front doors swung open and people started pouring out.
I sure hope she don’t go home right away. Lewey looked through the crowd of people leaving frantically, trying to find a head of bleach blond hair. The whole church had nearly left the vicinity when Lewey started to lose hope. He was about ready to hang his head and start heading home when he saw a sudden flash of bright yellow in the corner of his eye. He turned abruptly and sure enough, there she was. Wearing a lavender dress this time, she looked just as lovely as how he remembered. Her hair draped down her shoulders in elegantly natural curls, and her icy blue eyes scanned the area, no doubt, for her friends. Once she found them she went to go talk to them on the side of the church, just as they had done the week before.
Lewey turned towards Elijah urgently and gripped him by the shoulders. “Did ya see her?!” he whispered in a demanding and excited voice.
Elijah wasn’t even looking at Lewey; he was staring toward the wall that the beautiful girl had disappeared behind. “Sure did. I ain’t never seen anyone like her before. Lewey, she’s an angel. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life!”
Lewey just laughed lightly and let go of his friend. “I know. She sure is. I promised ya, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, ya promised…”
Both of the boys were in a sort of trance; thinking endlessly about the beautiful blonde that had vanished with her friends. Lewey felt himself melting into her icy blue eyes, shivering and dying with love. He felt himself inhaling the sweet aroma of flowers that was emitted by her silky hair, he felt himself touching her soft, supple cheek with his shaky fingers.
“Where’d ya meet her?” Elijah asked, breaking Lewey from his trance.
“Right at this church last Sunday. I saw her walk out and I went talkin’ to her.”
“You talked to her?!” Elijah gasped with wide eyes. “What did ya say to her?”
Lewey paused as he tried his hardest to remember that disappointing day. “I think I told her that she was pretty and that I wanted to say hi.” And then she told you that you were disgusting and filthy. And then she laughed and walked away. “And then I left before she had the chance to say nothin’. I was nervous outa my mind, so I just booked it outa this place.”
“Golly… I ain’t never gonna have the guts to talk to no girl as pretty as that,” Elijah murmured as he rubbed the sweat off his forehead. “Especially not no white girl, it ain’t my place. But I tell ya, if I was a white boy like you I’d be over there talkin’ to her right now. It ain’t everyday you get to see a flower like that walkin’ outa no church.”
“Yeah, but…” Lewey hung his head and kicked some dirt around with his thin shoe. “I’m sure she’s got other guys tryin’ to get her attention too. Other guys with better clothes and cleaner hair. Other guys that smell good and talk good and ain’t as skinny as a pole. She’s probably got the richest guy in town chasin’ after her right now. Ain’t no way she’ll ever fall for me. Not until all hell freezes over, I promise ya that.”
“You ain’t never gonna know until ya give it a shot.”
Lewey looked over at Elijah suspiciously, and his friend stared back at him with an encouraging smile. “You think I should go talk to her again?” Lewey asked.
Elijah nodded his head. “Sure, I don’t see why not. But, this time, don’t go runnin’ away like a little sissy. Plant your feet like a man, look her in the eye, and tell her how beautiful she is. That kind o’ stuff always works with women.”
Lewey let out a shaky breath and looked off again towards the wall that hid the beautiful girl. “I don’t know if I got the guts no more. Maybe you should go talk to her instead. She don’t know you yet.”
Elijah stared over at his friend intensely with a gaze of utter disbelief.
Lewey turned back to Elijah and jumped at the sight of his intent stare. “What? What’d I say?”
“You want me to go and talk to her?” Elijah asked with his eyebrows raised.
Lewey shrugged. “Well, I don’t see why not, you ain’t talked to her yet and…” Lawrence paused and turned his gaze towards the ground in embarrassment. “Nevermind, I forgot. Sorry that I keep doing that…”
“Keep doing what?”
Lewey looked up at Elijah with a confused frown. “Ya know. Keep doin’ what I’m doin’.”
“Treating me like a real person?”
Lewey paused and looked back to the ground.
Elijah let out a sigh and patted his friend on his back. “I don’t mean to make you feel bad, it just kina feels weird to have someone talk to me like you do. To talk to me like I’m equal to them… it’s weird, but I kinda like it, ya know?”
There was a long pause but eventually Lewey shook his head and looked up at Elijah with a sad frown. “Nah, I don’t know. I don’t think that most white people do.”
There was an awkward silence between the two of them for a while. They both stood there with their heads hanging low, wondering why they had even become friends in the first place. Their thoughts drifted down the dark hallways of sadness as they contemplated their sad lives and dreamed about their sad future. They both where so similar in so many ways that if they would just stare into the eye of the other for just the shortest second longer than a normal store, they would see the life they already lived reflected back to them. They would see themselves. “Ya better go talk to her before she leaves.” Elijah stated matter-of-factly. “We’ve been standin’ here a mighty long time. She’s bound to leave any minute now.”
Lewey looked nervously from Elijah to the stone wall of the church. “Won’t ya come with me?” he asked of his companion desperately. “I don’t wanna go talk to her by myself; I’ll be all foolish like, I just know it. If I got someone I know there at least I’ll have someone to fall back on, ya know?”
Elijah let out a frustrated sigh and opened his mouth to say no, but when he looked around and realized that a majority of the adults were beginning to look at the two of them suspiciously he changed his mind. “Fine, I’ll come with you. I suppose it wouldn’t be best for me to stand here by myself anyway. These people don’t seem to be takin’ an early likin’ to me.”
Lewey looked about himself and sure enough he too saw the lingering stares of the worried adults. “They’re just weary is all,” he muttered as he began walking towards the side of the church. “Adults area always weary and always worried about somethin’. They don’t know how to have fun is all.”
Elijah was about to open his mouth to reply but before a single word could escape his lips he found himself once again staring at the beautiful blonde he had just glimpsed before. She leaned against the stone wall with her hands crossed against her chest. She had rolled up the sleeves of her dress and he could see the porcelain white skin of her elbow. It looked as though it where made of crystal.
In front of her stood two much less attractive girls. Though not entirely homely, compared to the blonde they were rag dolls. Both brunette and both with very angular faces, they looked as if they could be sisters. In fact, they looked as if they probably were. Their beady brown eyes stared at the blonde girl with a hidden envy, and their small mouths curved up in jealous smiles.
“Well, Mary, ain’t that the same boy who came up to you last week?” one of the two brunettes asked with a mocking grin, poking her friend lightly on the shoulder. Mary reluctantly turned her head and stared at the two boys with her bright blue eyes.
“I guess so,” she replied in a bored and disgusted tone. “Larry, right?”
Lawrence swallowed back his fear and shook his head. “L-Lewey, actually. But it don’t make no real difference.”
One of the brunette girls laughed and nudged the other brunette, whispering to her; “He don’t care what she calls him, just as long as she’s talkin’ to him.”
“Whataya want?” Marry asked as she gave Elijah a dirty glare.
“Just wanted to say hi, again,” Lewey muttered in a shaky voice as he stared at the ground. “We were just passin’ through and saw ya and… and we just wanted to say hi, again.”
“That your slave?” Mary asked with eyebrows raised as if it would surprise her that someone with Lewey’s attire and grungy appearance could own a slave.
“Nah he’s my fr—“ before Lewey could finish he felt a sharp pain in the back of his ankle where Elijah had kicked him. “Yeah, he’s my slave.”
“Hm,” Mary grunted, looking over Elijah suspiciously.
“What?” Lewey asked defensively.
“Nothing,” Mary replied in her melodious voice as he rested her head against the wall and smirked. “It just kina surprises me that you own a slave who has better clothes than you do.”
At this the other two girls erupted in laughter, pointing and throwing any other rude insults they could conjure. Lewey and Elijah stood there emotionlessly, their faces holding nothing but a heartbreaking frown as they stared at the girls speechlessly. Mary wasn’t laughing, she was simply leaning against the wall with her arms still crossed, smirking over at the boys with a mean sort of joy.
“This is just what I wear when I don’t feel like dressin’ up,” Lewey stated defensively. “Normally I wear good clothes. Much better than these.”
“You normally wear good clothes, huh?”
Lewey nodded his head.
“So, on Sundays –church days- you just don’t feel like dressin’ up?” Mary asked with a confused smirk. “But, on every other day you do?”
Lewey bit his lip and looked at the ground. He didn’t know what to say. His throat was closing up with fear and he could feel small beads of sweat begin to perspire on his forehead.
“Too bad you girls just won’t accept the real truth,” Elijah stated bluntly in a quiet tone. Lewey looked at his friend with a frightened and puzzled stare. He shouldn’t be talking. He really shouldn’t be talking.
The three girls stopped laughing and looked at Elijah with furrowed brows. “Excuse me?” Mary asked in a voice that indicated she couldn’t believe that a slave was talking to her like he was.
“I said; too bad you girls just won’t accept the real truth. The truth bein’ that my master here is the nephew of my true master; master Harkins. You’ve probably heard o’ him. He owns the huge plantation down the road a ways; the biggest in all o’ Arlington. You can even go ask him. We ain’t tellin’ no lie.”
The girls all looked at each other speechlessly and then they all turned their glares to Lewey. Mary, standing up straight and unfolding her arms, said to him; “You and your ‘uncle’ better start teaching you slaves some manners. Ain’t no adult gonna let no Negro boy talk to them like that. If my father were to know your slave talked to me like that he’d not only kill that Negro there, but he’d have your head too, you hear?”
Lewey swallowed hard and nodded his head.
Mary simply wrinkled her nose in disgust and walked past him toward the front of the church, her two minions following close behind with their snobby noses high in the air.
Once they were completely out of earshot they both let out a deep sigh, all of their anxiety leaving their body in one simple breath.
“What the hell’d you do that for?!” Lewey snapped as soon as he regained his normality. “If she tells her father we’re both gonna be dead!”
“Relax, she ain’t gonna go tellin’ her father,” Elijah replied with a wave of his hand. “She’ll let it go, she don’t care about us enough to get us in trouble. She don’t care about us enough to even give us a damn howdy-doo.”
Lewey frowned and nodded his head. “You’re right. She don’t think we’re any better than the scum on her shoes, does she?”
“No sir-ee. She don’t think nothin’ of us, and that’s why she won’t bother her father ‘bout us.”
“Maybe we ain’t better than the scum on her shoes.”
Elijah looked at Lewey with surprise, but Lewey just raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. “Think ‘bout it, Elijah. You’re a slave. accorndin’ to everyone else just bein’ a slave mean you ain’t better than no scum. And look at me,” they both looked down at his torn shirt that still held some red blotches on the back where he was unable to get the stains out. “I ain’t even dressed better than a slave! I look like a hobo and I sure as hell smell like one too! I don’t know how to read or write. I ain’t ever been to school a day in my life, and the only teachin’ I’ve ever had was from my mom way back when I was ten. And that was only a couple days before she…” Lewey turned his head and closed his eyes. “I ain’t never been better than no scum, and I ain’t ever gonna be better than no scum. I’m gonna be just like my father. Drunk, stupid, and alone.”
Elijah didn’t know what to say, and neither did Lewey. He had never opened up to someone like that before, and now he felt completely venerable and exposed. He continued to stare at the ground in embarrassment.
After a long, awkward silence, Elijah was the first to speak. “You ain’t alone. I may know how to read and write, and I may have clothes that are better than rags, but I ain’t got nowhere to go with my life but downhill. Truly. If you really wanted to, Lewey, you could do somethin’ with your life. You could learn to read and write, you could get a good job, marry a pretty woman, and have a happy family forever and ever. I ain’t ever gonna have that choice. Not unless hell freezes over. The only reason I got it so good right now is ‘cause I got a good master. In no less than a couple o’ years I’m gonna be gone, I can guarantee it. I’m gonna be at some other plantation with some other master who ain’t ever gonna let me go into town or wear nice clothes or write before I go to bed. I’m gonna have a master who’s gonna whip me every chance he gets and who’s gonna make me work day in and day out until my back begins to break. It’s the way it goes. Slaves don’t have no hope, and we ain’t ever gonna.”
Lewey stared at his friend for a long couple of seconds. Deep within his dark eyes there was a soul as kind and as soft as Lewey had ever seen. There was a boy inside that body, a boy just like Lewey and any other young man. A boy that was going to grow up to be a man and have even a deeper soul. He had feelings and a heart. He had a mind and a brain. He was no different than anyone else walking about the streets, so why was he treated like he was?
“Let’s get outa here,” Lewey mumbled as his gaze fell to the ground and he started to walk away from the church. “I can’t stand bein’ here any longer.”


“Don’t that old man up there look familiar?” Elijah asked as he pointed to a slim figure sitting on a barrel, his long, white hair falling in front of his face like a curtain.
“Sure does. Kinda looks like that Gregory, but I don’t see why he would be sittin’ in the streets like that,” Lewey replied with a confused frown as he gazed over at the man.
“I don’t think he’s just sittin’ there, it sure looks like he’s playin’ his violin. Don’t ya see the very tip of the violin stickin’ out? And don’t he just seem like he’s playin’?”
Lewey strained his eyes toward the hunched figure. Eventually he nodded his head. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But, why would he be sittin’ there just playin’ like that? Don’t ya think he’d have some place better to be?”
Elijah shrugged. “Ya wanna go ask him yourself?”
Lewey thought about this for a long couple of seconds as they walked. Did he really want to approach Gregory right now? What if he was humiliated that the boys saw him sitting in the street like a poor homeless man? What if he asked Lewey to play with him, putting Lewey in the embarrassing position of playing to all of the random people walking by? “Yeah, why not?”
The boys approached the old man, not being noticed through his curtain of white hair. His fingers moved with amazing speed across the fingerboard, and the closer the boys got, the more audible the melodious music got too. It was soft, warm, and embracing tune. A melody that made Lewey feel fuzzy inside. A song that made hope bubble inside his chest like an incessant whirlpool. He felt his steps getting lighter and his mood getting softer. When they were only a couple of feet in front of the old man his fingers stopped moving and he lifted his head to look at the two boys in front of him.
He seemed confused for a couple of seconds, as if he couldn’t remember who they were. His aged face looked sour and drained, and his deep eyes held shots of red and dark circles around the lids. Lewey was startled at first, taking a minor step back and furrowing his brows.
“Lawrence? Elijah? What are you two doing here?” his voice was low and raspy, worn out by his many years of life. At the end of his question he started to cough. It was a sad, dark cough that usually accompanied an illness.
“W-We just saw ya from a ways back and thought we might as well come and say hi…” Lewey paused and gulped as he continued to stare at the sad and lonely figure before him. “Sorry if we’re disturbin’ ya at all.”
“No, no, my dear boy, of course you aren’t disturbing me,” Gregory murmured as he set his violin on his lap and rubbed at his eyes with a thin and frail hand. “I’m just surprised to see you out, is all. Don’t you two have someplace to be? Don’t you have school, Lawrence? And, aren’t you a slave?” He asked of Elijah with squinted eyes.
“My father said that I could skip school today, have a day o’ fun,” Lawrence lied through his teeth with a convincing shrug. “All he said is that I gotta bring someone with me, so I brought Elijah.”
“You’re father owns this boy, then?”
Lewey let out a sigh and shot a sad glance over at Elijah who was staring down at the ground in shame. “Why are ya concerned with this all o’ a sudden? You ain’t never asked about it before.”
Gregory shrugged his shoulders and looked from one boy to the other with blood shot eyes. “I’m just wondering, is all. It’s not every day you see a white boy walking around with a slave. It just isn’t natural.”
Lewey rolled his eyes angrily and turned his shoulders to start walking away. “Well, it sure was great seein’ ya, sir,” he mumbled without trying to hold back the sarcasm that flowed off his tongue. “Sure can’t wait ‘till we see ya again.”
“Wait, Lawrence, hold on a minute!” the old man shouted as he stood up and gripped the boy by the elbow.
Lewey yanked his arm away from Gregory and glared at him with furrowed brows. He didn’t want anything to do with him right then. He had thought that he had been different than everyone else. He thought that maybe he saw people for who they really were, like Lewey did himself, instead of by their repute. But, he had been entirely wrong. The old man’s blood shot eyes and foul breath didn’t make Lewey feel any more kindly of him either. He knew exactly what Gregory had been doing all morning long. He didn’t need to see all of the empty bottles next to the barrel he had been sitting on to know what. “Whataya want?” he snapped.
“There’s a concert tomorrow night, I sure hope you’ll come…”
“No thanks,” Lewey muttered as he started to walk away again.
“No, Lawrence, listen,” Gregory grabbed the boy’s arm again and pulled him back, a look of absolute abandonment and sadness glued to his face. “Lawrence, please hear me out. Come to this concert tomorrow night, I assure you it won’t be a bad decision. I was going to tell you about it the other night when you were at the tavern with me, but it completely slipped my mind. It’s as if fate brought us both here just so you could be told to come to this concert, it’s obviously going to be a life changing event!”
“Sorry, but I don’t believe in no fate,” Lewey growled as he started to walk away again.
“It’s at the theatre on the far side of town!” Gregory shouted at the two of them as they began to drift further and further away. “At seven o’clock, don’t be late!”
“What the hell’s the matter with ya?” Elijah asked earnestly when they were out of Gregory’s sight. “Since when do you treat him like that?!”
“Since he treated you like that.”
There was a long pause and Lewey could feel his friend glaring at him. Why the hell’s he glarin’ at me? I stood up for him! I ain’t gonna let no old man trample all over him like he’s nothin’! He’s my friend! My first friend! ... My only friend.
“I don’t need you to stand up for me, I can take care o’ myself,” Elijah snarled as he turned away and crossed his arms. “Ain’t no white boy ever stood up for me and ain’t no white boy ever gonna stand up for me. Even I don’t feel comfortable with that, and if that old Gregory hadn’t been drunk off his ass then he wouldn’ta been comfortable with it neither! Ya gotta stop doin’ this stupid stuff, Lewey. You’re a white boy and I’m a slave, there’s a big difference there and it ain’t right if you keep gettin’ confused ‘bout it like ya have been. I like bein’ your friend and all… but, around other white people ya gotta act like a normal white person, ya hear?”
“There ain’t that much difference, between you and me,” Lewey nearly whispered as he hung his head and stuck his hands in his pockets. “There really ain’t.”
Elijah laughed and shook his head. “Sure, o’ course there ain’t. If the fact that I’m a slave and you’re a free man ain’t enough for ya, how about the fact that you have a real bed and a real place to call home? How about the fact that you still got your parents and you ain’t forced to work every second you’re at home? How about the fact that you get to eat real food instead of the crap they give us that they wouldn’t even give their cows? Is that enough for ya?”
“Your facts are off,” Lewey murmured as he puckered his lips and lowered his head. “I ain’t got both my parents, I don’t get to eat food better than what I give to our cows. I do gotta work every second I’m at home, and I can hardly even call that place my home. If these rags I wear ain’t proof enough to ya that I basically am a slave, then I don’t got a clue how to convince you other wise.”
Elijah had stopped in the middle of the street and looked at his friend with a confused and empty stare. Lewey was only able to stare back for a short while and then he looked up at the sun. “It’s gettin’ late, I gotta go get my flour and my horse and go home.” After saying that he started to walk away, but Elijah grabbed his arm before he could do so.
“What ain’t you tellin’ me, Lewey?” He asked with a concerned frown. “Why do I seem to learn a little bit o’ somethin’ new about ya every day?”
Lewey shrugged his arms and looked away.
Elijah let out a sigh as his fingers fell back to his side. “Well, fine then. Go get your flour and go back home… And, I’m gonna be meetin’ ya at the concert tomorrow night. You damn well better be goin’.”
Lewey looked up at his friend for a long couple of seconds. He didn’t understand how he could want to go to that concert after the way Gregory had looked at him as if he were some sort of garbage. He didn’t understand how he could live with being treated like that from everyone… Lewey could hardly handle it coming just from his father.

Chapter 7
The Violinist Boy

Lewey paced his room uneasily as he bit at the nail on his thumb. His father was sitting in the living room guzzling down another jug of whiskey, and there was no doubt in Lawrence’s mind that he would be passed out entirely before the sun was even fully set. He would be entirely unaware as Lewey tiptoed past him out of the house and towards town. He was going to go to the concert that Gregory had told him about, he was now sure of it. He was just trying to force himself to comply with his own promises. It wasn’t as if he’d be out as late as he had been all of the other nights, he just simply had a bad feeling about going somewhere where people were sober and where people might even recognize him... He didn’t know anyone who liked his father or who would deliberately try to get Lewey in trouble, but if he happened to run into someone he knew and they just happened to bring it up around his father... He wouldn’t live to see another day.
The house was as silent as the darkening evening outside. The sun was slowly setting over the horizon, illuminating the clouds with colors of purple, pink and orange. Lewey could faintly make out the colors through his scummy and cracked window, but he could just imagine how beautiful it truly was. Above him he heard the soft creaking of the old ceiling as the soft autumn breeze ran against it. Not a single sound came from the living room, his father was probably fast asleep in his mother’s rocking chair.
Lewey stood in silence for a long couple of seconds, debating on whether or not he should leave the house again. He wanted to leave, to be gone, to have fun... But he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Finally, though, after a long minute of mental arguments Lewey picked up his foot and started walking towards his bedroom door. Before he reached it, though, his eye caught a glimpse of the brown, leather case that held the violin below his bed. He stood with one hand on the door handle and his eyes glued to the case. Should I bring that with? He asked himself as he imagined himself playing it, imagined the beautiful tune flowing from his fingers and filling the night time air with love and happiness instead of the sadness and nightmares it so frequently possesses. Why one earth should I bring that with? I ain’t gonna be playin’ it at all. ... Nah, but if pa finds it he ain’t gonna be a happy man, and that there violin ain’t gonna be too happy neither when it’s crushed into pieces and flung out the door.
Lewey let out a defeated sigh as his fingers slipped from the door handle and he went to retrieve the small, beautiful violin from beneath his bed. He pulled the case out gently, cradling the light weight of the instrument in his arms gently.
He left his bedroom as quietly as he could, and as he stepped into the darkening hallway he edged toward the small door near the end. He opened the door as quietly as he could, wincing with every creak that was emitted. He strained his eyes to see through the darkness until he could finally make out the small, huddled up figure that was lying on the bed.
“Emmy,” he whispered into the darkness. “Emmy, you awake?”
The small figure didn’t move a muscle, and not another sound was made.
Lewey sighed, turned away, and left the house in haste.
~
Lewey had never really looked at the Arlington Theater before. It was one of the most beautiful buildings he had laid eyes on. Though the outside was modest and nothing extremely special, the inside was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was filled with intricately detailed arches high above his head, and statues built into the walls, with faces of sadness and faces of joy. Through the crowd of people that waited outside of the theater doors he could make out an array of red seats, all leading down to a huge and daunting stage that was almost shining out in the dimness.
“Lawrence, my boy, you made it!” A familiar voice shouted through the crowd of people.
Lewey hardly had a second to move before a thin arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close to Gregory. The smell of whiskey was no longer on his breath, and this brought him comfort. “Yeah. Guess I ain’t got nothin’ better to do.”
“Well, good thing, because you wouldn’t want to miss this for anything! It’s going to be a monumental concert, boy, I assure you!” Gregory ruffled up Lewey’s hair and pointed to the stage that was barely visible through the hoard of people filing in. “Out on that stage is going to be a man nearly as great as Beethoven himself; Bouchard Vincent.”
“Ain’t never heard of him,” Lewey said bluntly.
“Well, he just got here from Europe a couple of months ago, so he’s working on gaining popularity,” Gregory admitted with a disappointed frown. “But, he’s going to be a huge hit soon, I promise! And by then he’ll be long gone out of Arlington and we’ll probably never get to see him again. This is a great opportunity boy; you get to see what you could be in just a little while if you keep up what you’ve been doing.”
“I brought my violin with,” Lewey replied, lifting the case so Gregory could see. “In case… I don’t know… Maybe if ya wanted to play with me a bit afterwards? Teach me some new things?”
Gregory laughed lightly, put his hand on the Lawrence’s back and started to lead him towards the theater. “Lawrence, my boy, you have hardly anything left to learn much less something to learn that I would be able to teach you. But, I would be overjoyed to play with you after the concert, so it’s a deal.”
“Gregory, my good man, so glad you could make it!” An excited and burly voice shouted from behind them. Gregory and Lewey turned around to find a big man approaching them and patting Gregory on the back. He was stout with a round face and large, beefy hands. His dark hair was slicked back into a pony tail underneath his light brown hat, and his smile reached to both of his large, red ears.
“Oh, Mendel! My friend, it’s been ages!” Gregory shouted as he grabbed his friend’s hand and shook it vigorously. “How have you been?”
“Ah, I’ve been alright I guess,” Mendel replied with a heavy shrug of his robust shoulders. “Workin’ the same ol’ job in the same ol’ town, so ain’t nothin’ new happenin’. I must say though, I sure am excited for this concert. We searched forever to find this guy, and now that he’s here we’re gonna make a fortune off of him! I sure hope you used that extra ticket I gave you to bring with ya a right fine lady!”
Lewey quickly zoned out of their meaningless conversation, scanning the theatre hallways for his dark friend in the cloud of people. His eyes drifted about the whole vicinity, but there was no sight of Elijah anywhere. Well o’ course Elijah ain’t gonna come, you fool. He’s a slave, and this is a concert. Not only does this place take money but it won’t let no slave in neither!
“Hey there, Lewey,” a voice said softly in his ear behind him. “Don’t be scared or nothin’, and don’t you go makin’ no big scene, I gotta lie low.”
Lawrence had to keep himself from jumping out of his skin when he heard that voice in his ear, but after only a few seconds he recognized it as the voice of his friend. He turned around and faced Elijah with a satisfied grin, elated at the sight of one of the only friendly faces he knew. “Hey there! I didn’t think you’d be able to come! You gotta get a ticket to get inside here which means ya gotta pay, and I didn’t exactly think they’d let ya in even if ya had money because you’re a…Well, ya know… A slave.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Elijah mumbled with a wave of his hand. “They wouldn’ta let me in and I don’t got no damn money, that’s why I just had to sneak in the back.”
“Now how in the hell did ya sneak in the back?” Lewey asked with one brow raised. “Don’t they got people standing at every door?”
Elijah chuckled with a roll of his eyes and shook his head. “’coarse they don’t! They don’t got no one back there! I Coulda walked through those back doors dancing and singin’ a song and wouldn’t no one be there to stop me.”
“Where ya even allowed to come here?”
“Nah, you?”
Lewey looked down at the floor. “Nah, me neither.”
“Let’s sure hope this’ll be worth it.” Elijah muttered as he stared off into the crowd. “If worse comes to worse I don’t wanna be sittin’ at a slave auction being sold to some miserable family all ‘cause I wanted to go to some worthless concert.”
Lewey looked at his friend with a stare of absolute fear and sorrow. He could almost picture Elijah standing on the stage with his hands behind his back and his head hanging low as people from the audience bid for him, bid to take him away. “Don’t talk like that around me. Don’t talk like that ever, ya hear? You ain’t never gonna be sold and you ain’t never gonna leave me here alone, ya hear?”
With a furrowed brow of confusion Elijah opened his mouth to answer, but Lewey was detracted from the conversation by an urgent Gregory, his eyes filled with what looked like disappointment and misery.
“What?” Lewey asked.
“Looks like there isn’t going to be a concert, boy,” Gregory told him in a soft voice. “Bouchard isn’t going to be here.”
“Why not?”
“He got sick only an hour ago,” Mendel replied, shooting a quick and scornful glare over in Elijah’s direction. “According to my assistant he started throwing up everthin’ he’s ate in the last 24 hours. Ain’t no way he’s gonna be ready for the concert. I was just told we’re gonna have to cancel it.”
“So ya mean we’re just gonna be sent home?” Lewey asked in slight anger. “We don’t get to listen to any music at all?”
“I’m afraid not, my boy,” Gregory muttered as he placed one of his thin hands tenderly on Lawrence’s shoulder. “I’m afraid not.”
Lewey’s eyes dropped to the floor and his head hung low. He had looked forward to simply being able to sit and listen to the beautiful whine of the violin again. He cherished the sound so much that he could picture himself sitting there, he could picture the man on the stage, and he could hear the beauty of the music in his ears. He wanted to use it to escape into another world; a world where he was a different boy with a completely different life. He would be rich and literate. He would have a loving mother and father who brought him to school and brought him to church. His sister would never get sick and Elijah could be his friend without having to worry about the color of his skin.
“Unless you would like to play for us, Gregory?” Mendel asked tentatively. “I know damn well you’re a good violinist, and even if you ain’t what the people are lookin’ for, they’ll still like ya.”
Gregory shook his head and looked to the floor. “No, my good man, I don’t believe I could do that for you. I am done playing at the concerts; I quit a couple of years ago. People don’t want to hear me anymore, and I don’t want to hear them complaining about me anymore. It isn’t going to happen.”
Mendel let out a deep sigh and looked to the ground. “Well then, looks like I sure do got a problem.”
Suddenly Gregory’s dull eyes lit up, and he looked eagerly from Lewey to Mendel with a primitive joy deep within his pupils. “My dear Mendel, I may have a solution to your problem!”
Mendel looked at his friend skeptically. “And what would your solution be?”
“Him!” Gregory shouted, patting Lewey on the shoulder vigorously and pushing him toward the burly man. “This boy right here! I tell you, my friend, you have never met a violinist quite like this boy here! There isn’t anything he isn’t able to play; I bet he’s even better than Bouchard Vincent!”
Mendel looked closely at Lewey, undoubtedly noticing his greasy and unkempt hair, his ratty and torn clothing, and his dirty and filthy skin. “This boy right here is the boy you speak of? Really?”
“Really really!”
“Well, ain’t never seen a violinist quite like him in my whole life. Sure don’t look like a violinist to me!”
“Oh, but, my friend, he is! He’s more of a violinist than any other man I’ve ever met! He’s a violinist of the heart and of the soul. Before I met him he had never picked up an instrument in his life, but as soon as his fingers touched a violin they got a mind of their own and played the most beautiful melody I have ever heard. I assure you, I would never lie about such a thing!”
Mendel laughed lightly and shook his head as he crossed his trunk-like arms. “Even if he were a Mozart prodigy, these people here didn’t come to see no boy play. What the hell do you want me to tell them? ‘Hello folks, sorry about the inconvenience but since our professional violinist got sick turns out you’re just gonna have to listen to this ratty little boy play the violin, so I sure hope ya don’t mind’?”
Lewey opened his mouth to stick up for himself, but closed it in capitulation. Gregory had noticed this sad admit of defeat and put a hand on Lawrence’s shoulder. “We have enough time, Mendel; we could change his clothes and put him into something nice. I promise you, you will not be disappointed.”
Mendel laughed lightly and shook his head, turning to walk away. “My dear friend, you have come up with some crazy things in your time, but nothing quite like this. I hate to say it, but I’d rather close this damn show than have that there boy go out there and embarrass me. Sorry, but I got a concert to cancel.”
Just as Mendel had turned away and was about to leave, Gregory reached out and pulled him back with strong force. With a stern frown on his face, and an unwavering glare towards his friend, he said to Lewey; “Play your violin, Lawrence.”
Lewey didn’t really know what to think, he glanced around cautiously at all of the people walking past him and then back up at Gregory who was not moving a muscle. Eventually, with a beat read face and shaking fingers, he dropped to his knees, pulled his violin out of it’s case, and brought it up to his chin. With all of his effort focused on not focusing at all, he was able to make a melodious tune come from the small instrument on his shoulder. He closed his eyes so he was not forced to look at anything around him or see everyone staring at him, and he let his fingers take control. It was a sad melody. He knew it was sad because as he played it he thought of his mother and his sister.
When the song was finished Gregory patted Lewey on the shoulder with a small smile and turned his attention back to Mendel. “So, you sure you don’t want a ‘ratty little boy’ to play the concert for you?”
Lewey stared at the ground in embarrassment, trying to ignore Mendel and everyone else’s eyes on him. “Didn’t think that your silly idea was real, my friend. I thought you were just off the deep end again… I’m… I’m surprised, to say the least.”
“Well,” Gregory started as he looked at the clock on his wrist, “It seems that the concert is supposed to be starting in just 5 minutes, and this boy here is your last chance. Do you want the concert to go on or would you rather cancel it and disappoint all of your audience.”
“They’ll be disappointed either way. Bouchard didn’t show up; he was the man they came to see.”
“Well, when they walk away Lawrence will be the boy they got to see. You don’t understand how beneficial this could be for you, Mendel. If Lawrence plays as well as I know he can, you will have these people happier than they ever would have been if they saw Bouchard.”
Mendel let out a deep sigh as he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the build up of sweat on his forehead. He looked wearily at Lewey, no longer with contempt, but with curiosity. Letting out another low breath he put his hand over his face and shook his head. “This better work out, Gregory, or you will never hear the end of it.”
Gregory emitted a victorious laugh and patted Lawrence on the back again. “Oh, you know I won’t. I’ll bring this boy to the back and he will be ready just in time, I promise.”
Mendel raised his eyes and watched as they disappeared into the crowd.
“I’ll be watchin’ ya,” Elijah whispered in Lewey’s ear before he was pulled away by Gregory. “Meet me afterwards.”
Lewey was about to open his mouth to reply but when he turned his head Elijah had vanished and Gregory had his whole arm around Lawrence, pulling him away. “I don’t wanna do this,” he said sternly, his stomach dropping and his hands growing clammy. “I don’t wanna do this at all.”
“Don’t worry, Lawrence. This is your big chance, your chance to shine. You’ll have no problem at all. All you have to do is go out there and play your violin, Mendel and I will take care of the rest.”
“I didn’t even say I would do this,” Lawrence countered in a shaky voice. “I didn’t even say a damn word… You just volunteered me without even asking if I would!”
Gregory opened a door and pushed Lewey in gently, leading them down a dark hallway. “Because I knew that you would say no if I asked, and I knew that you would never regret going out there and playing for everyone, just like I know Mendel won’t regret it either. You were meant to do this, Lawrence. You won’t be able to hide your skill forever.”
“But this isn’t my concert!” Lewey argued with building rage. They walked up a short flight of stairs and came near a dressing room. “This is Bouchard Vincent’s concert and none o’ those people out there want me to play for them, don’t ya get it?”
“We need clothes for this boy, now!” Gregory asked urgently of the workers. “He’s going to be the violinist going out there, make him look nice.”
“But, I was told that the concert was going to be cancelled,” replied a young woman, staring at Lewey with wide eyes. “Because Bouchard got sick.”
“Well there was a change of mind,” Gregory said plainly. “So make him look like a violinist boy.”

~

“Don’t pull at your collar,” the woman snapped gently as he yanked his hand down by his side and continued hemming his pants. “You’re gonna ruin all of the hard work we just did.”
“They ain’t gonna say my name, are they?” Lewey asked has he flexed his arms in his scratchy shirt.
“Well of course they’re gonna say your name!” a man shouted from behind him. “They would never make you play out there without giving you credit!”
“But I don’t want-“
“There,” the woman at his feet said triumphantly as he stood up and looked down at her wonderful creation. “Didn’t think we could fix him up that quickly, seeing as he’s so skinny and all the clothes we got were too big. Sure hemmed him up nice though… You look good, boy.”
Lewey looked down at his black and white suit, trying to shift himself around in it so that it would be more comfortable.
“Don’t pull at your collar!” the woman shouted again, grabbing his hand and bringing it down firmly to his side. “You don’t wanna pull at the stitches, or else you’re gonna tear the whole thing apart!”
“That boy better be ready!” A low voice boomed from down the stairs. Following heavy footsteps came the abnormally large Mendel, his eyes immediately approving Lawrence.
“Just finished, sir,” Said the young woman. “Did all we could do with what we’ve got. Everythin’ we got was too big… Had to hem ‘em up.”
“He looks just fine,” the stout man said as he walked toward Lawrence and placed a huge hand on his shoulder. “You got your violin ready?”
Lewey grabbed the small case at his side and nodded his head. Everything he saw was beginning to spin, he couldn’t believe this was really happening… If someone saw him who knew him… If someone saw him who knew his father… If pa finds out… Oh, God, if pa finds out…
“You ready for this?”
Lewey shook his head nervously.
Mendel laughed lightly. “Well, sorry to say it boy, but you ain’t got no damn choice. Now, you better go out there and blow my socks off, or else you and Gregory ain’t gonna hear the end of it!”
With his hand still on Lewey’s shoulder he began to lead him out of the dressing room and toward the stage.
“You’ll do wonderfully, Lawrence!” Gregory shouted to him from behind. “Just don’t think about it and you’ll be fine!”
Lewey forced a smile at his mentor and then rolled his eyes once he had turned around. How the hell am I supposed to not think about it? I’m gonna be standin’ out in front of tons of people who’ll be lookin’ at me with disgust. I ain’t the one they came to see, I just ain’t!
“Now, here’s how it’s gonna go,” Mendel stated as he swung Lewey around to face him. “You’re gonna go out there and I’m gonna head out with you so I can introduce you and tell the audience what’s happening, okay? Then I’m gonna name of your first song. You know what your first song is gonna be?”
Lewey looked nervously over at the red curtain they were hidden behind. I’m gonna be pushed outa that thing like a cow to the slaughter house. Once I’m in there ain’t no goin’ back. He shook his head.
“You don’t know…” Mendel let out a long sigh. “Do you know any songs at all?”
“W-Well, sure, I know songs… I think… But I don’t know the names of none of them. Most the songs I’ve ever played I’ve just made up.”
Mendel’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head in disbelief. “Okay… I guess we could work with that… You’re just gonna have to make up names as you go, you hear? And don’t you be nervous on me, you hear? You gotta go out there and make those people love you.”
Lewey could hear the chatter of the people out there. There were so many voices he couldn’t even begin to count. And Elijah’s out there… He’s gonna see me be humiliated. He’s gonna see me make a fool outa myself.
“You only gotta do a couple songs, and I’ll stop ya when I think it’s time, okay?”
Lewey’s mind was in a different world. He nodded absently.
Mendel took in a deep breath, patted Lewey on the back, and mumbled; “Well, let’s head out then.”
Lawrence couldn’t feel his body as the curtain was opened and they walked out into the blaring lights of the stage. He saw none of the faces of the audience before him, only the little white stars that were flickering in his line of vision. His grip on his violin grew stern and tight, his knuckles turning white under the thin layer of skin that concealed them. He could picture the faces of the audience as they saw him walk out there. Their eager grins replaced by confused frowns. Frowns of contempt and frowns of disgust. Though he knew that he was in a suit and his hair was neatly slicked back, he still felt as though he were trapped within the rags he lived in, and that his hair was falling against his face in a greasy mess.
Mendel was saying something, but Lewey couldn’t hear. He was blind and deaf to all, lost in his own little world, staring helplessly into the lights of nothingness.
Suddenly Mendel patted him on the back and started to walk away.
Why is he leaving? What did he say? Why didn’t he tell me what to do? I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing!
“This piece is called ‘Jupiter Night’,” he found himself saying in a small and insecure voice. He hesitated for only an awkward moment as he looked off into the crowd, and then he hoisted the violin up to his chin, found his place on the fingerboard, lifted his bow, and began to play.
He forced himself not to think at all, and it turned out to benefit him. The music flowed from his instrument with ease, filling the auditorium with a melody of longing and desire. Whether or not “Jupiter Night” was an appropriate title for the piece was irrelevant, for the song could have been named anything and still been as beautiful and would have entranced the audience instantly.
It was similar, if not identical, to a song that had been played at his cousin’s wedding years ago. It hadn’t been a memorable song, though… The audience shouldn’t know it.
He thought of nothing as his fingers trialed up and down the fingerboard, nothing except what he wanted to emit in song. He pictured the face of his mother over and over again. He saw her delicate smile and her long, curly brown hair. He heard the sweet sound of her voice and the high pitch of her laugh. He felt the warmth of her embrace and the tenderness of her love. He had always forced himself so hard to forget her, to forget any memory he ever had of her, but now he was forcing himself to bring it all back. His fingers began to tremble as he recollected things he never wanted to recall, but this only made the song ever more beautiful.
And, before he knew it, he was finished. He lowered his violin and looked out into the crowed of blurred face. They all sat there, motionlessly, making any incitation to applaud.
Now ya did it, Lewey. Now ya really ruined it. They hated ya! Now ya ain’t never gonna be able to show your face in public again, these people ain’t never gonna forget the boy that ruined the concert.
“Didn’t I tell you you wouldn’t be disappointed?” boomed the loud voice of Mendel suddenly as he approached Lewey on the stage.
Out of nowhere the crowd went insane. Everyone broke in applause, and nearly everyone stood up to do so. Lewey could hardly make out the faces of the people who cheered for him, but he could faintly see some smiles. They’re smilin’ at me…
“I told ya folks that this wasn’t any ordinary boy. He’s a violinist of heart and of soul,” Mendel patted Lewey on the back and grinned. Leaning into his ear he whispered; “Keep all of your songs comin’ like that and ain’t no one gonna regret missin’ that Bouchard guy.”
Lewey couldn’t help but show off a small smile as he turned back to the crowd. “This next piece is titled ‘By the Way of the Moon’.”

~

By the end of the concert Lewey was shaking all over. He didn’t know if it was because he was finally coming to the true realization of what he had done, or if it was because he was finally able to get out all of the things he had been holding inside.
He was brought off the stage by the strong grip of Mendel, and into the dressing room where Gregory was waiting for him with a gleaming smile. “That was beautiful, Lawrence. Quite possibly one of the most gorgeous things I have ever heard in my life! And trust me, boy; I have heard a lot of gorgeous music in my time!” He put a thin hand on Lewey’s shoulder and grinned down at him with something Lewey ever saw in the eyes of someone looking at him…. He was proud of him.
Lewey’s hands were beginning to shake again. Someone was proud of him… It felt so odd, so surreal. Never before had his father every shown any pride in the work of his son. The most praise he ever received was a day with no beatings. It made his realize that not everyone in the world is as useless and as selfish as his father.
“What time is it?” Lewey asked in an uneasy voice.
Gregory looked at the clock on his wrist. “Looks like it’s nearly twelve-thirty; you played for quite some time.”
Lewey’s eyes grew big and wide, nearly dropping the violin he held in his quivering hands. “T-Twelve-t-thirty? Are… Are you jokin’?”
Gregory looked at the boy with a confused frown for a couple of seconds. “No, Lawrence, I’m not kidding. These concerts usually go about this late… Your parents are alright with you being here, correct?”
Lewey’s mind went blank and he started to look around the room anxiously. “No, he ain’t’ alright with it at all,” he muttered so quiet he thought no one would be able to hear him. He started walking around the dressing room in a rush, searching for everything that was his. “Where did ya put my clothes?” he asked of the woman who had dressed him.
“Well, I put them in the trash, of course!” she said with a humorous grin. “You can’t be walking around in those filthy rags! They have blood stains on them!”
Lewey turned to her abruptly with a stare of extreme panic and rage. “You… You… You threw my clothes away?! What am I supposed to wear?!”
The woman looked taken back, her humorous grin being lost to a furrowed brow. “Just wear those clothes you have on. There ain’t gonna be anyone else who’s gonna be able to fit into them anyway.”
Lewey shook his head as he ran a finger through his slicked back hair. “No… No, no, no, no… You don’t understand! I can’t go home in clothes like this! If I do Pa’ll...” Lewey stopped before he went too far and started looking frantically around the room. “Where did you throw them?!”
The woman’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head in confusion. “I-I brought them outside…”
“Lewey, what aren’t you telling me?” Chimed in Gregory with crossed arms. “Are you not supposed to be here? Did you even get permission in the first place? I don’t want to be at the center of a family argument, boy!”
“You brought them outside?” Lewey inquired of the woman. “Why’d you bring them out there?!”
“I put them in the trash!” defended the woman. “I told you this already! If you really want them you just gotta go get them!”
Lewey’s head was swimming with fear. It was already early morning, and he had to be awake and ready to work all day long in less than six hours. If he went home with the clothes that he had on, his father would beat the life out of him, and crush every dream he ever had in the process.
Lewey quickly grabbed his violin case, stuffed his instrument in it, and looked up at Gregory. “I gotta go, now. I didn’t know that it was gonna be this late before I left, my parents don’t expect me to be home this late at night… I-I’ll see ya later, probably. At the tavern or somethin’…” He looked awkwardly over at everyone else in the dressing room who looked back at him with stares of bewilderment. He opened his mouth to speak to them, but he could produce no words. He wanted to tell them thanks for giving him a night he will never forget, a night that will forever be branded in his mind as the first night he made a worthy accomplishment and was acknowledged for it. He knew he would never forget how right it felt to hold that violin in his arms on that stage, and how amazing it felt to have the crowd stand up and applaud him with smiles of satisfaction.
But instead he said nothing and left the room in haste.
He had nearly completely forgotten that Elijah had even come to the concert. That was, until a thin hand grabbed him around the bicep and stopped him in the concert halls.
“That was amazin’ Lewey!” Elijah shouted with a wide grin. “I ain’t never heard no one ever play like that before! I didn’t know ya had it in ya! You shoulda heard what all them people were sayin’ ‘bout ya! They wouldn’t stop goin’ off ‘bout ya! ‘Look at that boy there, so young and talented. He’s gonna make a swell man one day’. Or, ‘what a cute boy, if he were a little older I’d make sure to go and talk to him after this concert’!”
Lewey forced a short smile and then explained to Elijah his predicament; “I gotta go get my clothes.”
Elijah furrowed his brow and looked down at Lewey’s fancy suit. “Why? You look just fine in what you’ve got on!”
“Sure, I look just fine, but Pa'll kill me if I ain’t wearin’ the regular rags I always wear. If he sees me tomorrow mornin’ wearin’ this, do ya seriously think he won’t think nothin’ of it? You don’t wanna know what he’ll do to me if he gets the slightest inklin’ that I left the house when he was sleepin’… He don’t take things lightly…”
Elijah pursed his lips and nodded his head. “Well then, we best be findin’ you your clothes.”

~

The night was as dark as dark could be, hiding Lewey from death itself. He rode on his horse in his thin and bloodstained rags, shivering in the biting cold of the autumn air. His mind was racing with thoughts, and his heart racing with fear. This would not go down in his memory as the best night of his life… Not until he made it to his bed in one piece.
His fingers slowly traced the violin case and soft linen that he held in his lap. They were vanities he never thought he’d posses… Items he never thought would define his entire life.
He suddenly couldn’t wait to go to the tavern the next night and meet his mentor and his friend. He couldn’t’ wait to be free again; to break the bonds of solitude and slavery to partake in a night of music and joy. He had found his calling, a calling that was given to a minute amount of people. And, he was prouder than ever to say he was one of them.
He wished he could have been one of the people in the auditorium, looking up at his gaunt and feeble body, listening to the rich melody emitted from the small instrument he held, even though he possessed no true idea of what he was doing. He wanted to see what he had looked like out in the spotlight. Holding his violin in a shaky hand and sealing his eyes shut to everything that surrounded him must have been an awfully unconvincing sight, but he wanted to hear the music. He wanted to partake in the disbelief, in the surprise. He wanted to be amazed that a boy so weak and so poor looking could be so talented at something so difficult to master…
Through the darkness of the night he was able to make out a shoddy house. He walked Patriot through the driveway and towards the stables, but he stopped her halfway. His heart had sunk to the deepest recess of his chest, and his mind was swimming with all of the many ways he thought he could avoid death to live another day.
As he looked at the house before him he saw the sight he had dreaded every single night he came home after sneaking out. The sight that meant imminent and inevitable doom. For, through the windows, though however grimy and disgusting they may be, he saw the unmistakable glimmer of light coming from a candle in the living room, a candle that was probably placed right next to his mother’s rocking chair.

Chapter 8
The Dawn of a New Age

Thoughts of terror raced through Lewey’s brain when he saw that light coming from the run down little house. He didn’t think it possible for his father to be awake that late at night when he had been dead drunk when Lewey had left him.
But if he is awake…
No, he ain’t awake. This is probably all a false alarm. Maybe the candles were still lit when I left and I just didn’t realize it.
But, there was no mistaking the truth. There hadn’t been any candles left on when he had gone out that night. He distinctly remembered seeing his father’s drunken face in the dim rays of the setting sunlight that filtered through the windows. The light that he saw as he stood outside in the cold night-time air hadn’t been there for days. There was no way it had been there when he had left only hours ago.
Well, there ain’t nothin’ you can do ‘bout it anyway. If he’s awake, he’s awake. Ya just gotta make up some sorry excuse as to why you were outside, like “A horse got out, I had to go get ‘em back in.”
What about my violin? Am I just supposed to hide that behind my back like there ain’t nothin’ there?
Just leave it outside, and then go inside and see if Pa’s even really awake. If he is awake, make your excuse then go to bed, just make sure ya wake up early enough to go get it in the mornin’. If he ain’t awake then just bring it in with ya. You’re makin’ a way bigger deal ‘bout this than ya gotta.
Lewey let out an anxious sigh, hugged his violin case closely to his chest, and started toward the house in short and terrified strides. With every step he took he could hear his father’s voice screaming in his ear, and he could feel the agonizing strength of his hand across his face. The pain he so often felt began to reverberate through his bones as though awakened and ready to strike. And the aching that always rung within his ears was back, constant like the church bells he never heard.
Lawrence could imagine his father’s drunken and enraged face glaring up at him from where he sat with his hands at his side in the rocking chair he now called his own. He could picture his matted brown hair and his scruffily old beard, which even in the mess it created, was still unable to hide the utter repellence that made up his aging and deteriorated face.
He now stood before the porch, looking down at the rotting and cracked stairs with wide eyes of terror. He slowly lifted his foot, wincing as the loud noises his weight created on the weakening wood pierced the silence of the night. He made it to the front door, but found himself hardly able to bring himself to turn the handle after setting his violin to the side.
You’re being a fool, Lewey! How much ya wanna bet your damn father ain’t even awake!? How much ya wanna bet that the only reason the candle is lit is ‘cause he woke up and needed the light to see where the cabinet was so he could find himself another bottle o’ whiskey?! Just turn the God damn door handle and go to bed already! For God’s sake it’s one o’clock in the mornin’!
You have to face it sooner or later, just face it now. If he’s awake, he’s awake. There’s no changing your fate.
Lewey succumbed to the voices in his head and surreptitiously entered the house. With every step he took there was a loud creak to accompany it, but he went slow enough so as not to disturb anyone who would be on the drift of sleep.
As Lawrence came to the entrance of the living room he could see the ray of light emitted by the candle that flickered within. Not a sound filled the house; Lewey didn’t know if that was good or bad.
As cautiously as he could Lewey looked around the corner towards his mother’s rocking chair. His heart was beating out of his chest and his mind was spinning with fear, but it all came to an end with just a simple glance. His father was sprawled about the chair, his head flung back and his arms draping towards the floor, with a whiskey bottle lying at his feet. His eyes were closed tight and his mouth was ajar. He didn’t move a single muscle.
Lewey let out a sigh of relief and ran back to get his violin.

~

“Hey, Emmy, are you awake?” Lewey asked the next morning through the darkness that filled her room.
The small and sickly figure that was huddled up on the bed began to move, and two luminescent blue eyes peered up at him. Her miniature hands rubbed at her eyes and pushed her long and tangled hair out of her face. “Lewey? Is that you?”
“Well, o’ course,” He mumbled as he shut the door and crept toward her bed. “Who else would it be?”
“Why are you up so early? It ain’t even the slightest bit light outside!” She exclaimed as she peered out the window.
“Nah, I know, but I wanted to come and talk to ya before I had to do work. I feel like I ain’t been able to talk to ya for a while.”
Emmy laid back in her bed and looked up at her older brother for a long couple of seconds. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I haven’t really talked to you in a while either… What’ve you been doing?”
“Goin’ into town behind Pa’s back,” Lewey whispered with a grin.
Emmy’s face lit up in excitement and she shot into a sitting position. “Whataya mean? Like, you’ve been goin’ out playin’ that violin o’ yours?”
“Sometimes, yeah. Other times I’ve been leavin’ just to leave, and I tell ya, Emmy, it sure ain’t bad at all. I can’t even hardly explain to ya all the fun I’ve been havin’! I’ve been talkin’ to Elijah, goin’ to the tavern; I even got to see Mary again!”
“That slimy Mary Osborne you’ve been tellin’ me about?”
Lewey gave his sister a stern glare but nodded his head. “She ain’t slimy, though. If you’d see how beautiful she was you wouldn’t never call her slimy again.”
“Well, she ain’t gonna be comin’ to Boston with us, Lewey, so ya better not fall in love with her,” Emmy stated bluntly as he fiddled with a strand of her brown hair. “Remember your promise; it’s just gonna be the two of us.”
Lewey looked at his sister with a confused frown for a couple of seconds before he fully understand. “Right, yeah… Boston. Don’t worry, sister, ain’t no one gonna get between us. It’ll be just you and me forever and ever.”
Emeline smiled big and wide with satisfaction. “Good.”
There were a couple moments of silence as Lewey thought of how to tell his sister what had happened the previous night.
“So, you ain’t never gonna believe what happened last night when I was out…” he stated as he looked at the floor and tried to recollect on everything. “I hardly even believe it myself.”
“You went out last night?” Emmy asked in disbelief. “I didn’t hear ya leave or nothin’. When’d you go?”
“Ah, before sunset some time,” Lewey muttered with a shrug. “I don’t really know the exact time; I just know I left sometime before seven. I came in to say goodbye to you and let ya know where I was goin’, but you were so asleep you looked dead!”
Emmy laughed and nodded her head. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Just tell me what ya did!”
“Well, Gregory –The man teachin’ me about violin playin’- wanted me to go to a concert. So, I went and met him at that theatre on the far side o’ town, and we went inside. Turns out, the violinist who was supposed to play, Bouchard somethin’, didn’t show up ‘cause he got sick or somethin’. Anyway, I ended up playin’! I was out on that stage in front o’ everyone! I thought I was gonna die of nervousness, Emmy, if that’s even possible!”
“You mean to say you were out there like a star?” Emmy’s eyes were wide with admiration. “Did you get an applause and everythin’?”
Lewey nodded his head proudly. “Sure did. You are lookin’ at a star, my sister.” He squared his shoulders proudly and batted his eyelashes at her.
Emmy hit him lightly on the shoulder and snickered. “That’s the coolest thing I ever heard, Lewey. Looks like you’re gonna be the star instead o’ me!”
Lewey laughed softly and shook his head. “Nah, nah, I ain’t gonna be no star. I don’t got that… what’s the word… That, uh... That… Charisma! I ain’t got the charisma ya gotta have to be one o’ them stars. Those people sure know how to talk. I mean, they talk with all them fancy words and they’re able to schmooze their way outa anythin’! I ain’t got that, Emmy. I ain’t got that at all… But, you… You could just bat them pretty blue eyes and you’d have everyone under your thumb!”
Emmy smiled and looked down at the floor. “Yeah, well, as long as I’m still sick I ain’t gonna be able to bat my eyes at anyone because I ain’t ever gonna be able to leave my bed.”
Lewey didn’t answer his sister for a long couple of seconds. He wanted more than anything to make her feel better and to give her a normal life that a sweet little girl like her deserved, but he could think of no solution. As long as God willed that she stay in her bed sick as can be she was stuck there until his will was lifted. His eyes shifted upward and he looked into Emmy’s bright blue eyes… Not as bright as they used to be…
“Tell ya what!” He exclaimed suddenly as he forced an unworried smile. “Some night sonn you’re gonna go out with me and you’re gonna have the time of your life, ya hear? I’m gonna bring ya out to the tavern and play the violin just for you, and then you can do that dancin’ you’ve always loved so much. You can meet Elijah and Gregory, and anyone else ya wanna meet, and I’m sure as hell that they’ll fall in love with ya right away.”
Emmy’s eyes grew wide just before her brow furrowed in suspicion. “I don’t know about that, Lewey… How am I gonna get out o’ here when I’m as sick as a dog? And what ‘bout Pa? Don’t ya think he’ll notice anythin’?”
Lewey shook his head and waved his hand. “Nah, Pa won’t notice nothin’, he never does. I leave all the time and he don’t stir at all durin’ the night. And don’t worry ‘bout bein’ sick, you won’t feel sick once ya get up and start movin’. I think the reason you’re sick all the time is ‘cause you don’t never get outa this damn bed!” She winced when he swore and he let out a slow breath. “I want ya to have some fun is all. You don’t never get to have no fun, and it makes me feel guilty when I come home from bein’ out and you’re still layin’ here like a rag doll. Please, Emmy, come to town, for me.”
Emmy laughed. “Alright, I’ll go. But it ain’t my fault if I gotta go home early ‘cause I don’t feel good! You know I don’t do well when I gotta stand up for along period o’ time!”
Lewey smiled and rested his hand on her boney shoulder. “Don’t worry, I know.”

~

“Lawrence, my boy, I did not expect to be seeing you so soon!” Gregory exclaimed with a wide and satisfied grin as he patted Lewey on the back and offered him a seat right next to him at the table. “I assume, then, that your parents are not that angry about how late you had to stay out last night?”
Lewey shook his head and gladly sat down. “Nah, they didn’t really care as much. I guess I was just kind o’ makin’ a big deal outa nothin’. I just thought maybe they would care, but they didn’t.”
“Well, that’s good, I suppose. I really don’t want to be the cause of a family argument, as I told you before. I am sorry that I didn’t tell you how late you would be out until, though. I should have. But, to be honest, I didn’t exactly know you would be playing in the concert either!”
Lawrence couldn’t suppress a grin as he looked down at the floor in humility. “Yeah, I suppose I didn’t neither.”
Gregory laughed a laugh of satisfaction and pride. He patted Lewey on the back again, and stared off into nothingness with blank eyes. After a couple seconds of what must have been recollection, he brushed his white hair out of his eyes and looked at his pupil. “I did make sure to tell you how amazing that was, didn’t I?”
Lewey shrugged his shoulders. “Probably, yeah.”
“Good, because it was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. I mean, I assumed you had it in you to be performing on stage. I mean, I knew you would be performing on stage someday! But, I didn’t know it was going to be this soon… it hasn’t even been a month since you first started playing, Lawrence! Do you realize how unbelievable that is? Never in my life have I ever heard of anyone who could just pick up an instrument like that and play like no one else… ever.”
This time Lewey could have suppressed a smile, but instead, he forced one. Once again this comment of how “unique” he was brought back bad memories… You ain’t like no other boy I ever heard o’! Nah, you’re just a special little boy, ain’t ya? You’re dumb and you’re blind to everythin’, hell, you’re just like you’re God damn mother! Everyone was always tellin’ her how she was soooo special ‘cause she can do this and she can do that and she can love everyone and she can help everyone and she knows everythin’ without ever goin’ to school and blah blah blah!... Yeah, you’re just like her. You think you’re somethin’ else ‘cause you’re good at doin’ yard work and you’re good at cookin’ and you’re good at gardenin’ and you’re good at ridin’ horse and you’re good at this and that and this and that!... But let me tell ya, boy, you sure as hell ain’t good at everythin’. Don’t ya dare go forgettin’ that you ain’t smarter than a door knob, that you ain’t got not a cent to your God damn name, and that you ain’t never gonna have a life. Do you understand?! As long as I ain’t got a wife and a life o’ my own, you and your no good sister ain’t gonna have no life neither, ya hear?! YA HEAR?!
“I’m thinking we should try and get you another concert next week, what do you think about that?”
Lawrence looked at Gregory as though he had never met him before in his life. “Wait, what?”
“The people want to hear you play, Lawrence. They absolutely loved you out there last night and word has already been spread around!” Gregory smiled down at him. “We could make a lot of money off of you, boy! What do you say?”
Lewey bit his lip as he shook his head, trying to keep out the words of his father that flooded into his mind after Gregory had said those words. Why don’t ya go out workin’ for me, boy?! Why do I gotta do all the God damn work ‘round here? I’m supposed to be retired! I’m supposed to be able to relax! But nooo, I suppose you didn’t want that, now do ya?! So, instead, I gotta go ‘round town tryin’ to sell this crap you call vegetables, while you sit around on your lazy ass all day?! Why the hell is that, boy?!
“Lawrence, what is wrong? Why do you keep zoning out on me?”
“You wanna make money off o’ me?” Lewey asked slowly without hardly opening his mouth. He clenched his fists and stared at the ground angrily; trying as hard as he could to hold back his rage and forget the bad memories. “You make me sound like a slave… Like you own me…”
There was a momentary pause as Gregory fumbled on what to say. “I… I don’t mean it like that, Lawrence, not in the slightest. What I mean is you have talent, a talent not just anyone can have. And, it is a talent that almost everyone will pay to see in action! All I’m trying to tell you, Lawrence, is that you could be something great, something special. You could leave this little, barren town and go off to bigger and better things! You could be rich! You could be famous! You could be completely set for the rest of your life!”
Lewey’s head shot up and he looked at Gregory hopefully. “You… You mean I could leave? Get outa hear and never haveta look back?”
Gregory smiled and nodded his head.
All of Lewey’s rage was suddenly dissipated as a wave of hope overtook his body. He could leave. He could take his younger sister and never have to come back, never have to face the small town that served as their living hell for the past 14 years of his life. He could take her to Boston… He could take her to Boston. “What do I gotta do so I can get outa here?”
“You just have to keep doing what you’re doing,” the old man told him shortly, reaching out his arm and resting his long and frail fingers on Lewey’s shoulder. They’re musical fingers, they can play the violin like no other, and they got talents that almost everyone will pay to see… They’re fingers just like mine. “At the rate you’re going you’ll be known nation-wide in less then a couple of years, I guarantee it.”
“Would I be able to bring my sister with?”
Gregory looked at Lewey strangely for a couple of seconds before slowly nodding his head. “Well of course you could bring your sister with… you could bring your whole family with, I would never ask you to leave any of them behind.”
Lewey smiled with content and relaxed. “Well, alright then, sounds good to me. When did ya say the next concert was?”
“Well, well, well, if it ain’t my good little buddy Lawrence,” exclaimed a faimilar voice. Lewey looked up and sure enough approaching him was a tall, handsome, young blond man with a wide, toothy grin plastered to his face. “Thought I told ya to say hi to me the next time I was here, I wasn’t expectin’ to have to do all the greetin’ myself!”
Lewey’s face lit up as he reached out and shook Thomas’ hand. “Well, sorry… I didn’t see ya otherwise I woulda…”
“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Thomas assured him with a confused smile. “I was just foolin’ around, don’t ya know? Say, is it true what I hear ‘bout ya playin’ at the local concert in substitute for Bouchard Vincent?”
“Sure is,” Gregory cut in eagerly. “I got this boy in myself, he’s a true prodigy. You hear of anyone else who wants to hear him play you send them right my way!”
Thomas nodded his head politely but with the unmistakable glare of annoyance. Lewey completely disregarded Gregory’s rude interruption and continued to smile up at Thomas. He saw the young man he wanted to become in Thomas, a young man who dressed nice, who was able to go and talk to people without choking on words, and who had a future, the potential to have a life. “Okay, will do,” Thomas muttered. “Well, Lewey, why don’t ya play me another little ditty on that there violin? There’s a lady down at the bar I wanna dance with, but this time I think I got a shot!” He smiled and turned to start walking towards the bar. “Play something fast and fun, I want her to want to dance!”
Lawrence nodded in consent and immediately started to play. The notes flowed out of his instrument with such vivacious speed he could hardly control it. His fingers danced across the fingerboard and his bow continuously and vigorously jabbed at the air. He clenched his eyes shut as he allowed himself to be lost in the melody. Eventually he could hear the rhythmic tapping of people’s shoes on the floor, and when he finally forced his eyes to open he saw that the usually vacant dance floor was full of moving bodies.
With a wide grin on his face Gregory joined in the music. He picked up his own violin and started playing along with Lawrence, trying to keep up but inevitably forced to play a slower and less exciting harmony. Lewey once again closed his eyes and his head started to bob to the beat that his own fingers created. He felt the greasy strings that were his hair fall against his face and lightly brush along his fingers. He no longer felt like the shy, useless, stupid and untalented boy he had always been told he was. He suddenly felt as though he were the king of the world, draped in the finest linens and endowed with the most glorious gifts. He could see the sea of people kneeling before them with their hands touching the ground as they bowed to h is Excellency. He could picture his mansion, filled with gold and silver, pictures hanging from every wall and books lining every corner. In his mind he could now read these books, for he was the king of the world and therefore the most educated of all. No one knew more than him and no one told him he was wrong. He was the almighty, the conqueror, the knowledgeable, the leader of all. He was unique.
And before he knew it the song was over and his dream world dissipated before his eyes. The greasy hair against his face suddenly didn’t feel so tolerable and his malodorous and stale clothes suddenly didn’t smell so nice.
Lawrence immediately recognized Thomas across the dance floor with a woman in his arms. She was fairly beautiful with her long, curly brown hair and her curvy, laced dress. He held one arm around her waist and the other hung limply by his side. He smiled over at Lawrence and gave him a wave good bye as he walked the young woman out the door of the tavern.
“Well, it sure looks like your music worked a charm this time,” Gregory told him with a smile. “Just goes to show how much power songs actually posses.”
Lawrence nodded as he looked down at his violin in awe. “Yeah, I suppose it was better than last time… I think the song was too slow last time, and that was why she didn’t want to dance with him…”
Gregory was silent for a long second as he tried to understand where Lawrence was coming from. “What on earthy are you talking about, Lawrence?”
Lewey looked up at his mentor with a taken back frown. “Well, about Thomas and how he got that girl he was goin’ after…”
Gregory laughed and shook his head, his white hair shaking about his head like a drapery of snow. “No, no, boy, I wasn’t talking about Thomas! I was talking about that girl looking in through the window over there! Don’t try and tell me you didn’t notice her. She’s been staring at you since you started playing!”
Lewey’s eyes darted to the slightly fogged window at the far end of the bar. Though the reflection of the light on the glass made the outside world look like an endless abyss of absolute blackness, he couldn’t help but notice the familiar contours of a girl’s face staring in. He recognized her at once and his heart started to beat out of his chest. His palms became sweaty and he found himself trying to hold back a smile. It’s her.
“Do you know her, Lawrence?” Gregory asked with a suspicious smile. “She sure seems to know you!”
Lewey grinned and nodded his head. “I sure do know her… But I don’t think she really knows me.” I think she’s just discovered me.
“Well,” started Gregory as he hoisted his violin up to his chin and gestured for Lewey to leave. “Why don’t you go and talk to her, then?”
Lawrence’s heart was beating faster than ever now. Her face was so beautiful through the fogginess of the window, even though he could hardly make out more than her eyes and her nose. He was able to glimpse a single blond lock that fell before her face, and then he was able to see the pearly whiteness of her teeth when she smiled at him… she smiled at me…
Lewey suddenly came to mindset that this was all an illusion and that whoever that girl was outside of that window was not Mary Osborne. He kept his butt planted firmly on the stool that he sat on, and he hoisted his violin up to his chin as well. “No, I was wrong. I ain’t got no clue who that girl is. Let’s just play.”
Gregory simply shrugged his shoulders and the two of them played. Lewey did not put much of his heart into this song, and so therefore it was not a very powerful one. He followed the lead of Gregory as he sped off into a rambunctious melody in which Lawrence had no trouble in harmonizing with. The entire time he played, however, he could not keep his eyes away from that fogged up window. He tried and he tried to keep his gaze plastered to the wooden and unshapely floor, but he was unable to do so. No matter how many times he told himself that the girl who told him flat out that he was malodorous and untidy would never in a million years be standing outside the window smiling at him he couldn’t refuse the argument otherwise that was provided by those bright blue eyes. They’re icy blue… Just like mine.
Before he knew it, though, those icy blue eyes were gone and he found himself staring longingly into a blackened window with nothing to it but nothing. She’s gone… She was so close, and now she’s gone…
She was never there in the first place, ya fool. It was some other girl who probably can’t see your stained clothes or your greasy hair. She probably don’t know that you’re dumber than a door nail and don’t know the simplest thin’ ‘bout talkin’ to no girls. You should be happy she left, that way you don’t gotta be humiliated as ya would be if she came in and realized that you were the boy she was starin’ at like that. A wretched, good for nothing, ugly, smelly, stupid boy. Yeah, she wouldn’t have liked that one bit.
Then he saw her face again, but now she was in the light of the bar and more beautiful than ever. Her porcelain white face was turned in his direction and her icy blue eyes peered over at him with a look that was no longer the glare of contempt he had become so accustomed to, but rather a look of interest and curiosity. He was allured by this gaze so strongly he couldn’t stay away. He murmured something hardly audible to Gregory as he set his violin down into its case and gravitated toward the beautiful figure almost unknowingly. She led him out of the tavern with an innocent smile on her face and into the coldness of the autumn night.
“It’s good to see you again,” were the first words that escaped that pretty little mouth of hers. She crossed her arm due to the brisk wind and Lewey could almost hear the soft chatter of her perfect teeth.
“N-Nice to see y-you too,” he stuttered nervously as he shifted in his spot and attempted to straighten his unruly hair out as inconspicuously as he could. “W-What’re you doin’ here?”
“Well, I came to see you, of course,” she countered, as though they had been great friends all their lives. “I needed to tell you something… Something that I couldn’t admit in front of those two brattish friends of mine because they simply wouldn’t understand, you know? They’re so immature, those two. But, I can’t do something they wouldn’t approve of because they’d tell everyone in my school and then everyone would make fun of me and then I would never be able to go to school without being utterly humiliated, do you understand?”
“Yeah.” No you don’t. Well, maybe you understand the humiliation part and being made fun of, in fact, your best life example of humiliation came from Miss America right before you, but you sure as hell don’t understand the school part or even the friend part. You ain’t never had to worry about what you’re friends have thought of you because you ain’t never had no friend before Elijah. But, whatever. Keep acting like you’re some normal kid if it makes you feel better.
“Well, I wanted to come and tell you that I didn’t mean anything I said to you the other days when you came and saw me outside of my church.” She started to blush and she looked down at the ground as she batted her long eye lashes. “I just said those things so that those other two girls would respect me, you know? I mean… It isn’t exactly normal to like a boy who doesn’t smell... the greatest, and who has blood on his back… and… How did you get all that blood there, anyway? …Nevermind… But, what I really wanted to tell you was that I think you’re actually really… sweet. No one has ever really talked to me like that, like I’m… Like I’m something special, you know?”
Lewey smiled and found himself blushing too. “Well, you sure are something special.”
Mary laughed nervously and brushed her bright blond hair out of her face. “And, my parents were talking about you the other night. They said that they had gone to some concert to watch Bouchard Vincent play, and that some boy came out and played instead. They said his name was Lawrence, and I wasn’t sure, but for some reason I thought that it was you they were talking about. They said he had brown hair down to his ear lobes and a thin face that didn’t show any expression. For some reason, I just knew… So then I came down here to see if I was right because I heard other people talking about ‘the violinist boy’ who always plays at this tavern and sure enough, here you are. You really got some talent, you know that?” she looked at the ground and shook her head. “Well, that ain’t what I came to tell you… I came to tell you that I don’t think you’re smelly for stupid or ugly or any of that stuff… I actually think you’re kinda cute and extremely sweet.”
Lewey couldn’t believe this was happening. The most beautiful girl he had ever met, the girl who had blatantly rejected him only days before, was admitting her attraction to him with that girly little smile and those icy blue eyes. Lawrence was stunned with disbelief. His body stood rigid and cold and his eyes remained wide and alarmed. He tried to say something, but all that came out of his mouth was a low grumble.
Mary’s smile faded and she turned her head away. “I know, I know, you probably want nothing to do with me after what I said, and I understand that. I was right down mean to you, and I ain’t got any excuse for that, I was just trying to remain respected. But, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry, anyway. And, if you wanted to meet me after church again someday, I sure wouldn’t mind.”
“What about those friends o’ yours?” Lewey asked.
Mary shrugged. “I’m tired of those two brats. If they try to make fun of me for not sending you off then I’ll send them off. You deserve better than that. You just ain’t got good clothes is all.”
A tingling sensation overcame Lewey’s body as a wide smile appeared on his face. This was really happening. “I-I don’t get it,” he stammered. “You didn’t have no interest in me before and n-now suddenly you do?”
Mary shrugged again, an innocent smirk appearing on her face. “I was too shy to say anything before… But after a long time of thinking about what I said to you and how I really feel about you, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore.”
Lawrence opened his mouth to reply but didn’t know what to say so he closed it. There wasn’t anything that needed to be said. All of his dreams were coming true; he was content with just that.
Mary batted her eyelashes again as she swayed in her spot. “Will you do me a favor, Lewey?”
Lewey blinked and nodded his head. “Sure, anythin’.”
“Will you kiss me?”
Lewey’s head jolted in astonishment as he looked down at the beautiful girl before him. He searched her eyes for hints of lying, of mockery… But there were none. She stood with her hands cupped together by her left hip, and her head was tilted to one side like a child. “W-What?”
Mary let out a sigh and lost her smile. “Nevermind… I’m just being stupid. I was just thinking that… No, Nevermind. You don’t want to kiss a girl like me, who would?”’
She’s starting to turn away, you idiot! Don’t let her leave ya like this! She just offered to kiss ya and ya stand there like a buffoon? What the hell’s the matter with ya?!
“Mary, wait.” Lewey reached forward, grabbed her thin arm and pulled her toward him. Her body came closer than he had ever had someone to him before. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed his lips against hers, holding her tightly as he did so. Here lips were sweet and supple. They stood there like that for a long time.
This is what your life is gonna go one to be like, champ. Lawrence Solomon Rutherford… Famed violinist and a lady’s man. You’re gonna be the American Dream, buddy.

Chapter 9
A False Reality

Note passed from Cynthia Johnson to Caroline Johnson


I heard that Mary kissed the “violinist boy” last night. She was bragging about it to that one girl, Annabelle. I can’t believe she wouldn’t tell us first. Isn’t that what best friends are supposed to do? Anyway, I heard her telling Annabelle that she had met him at the East-Side Tavern, the one that he always plays at, and that he went outside with her and they kissed. She says that it was nothing like she has ever experienced before and that Annabelle girl starting going nuts over it. She was saying things like “Oh, Mary, you’re so lucky! This violinist boy is gonna be famous someday and you can say you’ve kissed him! Maybe you’ll even marry him!” I just about wanted to throw up. Do you think she actually kissed this boy or do you think she’s just making it up? Because, frankly, she sure loves basking in the attention she is receiving. And, besides, she said that she can’t bring him here to meet any of us because he lives in a different town. I might be mistaken, but I heard that he lives right here in Arlington. I heard that he sure doesn’t look like anything special, just that he can play like no one else. That makes me wonder… Maybe we should find this violinist boy for ourselves and see if she ever really did kiss him. What do you say?

~

The sounds of his father’s angry footsteps resonated through the house, but Lewey didn’t take any notice. He lay on his bed, facing the ceiling, with his hands behind his head and a wide smirk glued to his face. He had hardly slept an ounce the night before, but he felt as though he had just awoken from a terribly long nightmare and was finally back into the blissfulness of reality. He felt as though he were still there, in the briskness of the autumn night, with that beautiful girl before him and that tingling sensation running through him. He could still feel her soft hair as it brushed against his cheek, or the soft silk of her dress. He could still imagine the suppleness of her lips against his… The ecstasy that had overcome his entire body.
Suddenly he heard the soft creak of his bedroom door and the hushed patter of feet across the wooden floor. He tilted his head and found the small and gangly figure of his little sister standing before him. Her hair was down and in a tangled mess, her white night gown had been worn one too many times, and her bright blue eyes were wide with fear.
Lewey didn’t loose his smile as he beckoned her in. “C’mon Emmy, c’mon and take a seat. Any one, you pick.”
Emmy shot him a confused frown and took a couple of steps toward him so her gaunt shadow covered him, her brown hair nearly brushing against his cheek. “Pa ain’t in no good mood today, Lewey. And you’re supposed to be up and outside already, don’t ya know?” she inquired in a furious whisper. “You’re lucky he’s still drunk from last night, or else he woulda already found out that you ain’t outside like you’re supposed to be!”
Lewey looked at her for a long couple of seconds and then shrugged his shoulders and continued his staring contest with the ceiling.
“Lewey,” Emmy snarled as he grabbed his shirt with her tiny, boney fist. “What’s the matter with ya? Do ya wanna get yourself killed?!”
The smirk didn’t leave Lawrence’s face as he looked into the deep eyes of his younger sister. “Since when can Pa tell me what to do? Don’t I got no rights as an American? Don’t I got no say at all in when I wake up and when I go to work?”
Emmy brow furrowed as she slowly shook her head. “Course you don’t! Haven’t ya learned this yet? What’s gotten into you? Why are you actin’ so weird?”
Lewey let out a happy sigh as images of Mary rolled through his brain once more. “I went out again last night.”
There was a sudden shatter coming from the kitchen, followed by the angered and low groan of a middle aged man, some swear words accompanying that. Emmy shook with fear and turned back to her older brother. “Pa’s gettin’ angry, Lewey. Please don’t keep this act up no more. Just get outside and do your work so you don’t get in no trouble. I don’t wanna see ya hurt… not again.”
“I kissed her.”
“…What?”
Lewey smiled the widest he had smiled in a long time. “I kissed her. Mary. Last night, when I went out… I kissed her.”
Something filled Emmy’s eyes when her older brother told her that. Whether it was rage, frustration, or even confusion, Lewey was unsure. But, he knew that she had not wanted to hear that, and before he was able to say something to comfort her she had ran off as silently as she had came, and he had heard the slam of her bedroom door.
The clamor coming from the kitchen suddenly came to a halt, and Lewey froze where he lay. Oh God, please no. I thought this was over… I thought I was safe. Why the hell did I get so stupid?
“Emeline, Whataya need?” the old man inquired, his voice glazed with pity but layered with annoyance. The heavy sounds of his footsteps down the hall suddenly became evident as the aged wood beneath his feet cracked under the pressure. As they grew closer and closer to the door Lewey was hidden behind he found himself holding his breath and bracing for the worse with his eyes completely shut.
There was the sudden opening of a door, and Lewey thought that his heart had come to a complete stop. Here it is, buddy. Are ya ready for this? Thought ya had a whole life of fame and fortune and beautiful ladies waitin’ for ya, didn’t you? Well, now ya just blew it, and all ‘cause of your no good ignorance. Thanks a lot, buddy!
“Emeline, what’s the matter?” asked the low, gruff voice of his father. Lewey’s eyes shot open, he looked at the door, it was still closed tight. “I heard ya slam the door, what the hell are you doin’ that for?”
“I’m sorry,” murmured the soft voice of his sister. “I didn’t think I was closin’ it so hard. I had just gotten out to go to the bathroom is all.”
“Then how come I didn’t see ya goin’ through the kitchen to get there?”
There was a pause. “I decided that I didn’t really gotta go that bad. It’s cold outside and I can wait.”
There was more silence, and Lewey could distinctly imagine his father’s suspecting glare with his hands on his hips and one eyebrow cocked. “You tellin’ me the truth, girl?”
No reply came from Emmy, but Lawrence knew that she was giving her father the shy little nod she did when she was afraid.
More silence. “Ya need anythin’, while I’m here? Ya hungry? Anythin’?”
“No, I’m alright.”
Emmy’s door was shut and the precarious sound of his father’s footsteps faded back into the kitchen. It’s alright, Pa. I don’t need nothin’ either. Thanks for askin’.

~

“You what?”
Lewey nodded triumphantly. “Sure did, right on them pretty little lips o’ hers. And let me tell ya, that kiss was as beautiful as her face!”
Elijah shook his head in disbelief and smiled. “Well, good for you, Lewey. Good for you. I sure ain’t gonna lie, but I didn’t think ya had the guts to even hardly talk to her, much less give her a kiss! What the hell got into ya to make ya do somethin’ crazy like that?”
Lewey shrugged as he walked Patriot over to a tie out and made sure she had no means of escape. Arlington was busy that day, and the ruckus that filled the air was nearly making Lewey forget what he was thinking it was so loud. Once Patriot was tied up he walked with his friend towards Louis’ Grocery Store. “Well,” he admitted with a guilty smirk. “She did kinda ask me to kiss her… But she had thought I had said no and it was when she was walkin’ away that I grabbed her arm and pulled her to me! I did it, all by myself!”
Elijah snickered as he held open the glass door for Lewey. “Sure sounds like a good ol’ time, alright.”
As the two boys entered the small store they immediately came to see the old man behind the counter. He smiled his nearly toothless grin at the sight of his favorite customer and approached the two of them with his scrawny arms stretched out. His skin was pale and his eyes were sunken in more than usual, but his joy had not diminished at all. “Lawrence, my boy! How are you? Haven’t seen you in some time. You are good?”
Lewey nodded and allowed the old man to embrace him with his frail body. “Yeah, I’m doin’ pretty good, actually. How ‘bout you?”
Louis let go of the young boy and smiled down at him with a glimmer in his eye. “Good. Good. Not bad, at least. I’ve been lonely a bit. You haven’t come seen me for while.”
Lewey gave him a sad frown and looked to the ground. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve just been a little busy is all.”
Louis only smiled and patted him lovingly on the back. “That is alright, do not worry. I am fine. Just happy to see my friend. Who is this?” He looked at Elijah, but the glimmer in his eye did not hold the judging hatefulness that was held by so many others, it was simply a glimmer of pure and untainted curiosity.
“This is my friend Elijah,” Lewey stated before he could catch himself. He looked at his friend and found him glaring back at him. You had said you’d stop that, Lewey. He ain’t your friend, at least not when you’re tellin’ others about him. When you’re tellin’ others about him he’s your slave.
“Well, nice to meet you, Elijah,” replied Louis with a cheerful grin. “How are you?”
Elijah forced a smile and nodded. “Alright, I guess.”
“Good, Good. What do you need, Lawrence?”
“Well, I came in to get my pa some bread, the usual that I always gotta get.”
Louis nodded his head and started walking in another direction. “Right. We have that here. Just what you get always.”
Lewey accepted the loaf of bread that was handed to him by the old man and walked with him to the counter. “How much do I owe you?”
“Well, how about this,” Louis started as he reached under the counter for a second. He bit his lower lip with his couple of upper teeth and stared up at the ceiling as he searched the shelves below for what he was looking for. Eventually his hand emerged and a satisfied grin appeared on his face. He placed before the two boys a small brown bag that bulged underneath where the top was folded over. “For you and your friend. This is candy, for free.”
Lewey’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he thought of the sweetness of Louis’ hard candy; the sweetness he rarely got to appreciate. He tried to mumble a “thank-you”, but he could force out nothing but inaudible murmurings.
“Take it. It’s gift for you,” stated the old man as he pushed the bag toward the young boy. “Early Christmas present is all.”
Lewey reached forward a long arm and grabbed the small brown sack with tentative fingers. “T-Thanks Mr. Louis, this sure means a lot!”
Louis waved him off with a humble smile. “Again, it is gift, don’t worry about it.”
Lawrence looked to his friend Elijah with a happy smile and the two of them set off out of the store to traverse the town as if they possessed the freedom they did not own.

~

Elijah Gerald’s Journal
October 25th, 1851

I sure am starting to get worried with what’s going on now days. I am going out to town with Lewey a lot more than usual, and I sure shouldn’t be, and I think it’s starting to get on my master’s nerves. Every time I ask to go out a glimmer of annoyance gets into his eye and he just don’t seem the same to me anymore. So, I’ve simply stopped asking all together. I sure hope he doesn’t notice that I’m sneaking out at night, or that any of the other slaves rat me out. I am just simply not ready to be sold, and I’m not ready to be separated from my brother and sister. But, I think Mary knows I’ve been going out. Every time I talk to her she looks at me kinda funny… like she knows something. She don’t even know Lewey and she hates him already. Says that any boy who’s taking me away from the home I belong to ain’t no good boy at all. I say she’s wrong, but she wont’ listen. I tell her that Lewey may be white and he may bring me outa my master’s house, but he understands me and what I’m going through. He’s more like me than any slave I’ve ever met, but my sister just won’t accept that. Someday she’ll understand, though. If we ever get free the first thing I’ll do is introduce them so that she can see how good of a kid he really is.
I told Lewey anyway that I won’t be able to come into town for a while. I told him that I just need at least a couple of weeks just to show my master that I am a good slave and that I am not trying to take advantage of him. But, I promised him that on the 4th of November I’d come into town and meet him at the tavern that night. He wanted me to meet his little sister; apparently he’s bringing her into town that day. I ain’t never heard him talk about his younger sister at all before this… To be honest, I didn’t even know he had a younger sister.

Letter sent from bartender Vector Robins to his cousin, Joseph Robins

Dear Joseph,






October 27th, 1851
I write to you not only because I have not seen you in quite some time, (has it been since last Christmas already?) but also because I have some very important news that might benefit you. As you know I recently started bartending at The East Side Tavern in Arlington. And, I am aware that you have started directing an orchestra (forgive the fact that I do not recall the name of this orchestra). Well, there is this boy who comes into the tavern about once a week or so to play with the regular violinist we always have playing off in the corner. People don’t normal listen to this violinist because he is old and does not play loud enough for everyone to hear, but as soon as this young boy starts to play everyone becomes quiet and listens to the music that he creates. I tell you, Joseph, this boy is like no one you have ever heard before, I assure you. He has become known as the “violinist boy” in this town because he substituted for Bouchard Vincent at the local concert, so now it has become his pseudonym. I urge you to come down here and hear him for yourself. I promise you, you will not be disappointed. I mean it when I say that as soon as he picks up that violin of his the whole crowd before him becomes silent and watches in awe as his fingers move like lightning across the finger board. He is a very special young lad, and I believe that if you are the first contractor to notice him you could make a lot of money in conducting an orchestra with him as the first chair.
Sincerely,
Your Cousin, Vector


~

“Now, for your next concert you are going to have to have your songs rehearsed and they’re going to have to be songs that are completely and entirely original.”
“But, why?” Pleaded Lewey with a tired sigh. “Why can’t I just play a song no one ever heard o’ before? They won’t know the difference! They didn’t at the concert I did last!”
“No, they didn’t notice at the last concert, but that’s the only time I’m going to allow you to plagiarize like that,” Gregory retorted matter-of-factly. “You need to make your own work and then you can take the credit for it. Besides, think about how amazing it’ll sound when you get up there and play some gorgeous song that you made all by yourself.”
Lewey let out another sigh and restlessly looked around the tavern. It was a quiet Wednesday night. Most of the people inhibiting the small building were drunk and angry men who exchanged little or no word with each other. “But, how on earth am I supposed to remember something, anyway? I can’t remember a piece note for note, it’s impossible!”
“Well, obviously not because you’ve been doing it all along!” pointed out Gregory. “How do you think you mimicked the songs I played so well? You subconsciously memorized the notes and were able to play them immediately after you heard it! I told you, Lawrence, you’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before!”
Lawrence opened his mouth to argue but found that he had nothing to argue for so he closed it again and looked at the ground.
Gregory grew quiet for a moment and leaned closer to the young boy. “Don’t you want to perform again, Lawrence? Didn’t you like doing it last time?”
Lewey wanted to say he didn’t so that he could just get up and walk away and never look back… But, the truth was that he had loved it. The rush that went through his veins was like no rush he had ever felt before, and the sound of the applause that had filled the air… The applause that had been for him. They had all clapped just for him. They clapped because he had done such a good job. Him. Lewey… The violinist boy. “Nah, I liked it last time alright and everything… It’s just; I don’t wanna have to make music and perform it in front o’ everyone. I just wanna play songs that have already been made and are already famous and everythin’.”
Gregory let out a sigh and patted Lawrence on the back. “Lawrence, my boy, if you want to keep going down the path you are going you are going to have to start putting some true effort forth. You have a gift like no other and you can not just throw it away as though it does not matter. People would die to have what you have, Lawrence. You have to understand that.”
Ha. As if I wouldn’t die to have a mother again. As if I wouldn’t die to have a father who didn’t beat me and a sister who wasn’t on the spiraling road to a young death. Having something great like this ought to come with a price. Everybody would die for somethin’. “I know. I don’t wanna throw it away or nothin’, I just… It’s just so different for me. To be doin’ things like this… It ain’t normal for me.”
Gregory smiled down at the boy. “Well, it will become normal, Lawrence. I promise you. Soon you will walk out onto that stage with such confidence and pride that you will feel as though you were born just for that…. Just to do that… Trust me. That’s what happened to me.”
Lewey was struck with a sudden curiosity and looked up at his teacher with narrowed eyes. “You ain’t never really told me ‘bout your past, or how you came to be as famous as you were.”
“No, I didn’t, did I?”
Lewey shook his head nervously. He felt as though he was prying the truth out of the old man, and he didn’t like that feeling. He didn’t like it when people did it to him, and he could only imagine that Gregory didn’t like it done to him either.
“Well,” Gregory sighed, “There isn’t much to tell. I grew up just like any other boy, in a small house in a small town –this small town, to be exact. It was when I started to play the violin that my life began to change. I was nothing like you are, Lawrence, don’t get me wrong, but I sure wasn’t terrible, either. I had picked up the violin for the first time when I was six years old, after I had heard it for the first time at a wedding. The sound of it had completely and utterly entranced me… I can’t even really explain how it felt… I felt like I was…”
“Drowning in it?”
Gregory looked over at Lawrence for a long couple of seconds and then his lips curved up into a proud smile. “Yes, exactly. I felt like I was drowning in the beauty of it, like it was killing me with the melodious notes and the entrancing tune. So, not very long after that wedding I asked my father if he would teach me how to play –for he had been an amateur violinist when he had been a child. He was never anything to remember, but he knew how to hit the notes and how to move the bow.
“Anyway, he told me that he couldn’t teach me and that I couldn’t learn, because it was too expensive, and we didn’t have the money at the time. But, after a year of constant hounding and begging he finally gave in, and got me a mediocre teacher from down the road. This young man wasn’t hardly as good as a tree stump, but he taught me where the notes were on the fingerboard and how to play simple songs. It was when I finally surpassed my teacher and was able to play like a man who had been playing for years could play that my father finally realized my true talent. He wouldn’t admit it for a long time, but he was proud of me.
“’He’s a good violinist’ he said to my mother one night. ‘I heard him playing the other day in his room… I didn’t know he had it in him.’
“Then my mother replied; ‘Well of course he had it in him. He’s your son, after all. He won’t give up until he’s the best there is. Doesn’t that sound familiar?’
“When I heard my father’s footsteps start down the hall after this conversation had ended I went scurrying back into my room and collapsed into my bed, pulling my covers over my face so if he came in he wouldn’t notice that I had been awake the whole time. Well, he did come in. He came in and he kneeled right down next to my bed and said nothing, nothing at all.
“I’m nearly positive he knew I was awake. He was no stupid man, not by far. So, when he brushed his fingers through my hair and whispered; ‘I’m proud of you, son. I know I don’t show it. I know I don’t say it. But, I want you to know it.’ I’m nearly positive he knew that I heard every word that he said.
“The next day he told me he was going to get me a new teacher, and ‘this one’ he said ‘was the best that Virginia had to offer’.
“Well, I was as excited as could be. I had always dreamed of being taught by someone who was a professional… A real violinist and I was finally being allowed to. My father brought me over to his house for our first lesson, and I will never forget how I felt that day. He lived in a manor that was about the size of ten of these taverns, and it was made of a deep red brick that seemed to soak up all of the sunlight and radiate with it. My heart had been racing and my palms had been sweaty. I stood gazing up at the house as though it were something I had never seen before. As though it were alien… foreign.
“When I finally got to meet the man I could not speak a word. He had opened the door and smiled down at me a perfectly flawless smile. He stared down at me with his dark brown eyes and put his hands on his hips. He was a very handsome man, if I may say. He had been tall and thin, but not thin and gangly like y-…” Gregory cleared his throat and shot Lewey an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Lewey waved his hand. “It’s alright. You ain’t the first to say that, trust me.”
Gregory nodded his head and continued his store. “Anyway, he had long brown hair, about the length of mine, and it was pulled back behind his head every time I saw him. He had an angular face with a pointed chin and slightly arched nose. It surprised me to discover that he did not have a wife. I could not understand why a man of his stature and his accomplishment would not have already found a beautiful woman to call his own. It wasn’t until one of our much later lessons, when I was fifteen, that he would tell me he did not want a wife. ‘It is the music that I make that I love’ he had said as he gazed at his dark and small violin. ‘Nothing more, nothing less. I do not need a woman to make me happy, nor do I need sons or daughters of my own. All I need is my violin and my talent and I am the happiest man alive.’”
Gregory paused for a long second as he stared at the creaky wood that made up the floor of the tavern. “Oh, but he was no happy man, not at all. He had completely convinced himself that he did not need a wife or a family, but he couldn’t admit that deep down inside he did, he really did. I think that’s something a lot of men take for granted, Lawrence. They take for granted the power of love and our uncanning need to have someone that we can love and someone who loves us in return… Without it we feel… Useless… Lonely.”
After another long couple of awkwardly silent seconds Lewey cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, hoping to awaken Gregory from his daze. It worked and Gregory shot back to reality and forced a smile so that Lewey would think him alright. “Anyway, I was talking about my lessons with Mr. Harkins, correct?”
Lewey nodded very slowly, but nodded just the same. Harkins… Where have I heard that name before?
“Well, he took me in and taught me everything I know about playing the violin. He was the best violinist I have ever heard –save you, of course- and when I had first heard him play for me I had been completely and utterly dumbfounded. I’ll never forget that feeling…”
Harkins…
“Anyway, when I was 13 I got to perform in a concert for the first time. It was with the Dynasty Orchestra. I was second chair and I got a solo in one of the songs. It was the most exhilarating time of my life. That was the first time I had tasted the rush, and became completely and entirely addicted to it after that.”
Andrew Harkins… Why do I think Andrew? Where do I know this name from?
“I played my violin every second that I got the chance, and I got better at playing it than anyone would have guessed. My teacher was hardly able to teach me anymore by the time I turned 18, and by the time I was 19 years old I had left Virginia for Washington D.C. and had joined the city’s finest orchestra.”
Lewey was hardly listening anymore. The story had reached a point of boredom, and he had just discovered where he knew that name from.
“From there my life just got better and better. I met a fine young lady –her name was Janet- and we fell in love almost moments after meeting. She married me and we lived together happily for 9 years. Never were we able to have children, but never did it bother either her or I. It wasn’t until she told me she was leaving me for another man that my life seemed to really start going downhill.” Gregory paused as his face grew dark and morbid and he stared down at the ground in sorrow.
“I continued to play the violin, but I wasn’t able to play as I used to. My heart was filled with a feeling of emptiness that I had up until the day I met you… And that affected my playing like none other. I slowly began to recede from the common knowledge of the American people. I was no longer the grand violinist that could bring even the coldest of souls to tears, instead I was the star that was finally burning out… And, eventually this is where I ended up. Playing at a tavern where no one can hear me and where no one cares to listen to me in the first place.”
“You said your teacher was Mr. Harkins, right?” Lewey interrupted eagerly, trying his hardest not to sound callused to the old man’s sad story.
Gregory nodded his head while looking up at his student with a confused frown. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, doesn’t a Mr. Harkins live here in Arlington still? Elijah had told me ‘bout him… He is Elijah’s owner.”
“Yes, he does,” replied Gregory. “That is Andrew Harkins, he is Lionel’s grandson. Lionel died nearly 40 years ago.”
“Does Andrew play the violin at all?” asked Lewey.
Gregory shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, Lawrence. I have never spoken a word to that man before in my life. Why are you so curious on the subject?”
Lewey too shrugged his shoulders. “So, did you ever become a teacher like Mr. Harkins?”
Gregory laughed lightly and nodded his head. “Of course I did! Aren’t I teaching you to play the violin, Lawrence?”
Lewey thought about this for a long second and replied with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I suppose you are… But, I mean, did ya ever teach anyone else besides just me?”
“Of course, of course. I taught many young men how to pick up and play the violin, but I never taught any of them for very long. Some of them were good, some of them were bad, but none of them were great. And, I believe that unless you are able to play violin exceptionally well by the end of your first year playing you might as well not play at all. A harsh standard, yes, but it’s the standard I hold none the less.”
Lewey didn’t reply at all, he just stared at the ground blankly as if ruminating over everything that the old man had just told him.
Gregory laughed and patted the boy on the shoulder. “Well, Lawrence, now I’ve told you about your life, why don’t you tell me about yours? You have hardly spoken a word to me about your family. Why didn’t they come to your concert? And, why don’t you have them come meet me sometime?”
Lewey’s body froze where he sat and his eyes grew wide. Don’t say nothin’ you’re gonna regret later, ya hear? You just keep your God damn mouth shut. You’ve been getting’ yourself too deep lately. Get yourself any deeper and you’re gonna be stuck. “T-They just don’t really care to listen to the violin, is all.” The lie seemed so obvious, so evident in that quiver in his voice. He angrily bit his lip and continued to look away from the old man.
“Well, but, don’t they care to at least see their own son play the violin?” Gregory asked in an exasperated tone.
Lewey shook his head. “Nah. They don’t care to listen to no violin.”
“Well,” Gregory seemed out of words as he blankly shook his head and placed a hand on his knee. “That just seems preposterous to me, Lawrence. I mean, why would they even allow you to attend violin lessons with me if they don’t even like the violin themselves?”
“They don’t really care about what I do in my spare time,” Lewey murmured, the lies getting harder and harder to tell the closer he came to the truth. “Just as long as I get my work done.”
Gregory let out a long sigh and placed a gentle hand on Lewey’s shoulder. “Look at me, Lawrence.”
Lewey didn’t look up –he couldn’t. His watery eyes were fixated on the ground and he was not going to let the old man see him like this. He didn’t want Gregory to get any inkling of the truth out of him. He didn’t want anyone to the know the truth. If anyone did know the truth then his father might as well find out as well, and then not only were Lewey’s dreams dead, but Lewey was dead as well.
“Lawrence, I said look at me.”
He tried to inconspicuously wipe away the tears that had accumulated at the rim of his eyes, and after he did so he finally looked up at his teacher. His deep brown eyes stared down at the boy with a sincerity that Lewey was only faintly acquainted with. His white hair suddenly didn’t seem so dingy and raggedy, and his aged face no longer appeared to be old and withered. He looked down at Lawrence as though he were his son.
“I don’t know if I’ve told you this, but I’m proud of you.” His eyes did not look away, and no matter how hard Lewey tried, he couldn’t either. “And, even though your parents may say that they don’t care for the violin, I’m sure they’re proud of you too. They would be fools not to be.”
Then my pa must be a mighty fool. “Thanks,” Lewey choked out, forcing a small smile.
There was a long and awkward pause as Gregory thought of more to say. But, when he could think of nothing his fingers slipped off of Lewey’s shoulder and his gaze finally shifted away. He let out a sigh and a quiet “okay” as he lifted his violin up to his chin. “Well, why don’t we get started, Lawrence?”

~

She ain’t gonna come. She ain’t gonna come and you know it, champ. What happened the other night was just a fluke. She was outa her right mind. You heard the things she said to you the first time she met you. She laughed at you… She crinkled her nose at you… Why would she want you now? You don’t look or act any different… You ain’t different at all. You just gotta face the facts; she ain’t comin’.
Despite what the voice inside his head told him, he continued to wait for Mary Osborne outside of the East-Side Tavern with a rose in his hands that he had plucked straight from his garden as he had been working that day. He took the liberty of bathing himself the best he could without his father noticing, and put on the best clothes he owned –the clothes he had worn when performing at the concert. His greasy hair was slicked back and all of the scrapes and cuts that had covered his body were cleaned up and hidden as best as possible.
He felt like a groom.
The doubt was beginning to well up inside of him, though, and horrid, demeaning thoughts began racing through his mind. Thoughts about how denigrating the walk home would be if he still held in his hands that delicate rose and had lost on the way all of his dignity. Thoughts about how this would be the night that we he arrived home with his heart completely broken his father would be awake and sober and ready to break it further. Thoughts about how he would no longer be able to take Emmy out to the tavern with him because when he got home she would be…
Don’t think like that, Lewey. Now you’re going too far. Just accept the fact that Mary is too good for you and be done with it. Don’t go on catastrophizing everythin’ else and pityin’’ yourself like you’re some helpless pup. Just drop the damn rose, pull up your sleeves, and go on home.
Lewey succumbed the voice inside his head and let out a sad sigh. Just as he was about to drop the rose and head towards his horse he heard the distinctive sound of Mary’s voice.
“Lewey, Lewey, I’m sorry I’m late!” the voice shouted as a beautiful blonde girl rounded the corner around a building with bunches of her dress in her hands so as to allow it to avoid the danger that the mud puddles she splashed through served. “I’m so sorry.”
Lewey’s heart lifted as he saw those ice blue eyes and an involuntary smile emerged on his face. “It’s alright, don’t worry about.” His palms began to sweat and he tossed the rose uneasily from hand to hand as the girl rushed toward him. “You’re not too late.”
“Oh, but I am. My parents had visitors over and, of course, it’d be rude to just leave the table when there are guests, so I had to wait until they were gone. If not for them I would have been right on time, sorry to keep you waiting, Lewey.”
The sincerity in her voice was questionable, but that that was in her eyes was not. She now stood only feet before him, gazing up at him sweetly with those two pools of ice.
Lewey’s heart began to beat faster and he rubbed his hands together nervously. C’mon, moron, give her the rose! “I got this for you,” he replied as he thrust toward her the small, red flower.
Mary took in tentatively from his hands and shot him a thankful smile. “Oh, my. Thank you, Lewey. That’s so sweet. And my, my,” she looked him up and down. “You sure are dressed up today, aren’t you?”
Lewey shrugged his shoulders and looked to the ground, trying to keep from blushing. “It ain’t nothin’.”
When he had left her that note to meet him at the East-Side Tavern on Thursday night he had told her that they could do whatever she wanted. What she had wanted to do was not go to the tavern. She told him that she had something else planned for him –something special.
“I really hate to say it, but I don’t really wanna go talk to them two friends o’ yours,” Lewey murmured as he was dragged away from the tavern by his arm. Her grip was fierce yet gentle at the same time, sending tingles through his body.
“Oh, don’t worry about them, they won’t be mean to ya, I promise.” Her curly, blonde hair bounced on her back as she walked, reminding him of golden waves. “I just want ya to meet them for who they really are. I want all three of you to finally get to know one another is all.”
Lewey had sighed but he had protested no more. Instead he allowed the beautiful girl to lead him off into the darkness of the evening to meet two other girls that he did not want to meet again.
They looked just as homely as they had when he had first seen them outside of the church. Their ratty brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail on each of their heads, and their dark eyes seemed to bulge out of their heads with scorn. They wore identical dresses that were tan in color and rather tight around the hips, and each of them handed Lewey the exact same contemptible frown.
“Here he is, girls,” Mary stated proudly with her pearly grin. “Lewey, the violinist boy.”
Both of the girls eyed Lewey up and down as if to make sure he was the real thing. “You sure look a lot different than when we last saw you,” stated one of the girls bluntly.
Lewey looked down at his dress clothes and ran his fingers nervously through his greased back hair. “Yeah, I decided to dress nice today. I told you, I usually dress nice. I ain’t no hobo.”
“You heard him, Cynthia,” Mary stated with a victorious smile. “He dresses nice because he’s famous, aren’t ya, Lewey?”
Lewey didn’t exactly know what to say so instead just emitted a strange low sound to fill in the silence. “I don’t know about ‘famous’,” he finally added in. “I just played at one concert is all. Nothin’ much.”
“Yeah, but it’s one concert that everyone is talking about! That’s why you’re known as the ‘violinist boy’.”
“I thought he was just called that because nobody bothered to find out his real name,” chimed in one of the girls snidely.
“No,” snapped Mary. “It’s because he’s special and they wanted to give him a special nickname. Geez, do you two gotta be so negative and critical? Can’t you two just give this boy a break? Haven’t you already been hard enough on him?”
One of the twins made a snorting sound and rolled her eyes, exchanging an annoyed look with her sister. “We weren’t any harder on him than you were, Mary!”
Mary too rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to argue back, but the other twin intervened before she could. “Did you two even really kiss?” she asked.
Mary seemed taken back by this question and opened her mouth blankly. “Well, of course we did. I wouldn’t lie to you two, would I?”
The two sisters looked briefly at each other and then to Lewey. They didn’t say anything; they simply put their hands on their hips and cocked their heads.
“W-We did,” Lewey muttered helplessly, his nervous eyes darting from the twins to the beautiful girl at his side. “Just the other night, outside o’ the tavern.”
“And, we’ll do it again,” Mary stated with a victorious smirk. She grabbed Lewey by the cheek and smashed her lips fiercely against his. This kiss was not like the one Lewey had had with her before. It was quick and unreal… Depressingly unreal.
The twins had rolled their eyes and looked away, shaking their head in disgust. “Whatever, Mary, we believe you, okay? Now, whataya want from us?”
Mary smiled her mischievous little smirk and shrugged her shoulders. “I just wanted ya to meet him is all. Meet the real him. The violinist boy.”
Lewey looked down at her and saw that her eyes no longer seemed the icy blue that they had appeared earlier. Now they seemed like pools of dark hatred… Hatred and selfishness.
He allowed her to walk back with him to the tavern, and that was where she left him without a kiss or a hug goodbye.
As she walked away he saw her drop the rose into a puddle on the side of the street.

Chapter 10
The Dancing Girl

Lewey no longer felt that unconditional attraction to Mary that he had always felt before. He found it odd and puzzling, seeing that now she was finally willing to be with him, but he couldn’t get over the fact that she didn’t really seem to care about him. That everything she was doing with him seemed to be an act… As if she were performing a play.
He returned home late that night, regardless of the fact that he hadn’t spent more than an hour with Mary. After she had left he had gone inside the tavern and sat next to Gregory, listening to him play without saying a word. His mind drifted as his body sat firmly on that stool, and he came to thinking about what his life was beginning to be. Everything was beginning to change, but he questioned if it was even for the better. Before he had met Elijah and played the violin for the first time in that tavern, he had known nothing but what had been taught to him by his mother and his ruthless father. The confines of his house had become the confines of his life, and although he had always dreamed of being allowed out into the real world where he could live a real life and be a normal person, he wasn’t so sure that was what he wanted anymore. The world was a lot crueler and a lot more demanding than he had thought it to be. So many rules to follow that were never told to him but that he was expected to know nonetheless… So many lies, so many commands, so many hurt feelings…
He almost seemed to like it better when he was sitting all by himself in his backyard without the voices of any other to ring in his ear like an incessant cricket. With the vines of his garden plants billowing around his knees he would stare off into the sunset without a worry or a thought on his mind, simply acknowledging the beauty that sat before him every night, rain or shine. A beauty that he could never own, but could always have. A beauty that was always there when he needed it and always there when he didn’t…
Now it seemed like he never enjoyed that beauty anymore, as though it were no longer good enough for him. Now the only joy he received was from playing the violin and hearing the gorgeous hymn of his music ring through his ears. Every moment he was at home was another moment out of happiness, and this dreary attitude lead him to ignore the splendor nature had always provided him before… It caused him to turn away and dream of a better day.
It was around one o’clock in the morning when Lewey had finally arrived home, far later than he had any other night. He trudged into his little sister’s room and plopped down next to her bed, leaning an elbow in her mattress and letting out a deep sigh.
“I love you, Emmy,” he whispered as quietly as he could as he pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I know you can’t hear me, but I want God to know that I said it, so that someday you’ll know I said it too.”
The little girl stirred in her sleep, but her eyes did not flutter open.
Lewey let out another deep breath and choked back his emotions. “She doesn’t really love me,” he muttered as though it was a confession that nobody had expected. “She hasn’t told me nothin’ ‘bout it or anytihin’, I just know she don’t really love me. She don’t act the way that most people do when they are in love… I just know it… And, it’s breakin’ my heart, Emmy. I really liked her, I don’t know why, but I did. She was somethin’ special to me, you know?”
Not to Lewey’s surprise, Emmy didn’t answer back. Her only response was a sullen frown associated with a deep, dreamless sleep. Her face seemed more sunken in than it ever had before, and her usually pale skin seemed even more pastel than it had before. Her previously voluminous and shiny brown hair had lost all of its sheen, and it sat flat against her wet forehead like lifeless straw. Yet, in his eyes she was still the most beautiful 11-year-old girl he had ever seen.
“Not as special as you, though,” he added with a guilty stare at the floor. “Nobody is as special to me as you. You know that, don’t you?”
Of course there was no answer, and at this Lewey let out another sad sigh as he rested his hand on her shoulder. “Tomorrow you’re gonna go with me into town, I promise ya.” He stared sorrowfully at her sickly face and bony hands. “I promise ya.”

~

“I don’t know ‘bout this, Lewey,” murmured the young girl tentatively as they raced across the dark and ominous yard towards their horse barn. “Pa might notice this time… And if he finds both of us gone, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”
“Don’t worry,” assured the older brother. “Pa’s as drunk as a dead sailor and he ain’t gonna be wakin’ up anytime soon. Hell, we’ll be lucky if he wakes up at all tomorrow!”
Lewey helped his younger sister onto the back of his horse, shooting a nervous look over at the sad house before him. The only light came from a dim and fading candle in the living room. The only life was dark and hopeless…
“You comin’, Lewey?”
“Yes ma’am.” Lewey jumped up onto the horse in front of his sister, and they raced off of the property they had each come to hate and dread with all of their hearts. Through the silence of the night Lewey heard his sister’s joyful laugh as she clung eagerly to his shoulders, a laugh her had not heard in many, many years.
“Lewey,” shouted Emmy as they sped through town. “I don’t think I’ve left the house since Ma left us… Can you believe it?”
There was a momentary pause as Lewey ruminated over this sad fact, and then he simply replied with; “Yeah, I can.”
There was no interaction between the two of them –save Emmy’s occasional squeal of delight- until they reached the tavern.
As Lewey dismounted his horse and began tying her up, Emmy bounced around on her feet excitedly. Her simple dress flowed with the night-time breeze, and her long hair twirled around her. Lewey once again saw some of the beauty that he had forgotten still existed in her.
“Lewey, I’m so excited I don’t even know what to say!” exclaimed Emeline as she tugged at her brother’s sleeve with a wide and happy grin. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”
Lewey laughed lightly as he lead her towards the door. “Well, don’t say that until the night is over, I have a feeling it isn’t going to be as great as you think it will be.”
Emmy didn’t have a moment to respond before they were immersed in the laughter and shouting that filled the small area of the tavern. The smell of alcohol burned in their noses and the soft, sweet sound of Gregory’s violin added an elegance to the situation which would otherwise have been left out. Worried that his sister already hated the place, Lewey shot her a nervous glance, but was relieved to see that she was smiling instead. Her eyes gazed about the room as if she could not comprehend it all at once, and she eventually tugged on Lewey’s arm and whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”
Lewey smiled, waved her off, and lead her over to the corner in which Gregory sat on his stool. When the old man finally peered through his curtain of white hair, he greeted the two with a welcoming grin. “Well, hello, Lawrence,” he said as he looked at the young girl. “Who is this fine lady you have with you tonight?”
“She’s my sister, Emeline, but everyone calls her Emmy.”
Gregory smiled even wider and motioned for her to come closer to him, he took her hand in his and held her away from him. “Well, you are quite a gorgeous young girl, Emeline. How come I have not had the blessing to have had met you yet?”
Emmy blushed and shrugged her shoulders shyly, looking up at the old man with her head tilted toward the ground.
“Well, now, now, let’s not be shy!” Exclaimed Gregory as he brought her hand up high and twirled her around. She let out a small laugh but then resumed her shy gaze to the floor. “A pretty little girl like you is not allowed to be shy! How old are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m eleven,” muttered the young girl in a near whisper.
“Eleven, ah, yes, a fine age indeed,” at this Gregory looked momentarily up at Lewey and winked assuringly. “So tell, me Emeline, have you ever heard your brother play his violin before?”
Emmy shook her head as she looked up at her brother.
Gregory gasped dramatically and waved his hand to signal Lewey over. “Well, then, sweetie, looks like you’re going to have to now! And, I have a task for you, would you like a task?”
Emmy didn’t say anything but she leaned in closer to Gregory so as to hear what he was saying.
“Could you help me? I need you to get everyone dancing to the music your brother and I are going to create, alright? Do whatever you have to do, but if you could make others start dancing you would be my little hero!”
Emmy nodded with her little smile as she took several steps back. Lewey sat down next to Gregory and pulled his violin out of its case. “She likes you, I can tell already,” Lewey muttered softly enough so Emmy could not hear. “You’re good with her. You make her feel special. I like that.”
“Well, I like her,” Gregory assured him as he rosined up his bow. “She’s a delicate sweetheart and as shy as a tulip in the wee morning hours. How come I have never had the chance to meet her?”
Lewey shrugged. “Our parents don’t let her out much. She’s sickly, you see. They just wanna make sure that she doesn’t get more sick by leavin’ the house. Have you seen Elijah yet?”
Gregory shook his head as he hoisted his violin up to his chin. “Follow my lead, Lawrence.”
Lewey nodded in compliance and the two of them began to play. Gregory led with a simple melody, and Lewey chimed in with a spine chilling harmony. The sound of the two violins reverberated through the bar, ringing off the walls and through the ears of all the inhabitants of the tavern.
Emmy stood nearly ten feet in front of them, awkwardly gazing in awe without moving a single muscle. It wasn’t until Lewey peered up at her with eyes of confusion that she finally broke out of her trance and looked around her nervously, shooting her brother a glance as if to say; I don’t know if I can actually do this, Lewey.
Oh, you can. I know you can.
But, I can’ t. I know I’ve always wanted to be a dancer but I just can’t do it. I forgot how nerve-racking it is to be in front of other people.
Just let loose. Let go. That’s what I had to do when I performed my first concert. It’ll feel good once you get it over with, then you’ll realize how much fun it really is.
Emmy let out a shaky sigh and began spinning around the dance floor. She brought her hands above her head and poised her leg up high in the air, not particularly dancing to the beat of the music, but dancing just the same. It wasn’t the dancing of a professional or a star, but it was the sweet dancing of a young girl and this seemed to draw everyone’s attention.
“What a cute little girl,” a woman said to the man sitting next to her. “Look at her go. She makes me want to get up and dance as well!”
Lewey smiled as he saw other people begin standing up and coming to where Emmy was standing. Men and women came together and moved gracefully across the floor, and Emeline continued to simply weave in between them all as she twirled on one foot.
When the two of them stopped playing Emmy came rushing over to Lewey and wrapped her arms around his neck eagerly. “Lewey that was the most fun I’ve ever had in a long time you have no idea how much fun that was Lewey you don’t got no clue Lewey that was…”
Lewey pried his sister off and told her to take a deep breath. “You did amazing,” he stated simply with a praising smile. “Never have so many people came and danced to our music before. That was absolutely great.”
Emmy opened her mouth to respond when a voice from behind her spoke first. “Well, hey there Lewey, who is this fine young lady?”
Lewey looked up and sure enough standing there was Thomas Crawford, kneeling down to Emmy’s height and shaking her hand. “My name is Emmy,” she whimpered as her hand was engulfed by his. “I’m Lewey’s little sister.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Lewey’s little sister Emmy, how do you do?”
Emmy covered her mouth with a delicate hand of hers as she giggled. “I’m doing good.”
Thomas laughed and patted her on the shoulder. “Well, that’s good to hear, my darling.” He stood up and gazed down at Lewey. “How about you, Lawrence? How are you tonight?”
Lewey shrugged. “I’m doing pretty good, how about you? Got yourself a lady yet?”
Thomas let out a sad sigh as he ran his fingers through his blond hair. “Nah, not yet. Just haven’t found the right one yet, and I’m beginnin’ to think I never will! Arlington is too small of a city to find a woman of any likin’… But, none the less I am here, and I would fancy you play another song like the one you just did, I’m gonna ask this little lady right in front of me to a dance.” Thomas smiled down at Emmy who was blushing so red her face looked to be a million degrees. “Would you?”
Lewey picked up the violin and began to play with Gregory as his accomplice, and couldn’t help a happy smile as he saw his sister giggling to high heaven as Thomas twirled her around the dance floor. He had never seen her so happy in all his life. She suddenly didn’t seem so ill anymore.
It was halfway through the song that, through the corner of his eye, Lewey saw a dark figure enter the barn and slink away into a corner where no one would take notice of him. At first Lewey was confused, but when he realized it was simply Elijah his heart took a leap of joy. He finished the song as quickly as he could and rushed over to where his friend sat.
“Hey there, Elijah,” he greeted as he sat down next to him. “Did ya have any troubles gettin’ outa the place? Was your master all that mad?”
Elijah shrugged and looked at the ground with a sullen frown. “He didn’t really look all that mad, just more… I don’t know… Disappointed, I guess. I got this strange feelin’ that he knows what I’m up to every night. And I don’t think he hates it but more like he’s afraid of it… Like I’m gonna do somethin’ to ruin him. But, I’m here anyway. How long have ya been waitin’?”
“Not long. Here, I gotta introduce ya to my little sister! Emmy, get over here!”
Emmy came scuttling across the dance floor, his face still as red as a ripe tomato, and she slid to a stop in front of their table.
“Elijah, this is Emmy. Emmy, this is Elijah.” Lewey stated, watching awkwardly as the two of them shook hands briefly and murmured a nervous “hello”.
“So, Lewey says you are a slave, what is it like?” Emmy asked tentatively so as to break the awkward silence.
Lewey shot his sister a stern look but didn’t interrupt, partly because he didn’t want to turn it into a big deal and partly because there was a curiosity inside of him that burned to know the answer.
Elijah shrugged his gaunt shoulders and shifted his gaze to the ground. “It’s like bein’ a prisoner, I guess. You ain’t got no freedom and you ain’t got no rights.” Elijah looked around nervously after he said this and then bowed his head. “But I like it. It ain’t that bad. White people are my master and that is how it should be. That is what God intended it to be.”
Lewey furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “What are you talkin’ about, Elijah? You don’t think that. Why ya sayin’ that?”
Elijah simply looked Lewey back in the eye and stared at him like that for an awfully long time. Eventually Lawrence noticed a long and jagged cut on Elijah’s shoulder that hadn’t been there before. It looked at least a couple of days old, covered in crusted blood that was nearly black it was so dark, thin flakes of white and yellow oozing out of the sides. And, through the space underneath the thin cloth that was his shirt, Lewey realized that there were more yet. It took him a while to piece it all together, but when he finally did his mouth hug ajar and he began to shake his head as if it wish all of reality away.“W-When? Where?”
Elijah cleared his throat and leaned in a little closer so that Lewey could hear his mummer. “The last time I was in town with you. I had told you what I really thought o’ slavery… Some men had overheard and they…. Well, they… They didn’t like it.”
Lewey let out a low and shaky sigh and couldn’t help a second glance at the brutal marks on Elijah’s shoulder. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Elijah. I didn’t know people have gotten so violent ‘bout the whole thing… I won’t ever ask ya nothin’ ‘bout it ever again, I promise ya.”
Elijah forced a smile and shook his head. “Nah, it don’t matter. It’s just a little scratch, it really wasn’t that bad. I’ll get better. It’ll all get better, don’t ya worry.”
Lewey didn’t even know what to say, he just hung his head as though he had just issued his best friend to the gallows. It wasn’t until Emmy piped up and asked Elijah to dance that the silence was finally broken.
Elijah simply looked at the young girl as though she were insane, and then he looked back at Lewey with his eyebrow cocked. “The stupidness runs in the family, don’t it?”
“Hey, I ain’t stupid!” Emmy defended proudly. “I was just askin’ ya if ya wanted to dance is all! Ya don’t have to go gettin’ all mean!”
“He ain’t being mean,” Lewey cut in. “All he’s sayin’ is that it wouldn’t look right if he danced with you, seein’ as he’s a slave and all.”
“Well, I don’t get what that has to do with nothin’. He’s still just a boy, ain’t he?”
Lewey shrugged his shoulders. “Well, of course, but that don’t make no difference…”
“He’s a person just like the rest of us, ain’t he? Why can’t he dance with me?”
“People would look at me weird, and seein’ as bad as times are gettin’ now, they might not hold back them punches if they saw me dancin’ with a white girl.” Elijah smiled and nodded his head to Emmy to show to her that he had nothing against her, but then he simply bowed his head again. “It’s probably best if I just stay back here until we leave.”
There was a momentary silence, but it was quickly interrupted by Emmy reaching over and grabbing Elijah by the arm. “I don’t care what ya say, that rule you’re talkin’ about is crazy. Ain’t nobody gonna say you can’t dance with me just ‘cause you are a slave. That’s dumb.” She began pulling him out of his seat, he tried to fight, but he didn’t want to cause a scene by shoving her off. So, Elijah was forced to his feet and drug out onto the dance floor where Emmy made him dance with her to the sweet sound of Gregory’s music. Elijah shot Lewey a nervous look, a look of worry and fear, and for a moment Lewey shot it right back, but then he decided that no man or woman was going to go up to Emmy and pry from her dance partner, she was just too damn cute. So, he forced his frown into a smile and waved mockingly over at them.
Elijah was a horrendously clumsy dancer, shifting his feet at just the wrong time and missing all of the cues that Emmy was shooting at him. She twirled him around but he could not do the same to her, and Lewey couldn’t deny that people were beginning to shoot the two of them confused glares, but not a person approached them to tell them otherwise.
There was a part of Lewey that wanted to jump up and start dancing with everyone else, but the part of him that was still afraid of doing something wrong held him back. So, he simply stayed where he sat and watched as a majority of the people celebrated to the dancing that Emmy had brought back to the tavern for the night. He stared at his sister’s face for what seemed like an eternity, and even though Elijah was the lousiest dancer that could be, her face never lost that heartwarming smile. He had never seen her smile this much in his entire life, except maybe back in the years when their mother had been alive. But, even then her smile was usually abandoned to the fear that their father’s demanding scream tended to instill in their hearts. Now though, she had nothing to fear except death itself.
Eventually, Lewey saw something he never would have expected. On the stone cold and emotionless face of Elijah Gerald grew a faint but true smile. It creased across his face as though it were spreading like a sunrise over the horizon. It was an image that would be forever burned into Lewey’s memory like the picture of his mother, his sister and himself standing side by side while holding hands before the sunset. He felt a part of him that had been cold for so many years grow warm, as though he were reuniting with the part of him that could feel. He smiled along with Elijah for the rest of the song and continued to smile as they walked back to his table.
“You two are pretty good dancers.”
“Thanks, but your friend don’t really know how to dance all that good, no offense or nothin’.”
Instead of furrowing his brow in umbrage, he simply chuckled softly. “I haven’t danced a lick before in my life, though. So, I think for my first time I did pretty darn good, don’t you?”
Emmy smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose you weren’t all that bad. But, you still got some work to do. Maybe we could meet up every night that Lewey practices his violin and I could teach you! Whataya say ‘bout that Elijah?”
Elijah laughed again and shot a glance of humor over at Lewey who listened to his sister’s gleeful pleas patiently. Then he nodded his head in agreement. “That sure sounds nice. Maybe by the time I’m thirty I’ll be able to dance some.”
“Maybe!”
Suddenly there was a sudden pressure as a gentle hand rested on Lewey’s shoulder, and he turned his head to find Thomas smiling down at him. “Hey there, buddy. That little girl o’ yours sure can dance! I’d think she were a professional if I didn’t know better!”
Lewey smiled over at his sister who was beaming and bowing her head so low that her face was hidden by her long, brown hair. “I know she is. She’s gonna be a professional someday if I got any say in it. She’s too good to be cooped up in this little old town any longer.”
“Ya got that right. So hey, I was wonderin’ if you were busy at all tomorrow around two?” Thomas’ face held a smile of hopefulness and genuine care. “I was thinkin’ that the two of us could go fishing at the lake down the road a ways. Sunday fishing has been a tradition for me ever since my Pa took me when I was six. I’ve fished every Sunday since. But, he won’t be able to make it tomorrow ‘cause he ain’t been feelin’ too good, so I was wondering if you wanted to go instead? I don’t like fishing all by myself. It’s too quiet for me.”
At the invite Lewey’s heart began to race with eagerness and his face lit up in the happiest smile he’s had in years. But then it faded as he faced reality. “I don’t really get to do much durin’ the day. We got too much work around at our place.”
“Which place is yours? Do you have that big plantation down the road with all them slaves?” Thomas shot a momentary glance over at Elijah, but not one of contempt that so many people shot towards him, but one of noting and acknowledgment instead.
At first Lewey was going to say yes and lie to Thomas like he had lied to everyone else who had asked. He was going to tell him that Andrew Harkins was his uncle and that he took Elijah around with him to keep him company. But, Thomas was the kind of person that Lewey just couldn’t lie to. That angular yet round face that was the face of a boy who was just turning into a man held a genuine frown of not only curiosity but concern as well. It was a face that Lewey knew he could trust, and therefore a face that he could not lie to. “Nah, we live on the other side o’ town, out a ways. It ain’t no plantation, we don’t own no slaves. It’s just a little farm with the three of us; me, Emmy, and Pa.”
“Who’s your Pa?”
“Ephraim Rutherford.”
Thomas’ face froze where it was and the only emotion he had was suddenly only conveyed through his eyes. The emotion was sympathy. Pathetic and nearly insulting sympathy. Then, the emotion started to leak through and Thomas’ face softened into a sorrowful and concerned frown. “I didn’t know that guy had any kids.”
Lewey’s face grew hot with humility and he bowed his head. The only other person who knew what his father was really like was Elijah, but Elijah had never looked at him like that. His look had been a look of empathy and understanding. He didn’t look at him like he was an orphan with no brain and half a heart. “He don’t talk ‘bout us much.”
“Well, to be fair, that man don’t talk much at all. I think I’ve only seen him maybe five times in my life… He don’t say much to nobody, and most o’ what he says ain’t nothin’ that’d wanna be remembered.” Thomas’ eyes shifted down onto the ground for a short second and his cheeks flushed. “So, ya don’t think he’d let ya out just for a couple o’ hours?”
Lewey shook his head in dismay, never elevating his eyes to look at the young man. “He don’t even let us come here. We gotta sneak out when he ain’t lookin’.”
“Well, what if I go and talk to him? Explain to him that I’ll just be takin’ ya fishing and that I’ll have ya back before sundown?”
Lewey shook his head voraciously. “No. No he wouldn’t like that very much at all. I just don’t think it’ll work out. Sorry.”
“I’ll distract him,” Emmy chimed in hopefully. “I can play super sick or somethin’ and keep all o’ his attention off of ya. I promise ya he won’t even think o’ you for a couple of hours, or however long ya need.”
Lewey stared at his sister for a long time as he thought this over. He had serious doubts that it would. His father was bound to notice that his son wasn’t anywhere in the house doing chores or out in the garden.
“Well, there ya go! I knew there was somethin’ special ‘bout that girl,” Thomas replied with a happy smile. “Whataya say now, Lewey?”
Lawrence opened his mouth to reply but then closed it, still caught up in his worries about the fate that could be awaiting him would his father find out that he had run off to have fun. But, the idea of spending hours alone with Thomas, a man who was like the older brother he had always wanted, sparked too much joy in Lewey’s heart. “Sure, that sounds good then. Where do ya want me to meet ya?”
“Meet me right at the lake that’s to the north. You know the one I’m talkin’ ‘bout, right? Leech Lake?”
Lewey strained his brain to think of all the places he had been, but never did a lake come to mind. He shook his head slowly.
“Well, alright then… How ‘bout ya just meet me right outside o’ this here tavern? Then I’ll bring us both there. Ya got your own fishin’ equipment or do ya want me to bring some extra?”
“I’ve never been fishin’ before in my life,” Lewey confessed with an embarrassed frown.
Thomas just laughed and patted the young boy on the back. “Well, then, it’ll be even better! I ain’t ever gotten to teach somebody how to fish before; this’ll be a new experience for us both! I can’t wait to see your face when you catch your first. You’ll get a feeling inside o’ you of accomplishment and pride, or at least I did.” Thomas bobbed his head once and started to walk away. “I’ll see you here tomorrow at two! Don’t be late!”
Lawrence nodded and waved a goodbye, the butterflies in his stomach even more voracious than usual. He turned to his sister and gave her a warm smile. “Thanks, Emmy.”
Emmy shrugged and returned a small grin. “I don’t bother me at all. You deserve to have a day off. You’ve deserved it for 4 years.”
Lewey got up and walked over to her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t ya show me your dance moves? I haven’t danced since that wedding a million years ago!”
They started to walk out onto the dance floor when a strong hand grabbed him by the elbow and swung him around. Facing him was a tall, gaunt man dressed in tan trousers and white shirt with a navy blue vest over it. His hair was as dark as his eyes, pulled back behind his head in a long pony tail. He smiled down at Lawrence, a smile of greed and of hope. “Hello, are you Lawrence Rutherford? The ‘Violinist Boy’?”
Lewey shot his sister an apologetic frown as she went to go sit back down by Elijah, and then he nodded his head. “Yeah, what ‘bout it?”
“My name is Joseph Robins, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He grabbed one of Lawrence’s frail hands in his and shook it vigorously, that queer smile spreading even further across his face. “I am the soul conductor of the Germania Orchestra. I was wondering if you would at all be interested in joining us. We are a small group of talented men, and we have yet to gain much fame, but we have traveled across the east, and we are positive that our fame will continue to grow. I would be honored to have you be one of us.”
The offer hit Lewey like a wave of cold water. The wind was knocked out of him and he simply stared at the man in an awkward silence. “I… I don’t know. You mean… You mean we travel America?”
Joseph nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes, we do. We have been to Philadelphia, New York, Boston, you name it!”
Boston rang in Lewey’s ears like church bells. His heart began to pound hard. “Would I be able to bring someone with? Like, my sister?”
“Well, of course! Bring your whole family if you like!”
Lewey felt a smile of disbelief well up on his face and he thought he was going to cry. It was right when he was about to accept and rush to embrace Emmy in the hug that he had been waiting to give her for so long that a familiar voice behind him retorted; “And, you are you, Sir?”
Lewey turned around and found Gregory standing behind him with a solemn frown on his face. The dance floor had emptied, the music had stopped, and everyone seemed to go back to their lonely and empty drinking.
“I Joseph Robins, conductor of the Germania Orchestra,” the man replied back tentatively as he reached forward and shook Gregory’s hand. “And you?”
“I am Gregory Frasier, I used to be a famed violinist and now I take my time and teach young pupils like this lad right here,” Lewey felt a pat on his back, an artificial pat meant to convey emotion but not truly conveying anything. “He’s like a son to me. What are you two talking about?”
Lewey looked up at the old man behind him in awe, wondering if he really meant what he had said. Is he like a father to you, buddy? Does he act like a father to you? Think about it.
“I was asking him if he would be interested in being a part of my orchestra. You taught him well. My cousin, the bartender, told me about him. Says everyone stops and listens to him when he plays, says he plays like none other. And, I heard him when he was playing with you earlier,” Joseph beamed down at Lawrence. “You really are like none other.”
“Well, being a part of the Germania Orchestra is a big decision, Lewey,” Gregory commented as he leaned in toward his pupil. “Are you sure you’re ready to make such a commitment? I mean, you just started playing less than 3 months ago. Are you ready to leave the only place you have ever called home?”
Lewey looked up at his teacher in disbelief. Hadn’t he been the one tellin’ me that I could go wherever the hell I wanted to with the talent I got? Wasn’t he the one tellin’ me that I needed to start performin’ concerts so that I could get better known and that then we could travel? “Don’t ya want me to go?”
“Well, of course I do,” Gregory assured as he looked away. “But do you want to go? Are you ready for it?”
Lewey thought over this long and hard. Was he ready for it? He had never left Arlington before in his life and he was about to just up and leave to some of the biggest cities in the country. What would his Pa think? What if he got so angry that he came out searching for him and kept looking until he could find him and drag him back to the home that had become his living hell?
“Maybe let me think on it,” Lewey replied to Joseph after a couple of long seconds. “Just give me a day or two and I’ll let ya know then.”
Joseph shot Gregory a tired and angry look, and then nodded his head reluctantly. “Okay, lad, that sounds fine to me. I’ll be in town for the next three days, after that my offer expires. When you have made your decision go tell my cousin, that bartender over there, Vector, what you have decided and he will pass the word onto me. How does that sound?”
“That sounds mighty fine,” Lewey replied with an eager grin. He could see himself now sitting on the stage with 20 other men, playing a part in something great. He could see the big city before him, beckoning to him to be free and to be happy. To pursuit what he had never sought out before. It was calling to him to live.
Joseph nodded his head once in a salute goodbye, and he then he sauntered off to the bar where he talked to the dark haired man behind the counter and took a long sip from the cup before him. Lewey could see himself in 10 years, and he wanted to be like that. Tall and handsome and talented and charismatic and rich. Oh, how he wanted to be rich. He could buy his sister a nice house and hire the best nurses to take care of her and he could buy himself nice clothes so that he could no longer have to go around wearing his tattered off-white blouse and baggy pants. He realized that he had never wanted something so much before. Nothing except to have his mother back…. But he knew that that was out of the question.
Lewey turned to his teacher with an elated grin. “Can you believe it? He wants me to be a part o’ the orchestra! You were right, Gregory! I’m gonna be able to go to Boston and New York and everywhere in between!”
Gregory placed a hand on Lewey’s shoulder and looked down at him seriously. There was a glimmer of sadness somewhere deep in his gaze. Lewey wondered where it came from. “I just want you to think about it. Life in much different out there in the big world. It has the ability to change a man for the rest of his life. I want you to know exactly what you’re getting into before you do it.”
Lewey looked over to the table and saw his sister twirling around to the music inside of her head. She was as happy as he’d ever seen her. He wanted her to be like this always. “I’ll think on it. Don’t worry.”

~

It was dark inside of the house, a darkness that was nearly unnatural. Lewey put his hand right before himself and all that he could make out was the faint and discreet outline of it. He walked down the hallway and into the living room where he was expecting to encounter his father, but he was nowhere to be seen. His mother’s rocking chair rocked back and forth and back and forth, as though it was her ghost that was sitting in it and making it move.
Lewey walked slowly and tentatively towards the front door, taking care so as not to trip over anything that got in his way. The door was rimmed with a blinding sort of light, a light that was fighting and trying to break through into the dim and dank house but just didn’t have the strength to. Lewey grabbed the door handle and forced it open, using all of his might to do so. When he had opened it he revealed to himself a sunny and warm memory. Before him was himself as an eight year-old and his sister as a five year old. They sat in the grass across from each other, pulling bits and pieces out of the ground as they conversed. They didn’t look at each other as they spoke, but they spoke none the less. Lewey walked closer to them but still not a sound was audible. His ears were filled with nothing but the incessant buzzing of silence.
Suddenly the two children looked up from where they sat and started racing off into the distance. Lewey followed their gaze and found a tall, thin woman standing with her arms spread wide as he crouched down to the ground. The two children ran into her arms and he embraced them eagerly. Nuzzling her face in their hair she whispered things to them both, but once again the words did not come through to Lawrence. What he saw was all that was.
Then the woman’s gaze shifted upward, and her bright blue eyes found Lewey’s. She stared at him for a long time, never letting the children go as she did. Her gaze held a look that he had never seen them hold before. It was a look of hatred… The look that his father always gave him.
Then she stood up and pushed the children away, and they sat down on the ground and resumed their conversation. She sauntered over towards her son at a slow and easy pace, her tattered dress swaying in a breeze that Lawrence himself didn’t feel.
Suddenly she was only a foot in front of him and her face was as clear to him as daylight. It was beautiful, just as he remembered it being. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her icy blue eyes gazed relentlessly into his. Her face was taught and angular, with high cheek bones and pursed lips. Her figure was frail and small, and he towered above her.
He couldn’t help himself from reaching out a hand and touching her shoulder, just to see if she was the real thing. And, she was. His hand did not go through air, instead it landed on the soft cotton of her dress, and he could feel the bones of her shoulder beneath it. But, at the instant of his touch her face changed emotion, and her eyes were suddenly filled with sorrow and disbelief. Lewey jerked his hand back but it was already too late. The flesh of her face began to sink in and the fabric of her dress began to rot. Her skin turned into the dark blackness of ash and began to crumble right before his eyes. He reached out again to catch her collapsing body in his arms, but all that he caught was ashes. Before him lay nothing but the dust of his mother’s corpse.
Then there was a scream.
Finally breaking through the eerie atmosphere of silence, the scream carried on. Lewey’s head shot toward the direction it came from and his legs began to carry him there as fast as he could. He recognized the scream. It was a scream he had heard only once on a dark day in the midst of June when he was ten years old and his mother had left, but it was a scream he would never forget.
The light around him began to fade and his world dimmed. Clouds rolled into the skies and the sun was completely hidden, giving way to the unforgivable moon. It was then that he burst into an empty field to find his sister. She was strapped to a cross and the cross was upside down.
Lewey’s mind was boggled at what he saw. Her face was a red as dark as hell and her body was writhing in pain. She screamed and she screamed and she screamed and she screamed…
Lewey tried to run to her, but he couldn’t, his body wouldn’t allow it. He was stuck where he was, looking over at his younger sister, dumbstruck. He tried to call to her to tell her that it was going to be all right, but he couldn’t do that either. He couldn’t do anything.
Suddenly flames burst up around her, flames that reached to the sky.
She screamed and she screamed and she screamed…

Chapter 11
The dimming of the World

Lewey woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, sweating like a hog, and shaking. He sat up straight in his bed with his arms on either side of him, and no matter how many times he assured himself that nothing was wrong his body didn’t seem convinced.
There were heavy pounding footsteps coming down the hall and all of a sudden Lewey’s bedroom door was flung open. “What the hell’s goin’ on in here? What’s the matter?” demanded the familiar voice of his father.
Lewey let out a shaky sigh and rubbed his eyes with his fists. “N-Nothin’s wrong… I just had a bad dream is all. Sorry ‘bout that.”
His father stood in the doorway for a long couple o’ seconds, one hand on the door handle and the other scratching his head. “Maybe you need a cup o’ water. You sounded like you were dyin’ in here.”
Lewey shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine. I’ll go back to bed now.”
Rutherford nodded his head and shut the door slowly, his heavy footsteps diminishing as he walked back to his own room.
Lawrence fell back into his pillows and placed his arms above his head. He focused on his breath to calm himself down, taking deep and measured breaths while keeping his eyes closed.
What in the hell brought on that dream? You ain’t never had a dream like that before.
Lewey wiped away a tear and tried to keep himself from crying.
That was a damn scary dream. Just forget about it, though. It ain’t real. Everything’s all right.

~

“You sure you’re feelin’ alright?” Lawrence asked with a concerned frown as he rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt. “You really don’t look all that good.”
Emmy coughed lightly and brought the covers tight up under her chin. She forced a smile and nodded her head. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, Lewey, I told you I’m just messin’. I’m doin’ this for you, that’s all. So you can go and have a good time.”
“But then why do you look so pale?”
Emmy shifted her bloodshot eyes and shrugged her shoulder. “I probably just got a cold or somethin’. Don’t worry ‘bout me! I’m gonna be just fine, I promise ya! Now, why don’t ya get goin’, it’s nearly two and you’re supposed to be meetin’ that Thomas guy soon.”
A part of Lewey wanted to say “to hell with it” and stay home with his sickly younger sister, but he stronger side of him wanted to go and fish with Thomas, something he’d never been able to do before. So, he simply smiled down at Emmy, kissed her on her burning forehead, and headed out of the house, telling his father he was going to be out in the fields for a while.
He jumped onto Patriot and rode off into town, his heart pounding with joy and anticipation all the way.

~

“Glad ya could make it,” greeted Thomas with that wide smile of his as he slapped Lawrence on the back. “I was startin’ to get worried. What held ya up?”
Lewey opened his mouth to reply but then Thomas waved him off. “Never mind. I think I got an idea. Anyway, ya ready to go?”
Lewey nodded his head eagerly as he caught a glimpse of Thomas’ horse. It was white and large, shifting restlessly where it sat. “Should I just follow you?”
Thomas nodded and hopped on his horse. “Yes sir, just follow. It ain’t too far from here.
Patriot trailed behind Thomas’ horse as they sped off into the distance. The cold autumn air blew Lawrence’s hair back and underneath his shirt, causing his hair to stand on end. But, instead of forcing him to shiver it brought to him a smile. A smile of freedom.
Eventually they reached the lake and Thomas gave Lewey a fishing rod. It was long and slender with a small thread falling off of it with a hook on one end. Lawrence gazed at it as if he had never seen one before in his life, as though had just entered a new world.
“It’s a fishin’ rod, Lewey,” Thomas stated with a slight chuckle as he strung a worm on Lawrence’s hook. “I ain’t nothin’ to die over.”
Lewey shook himself from his trance and nodded his head. “I know, I was just lookin’ at it is all.”
And then they began to cast. It was an art that Lewey had trouble performing, but one that Thomas had seemingly mastered. While Lewey struggled to even make the line into the water, Thomas cast his out so far it seemed to go to the middle of the lake. Then he would reel it back in and do it all over, even more perfect the second time. Thomas caught a fish after the second minute and brought it wriggling up to shore. Its tail flapped from side to side as it began to die, and its wide eyes looked up at the two young men as though begging for mercy, but they would never give it. Thomas stuffed it in his bag and smiled down at Lewey. “Ya havin’ fun yet?”
Lewey nodded eagerly as he tried to make a cast as nice as Thomas’. He failed miserably. “I sure am. Ain’t never done nothin’ like this before.”
“Well, it gets more fun the more ya do it, don’t be discouraged ‘cause you ain’t perfect the first time around. This ain’t like playing the violin,” At this Thomas winked, looking away as he got another strong tug on his line.
Lawrence laughed as he watched Thomas stuff yet another fish into his bag. “I don’t mind that I ain’t perfect at it. It feels nice to do this. This lake is nice and the weather’s nice and everything ‘bout this is just perfect. I may have been pretty good at the violin to start with, but trust me, I ain’t used to bein’ perfect at everything, if ya know what I mean.”
“Well, nobody should be perfect at everything. That should be a sin if ya ask me. If there’s one person that’s perfect at everythin’ then what the hell would be left for the rest o’ us?”
Lewey didn’t really understand what Thomas was getting at, but he listened and nodded his head just the same. “I don’t really like them people that are perfect at everythin’. It seems to get to their head and they start to think o’ themselves as better than everyone else. They think they can’t be defeated or somethin’.”
Thomas remained silent for a long second as he stared over at the boy. “Sounds kina strange, comin’ from you and all. You are the nicest kid I ever met, but you can’t even deny that you’re as perfect at playin’ that violin as perfect can get.”
“But I didn’t ask to be perfect. And I ain’t good at nothin’ else. It’s the people that are good at everythin’, or think they’re good at everythin’ that got the big heads.”
“How do you know you ain’t good at nothin’ else.”
“Well, I sure as hell can’t fish… just found that out today. And, everythin’ else I either ain’t never tried or tried once and failed miserably. I ain’t a boy o’ many talents. That ain’t no secret.”
Thomas let out a sigh as he casted once more. “I know how ya feel. I ain’t a man of many talents either. Fishing is all I’ve really ever known. My pa never taught me nothing else, and he never really wanted me to learn nothing else either. He just wanted me to fish… I don’t really get it.”
“Well, that’s a hell o’ lot more than what my father wants me to do.”
“What does he want you to do?”
“All he wants is for me to clean and cook and do the chores so that he can just sit around and drink.” Immediately after he said this Lawrence’s face turned beat red and he looked absently off into the distance as he performed another talentless cast. What the hell are ya doin’, Lewey? Do ya wanna get yourself killed?! You hardly know this Thomas guy and you’re tellin’ him your whole life story! What if he goes off and tells Pa that you been speakin’ poorly o’ him? Then whataya think is gonna happen to ya?! You’re gonna get beaten to a pulp, that’s what. For all you know this guy is a no good rotten scumbag who’ll stab ya in the back for nothin’ more than a dime.
Thomas said nothing; he just simply stared over at Lawrence sadly, his line dangling helplessly from his rod. Lewey forced himself to look back at him, and he could not look away. Nah, this guy ain’t no rotten scumbag. He’s my friend. “Are you kiddin’ me?” Thomas asked quietly.
Lewey shook his head and looked away.
Thomas took in a deep breath and cast his line out again. “That’s… That’s awful, Lewey. That ain’t no way to grow up. What ‘bout your ma? Don’t she do none o’ the cleaning?”
Lewey felt an icicle form inside of his throat and he could no longer breathe. He hardly managed to reel his line in normally without turning away and running. His heart sank and he shook his head. “Nah, she’s dead.” You don’t know that. “She died when I was ten.”
Thomas grew silent once again. “Sorry to hear that. That’s… That’s terrible. I’m sorry, kid. At least, though, you sure are carvin’ a hell of a life out for yourself with the tragic hand that God dealt ya. Most people wouldn’t do that, ya know. Most people would just roll over and die. It takes determination and courage to just keep on goin’ when you been scammed like that. I’m proud o’ ya.”
At this Lewey looked over at his friend and refused to look away. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and he felt as though he were about to cry. Never had he been told that someone was proud of him for something that he had actually tried at. Sure, people claimed to be proud of him for playing the violin so well, but that wasn’t determination or courage, that was a gift. Living his life and pushing through it was determination. It was getting up every morning to the aching yells of his father and murmuring to himself; “you can do this, Lewey. You can do this. For Emmy.” Every morning. He thought no one would be proud of him for that except maybe God, but he was just proven wrong. “Really?” he asked of Thomas.
“Yeah, really,” Thomas replied with an encouraging smile. “Hell, even I woulda rolled over and died, and I don’t give up easy!”
Lewey blushed. “Ya get used to it after a while.”
There was a silence that seemed to last for an eternity between the two of them, but a silence that was not admonished. Both were immersed in the beauty of the humming lake and their own thoughts. Lewey hadn’t caught a single fish and Thomas seemed to be reeling them in by the dozen, but it didn’t bother either of them. They enjoyed it just the same.
“So, do you go to school then or does your pa make ya stay home?”
The silence was broken and so was the bliss. Lewey’s lips curved into a frown. “I just stay at home. I ain’t been to school a day in my life. When I was nine my Ma said she was gonna start to teach me to read and write no matter what my Pa said, but then he caught her doin’ it and she…. Well she never did it again.”
Once again Thomas didn’t reply, his rod stood still and his line hung limb and he stared over at the poor boy. Lewey refused to look and he continued to cast. Don’t you cry you pathetic wimp, don’t you dare shed a God damn tear. Do ya want Thomas to think you’re a baby girl? Man up and stop that cryin’! Lewey wiped his eyes as inconspicuously as he could, ignoring as Thomas set down his rod and approached him. He set a firm hand on Lewey’s shoulder and let out a sigh.
“I’m gonna teach ya, then.” Lewey looked up at Thomas and could see a glimmer of pity in Thomas’ eyes. He didn’t know if he liked that or not. “I’ll finish teachin’ ya what your Ma started, and if your Pa don’t like it he can come and complain to me about it. Ain’t no boy like you gonna grow up illiterate. I want ya to go on with your life.”
It had all hit Lawrence too fast and he was overcome with emotions that he could no longer hold back. He dropped the rod from his hands and swung around to embrace Thomas in his arms. He pressed his face against Thomas’ chest and cried for what felt like hours.
He hadn’t cried like that in years.
Suddenly it all started to come to him as if he had been suppressing the facts for his whole life. His mother was dead and his sister was dying. He had not life and he was never going to. Each of these points hit him like daggers and he found himself crying even harder. He didn’t know what it felt like to have someone care about him like this. He hardly even knew Thomas and yet he was willing to do something for him that no one else was willing to do. He was going to try and give him a life.
“Now, now, there ain’t no reason to cry,” Thomas assured as he patted Lewey on the back. “You’re gonna be just fine. And teachin’ ya to read and write, hell, that ain’t nothin to get all crazy ‘bout. There ain’t no reason to cry…”
Lewey sniffed and wiped his eyes, taking a large step away from Thomas and turning away. Way to go, buffoon. Now ya just ruined everythin’. Ya have had such a good hold on yourself for so long, why the hell did ya let yourself go just now!? Now Thomas ain’t never gonna wanna talk to ya again
“S-Sorry,” Lewey murmured in between shaky breaths. “It’s just… Well, nobody’s ever really done somethin’ like that… I mean, Gregory’s helpin’ me play the violin but I don’t really care ‘bout the violin or nothin’, it’s just somethin’ I do so that I won’t be thrown away again… But, reading… I’ve always wanted to read.”
“Well, then, we’ll start tomorrow,” Thomas said with a smile of satisfaction, patting Lewey on the back one last time and retrieving his fishing rod. “We’ll start small and soon you’ll be writin’ letters and readin’ novels. It won’t take long, I promise.”
Lewey wiped away the last straggling tears from his cheeks and forced a smile. He too grabbed his rod and continued casting for the fish he was never going to catch.

~


Lawrence approached the house with a victorious smile. His arms were swinging from side to side and his head was held up high. Even though he hadn’t caught a single fish he felt like the mightiest man in the world.
Lewey’s attitude changed, though, the moment he stepped through the front door. Something was wrong. He didn’t know how he knew, but he could feel it in the air like a poison that had come and taken from him everything. It was filled with a quiet much unlike that of the lake, a silence that filled his ears with screams and aches of death.
“Where the hell have you been?” The voice that asked this was solemn and low and Lewey could hardly believe it was coming from his father. He stood in the living room, his arm-hair standing on end and his brown eyes wide and afraid. “I thought you said you’d be out in them fields. I called your name and you didn’t come.”
Lewey froze where he was and he tried but failed to produce a sound. His words got stuck in his throat and went flying back to their source for cover. So, instead of answering he just stood there, his mouth opening and closing noiselessly.
His father sighed and shook his head, averting his eyes to the ground as he did so. What the hell is goin’ on? Pa never looks away like that. “Go and see Emmy. I… I don’t know what happened. She was fine one minute and the next…. Just, just go see her.”
It took a couple of seconds for everything to sink into Lewey’s head but he eventually made his way down the hallway and pushed open the door to her room. The room wasn’t as light as it usually seemed. It was dark and dank and reminded him much of his own. Through the dimness he saw a crumbled mass lying on the bed, and two stellar blue eyes staring aimlessly at the ceiling.
Lewey couldn’t move. Lewey couldn’t breath. Lewey couldn’t even think.

“You two are the most special thing in the whole world to me,” she said to them both, her bright eyes glistening in the evening light. She kissed them both on the forehead and held them close. It was only her embrace that could comfort them after their father went on one of his endless rampages. It was only her arms that could make them feel loved.
“I just want you both to know that I would do anything for you, okay?” her eyes glistened and there was another fuming shout coming from inside the house. A major bang. She winced. “And I want you to understand that this is just your father being angry. He doesn’t mean any of the things he says, okay? He’s just angry.”
“Then why does he say them all the time?”Emmy asked. Lewey looked over at her through his tear-streaked gaze and found that not an ounce of moisture poured from her eyes. Perhaps she was too young, for she was only six. But, maybe she was just too strong. “Don’t people mean the things they always say?”
Their mother didn’t know how to reply to this, so she answered it with another kiss to them both. “Just stay out here until he calms down. I’m gonna go talk to him, and I’ll be right back.”
Lewey grabbed her wrist before she could leave, and stared at her with his heart-broken frown. “Please don’t go in there, mama. Don’t do it. Please, just stay out here with us.”
She took in a deep and shaky breath as she shook her head. Her skin seemed so pale, her body so frail… “Don’t worry, Lawrence. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m just going to go and talk to him is all.”
Lewey wanted more than anything to grab her and never let her go, but he didn’t have to the will to fight. Instead he just stood there as he watched her walk away and enter the battleground, and then listened helplessly to the outraged screams.
“Lewey, I wanna go there,” Emmy mumbled to him as she pointed off into the purple and pink sunset.
“Where?”
“There. The sunset. I wanna walk off into and never come back. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Lewey rolled his eyes as he wiped away his tears and sunk down to the ground, resting his back against the large oak tree behind him. “Anythin’ would be nice compared to his place.”
Emmy fell to her feet and started to play with the green grass. “Why are you so sad, Lewey?”
A slight embarrassment and anger welled up inside of him and forced him to wipe at his face ferociously. “I ain’t said.”
“But you’re cryin’.”
Lewey shot his sister a mad glare and then looked away. “I’m just a little sad ‘cause I’m tired o’ this. O’ livin’ like this. I just wanna leave.”
“Into the sunset?”
Lewey groaned and nodded his head. “Sure, whatever. Into the sunset.”
“Lewey, why are you angry?”
“’cause I wanna leave.”
“Why do you wanna leave?”
“Why do you gotta ask so many damn questions?!” Lewey boomed.
Emmy shrunk away and bowed her head to the ground, shrugging her shoulders innocently as she did so. Lewey immediately felt guilty and scooted over toward her, wrapping his arm about her thin shoulders. “I wanna leave because I don’t wanna live here no more. I wanna go someplace where you don’t gotta be sick all the time and where you can dance all ya wanna. I wanna go to school and to church and not have to be afraid o’ Pa all the time. I wanna live a normal life is all. I ain’t angry; I’m just a little frustrated.”
Emmy nodded as though she understood but she wouldn’t look up at him. “I don’t like bein’ sick. And, I don’t like seein’ you cry. I wanna leave so that you don’t gotta cry no more.”
Lewey’s cheeks blushed. “I ain’t been cryin’ that much, Emmy. Why don’t you cry none at all?”
Emmy shrugged. “I guess I don’t find it all that sad. Like Ma said, it’ll all be just fine.”
“Ma don’t know for sure.”
“Ma knows everythin’. Like she said, she’ll do anythin’ for us, that means that we’ll always be fine as long as she’s around because she’ll always be there to take care o’ us!”
Lewey looked down at his sister for a long second, trying to figure out just exactly how her complicated mind worked. “How come you always seem so damn happy ‘bout everythin’?”
Emmy once again shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I just don’t see no sense in bein’ sad or mad ‘bout nothin’.”
Lewey laughed in absolute confusion and leaned back against the tree, staring off into the sunset and trying to unravel all of its mysteries. “I don’t know ‘bout ya, Emmy. You ain’t like none other girl I ever heard o’ before.”
Emmy laughed too and leaned on his shoulder. “Well you ain’t like none other boy I heard o’ before.”
There was a momentary silence and then came Emmy’s shy and quiet voice whispering; “I love ya, Lewey.”
Lewey took in a deep breath and smiled. “Yeah, I love ya too.”


He stared at her body for what felt like years, unable to face the truth. When the facts came running for him he started running away into the happy memories he had of her and the happy fantasies as well.
“Like I said, I don’t got a clue what happened,” it was his father’s solemn voice. It sounded sad, but Lewey couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. He didn’t know anything for sure anymore. “I just came in and… and this is what I found.”
Lewey felt like he should be crying, but he just couldn’t. His body was paralyzed in disbelief, and all he could do was stand there and shake his head in an argument with himself.
This is all your fault. You knew she didn’t look right and you still went with Thomas out fishin’ anyway. You knew Pa wouldn’t take care o’ her, and yet you left her. You are one sick bastard, Lewey. I sure hope you’re proud of yourself.
And with the first tear came his freedom. He trudged over to the bed and knelt beside it, hardly able to stomach the look of her stone cold face. Her skin was a snow-white and her eyes a pale blue. They were empty, though. All of those confusing and confounding mysteries that had always lain deep inside of her soul were now gone… forever.
He gently placed his fingers on top of hers, goose bumps breaking out all over his arms at the coldness of her skin. With his free hand he reached forward and brushed her long hair behind her ear, and then he closed her eyes.
“Maybe it was pneumonia…”
“Stop talking,” Lewey growled under his breath, cutting his father off. He knew he shouldn’t have talked back to his father, but at this point he didn’t care. “Just stop.”
He had expected his father to blow up and pull out the whip, but instead he had obliged. The deathly silence once again filled the room and Lewey was left alone with his guilt as his father walked away.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured after a while, tears running down his cheeks endlessly like a waterfall. “I’m so, so sorry. This is all my fault…. If I hadn’t gone, if I would have just stayed home like my God damn gut told me to then maybe… Maybe it’d be better...” Lewey took in a shaky breath and could say no more. He plunged his face into her thick mattress and let the sobs loose.

“What are you most afraid o’, Lewey?”
“I don’t really know.”
“Well, you must know! Ya gotta be afraid o’ somethin’!”
“What are you most afraid of?”
There was a momentary silence. “Probably getting’ attacked by a bear or somethin’. That’d be pretty scary.”
Lewey laughed. “That ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of! You’re fast, you could just run away and that bear’d never catch ya!”
“It don’t matter if it makes sense or not! Now, what are you afraid of, Lewey?”
Lewey thought long and hard. “Probably…”
“What?”
Lewey looked down at her and simply stared into her eyes for a long second. He felt like reaching out and taking her into a deep and long hug and never letting her go.
“C’mon Lewey, answer me!”
Lewey took in a deep breath and looked off into nothingness. “Bein’ left alone.”

Chapter 12
Darkness

The weight of the dirt felt heavier with every shovel full. His shoulder burned as though it had been set to flames, but he tried his best to ignore it. The bitter wind of late autumn tried to drag him down into the grave that he was digging, but he wouldn’t let it.
He could feel the weight of the guilt on his shoulders trying to push him down as well and the shameful whispers in his ear trying to make him give in. He had to use all of his will power to restrain from muttering “to hell with it” and fall into the endless hole.
He was slightly startled when he heard the raspy clearing of a throat behind him, but he didn’t show it. He continued to shovel more and more dirt out of the hole and ignored his father entirely.
“Um… Do ya want any help?” his low voice asked tentatively.
“No.”
He cleared his throat again. “Emmy… She’s, uh… She’s right here.”
Lewey wanted to turn around and slap his father right across the face. He wanted to beat him with the shovel and tell him that it was he who belonged in that grave instead. But, of course, he didn’t.
He wanted his father to leave him alone so that he could revel in his own self-hatred, but he never did. Lewey could feel his presence behind him the entire time he dug. And, when he finally got to the bottom of the hole his father stood next to him with his little girl in his arms. Lewey felt a deep need inside of himself to spit on his father’s face and tell him to put Emmy’s body down and never touch her again, but instead he just turned his head and looked away.
His father lowered her into the grave, placing her down with a gentleness that Lewey had never before seen. When Lawrence sneaked a glance over at the old man he realized a difference about him. His face was not distorted with anger and hatred, nor were his eyes filled with the lively flames of wrath, but instead they were filled with the murky waters of sorrow. Whataya know, your Pa even has a soul somewhere.
Lewey sniffed back his pain as he stared down at the small and helpless body of his too young sister. His entire life he had thought that she was one of the most helpless and hopeless people on earth, but now he knew better. She had been one of the strongest. She had fought through more than millions of other people would have, and she had done it just for him.
“I’m sorry,” his father murmured. Lewey looked to him in surprise only to find that he was talking to someone other than Lewey. Whether it was to God or to Emmy he did not know, but it was the first time he had ever heard his father utter those words in absolute sincerity. “I should have been there, but I wasn’t. It’s all my fault, it really is.”
A part of Lewey wanted to say “damn straight” and stalk off, but the softer side of him wanted to embrace his father in a long hug and forgive all that he had ever done wrong. He was seeing a side of his father that he had never come to know, a side of him that seemed to have a soul. That must have been the side Ma fell in love with.
“Do ya got anythin’ to say, boy?”
Lewey looked up at his father and realized that tears were pouring out of his eyes. They streamed down his face like of rays of sunshine, washing away the grueling façade that he lived behind and revealing the inner him. It made Lewey just about burst into sobs as well. “Nah,” Lewey turned away. “I can’t say nothin’.”
“Well, alright then. Give me that there shovel.”
“Don’t worry, I got it.”
“Nah, give it here,” his father’s voice was demanding but not scolding, it was simply filled with concern. “You dug it, now I can fill it.”
Lewey grudgingly handed him the shovel and watched as he started to fill the hole. He made it seem like the most laborious project that could be, but Lawrence knew he didn’t mean to. His back caused him problems and several times he had to stop and take a deep breath, but he kept on none the less.
The dirt had hit his sister’s body like boulders, and Lewey thought he could hear the crack of her bones as the rocks broke them. Her hair was flattened and soon she was gone, hidden in the deep confines of the earth.
“I should have been here,” Lewey muttered on his breath, thinking that his father couldn’t hear.
His father stuck the shovel in the ground as he wiped the dirt off his hands. He gave the finished grave one last glance and started walking to the house, patting Lewey gently on the shoulder. “It ain’t your fault, boy. Trust me.”
At this Lewey did start to cry. He waited until he heard the slamming of the front door shut and he crumpled to his knees next to the grave and burst into tears. He laid his head on the soft dirt before him, muttering words of prayers to God and to his sister.
“I should have been there,” he bellowed. “Emmy… I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t been tryin’ to have this life o’ mine none o’ this woulda ever happened! T-This is all my fault.”
He sat next to that grave for the rest of the day and part of the night, wallowing in self pity and degrading himself. Sometimes he cried, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he just sat there and stared off into the sky, thinking of absolutely nothing.
When he finally got up the sky was as black as could be without the light of the moon. He had turned away slowly, forcing upon him every step. “You deserve to be alone, Lewey,” he grumbled. “That’s what you’ve always deserved.”

~

Dear Vector,
I am sorry I have to leave you through note, but it seems I have no other option. Chicago is calling me and you have left for the day to God knows where. I just want you to know that I will not be taking with me the “Violinist Boy”, as so many call him. I offered him the wonderful opportunity to be a part of my orchestra, and it seems as though he had rejected my offer without even telling me straight forward a yes or a no. I told him to contact you with his decision, and seeing as you never contacted me I am to assume that he never gave you any word. So, I wish to thank you for your concern, but it seems our orchestra does not need this boy anyway.
Sincerely,
You cousin, Joseph


~

Elijah Gerald’s Journal

November 20th, 1851
I’m worried. I haven’t seen Lewey in over two weeks now, and I sure am worried that something bad happened to him. It’s unusual for him never to come to town like this. I even asked Gregory if he’s seen him anywhere, but he hasn’t either. Gregory seemed just as worried as me. He was all fidgety as asking if I heard anything from anyone about Lewey, but I told him I haven’t. I would go straight to Lewey’s house and ask what is going on, but from what I hear about his father that sure wouldn’t be a good idea on my part. I even ran into Mary the other day and asked her what had become of Lewey; she didn’t seem to really have any idea though. She just kind of raised her head and shrugged her shoulders, telling me that it ain’t her job to keep track of him or something.
I sure hope Lewey’s alright. I don’t know what I’d do without him now.

~

Lewey stayed at his house for the next several weeks, unable to even think about going out again. When he had caught the faintest glimpse of his violin under his bed he had kicked it with all of his might, sending it flying to the wall with a hard thud. His father had stormed into the room asking what the hell had happened, and Lewey just answered that he had dropped something under his bed and had to lift it up in order to get it, dropping it afterwards. Then his father had just given him a frown and walked away.
The grueling façade that his father had always lived behind was back up again, and Lewey was soon again a slave under his father’s tyranny. Though he never asked where Lewey had been the day of Emmy’s death, his father continued to force Lawrence into the work that constituted for most of his childhood. His life was back into the roll it had been in forever, the only difference being an emptiness and newfound darkness that emanated throughout the dreary house.
Lewey felt a hole in his heart, and it seemed that every day it grew wider and wider. Every second it felt as though tears were just below his eyes, and that the tiniest thing would send him into an endless tumult of roaring sobs. And yet, when he wanted to cry, when he wanted to let all of his pain out, he just couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. He was like a zombie. A tall, skinny, dumb and poor zombie with nothing better to do than to take care of animals and work in the fields.
Though he didn’t know it he missed Elijah, Gregory, and all of the other people he had come to know in his forbidden escapades into town. He missed that feeling of exhilarating rebellion that rushed through his veins when he rode Patriot into Arlington with his head held high. He missed the feeling of freedom, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it anymore. He had been that close. That close to knowing what it felt like to be free forever. If Emmy had never died he would have accepted the offer to be a part of the Germanium Orchestra and he would have left Arlington forever and never looked back.
But, now everything was changed and perhaps for the better. He was never meant to be free, or to play the violin. It wasn’t something that was for him to decide.
You didn’t think ‘bout anyone else, did ya? All ya thought ‘bout was yourself. You didn’t think ‘bout how you were affectin’ Emmy or Pa or anyone. You only thought o’ Lewey. That’s why Emmy died. It all ‘cause o’ you.
Lawrence spent a majority of his time crying, and the rest of his time working. It was weeks before he saw another soul other than his father. He was beginning to think that everyone else had died. Or, that everything he had come to know had only been a dream.
Then, one early morning as Lewey was working out in the stables, he heard a soft rasp on the wall. He spun around and found a tall, blond, young man standing at the door of the stable. He smiled down at Lewey in a strange way. It was a smile of concern and of worry. A smile that chilled Lewey to the bone.
“H-Hey there, Thomas,” Lewey choked out, unable to calm his nerves. “What are you doin’ here? Y-You can’t be here. If my Pa finds ya out here there’ll be hell to pay…”
“Don’t worry,” Thomas assured him with a wave of his hand, taking a slow step into the barn. “You’re pa won’t find me, and even if he does I won’t let him do nothin’ ‘bout it. Now tell me, Lewey, what’s the matter? You were supposed to meet me a while back so I could teach ya how to read, what happened?”
Lawrence gulped back his emotions and looked to the ground, praying that he wouldn’t shed a tear. “There were just… Problems. I couldn’t go in. Sorry.”
Thomas furrowed his brow and the two of them stood in silence for a long time. “What kind of problems?”
Lewey dared a look up at his friends, and dropped his gaze once more. Don’t tell him, Lewey. He don’t need to be worryin’ ‘bout you, he’s got other things to be worryin’ ‘bout. He’d be better without you in his life, just let it be that way. “Nothin’. Everything’s fine now. I just couldn’t go into town was all.”
“Was it your pa?”
Lewey let out a shaky sigh and shook his head. “Nah, it wasn’t him… It was me. It was all me.”
Once again there was silence. Thomas slowly tread across the barn and placed his hand gently on Lewey’s shoulder, leaning down so that the two of them were at eye level with each other. “Lewey, for the love of God, tell me what happened. I ain’t gonna judge ya, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just wanna know what went wrong so that I can help ya move on.”
Lewey opened his mouth to answer, but after a long moment of uncertain silence he closed it again and shook his head. “I… I don’t wanna think about it.”
“You’re gonna have to think ‘bout it sometime.”
Lewey turned his gaze up to the tall blond boy and gulped down his worries. “It… It was Emmy. She… She… She…” He tried to choke the rest out but he was simply incapable of doing so. Tears began to roll down his cheeks like streams, and his chest began to heave with his sorrow.
Thomas seemed to have gotten the idea and he quickly wrapped Lewey in his arms, curling him into a tight embrace. There was nothing to be said, and there was nothing to be done, the two of them simply stood there like that for a long couple of minutes as Lewey cried and cried.
Lewey just didn’t want to even think about the horrific incident anymore, and Thomas seemed to be able to realize that. He let go of the boy and took a step back. “Still wanna learn how to read?”
Lewey shrugged his shoulders and wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “I don’t really care much no more. I don’t really care much ‘bout anythin’ anymore.”
Thomas let out a deep breath and placed his hand on Lewey’s shoulder. “I know what you’re goin’ through is hard, but you can’t just give up everythin’ and forget about everyone ‘cause o’ it. Now, I ain’t tellin’ ya to go forgettin’ ‘bout her or nothin’, all I’m tellin’ you is you gotta just let it go. You gotta keep on livin’, Lewey.”
Let it go? How could he ever let it go? He had caused it. He had caused all of it. It was because of him that his helpless little sister lay in the ground of their back yard, covered in nothing but the bed sheet she died it. It was because of him that he was now left with no other family than his good-for-nothing father. It was because of him that he was going to grow to be nothing more than the drunken brute he had come to know. “I can’t let it go,” he muttered.
“You know, I had a brother once. Did I ever tell ya that?”
Lewey shook his head.
“Oh. Well, his name was Joseph. He was a year older than me, and he was my idol. I basically worshiped the very ground he walked on. Every girl was in love with him, every boy was his best friend, and I envied everything about him. One day when I was twelve and he was thirteen there was an accident down at the lake. It was the middle of January, you see, and a big group of us had gone down by the lake to play in the snow. We hadn’t really intended on going out on the lake, but Joseph was a dare devil and he had bet everyone that he could slide the furthest out on the ice with a running start. So, the bet was made and the contestants lined up… Joseph, of course, made it the furthest. He made it probably twenty or thirty feet out there… We were all cheering, throwin’ our hands up and screamin’ and everythin’. I remember thinkin’ how much I loved that boy and how much I wanted to be him when I was older. Then he stood up and he started to walk back towards us. And, outa nowhere he just fell. Into the ice he fell. One moment we saw him and the next moment he was gone. Kinda like magic.” Thomas took in a deep breath and averted his eyes from Lewey. He wasn’t crying, but Lewey could tell it was taking all he had in him to keep himself from doing so. “Everyone just kinda fell silent for a long while, and then all the panic set in. People started runnin’ out towards the lake but no one wanted to walk on the ice because no one wanted to fall in too. But, seein’ as I was his brother and all I wasn’t just gonna stand around and let him die, so I went runnin’ out there. I dove into the water and pulled him out, drug him to shore, and laid him in the snow… I remember sittin’ there and lookin’ at him and waitin’ for him to be alright. It was the longest wait o’ my life. But, eventually he coughed a bit and opened his eyes and he was alright. Everythin’ seemed to be fine.”
Lewey looked at Thomas for a long second, his brow furrowed and his mouth agape. “I don’t get it… How does this…”
“Just let me finish,” Thomas interrupted. “Joseph was fine at the time. He was kinda able to stand up and we brought him home and ma took good care of him and I thought everything was gonna be fine. But, then somethin’ awful happened. Joseph caught pneumonia, and he caught it real bad. We had three different doctors come on over and take a look at him, but none of them could help any more than the last. Eventually Joseph died, and every day afterwards I blamed myself for his death because I thought I could have done somethin’ differently. I thought I could have run in sooner or kept him from goin’ out on the ice all together. But, the truth is that it really ain’t all my fault. Fate had it that Joseph went out on that ice and fell through, and fate had it that I didn’t go runnin’ out there right away. I can hate myself all I want, but hatin’ myself ain’t gonna change nothin’, it’s just gonna make my life harder than it really needs to be. Do you see where I’m goin’ with this, Lewey?”
Lewey nodded reluctantly but refused to look Thomas in the eye. He doesn’t know that it really is all your fault, though. He doesn’t know that she died because you went out fishin’ with him instead o’ stayin’ around the house takin’ care o’ her. What would he say if he found out the truth, Lawrence? Think he would hate ya forever for bein’ such a selfish bastard? Think he would never wanna spend time with ya again? Well, I think you’re right.
“Well, alright then,” Thomas concluded with gentle pat on Lewey’s back. “Why don’t ya meet me tomorrow night at the tavern if you’re feelin’ better? I’ll start teachin’ ya how to read, okay?”
Lewey replied with the same vacant nod. All he wanted at that moment wasn’t to learn how to read or to have Thomas comfort him, or even to have Emmy with him again. All he wanted was to escape all of the pain and all of the stress; even if it meant death… He just wanted to get out.
Thomas seemed to see right through Lewey, and he simply stared down at the boy with his blue eyes full of worry and pity. That pathetic pity. “Well, alright then,” he repeated and turned to the door of the barn. “I’ll see ya tomorrow night, hopefully.”
Lewey said nothing; he just turned his head and gazed in despair at the straw beneath his feet.
Thomas started toward the door, but before stepping out into the morning he stopped, his hand on the wall. “You got yourself a gift Lewey. And I ain’t just talkin’ ‘bout the violin playing, I’m talking about everything. You got this sort of courage and determination that many people don’t have. Don’t waste it.” And at that Thomas left, leaving Lewey alone in a dank barn with nothing to keep him company except his nauseating conscience.

~

Arlington seemed quieter that late November evening than it ever had before. The streets were empty and the windows dark. The rhythmic clack of Patriot’s hooves on the pavement reverberated through the brisk air and echoed through Lewey’s ears endlessly. He was no longer filled with that exciting adrenaline that had raced through his veins every time he ran off like he had. He no longer felt that love of rebellion that filled his soul every time he traveled the town like a lone ranger. Now all he felt was alone.
The tavern looked smaller and darker than it had always seemed before. The dim candlelight from within barely shined through the windows, and the vociferous cheering of men seemed more chaotic than it did melodious.
Why are you even doing this? He thought as he tied Patriot up to a nearby post. You don’t got anythin’ to prove. Who cares what Thomas thinks o’ ya anyway? You can just disappear into nothing again as you were before and everyone will forget about the pathetic little violinist boy…
“It’s you!” a high voice shrieked behind him.
Lewey spun around in his spot and found himself facing a beautiful blond girl who beamed at him with her dazzling smile. “M-Mary?”
“Of course it’s me, you silly boy!” She exclaimed as she ran towards him and wrapped her arms around his tall and gaunt frame, burying her face into his shoulder. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in the longest time!”
Her soft, curly hair sat tenderly next to his cheek, and the smell of her perfume was intoxicating. “Y-Yeah… It’s been a couple o’ weeks. I had… uh… things to take care o’… at home.”
“Well I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Mary turned her head and pierced Lewey with her bright, icy eyes. “I’ve come here every night waiting for you to show up! I waited after church for you too! Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?!”
Lewey furrowed his brow. “I thought you didn’t really care…”
“Well, of course I cared, silly!” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Why wouldn’t I?”
The kiss sent no chills down his spine. His skin did not prickle with goose bumps… His heart did not skip a beat. It meant nothing. “… I don’t know. It was just a thought, I guess.”
“Well, you thought wrong, then, you silly, silly boy,” Mary teased with that cute giggle of hers. She ran her fingers though his greasy hair and smiled at him. “Now, would you like to accompany me and my friends to the river? It’s the place we like to go in order to just… talk.”
Lewey didn’t want to believe what he knew was true, but he couldn’t fight it any longer. “You know you don’t like me at all,” he stated bluntly, his face stone cold and unforgiving. “You haven’t had the slightest interest in me from the start.”
Mary’s smile faded and she took a tentative step back. “What on earth are you talking about, Lawrence?”
Lewey laughed in spite of the situation and shook his head. Emmy was right. You never should have fallen for this good-for-nothin’ girl. “You’re usin’ me, and you think that I’m so damn stupid I don’t even see it. You only started bein’ nice to me after I got a name for myself in this town as the ‘violinist boy’. Before that you wouldn’t even hardly look at me and then all o’ a sudden you kiss me and show me off to your friends so that they’re jealous o’ you. You think I don’t know nothin’, but I ain’t as dumb as you think.” Lewey’s hands were clenched into tight fists and his jaw was locked. An anger was racing through him… An anger he had never really felt before.
Mary suddenly started to laugh and drew herself closer to Lewey, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Oh, Lawrence, you have this all wrong! You think I started to like you only when you became known, but that’s completely wrong. I started to like you once I got to know you.” She rubbed her hands up and down his arms. The chills began. “I felt bad about how rude I was to you, I really did. So, I decided to give you a chance. And, Lewey, believe me when I say it was the smartest decision I have ever made!” Her fingers wandered to his back. The goose bumps emerged all across his body. “You just won’t accept that I actually like you for you because you don’t like you for you. You’re just unwilling to accept the truth, Lawrence.” She pressed her body against his and looked up at him with those bright, blue eyes. His heart skipped a beat. “And the truth is that I want to be with you.”
His fists unclenched and his hands found their way to Mary’s waist where they wrapped around and held her close to him. Maybe she’s right, Lewey. Maybe you just won’t except yourself so you think she won’t either. Maybe you really are just in denial. But, either way right now you got a beautiful girl pressed up against her and you’re worried about whether or not she really likes you. I think you got better things to worry about… “R-Really?”
Mary smiled. “Really really.”
Lewey forgot it all. All of his worries and stress and anger seemed to dissipate at that very moment and all that he was concerned about was her and himself; just two people standing alone in an empty street wrapped in each other’s arms. “I-I want to be with you too…”
“Then what on earth are you worried about?”
Lewey lost track of words and simply stared down at her blankly, his vacant stare one of awe and wonder.
“Y-Your parents… They wouldn’t… They wouldn’t a-approve of… of me.”
Mary snorted and waved her hand. “I don’t care what my parents do and do not approve of. They don’t even really care about me all that much. I tell them I’m going out at night to be with my friends and they don’t even mind at all. They don’t even consider that I may be lying. They just don’t care. And, besides, I honestly don’t think they’d have that much of a problem with me being with the ‘violinist boy’.”
Lewey blushed and tuned his head. She was too pretty. She was too charming… It was all too good to be real.
Mary twined her fingers in his hair and turned his head so he was facing her directly. “Will you please come to the river with us?”
Lewey opened his mouth to explain how he already had previous engagement, but her tantalizing gaze rendered him speechless. He simply gaped down at her emptily.
“Please, Lawrence?”
The feel of her body against his was nearly unbearable. The soft stroke of her hair against his cheek was tormenting… He could nearly feel the sweet suppleness of her lips against his once again… “I… I can’t… I already told someone…”
“C’mon, Lawrence,” Mary pleaded. “I haven’t gotten to see you in so long. Whoever you are meeting tonight can wait, can’t they? Just one night, Lawrence. Please?”
Why not, Lewey? Thomas can wait. Besides, all he was gonna do was teach ya how to read anyways. You can learn that any day. It ain’t every day you get to spend a night with a girl like this… Lewey hesitated and let out a deep breath. “Well… I suppose… But I can’t stay too long. I gotta be home before too long.”
Mary smirked and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him down the street and away from the Tavern.

~

“It’s all actually true,” Caroline mumbled as she took another swig from the jug of whiskey. “I.. I just can’t believe it. I thought you didn’t like him at all…”
Mary shook her head drunkenly and beckoned for Caroline to pass the jug down. “Nah, that wasn’t nothin’. I was just being all mean like because I didn’t know him. But, I kinda like him a lot.” She raised her hand and brushed her fingers across Lewey’s cheek before also taking another swig from the jug.
“This is all so unlady-like,” murmured Cynthia as she fell on her back and stared up at the stars. “Ladies don’t drink no whiskey, do they?”
Mary giggled and shook her head, her blond curls swaying back and forth wildly. “It ain’t lady-like at all, but who’s gonna tell us otherwise? We can do whatever the hell we want! Can’t we, Lewey?”
Lewey swayed in his spot and nodded his head blankly. “You bet we can. Parents can go to hell. I’m tired of ‘em. All of ‘em.”
“Amen!” Shouted Mary as she clumsily leaned over and kissed Lewey on the cheek. “Who woulda known that the Violinist Boy could be so damn smart?”
“What if they find out, though?” inquired Caroline. “You know… That we ain’t at your house and you ain’t at our house?”
Mary waved her hand and shook her head. “They ain’t gonna find out nothin’. They’re oblivious and don’t give a damn anyway. So, to hell with them!” She raised the jug of whiskey and took another long drink, scrunching up her nose and closing her eyes tightly after doing so.
“Our parents care,” grumbled Cynthia who sat up and reached for the jug. “If they find out that we’re drinkin’ whiskey even though we ain’t supposed to do so they’ll kill us. They think we don’t never do nothin’ wrong…”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with this. People drink all the time,” assured Lewey. He had never really been drunk before. His world was spinning slightly, but his mind was clear and he was able to forget about everything. For the first time in a long time he was absolutely positive that everything was completely alright.
“Exactly,” confirmed Mary who then laid back and stared up at the glistening stars. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with it.”
Lewey felt a sudden rush of self-confidence and decided that he was going to kiss Mary right then and there. He leaned over her, placing his hands on the soft earth on either side of her head and leaned down close. Her lips were soft and her breath stung his nostrils with the pungent aroma of whiskey, but the kiss wasn’t as he had hoped it would be.
Mary raised a hand and pressed it against his shoulder, pushing him back to where he had been sitting before. “Wasn’t Henry supposed to be comin’?” she asked of her friends.
Caroline nodded her head clumsily. “Yeah… He said he was gonna come meet us here, didn’t he?”
“Why do you care?” inquired Cynthia who crawled over towards Mary on her hands and knees and poked a finger right in her face. “You’re supposed to be in love with him!” And the finger was turned from Mary to Lewey.
Mary seemed taken back for a short second but then waved her hand again. “Well, yeah, of course I do. I just haven’t seen Henry in a while is all. He’s a friend o’ mine. Ain’t I allowed to have friends, Cynthia?!”
Cynthia rolled her eyes and then fell over onto her back. “Suuuure. He’s a friend.” She let out a soft giggle and turned to look at her twin. “Hear that, Caroline? He’s a friend!”
Caroline snorted. “Yeah. He’s just a friend. That’s most certainly not a lie, right, Mary?”
Mary laughed and nodded her head. “It ain’t a lie, guys! I told ya, I love Lawrence here.”
Lewey looked down at Mary cynically, his delusion of optimism suddenly disappearing and giving way to dreary pessimism. “I knew it,” he grumbled, his hands balling up into fists. “I knew it was a lie. Why the hell am I here, anyway? So that Henry could see me and you could make him jealous and tell him that you’re in love with the Violinist Boy?”
That same taken back look overcame Mary’s beautiful face and she began to shake her head. “No, no, no, Lawrence, that ain’t right at all.” She pulled herself up into a sitting position and looked him right in the eye. “Henry is just a friend o’ mine is all, I swear!” she reached forward and placed her hand on his cheek. “He’s like a brother to me is all. I don’t got feelings like that for him or nothin’. You don’t need to worry, I promise!”
Lewey slapped her hand away and stood up, stumbling as he did so. “You’re a filthy b****,” he snapped, looking at all three of the girls as he did so. “You think I’m dumb just ‘cause I don’t go to school and I don’t know how to read and write, but I ain’t stupid, I tell ya! I’m just as smart as you are, I can do a hell o’ lot more than you can too! You think you can just manipulate me however you want just so you can tell people you’re dating the Violinist Boy or whatever, but you can’t! I’m a God damn person too!”
Mary opened her mouth to say something but Lewey had already spun around in his spot and started to storm off, his feet heavy and his stride off balance.
“Lewey, wait!” Mary shouted as she too stood up and started racing after him. He felt the sweet sensation of her delicate fingers on his arm, and without even thinking he turned around and slapped her hard across the face, sending her fragile frame flying to the ground.
He heard the sad sound of her traumatized sobs and he knew that he should have knelt down and made sure she was alright, but he just didn’t care anymore. He grabbed his head with his hands, wondering what in the hell he had done and he turned and started to run for town, praying to God this had all been a dream.
You know what, Lewey? You know what? You’re just like your good-for nothing drunken father.
He began to cry as he ran and shook his head consistently, unable to believe the truth.
You’re just like him.

~

He remembered the day like it was yesterday. How could he forget? It was the first time it had happened, and it was the start of everything awful that was to follow.
The sun had been bright and warm, making the summer day perfect. Lewey had been just a young boy and Emmy an infant. His mother was outside working in the garden and Lewey himself was playing out in the stables. He had been searching the yard and fields for his father, but he was nowhere to be found. Lewey asked his mother where he was but she didn’t know either.
“It’s okay, though,” she told him with that reassuring smile of hers. “You’re father’s a smart man. He’ll be back soon enough. I’m sure that whatever he had to leave to go do it was something important.”
Lewey had accepted it and ran off to the stables. But, after a long while he began to wonder again to ran back to his mother.
“Ma, where’s pa?”
This time his mother’s eyes held a hint of worry and she looked over Lewey’s head off into the distance. “Don’t worry, Lawrence. He’ll be fine.”
“I just wanna know where he is, Ma…”
Then suddenly there was the slamming of a door and the booming sound of heavy footsteps. Both Lewey and his mother jumped at the sight of his father who was charging towards them in a determined pace. His hair stood up in a mess and in his right hand he held a half empty bottle of whiskey.
“Ephraim, what’s going on?” Lewey’s mother asked as she stood up from where she knelt in the garden. “Why are you…? It’s only morning!”
His father dug into his pocket and pulled out a small sheet of paper and waved it in her face. “This is what’s wrong,” he snapped, throwing it at her in disgust. “Read it and you tell me exactly what the hell’s the matter.”
His mother began to shake and she leaned over to retrieve the piece of paper. She read it with a stone cold face, her eyes never losing the look of confused worry. “I don’t understand… It’s just our bill for the mortgage payment… What’s wrong with it?”
His father’s face flushed red with rage and he snatched the paper from his mother’s hands and waved it in the air again. “We don’t have no God damn money to pay for our mortgage, that’s the matter! Where the hell did it all go?!”
His mother’s brow furrowed and Lewey saw for the first time what he had never seen before but would see so many times after that. It was a look of absolute terror. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about… The only money I spent was on food and on clothes for the children… I didn’t buy anything else…”
“You bought them clothes?!” Ephraim demanded angrily.
His mother nodded tentatively, leaning away from the drunken man. “I told you about that, Ephraim. Remember?”
He let out a groan and shook his head. “You little b****,” he growled, glaring at her with his fiery eyes. “You think you can just go behind my back like that and spend all that money on clothes?! Why the hell do they need clothes anyway!? Ain’t they got enough?!”
His mother began to shake even more. “Ephraim, what is going on? I told you I was going to buy them new clothes. Their old ones were rags! We’ll get the money, if that’s what you’re worried about. J-Just calm down.”
That was when he slapped her. Right across the face, sending her flying to the ground. “You spend all my money and then tell me to calm down?! Who the hell do you think you are?!”
That was when Lewey went running off. He ran as fast as he could and didn’t even care where he was going. He disappeared into the stables and hid by his horse, Patriot. He hugged his knees up to his chin and rocked himself back and forth, allowing the tears to stream freely from his eyes.
His father had never done something like that before. He had never hurt his mother.
That was one of the days that Lewey’s life changed forever.

Chapter 13
The pitiful Downfall

He awoke screaming in the nights that followed. His dreams were filled with horrible images of himself. Images of himself screaming and swearing and throwing punches at young children who didn’t have the strength to protect themselves. Images of himself turning into a monster and destroying everything in his way. Images that seemed to be becoming far too true.
He refused to allow himself to even think of Mary in the days that followed. He wasn’t able to believe that he had hurt her like that… That he had slapped her straight across the face without even thinking twice about it. Regardless of whether or not she deserved to be hurt like she had hurt him, he couldn’t rid himself of the guilt that swelled up inside his soul.
He could only image Thomas sitting at the Tavern awaiting his arrival all night long and leaving with a disappointed frown… He could hardly even picture Elijah anymore… He had nearly forgotten what he even looked like…
It was December 1st with Lewey finally decided to go back into town. He waited until his father sat passed out in his mother’s rocking chair and he raced out of the yard with Patriot, the brisk winter breeze chilling him to the bone.

~
November 31st, 1851
I’m starting to worry a great deal now about Lewey. I talked to his friend Thomas the other day, and he said that he had talked to him, even told him to come to the tavern, but he never showed. Thomas also told me that that little sister of Lewey’s died some time ago. I can only imagine how hard that’s hurting him. If my sister or brother died I don’t know what I’d do with myself. They’re all I have left. They’re my only family.

~

The tavern seemed deader than it ever had before. The people sitting about seemed more solemn, and the air was filled with not even the quiet sound of Gregory’s violin playing, instead only with silence. Lewey scanned the tables for somebody that he knew; anybody. His heart yearned for Elijah or Thomas to sit down with him and tell him that it was going to be alright… To tell him that everything was going to be just fine.
“Where have you been, Lawrence?” A deep and raspy voice demanded from behind him. Lewey turned around and found the tall and frail Gregory gazing down at him, his white hair even more unkempt than usual and his face more morbid.
“I-I… I had some things come up,” Lewey stuttered, part of him wanting to embrace Gregory in a hug and the other part of him wanting to run away.
“For weeks?” Gregory inquired. His voice did not hold a hint of worry, on a hint of rage. “What on earth could have happened that you would be gone for weeks?”
Lewey shifted uneasily in his spot and gulped down is tears. “Um, E-Emmy… She, uh… She died a while back….”
A moment of awkward silence.
“Why were you gone for weeks?”
At this Lewey looked up at the old man and gave him a frown of confusion and offense. “What do you mean?”
“I only mean to say, Lawrence, why could you not come and tell me what had happened so that I would know why you were missing?” Gregory’s eyes held more of that rage, and his foul breath reeked of alcohol. “I have been worried sick over you. I see you day after day for weeks and then all of a sudden you stop showing up and I am left here alone! You have no idea the amount of worry I was being put through!”
Lewey bowed his head so that Gregory would not see him cry. “My sister died.”
“I know, I know,” the old man placed a small hand on the boy’s shoulder as if to console him. “I understand that you are going through a lot, but you cannot throw your entire life away because of it! Think of all the time that you wasted because of this! And, then you go out and do stupid things instead that get you in trouble and ruin your good name that you have worked so hard to earn! Would little Emmy really have approved?”
Lewey’s nostrils flared and he slapped Gregory’s hand away. “You’re drunk!” he accused.
“Think of all the concerts you missed! You could have already been on your way across country by now if it wasn’t for your pathetic need to be pitied by everyone for everything!”
“You bastard!” Lewey threw himself at the old man, fists clenched and ready to fight, but a strong arm suddenly wrapped around his waist and held him back. “You can’t talk about me like that!” Lewey screamed relentlessly, revolted by the snide smirk he was receiving from Gregory. “You said I was like a son to you! A God damn son!”
“Lewey, calm down,” the person holding him back mumbled, slowly pulling him out of the tavern.
“You can’t treat your ‘son’ like that!” Lewey thrashed but it was no use. Gregory hadn’t moved from his spot where he stood with his arms crossed, watching as Lewey was taken away. “You never even gave a damn about me anyway!”
And then he was outside. The cold wind nipped at his skin and his anger immediately dissipated. He turned around to find Thomas staring back at him, his skin pale and his eyes sad.
“H-Hello, Thomas,” Lewey greeted awkwardly as he hunched over and stuck his hands in between his arms.
“You didn’t come to meet me like I though you would…” Thomas muttered, his frown one of dismay and disappointment. “I wouldn’t be angry at all had I thought you were only at home. But word has it that the ‘Violinist Boy’ had beaten this poor little girl named Mary Osborn that night that you were supposed to meet me instead…”
Lewey opened his mouth to protest but Thomas waved him off.
“I don’t believe what they say, and I didn’t tell them your full name, for your sake. But, I just couldn’t help but wonder why you would go out with that girl instead of meeting me as you said you would… Lewey, what’s going on?”
Lewey sighed and shook his head. “It ain’t nothing… I swear…”
“You’re wanted, you know. They have posters up and everythin’. You picked the wrong girl to mess with; the Osborn family is one o’ the richest in town. All she had to do was go cryin’ to her daddy and they’ve got people out for you all over Arlington. You’re lucky the only people that know you’re full name are Elijah, Gregory and I. We’ve been keepin’ your secret, but it ain’t gonna be a secret for long. They’re bound to find ya sometime. You’re wanted for assault.”
Lewey’s heart had sunk down to his shoes and his world began to collapse. “You mean I can’t… I can’t…”
“You can’t be at the Tavern no more, that’s right.” Thomas let out a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “All they know is that you’re the ‘Violinist Boy’ and that you used to play at this here Tavern quite often, and that your first name is Lawrence. They don’t know no more. But, give ‘em time. If the Osborn’s don’t give up soon they’re gonna find ya in no time.”
Lewey found himself unable to speak, even unable to think. “So then… Then what am I supposed to…”
“You either gotta leave Arlington or you can’t come into town no more. You don’t really got a choice. And you definitely can’t play the violin anymore around these parts. People will recognize you instantly. The only other possible option is to let them find you and go through whatever hell they’ll put you through, but I can guarantee you that’ll include tellin’ your Pa about all this, and I didn’t think that was really an option for you.”
Lewey’s face fell and he felt his entire body go numb. He knew that all of this was far too good to be true. Playing the violin and being around people had been much more than he had ever deserved. Deep down inside he knew that it would all come to an end sooner or later. Now you get to go back to the way things were. You get to act like none of this had ever happened. And, what’s even better, you lose all that you had gained and even more, because even Emmy ain’t gonna be there for ya anymore. “I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath. “I should have came to see you. But… she… She told me she loved me, Thomas.” Lewey looked up at his friend through tear streaked eyes. “She told me we could be together. And, I was stupid enough to believe her! I’m just a stupid old fool…”
“Aw, c’mon now,” Thomas assured with a light pat on the boy’s shoulder. “I know you, Lewey, and you sure ain’t no fool. You been dealt a bad hand in life but that don’t make you no fool. Trust me, I know how tempting those women can be.”
At this Lewey laughed and wiped at his eyes. “Yeah… I suppose.”
There was a moment of silence as they each got lost in their own thoughts.
“Well, I suppose that’s it then, ain’t it?” Asked Lewey. “I’ll just go back to my life like nothin’ ever happened, and the Violinist Boy will disappear from Arlington forever.”
“You don’t have to disappear forever, just long enough for people to forget about it all. You ain’t just gonna throw that talent out the window, Lewey, I won’t let ya.” Thomas beamed down at Lewey, and Lewey found himself unable to fight the urge to hug him. He wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in Thomas’ shoulder.
“We’ll still be able to go fishin’ and stuff, though, right?” Asked Lewey.
At this there was a momentary hesitation, and Lewey let go of his friend who looked back at him wit ha grimace of guilt. “Actually, I don’t think we can do that anymore either.”
“Well, why not?”
Thomas let out a long sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “Uh… Well, I’m leaving this place in about a week. I’m headed for the city. It’s about time… I need to get out of here to someplace with more people and more opportunities. I was thinkin’ I might even go to some college; get a good job, marry a good woman… But, in order to do that I gotta get outa here first.”
Lewey took two large steps back and began to shake his head in disbelief. “You’re leavin’? But, I just started knowin’ ya! You’re gonna leave me here all on my own with no one?!”
Thomas seemed a little taken back. “Lewey, I ain’t leaving you all alone. You have Gregory and Elijah and your Pa…”
“You know my Pa wouldn’t be there for me even if the world was goin’ up in flames,” Lewey snapped, the tears erupting again and rolling down his cheeks. “Elijah can’t be there for me ‘cause he’s a slave and ain’t even really allowed to be there for me. And you saw Gregory just now. He was never there for me! He was just usin’ me the whole time to get back his precious fame! I don’t mean nothin’ to nobody, Thomas! Emmy was the only person in the world who gave a damn about me and now she’s gone too! You’re the only person I’ve got…”
Thomas was unable to speak. He simply stared back at the boy in a sad sort of daze and ran his fingers through his hair once more. “I… I don’t know what to tell ya, Lewey… I can’t stay around here forever, and you know that. I’ve been tellin’ ya from the start how I gotta get outa here, and I’m finally able to now. I found some people in Boston who’ll take me in and give me a place to stay until I get on my feet. Lewey, I can’t pass that up and you know it.”
Lawrence bowed his head in dismay. He’s right, Lewey. You do know it. If an opportunity had come at the right moment for you to run off with Emmy to Boston you woulda accepted it in a heartbeat and never looked back, no matter who tried to make you stay. It ain’t right to make this hard for Thomas. Ain’t you hurt enough people already without having to go hurtin’ more?
Suddenly he felt arms around him and he found himself in Thomas’ embrace once more. He tentatively hugged him back and listened as Thomas told him it was all going to be okay.
“You’ll get the whole Osborn thing figured out, I’m sure o’ it. I know you don’t got the heart to hurt no one and that girl is in the wrong to go lying about it.” It sounded as if Thomas was about to cry. “Then you’ll be back playin’ your violin and when you’re old enough you’ll run off to Boston still playin’ that thing, and then you’ll find me. We’ll see each other again, Lewey, I promise ya. And, you’re lie will only start gettin’ better from here. I promise ya that, too.”

~
December 3rd, 1851
It happened. I knew it was bound to happen one of these days but never did I think it’d happen so soon.
They’re gone. Gone forever. I don’t even want to think about it; the pain hurts too much…
They were sold this morning. I barely even got to say good bye. Master came out to me as I was working in the fields and told me that I better say goodbye to them soon because he was bringing them to the auction as soon as possible. When he told me this I could hardly even breathe. They are all I have now that Ma and Pa were sold, and now They were gonna be taken from me too.
“You ain’t really gonna…” I started.
Master just looked down at me sadly and nodded his head. “I’m losing money, Elijah. The farm’s going downhill and it’s going downhill fast. I need to make cuts. You’re brother and sister are two that have to be cut.”
“But why?!” I protested. “Mary is great at cleaning’ the cotton out, and Curtis is one o’ the strongest on the farm! Why are you cutting them instead of cutting old Miss Hillard? Or ill George?!”
“That’s the point, Elijah,” Master told me calmly. “I need money, and your sister and brother are two fine young slaves who will fetch me a lot of money. Right now I just need to get enough to get my head out of water; otherwise I’m going to have to sell you all.”
That was when I ran out of things to say. I could hardly even look Master Harkins in the eye. I knew it wasn’t his fault and all, and I respect him because he is a good master, but I was angry out of my mind. At that moment, and for the first moment in my entire life, I thought I was ready to kill somebody. I wanted to ring Master’s neck and tell him how terrible he was for selling my brother and sister like they were cattle. Like they were nothing more than an apple and an orange at a God Damn market. But, instead, I stood there in silence with my head bowed, like us slaves are supposed to do.
“Can I go with?” I asked.
“What?”
“Can I go with? To the auction? I want to be there when… When..”
“No,” my master stated bluntly. “You need to stay here and work. I am not bringing you along with just so you can be there. I’m sorry, Elijah, but your time to say goodbye is now.”
“I want to see who they go to,” I replied, lifting my head and staring him squarely in the eye. “I want to see who buys them so that when I am set free I can go and find them. That’s all I ask, Master.”
Then Master’s eyes narrowed and he took a large step forward so he was looming over me. “And what makes you think you’re going to be set free?”
That was when I started to cringe. I had never seen my master so angry before so I slunk back where I stood and began to stutter. “A-All I mean is…”
“I have been like a father to you, boy,” Master snarled; his face one not entirely of rage but mostly of reprimand. “I’ve been far kinder of a master to you than anybody I know has ever been to a slave. I ain’t ever whipped you. I ain’t ever even raised a finger to you. I’ve let you go running off at night into town like you’re some white son of mine, and you automatically think that you’re gonna be set free? Boy, I treat you this nicely because I expect you to work! And instead you think I treat you like this because I want to set you free?!”
At this I was so scared and sad that I almost started to cry. I could see the soft rim of tears welling up in my eyes, and I turned away so that Master wouldn’t see. “That’s not what I meant, Master. I am sorry. I should be more grateful. I truly am grateful for all you have given me and my siblings, and I would be honored to serve you all of my life if you would let me...”
This seemed to break through Master’s anger and he let out a deep sigh, turning his eyes away from me and looking off into the fields of cotton. “… You can go say goodbye to Curtis and Mary now.” He turned his back to me and began to walk away. “We’re leaving as soon as possible.”
I wanted more than anything to just sit down right there in the middle of the field and cry until I couldn’t cry no more, but I knew that there wasn’t any time for that. So, I slowly walked back to the house and found Mary and Curtis sitting together holding hands in the shack. They looked up at me with watery eyes and without saying a word I ran to them and wrapped my arms around them both.
We sat there like that for a long time; holding each other and crying like crazy people. I’ll never forget that moment. It will be one of those moments that stays with me until the day I die. Mary’s gentle sobs… Curtis trying to assure us that it’ll be alright… Me promising that I would go and find them someday…
Then Master Harkins came to the door and told Mary and Curtis that it was time to go. I wouldn’t let them go, though. I kept my arms held tightly around them, whispering over and over; “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me…”
But eventually they pried themselves loose and stood up to leave with Master Harkins. Their faces were grave, as was Master’s, and he told them to head to the carriage.
“Wait!” I shouted after them a second later.
They stopped and turned around to look at me, and I went running towards them, wrapping my arms around them one last time. “Write to me. I don’t care what or how or when; but write to me… Just so I’ll know you’re alright. Tell me where you are and who is your master so that I can come find you someday. And then I will write back to you. Promise?”
Mary and Curtis both faked a laugh and agreed, wrapping their arms around me as well.
“I love you,” I mumbled. “I love you both more than the whole wide world.”
“We love you too,” Mary told me. “And I promise that everything will turn out just fine in the end, okay? And don’t you stop writing those journal entries like I’ve been telling you, alright? You have a skill that some white people don’t even have and you’re not going to allow them to take that from you too, okay?”
I nodded my head clumsily and she reached forward a finger to wipe away a tear that rolled down my cheek.
“Stay strong, Elijah,” Curtis told me as he patted my shoulder. “Stay strong.”
“We’re headed out. Now,” commanded Master Harkins as he walked by us and towards the carriage. “You two are leaving with me. Right now.”
Mary and Curtis gave me a grave look that said all that was not, and then they disappeared into the carriage that rode off into the horizon. Through the window they waved to me, and I forced myself to wave back. That was how I said my final goodbye to my brother and sister; a wave… It feels so wrong… so incomplete. It feels like I just buried my soul by digging a grave a foot deep and not even having the decency to fill it back up again.
I don’t even know how I’ll go on from here. I don’t have anybody anymore. I thought that I at least had Lewey… But now he’s pretty much gone too. I haven’t seen that boy in weeks. And, what’s worse is that I hear that people are out to get him for hurting somebody, and if I hear right that girl is the Mary girl he fell in love with. I ain’t never pictured that scrawny kid being able to hurt anybody, but if he did than he sure has changed a lot since Emmy died, and I don’t recon he’ll be changing back anytime soon.
I miss them already, and I can’t even hardly remember their faces; I’m hoping it’s just because I’m tired…
I wonder if Master’ll even let me go into town anymore after that stunt I pulled with the whole “when I’m free” incident… Maybe he’ll start whipping me and treating me like a real slave soon enough… Or maybe the whole farm’ll go under and he’ll have to sell me too… Either way, prospects don’t look too good for me right now.
God… Where is Lewey?

~

Lewey arrived home the night of the 1st far sooner than he had intended. His head was spinning with thought that he would never be able to see Thomas again, and his heart was filling with an insatiable loneliness.
He walked nonchalantly through the front door to find his father still passed out in his mother’s rocking chair with a half empty bottle of whiskey lying at his feet.
Don’t do it, Lewey. Do you really wanna turn out just like him? You know what it’ll do to you. It won’t make anything any better. Just go to your room and go to sleep.
Lewey started walking to his bedroom but stopped halfway down the hallway. He stood there for a long couple of seconds, completely immobile and not moving a muscle. Then, as if in a daze he turned around on his heels and walked over to his father, plucking the bottle of whiskey off the ground and taking a long swig from it.
You’re bein’ dumb, Lewey.
Who cares. If it makes you feel better do it. Do anything to make the pain go away. Do anything to make the thoughts go away… Do anything to make the truth go away.

~

(Note passed between Caroline Johnson and Mary Osborn)

(Caroline)
I don’t remember him beating you.

(Mary)
You don’t remember anything. You were drunk out of your mind.

I remember most of that night. Just not the part about him beating you. Did you just lie? Why would you lie about something like that?

I didn’t lie, you buffoon. I remember it clearly. You brought up Henry and Lewey got enraged and started beating me. Then he ran off and we haven’t seen him since. I wasn’t drunk like you were.

You drank more whiskey than I did.

I have a better head for it than you do.

I’ve seen posters out for him; that Lewey boy. They tell people to keep an eye out for the “Violinist Boy”. Why don’t you just put his name on there?

Because he lied to us about who he was. He told us he was the nephew of Andrew Harkins, the owner of that plantation, but he isn’t. We sent people up there to ask him about it and he said that he doesn’t even have a nephew, nor does he have any idea who the Violinist Boy is. So, all we know for sure is that his name is Lawrence, and that isn’t narrowed down enough to put on a poster.

You never really loved him, did you?

Of course I did; until he beat me.

What about Henry?

What about him?

You’ve been in love with him since we were little. You’ve been waiting for him to fall in love with you too for years. You told Cynthia and I this a long time ago.

Well, maybe I got over him.

Or maybe you just wanted to make him jealous.

Well maybe you should shut your mouth.

At least I’m not a liar and a backstabber.

I didn’t lie to anybody, nor did I stab anyone in the back.

I hope you know that poor, smelly, little rat of a boy was in love with you like a puppy dog. He would have done anything for you and you were lying to his face the entire time. I remember that night even though you think I don’t, and all I remember him doing was slapping you and I remember that you deserved it. You ruined his life in trying to make yours better, and now he isn’t even allowed to show his face in Arlington again because your parents are going to… What are they even going to do to him anyway?

Whatever they feel like he deserves. He beat me, Caroline. He didn’t just slap me, there was much more that you didn’t see. My parents will get him punished for what he did. One way or another he will pay.

~



(Letter sent from John Holloway to Harold Gates)

Dear Harold,

I need you to forward to Ephraim Rutherford one last notice, and inform him that it will indeed be his last. If he does not pay his rent in the next three weeks his farm will be repossessed indefinitely. He owes me $300, and he needs to pay all of it immediately. Please stop by his place and inform him of this.
Thank you much.
Sincerely,
John

~

(Letter sent from Mendel Ford to Gregory Frasier)

Dear Gregory,

Why have you not brought back to me that fine little violinist of yours? That concert was a hit my friend and I have waited weeks for you to write me back telling me that he would be available for another one, but you haven’t! What has happened to the boy? Has he disappeared?
None the less, now I ask you if you may bring him to the theater sometime so that I may have him perform for the people. They fell in love with him and I cannot stress enough how big of a success a follow up concert for him would be. He would quickly rise to the stars, Gregory, and I assume you would ascend with him!
I must further admit that I do not get such fine musicians in this little Arlington Theater. Surely you understand, therefore, my strong desire to have that young lad back on stage performing for the people and putting my little concert hall on the map! Please, old friend, make a good and poor man happy! Bring him over any time and we will set up a concert. I’m sure it will be quite fine!

Sincerely,
Mendel

~

Lewey’s world spun around him as he sat up against the wall on his little bed, the empty whiskey bottle sitting at his side. His face was vacant and white, his eyes staring at the ground as if it were dancing before him.
He felt better. Though things weren’t necessarily good at least he was completely numb and therefore immune to all of the pain that had been welling up inside of him. He could not think and he had no desire to even move, so he simply sat there with a blank mind while staring off into space.
“It ain’t my fault,” he suddenly murmured to himself, his lips barely moving and his eyes remaining fixated. “None of it is my fault… Ma left because Emmy was always sick… Thomas left because he needs to get a life o’ his own… Emmy left… Well, Emmy left because she was just too damn weak to stay here anymore. None of it is my fault… God is just out to get me, that’s all.”
Lewey tried to take another swig from the bottle but found to his dismay that it was entirely empty. He let out a sigh and threw the bottle to the ground where it clanked and bumped against the wall. “Yeah… He sure is….” He threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “What did I ever do to you?!” He demanded. “Why the hell do ya gotta treat me like this?! I ain’t never been nothin’ but a God Damn saint!”
Lewey heard the break in the rhythm of his father’s snoring and therefore he stopped talking. He sat there for a long time in nothing but absolute silence, waiting for his father to start back up again. Eventually he did and Lewey relaxed.
“She left ‘cause o’ Emmy,” he mumbled to himself. “I know she did… She had to have… There ain’t no way she left us all alone just ‘cause she didn’t wanna live here no more… There just ain’t no damn way…”
The silence seemed to strangle him and the alcohol wasn’t enough anymore. The pain began to emerge underneath his blanket of whiskey and he felt that pang in his heart that never seemed to go away. The loneliness that filled it killed him from the inside out and he ached for more of that tantalizing medicine that his father had become so fond of.
You’re just like your old man.
He wanted to go back in time and stop his all from happening. He wanted to stop himself from ever running off to that tavern the first night. He wanted to stop himself from ever asking Elijah to help him find a grocery store. He wanted to stop himself from ever letting his mother leave.
Just a chip off the old block.
He wanted go back in time and tell his younger self to grow a spine and stop letting everyone he loves slip through his fingers. He wanted to ascend to heaven and yell at the Lord for dealing him such an unfair hand in life. He wanted to slap his father and smack Gregory and punch everyone who had ever looked at him funny because of the way he looked.
You’re just like him.
Deep down inside there was a part of him that just wanted to die.

Chapter 14
The Sour Taste of Rebellion

The coat felt strange and foreign on him. It made him feel like a different person entirely. With its hood up and the sleeves pulled over his hands he felt like he was hidden from the world, as if he had a control he had never before possessed. He had stolen it from his father’s closest, but he wasn’t going to find out.
The Tavern was rather full that night. Looking through the window Lewey saw that nearly every table was filled with joyous drunks who were smiling and laughing and throwing their fists in the air.
Lewey’s eyes found the far corner of the bar, and sure enough the man he was looking for was sitting on his lonely little stool as always.
Lewey tentatively entered the Tavern, keeping his hood up and his head low. The droll of Gregory's violin was sad and solemn, creating a sorrowful hum beneath the mask of laughter and joy. Even as Lewey approached him Gregory kept his head low and his eyes shut in absolute concentration.
“Your song is different tonight,” Lewey remarked quietly, standing before his teacher as if nothing but a shadow.
Gregory raised his head slowly and put down his violin. His wide eyes looked up at Lewey but he didn’t say a word.
“It’s sadder than usual,” Lewey remarked.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” murmured Gregory. “People are looking for you. The Osborn’s want you for assault.”
“I know, but I wanted to come and talk to you.”
Gregory’s face grew tight with shame and his eyes turned to the floor. “I’m sorry about the other night… So, so sorry… I didn’t know what I was saying….”
“You meant it, though,” Lewey growled. “And you know you did. The only reason you ever did any of this for me was so that you could get back the fame you loved so much back when you were famous. You claimed I was like a son to you but… But we both know that was a lie.”
Gregory’s face fell and he shook his head. “I will not lie to you and deny that that was indeed part of it, but I can assure you, Lawrence, that was not all of it. I’ve never had a son… I’ve never known what it feels like… But, I can only imagine that you were the closest I’ve ever felt to a child. And at times I could see some of myself in you. The way you appreciated the music you heard… The way you created music… I felt like you were myself incarnate and I wanted to make things right with you… I wanted to give you what everyone always dreams of, because I knew that you had what it took to achieve it.”
Lewey clenched his jaw. Would little Emmy really have approved? “Do you even remember what you said to me the other night? In front of everyone?”
Gregory let out a sad sigh. “I think I remember most of it… Yes… I told you, Lawrence, I had no idea what I was saying. I completely understand why you were gone for so long and I had no right to…”
”She died,” Lewey interjected sternly, leaning forward so that Gregory had to look him right in the eye. “My little sister -the only person in my life I lived for- is now dead. Do you get that?”
There was a long moment of silence as the two of them simply stared at each other. “I… I do, Lawrence. And, you have my deepest sympathies…”
Lewey laughed out of spite. “Don’t give me your pity. I’m tired of gettin’ it from everybody. Contrary to what you think I don’t actually go lookin’ for all the damn pity I get.”
“I never would have guessed…” started Gregory, trailing off as he shook his head.
“Never woulda guessed what?”
There was a short pause as Gregory scanned Lewey with his sad eyes. “I never would have guessed an event such as your sister’s death would have changed you so immensely… You’re… You’re not even the person I remember you being anymore…”
Lewey gulped and looked away. In more ways than you know, old man… If only you knew the half of it. I don’t think anybody thinks I’m the same anymore… Hell, I don’t even think I’m the same anymore. “I’m just sad ‘bout it is all. Ain’t I allowed to be sad ‘bout somethin’?”
“Well, of course. It’s just that you have become so much more assertive and confident it’s… Well, It’s amazing. For the longest time I regarded you as a boy, but now I regard you as a man. I do believe this traumatizing event has catapulted you out of the aggravating bonds of adolescence and into the cascading rivers of manhood. So, at least it’s proof there is indeed an upside to even the most horrific of events.”
Lewey bit his tongue. “You think that me ‘becoming a man’ makes Emmy’s death alright?”
Gregory’s eyes widened and he began to shake his head again. Look at what you’re doing, Lewey. You’re scarin’ an old man. Maybe he’s right. You sure have changed a lot, haven’t you? “No, Lawrence, that’s not what I’m saying at all…” Gregory groaned and pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose. “Can we talk of something else, please? I seem to be able only to insult you tonight and I would rather not continue on with that.”
Lewey shrugged his shoulders and obliged; “When can I play the violin again?”
“That I do not know, Lawrence. Have you considered simply talking to the Osborns and getting this whole thing over with so that you won’t have to lurk around the city like a criminal?”
“I don’t wanna. They’ll probably get my Pa involved and that’ll open up a whole can o’ worms that that can’t be opened without my ass bein’ beaten like hell.”
“Did you actually do it?”
“Do what?”
“Beat her; Mary?”
Lewey’s mouth went dry and he shook his head defensively. “Of course I didn’t. Do I really seem like that kind o’ person to you?!”
“No, you didn’t… But, as I said before; you seemed to have changed a lot.”
Lewey laughed angrily and bit his lip. “You sure are pushin’ me, old man.”
“Since when do you refer to me as ‘old man’?”
“Since you started believin’ the lies little snotty girls start spreadin’ ‘round town.”
Gregory’s eyes shifted down to his violin as his fingers played with the strings and caressed the frame. “Lawrence, what is wrong? You truly are not acting like yourself and you’re beginning to worry me. Why are you acting so defensive and cruel?”
“I ain’t bein’ defensive and…!” Lewey sighed and ran his fingers through his greasy hair. The entire tavern seemed to go silent as he thought of what to say, even though not a soul was paying attention to him. It took him a while to hear how loud he had been being and how aggrieve his tone was. You’re turnin’ into a true madman. “She’s dead,” he mumbled. “She’s dead. Thomas is gone. Pa is still the same ol’ Pa. Mary is tellin’ lies about me. I can’t play the violin in public no more… My whole life is fallin’ apart. And, the sad thing is that it wasn’t much o’ a life to begin with.”
Gregory’s pale face seemed to contort with sympathy and he shifted uneasily in his seat. “It’s just a rough patch, Lawrence, but I assure you it will only get better from here. I vow to not let things happen to you like they did to me… My life was perfect for the longest time. I played at concert halls all across country, had women fawning over me with every step I took, and money up to my ears! And then I started to spiral downward, and my fame began to lessen… Then I started drinking…” His eyes darted momentarily down at a bottle of brandy that sat near his stool. “And, that only made things worse… I don’t want you to throw everything away when you’re just getting started, and I don’t want you to throw everything away just because it may not seem to be as good as it used to. Do you understand what I am saying, Lawrence?”
Lewey reached up and started rubbing his forehead. “I don’t even know what to believe from you anymore… How do I know anythin’ you say is the truth?”
Gregory sighed. “I told you, Lawrence, I had too much to drink the other night… I didn’t know what I was saying. What I’m saying now is the entire truth and I mean every word of it.”
“So you haven’t drunk anythin’ tonight? Everythin’ you’re sayin’ is comin’ from a completely sober you?”
Gregory’s eyes shifted uneasily about the room and there was a moment of hesitation. “I’m never sober anymore, Lawrence.”
Images of his father began to roll across his vision and the boom of his demeaning voice reverberated through his ear drums. “Drinkin’… Drinkin’ don’t do nothin’ good for ya… You yourself just told me that.”
“I know, and I fully believe every word of it. I don’t want you to turn out like me… I want you to grow up to have a life and have a loving woman and loving children… And you won’t get that if you keep on goin’ down the path you’re goin’ down.”
Lewey laughed in spite of the situation and began to turn away. “You told me I was like a son to you… You used me because you think I don’t know a damn thing… You think I’m dumb.”
“No, Lawrence, never have I ever believe you to be dumb! You’re one of the smartest young men that I have ever met!”
A moment of silence filled with nothing but the quiet roar of people in the background. “I can’t believe a word you say…. You ain’t nothin’ but a selfish old man.”
And with that Lewey stormed out of the Tavern and never looked back.

~

The late night air was as cold as ice and bit at his skin like the fangs of a snake, but he pushed it aside and continued to stare up at the full moon relentlessly, his body unmoving and unscathed. The violin felt lighter than it ever had before in his hand, and the emotions rolled through and out of him like the continuous waves of the monstrous ocean.
He raised the beautiful instrument to his chin and hoisted up the bow. It seemed to have been years since he held his violin like that on his shoulder, ready to release into the world song that he and he alone could truly understand and truly appreciate. It seemed like he had lived an entire life since he had last played; like he had lived and died since he had last expressed his deepest worry, fear, and love through the majesty of melody.
And, then he began to play. He forced his mind to forget all else and allowed himself to be lost in what he created. The notes of melancholy and dread flew from his bow in a wild chase of notes, filling the silent night air with the dreary sadness that filled his heart.
What if Pa hears ya? You know you’re just right in the back yard you stupid sonofabitch, don’t you know nothin’? If Pa comes out and finds ya you’re a dead man.
But, he frankly didn’t care. He played out of rebellion and simply because he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted out and he wanted out fast. He wanted to be with Emmy again…
He played louder and he played louder, his body swaying with the sorrowful music that he fashioned. His eyes were shut tight and all he saw was darkness, and his head was blank filled with nothing but darkness as well.

~



It had been the first day that Lewey honestly believed he was going to die. The sun had been hot and the air had been stale, chocking him slowly as he labored out in the garden. He hadn’t been doing anything wrong. He had simply been doing as he did every other afternoon. But, his father seemed to think differently.
He came storming out of the house, his feet booming across the wooden porch. When Lewey looked up he saw the frightening figure of his father looming over him with his whip in his hand.
Lewey had been only been 11 years old on that day, and his mother had only been gone for a little over a year. Though his father had turned into a rather heavy drinker he hadn’t yet turned into the alcoholic that Lewey came to know in his adolescence. So, when Lewey saw this hulking figure that reeked of whiskey he began to tremble with fear.
He didn’t really understand why his father had beaten him that day. The only explanation he gave was a couple of muddled words and then the whip came down. It came down weakly at first, striking Lewey’s skin like sting instead of a painful lash. But, as the minutes rolled on and his father’s voice grew louder and louder, so did his whips grow in strength, ripping through the soft fabric of his shirt and tearing apart his skin.
The whipping seemed to go on for a long time but it did not last forever. Eventually Lewey lay with his face pressed against the tender dirt of the garden waiting for the next whip to come but feeling relived when he noticed nothing but placid silence. When he was nearly positive that his father had left and that he was all alone once again he decided to turn over. But, to his horror he found that his father was still looming over him, his face contorted with drunken rage and his dark eyes burning with fury.
More jumbled words escaped his lips and he leaned over and grabbed Lewey roughly by the collar, hoisting him up to eye level. Lawrence felt tears streaming down his cheeks endlessly, but no matter how hard he tried to stop them he couldn’t. He balled like a child right in front of his father.
More jumbled words and then a hard slap to Lewey’s face. His head flung back with the force of the blow and the wind was entirely knocked out of him.
One harder slap and Lewey went flying to the ground where he lay and refused to get up. He watched in relief as his father finally stalked off towards the barn and Lawrence soon lie there crying in utter solitude.
But, his eyes widened and his breathing came to a screeching halt as he watched his father tromp back, a large and heavy axe swinging in his hand. Lewey’s heart began to beat a million times faster and he quickly told his body to get up and run but his body just wouldn’t listen. When he tried to sit up agonizing pain reverberated through his back and down his spine, and when he tried to roll over it did the same. He was stuck lying on the ground hoping that this was just another empty and humiliating threat that he was going to have to sit through.
His father began to speak but his words were inaudible. Whiskey seemed to pour off his lips and the ax that he held was being shifted from hand to hand.
What did I do to deserve this? He asked of himself as he began to squirm away. What did I do wrong?
The ax came down for the first time only inches from his face. He was sprayed with the black dirt that it had hit, and his heart seemed to skip a beat.
That day seemed to go on for an eternity, and it seemed to be far too long before his father finally tired of his pathetic threats and went inside to drink another bottle of whiskey.
Lewey remained face down on the ground for at least an hour longer, trembling relentlessly and crying like a baby. He tucked his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them, rocking himself back and forth to try and elicit a sense of comfort, but it never came.
As he lay there he thought about his life and how he would feel about it if he were to die. He thought about how Emmy would be left all alone and how his Ma would never know what had become of him. He thought of how nobody would even notice him being gone because nobody even knew who he was. If he were to die his death would go by nearly unnoticed except for Emmy… As long as she was around his life still had meaning; and he still had a reason to live.

~

He knocked at the door with all of his might, immediately hearing the shuffling of feet from inside. The rain poured down onto him and dripped from his hair, soaking his clothes and slopping around at the bottom of his feet.
A dark man answered the door and glared at him through the blackness of the night. “What do you want?”
“I need Elijah.”
“Why?”
“Just get me Elijah.”
The man turned around after a moment of aggravated silence and called for Elijah who came stumbling to the door. “Lewey?” He asked, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here? C-Come inside…”
Lewey stepped out of the pouring rain and into the small shack that had four other people in it lying on cots. “I need your help.”
“Lewey… You can’t be here…” Elijah murmured, looking from Lawrence to the other slaves with worry. “If master finds you here he’ll kill you and me. You can’t be here.”
“I need you to write me something.”
Elijah furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”
“A letter. I need you to write me a letter. I can’t keep puttin’ it off any longer. I need this to be written.”
“Why does it have to be tonight?”
“Because I can only go out at night, remember? I can’t come over durin’ the day or your master and my Pa’ll find out. This is the only time, Elijah.”
Elijah sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Well, can’t we do it tomorrow night at the Tavern or somethin’? It’s the middle o’ the night and I gotta get some rest…”
“I can’t show my face at the Tavern no more… I’m sure you know that. And besides, what if there is no tomorrow?”
Elijah shot his friend a concerned frown.
“I’m just sayin’,” Lewey assured. “I need it written tonight. It will only take a second, I promise.”

~

“So… What’s been happenin’ to ya, Lewey? Why have you been gone so much?”
Lewey cradled the finished letter in his hands and slowly inhaled the dank stench of the worn down shed the two of them had scrunched themselves into. He felt alone… He felt safe. “Too much has been happenin’ to me…” he confessed with a sad frown. “Emmy died… I’m sure you heard o’ that?”
Elijah nodded slowly. “Yeah. That man Thomas told me so.”
“Yeah, well Thomas is gone now too.”
“What?”
“Yeah. He left for the city. He claimed this place wasn’t big enough for him… Wasn’t a big enough opportunity to get a life or somethin’ like that…”
“And what about Mary?” Elijah prodded as he played with a rouge piece of leather that lay on the floor. “What’s all this I’m hearin’ ‘bout you and her?”
For a moment there was silence except for the thunder of rain above them. The two of them sat in the darkness looking away from one another as though they didn’t care about the other when really they were each other’s entire world. “She told her folks I beat her or somethin’… They’re after me for assault. But I didn’t beat her; not one bit! She had asked me to go to the river with her and her friends and, like an idiot I went.. I shouldn’t have gone, Elijah! I shouldn’t have gone! But, I listened to my wants instead of my brain and I went and I got drunk and as I was leavin’ I… I…”
“What’d you do, Lewey?”
Lawrence couldn’t say anything as images of his father beating his mother raced across his eyes. “I slapped her. Hard. Right across the face.”
“Well, why in the hell did you do that?”
Lewey shrugged. “I was drunk, I guess. I was angry at her for sayin’ she loved me when she really didn’t and I… I can’t believe I did it, Elijah. I’ve turned into a completely different person ever since I started playin’ that damn violin.”
“Don’t say that…”
“And Gregory ain’t gonna be in my life no more neither,” Lewey cut in angrily. “Turns out he ain’t nothin’ but a jealous and selfish old man… But, we sholda seen that from the start, really.”
“Lewey, Gregory wasn’t no selfish man, he just wanted to help you get what you dreamed of…”
“He wanted to help me get what he dreamed of!” Lewey interrupted. “He didn’t give a damn about what I wanted or what I needed! He just wanted me to get famous so that he could get famous too. It was all just a selfish scheme of his.”
Elijah didn’t answer back for a long time, instead only shaking his head and looking down at the floor.
“What?” Asked Lewey. “What are you thinkin’?”
“Nothin’,” replied Elijah, still playing with that piece of leather. “It’s just that…”
“Just hat what?”
“It’s just that… You’ve seemed to have… Changed a lot since I last saw you. You ain’t that same little scared and shy boy I met in the street. Now you’re… I don’t even know what you are. Angry? Sad? Vengeful? Whatever you are you sure ain’t the Lewey I knew, is all.”
At this Lewey was ready to jump up and storm out of that shed and into the pouring rain without looking back for a second glance at his only friend. He was tired of people telling him he isn’t the same just because now he was sticking up for himself when he used to let people walk all over him. “I’m still the same,” Lawrence replied through a clenched jaw. “I’ve just had a lot happen is all. I ain’t gonna be fine and dandy with all that’s just happened to me.”
“You’re right,” Elijah agreed. “I’m just sayin’… Don’t let this change who you are… I like the Lewey I knew. He was a good fella.”
There was a long stretch of silence as Lewey unclenched his jaw and the two of them simply sat there and soaked it in.
“It was my fault she died,” Lewey burst out suddenly, keeping his head turned away from his friend so as to not have to look him in the eye.
“What do you mean?”
“I went out fishin’ with Thomas instead o’ staying home and taking care o’ her,” Lewey confessed, trying with all of his might to keep the tears from coming. “If I had been home and had taken care o’ her I can nearly guarantee she’d still be in bed right now and I wouldn’t be here with you havin’ this conversation. All o’ this madness and all o’ this sadness… It’s all ‘cause o’ me.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Elijah stated bluntly. “You didn’t do a damn thing wrong, Lewey. You’ve spent all o’ your days takin’ care o’ Emmy, missin’ just one wouldn’t have made a difference either way. What happened is the will o’ God and ain’t nobody goin’ to change that.”
“Don’t talk to me about God,” Lewey snapped. “There ain’t no God and he ain’t had nothin’ to do with anythin’ in my life. Unless he’s trying to kill me off and damn me to hell, I can guarantee he ain’t really out there. We’re all alone in this big bad world.”
“Oh, Lewey…”
“You’re all I got now, Elijah” Lawrence stated suddenly, turning to his friend with his piercing blue eyes. “Everyone else has left me and now I only have you. I need you to help me get outa this mess I’ve dug myself into. I need you to help me with the Mary thing… and help me with Emmy… I need a friend right now, Elijah. You’re the only friend I’ve got.”
Elijah simply stared back at him with wide and vacant eyes. His lip seemed to quiver into a frown and he nervously ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, Lewey… I… I had something I had to tell you from the start o’ the night… I’ve been lookin’ and tryin’ to find you for some time but I haven’t been able to find you to tell ya…”
Lewey furrowed his brow. “What is it?”
Elijah looked over at him with those dark eyes that seemed to be nothing more than bottomless pits that lead to the depths of his soul. In them Lewey saw guilt and sadness. In them Lewey saw fear.

Chapter 15
The Finale

He rode home that night in the pouring rain, his head hanging low and his body completely numb. The only noise he seemed to hear was the crying of his soul, and those dreaded last words that had escaped Elijah’s lips.
“They’re bringin’ me to the auction tomorrow. Master says I can’t stay here no more…”
He saw the entire world he had built for himself crumble before his very eyes. Everything he had worked for had been taken away. In a time when he had been given more than he had imagined he had eventually lost even more than he had ever gained…
What are you gonna do now, Lewey? You got nobody and you got nothin’. You’re all alone except for your Pa, and that ain’t nothin’ better.
He walked across the yard in a slow trudge, his feet sloshing in the cold water that sat beneath his feet. Of all the nights he had walked through that yard and towards his house this was the one night that felt different. The fear that he had become so accustomed to rushing throughout his being was not there that night. That night he felt completely at peace.
Once he reached the front door he stood in front of it for a long second, simply allowing himself to drown in his endless thoughts. It wasn’t until his entire body was convulsing with shivers that he finally decided to go inside.
The house was empty. His father wasn’t in the rocking chair he was in every other night. Lewey was alone. He dug into the pocket of his jacket and fished out the little letter that he had had Elijah write for him. He treaded over to his mother’s rocking chair and stuffed it in a small crack in the wood.
“If she ever comes back this’ll be the first place she’ll look,” he murmured to himself as he did so. “It’s the only thing left that is hers…”
“Where have you been?” A booming voice demanded from behind him.
Lewey’s heart dropped to his shoes and he turned around to find his father standing in the hallway, his face covered with a sheet of darkness. His eyes turned with terror to the little black case he held in his hand… “I… I….”
“How long you been doing s*** like this?” His father asked, lifting the violin case up and taking an intimidating step forward. “How long you been goin’ behind my back and playin’ this here… thing?”
You can lie, Lewey. You can do it. Say anything; anything at all! But whatever you do, don’t say the truth! “A while,” he mumbled.
His father laughed angrily and threw his head back. “You got some nerve, boy. Struttin’ ‘round town like you got a right to. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Lewey bowed his head and didn’t answer, as he knew he was not supposed to. It’s okay, Lewey. It won’t be as bad as other times. You just have to sit through it. No matter how much you want to argue and yell back, please think about how that would end.
Suddenly his father flung the case forward and it landed with a hard thud at Lewey’s feet. “Go on,” his father urged mockingly. “Play for me, boy. I wanna hear how good you can play that little doo dad o’ yours.”
Lewey didn’t move a muscle for along second and simply stared at his father so as to make sure he was being serious. When he was sure that it was not a joke he knelt down slowly and pulled out the violin. He was surprised it wasn’t damaged by the force that his father threw it at. It felt so delicate at his finger tips and he could begin to feel his need for the sweet music coursing through his veins. With continuous looks at his father he lifted his bow and began to play. The notes that rang from his violin, however, were shaky and incomplete. The melody was one of fear and one of hatred. It made his ears bleed.
His father began to laugh maniacally and Lewey lowered the violin, hanging his head low. “That’s what you’ve been runnin’ off to go do? Play that damn thing o’ yours like that?” His father laughed some more. It hurt Lewey. It stung him like daggers. “You sayin’ people actually wanted to hear that?”
Lewey hung his head and began putting his violin away.
“No, no, now. Don’t do that,” his father commanded, reaching out his hand so as to get the violin. “Give that here, boy. I wanna try my hand at it.”
Lewey’s body had gone entirely numb and the depths of his soul seemed to shudder in disgust. He passed the violin onto his father and watched as the filthy hands of his Pa held the violin with little care, and lifted it to his chin with a drunken sway. He clumsily brought bow to the strings and ground the horsehair down on them with such strength that the strings squealed and cried; calling out for Lewey to save them.
Lewey had never witnessed something so disgraceful before in his life. He felt more humiliated than he ever had before, and he felt an urge to cry this time not out of sorrow or out of pity, but out of pure disgrace. The song his father played is the song the Devil would play, and it filled his ears with hatred.
His father finally stopped playing and began to laugh again.
Why the hell is he laughin’ so much? He ain’t never laughed so much when he was angry ever before…
“Was it worth it, boy?” He threw the violin and it hit Lewey hard in the leg, making him double over for a second. “Was it worth all the trouble you been causing and all the stress you been puttin’ on me?” He took a step forward and stomped his foot. “Was it worth it?!”
Lewey picked up the cracked violin that lay at his feet and shook his head defenselessly, His dream sat in his hands… And, his dream was beginning to die.
“You think you can just go runnin’ ‘round like you don’t got a single responsibility in the whole world?!”
Lewey wasn’t paying attention to anything his father was saying. He was lost in his own world; dreaming of what could have been and how things might have been.
His father was saying more, asking more questions, but Lewey remained unresponsive. He only stared down at his broken violin in shame.
You just don’t give a damn anymore, do you, Lewey? You don’t care what your father says and you don’t care what he does. You’re a man now, ain’t ya? And you can make your own decisions, can’t ya? Now, stand up straight and tall and tell him that. Let him now that you’re leavin’ and you ain’t never comin’ back. You’re headin’ straight for Boston, big man.
But, just as Lewey was raising his head so as to look his father in the eye the first blow came. It hit him just above the temple with such an impressive force that he went flying to the ground and hit the wooden floor with a sickening thud.
He ain’t as drunk as other times. He’s got more sober in him than usual… That means he’s got more strength too.
The violin was ripped away from his stone cold grip and more awful mutterings came from his father. Lewey tried to escape this world and enter into the fantasy world that he and his younger sister had created for each other, but he seemed unable to cover-up the reality. He watched in horror as his father’s feet came storming towards him again.
Then the second blow came, this time from his very own violin. The wood struck his back with enough magnitude to shatter its frame, and as pain reverberated throughout his spine he could do nothing but writhe and watch as the splinters of his beloved instrument was strewn across the floor.
He’s tellin’ ya to get up, you, now. He wants you to stick up for yourself. He wants you to be a man. Well, get up and show him who the real man is, Lewey!
Lewey let out a groan and rolled onto his side, hoisting himself up with his elbow. But, before he could get too far another blow struck him right on his shoulder, forcing his face back down into the dust of the unclean floor.
Those hours seemed to go on forever, and it became the second and final time that Lewey had ever felt so close to death. There were moments that his body was filled with so much pain and so much agony that he could have sworn to God that before him stood his mother and Emmy, hand in hand smiling down at him and beckoning him to come to them. He could have sworn that he heard the beautiful whine of Gregory’s violin playing filling the dark air of the house, and that Thomas had came up to him with a fishing pole in hand, grinning. He could have sworn that instead of seeing only the shattered remains of his precious violin lying about his house, he instead saw it shining right before him, practically begging him to reach out and play it just one last time. There was even one time where he knew that he saw his entire living room filled with the same people that constantly filled the East Side Tavern, cheering him on and begging him to get up and play for them another song. “It’s the Violinist Boy!” They would shout. “Play us a song, young man!”
Then came the point where he thought it was all over. The blows stopped coming one after the other, and the stars that fogged his vision began to dissipate. He felt he warm liquid of blood rolling down his chin, and every appendage of his felt like they were no longer even there.
He did as his conscience told him to do and rolled over on his side and attempted to get up. He reached for Thomas and for his violin. He smiled to his mother and to his younger sister, and he nodded toward the people of the tavern, assuring them their song was on its way.
And then the last blow came, hard and furious right above his ear. He fell to the ground in slow motion, all of the people he had seen disappearing instantly; giving way to the grueling reality that was his dark and dank house.
And then all went black.
Forever.


***


That day in June had been the worst of his life; but he wouldn’t know it until years later. His sister had been sicker than ever, his father madder than ever, and his mother more worried than ever before. He had watched them all spiral down into a pit of anguish and despair, hoping to God that that would never happen to him.
He and his sister had followed his mother to the door that night as their father sat in the living room asleep in his chair. Her eyes had been dark and tired, as was her entire face. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun. Her lips were drawn tight.
When she reached the porch she twirled around and fell to her knees so as to be at eye level with both of her children. She set her bag down at her side and took one of their hands in each of hers. For a moment she looked as if she were about to cry.
“I’m going to be gone for a while,” she explained slowly, looking them each in the eye and holding their hands tight. “I have to go to the city and get medicine, but I will be back, okay?”
“When?” inquired Emmy.
Their mother’s eyes fell to the ground and she shook her head. “I don’t know, darling. I just don’t. I’ll be back though, I promise.”
“You mean you’re… You’re gonna leave us alone with just Pa?” Lewey asked in an incredulous tone.
Their mother sighed and brought her soft fingers up to his face, rubbing at his cheek. “Just be a good boy and everything will be alright, okay, Lawrence? Your Pa is a good man and will take good care of both of you, I promise.”
“Can’t we go with you?” begged Emmy.
“No, darling, you can’t. I have to do this alone.”
“Why can’t Pa go instead?” Lewey demanded angrily.
“Because your Pa has to be working around here. I am the only one who can afford to leave right now.”
Lewey let out a long sigh and stared at his shoes. He felt his mother reach her arm around him and pull him towards her in a long hug, as she did with Emmy.
“I love you both more than the world itself,” she whispered to them through her quiet sobs. “And I promise that I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you, okay? I will be back as soon as I can, and then everything will be better.”
Lewey began to cry too, burying his face in his mother’s shoulder so as to hide it from his sister who simply embraced her mother back without the slightest hint towards worry.
Then she had let the two of them go, turned away and started toward her horse. She turned back one last time and blew them each a kiss, then rode off into the moonlight without another look back. Emmy had stood there on the porch with Lewey for only a couple minutes afterwards and then went back inside to go to sleep. Lewey on the other hand stood there for hours, staring off at the full moon with wonder.
At least she’ll be back. He thought. After all, she promised.


***


Dear Mother,
If you are reading this than that means that you have come back for me and I have already left. I plan on leaving as soon as I can, and I plan on never looking back, just as you seem to have done as well.
I want you to know that I forgive you for what you have done to us, even though it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. You left Emmy and I practically alone, and put us through more torture and more pain than you could have ever imagined. I dreamed of you returning to us day and night, but it never came true and eventually I had to come to terms with the fact that you got yourself out of this hellish place, but didn’t’ seem to care whether Emmy or I did too.
Emmy is dead, as you will have probably found out by the time you read this letter. She is dead and part of it is because of me, but I strongly believe that part of it is because of you too. You never came back like you had promised you would, and Emmy never got the medicine she had been promised she would get. She died happy as she always was. But, mother, I want you to know that she would have been happier with you here.
I have discovered my dream here, and I plan on continuing it in a bigger city. Probably Boston, to be exact. I want to play the violin. I want to play at concert halls across the nation and theaters across the globe. I want to be famous, mother, however ridiculous that may sound.
I hope when you return (If you ever do) that Pa is no longer here. If he is than I don’t want you to stay. You were smart enough to get yourself away once and I believe you could easily do it again. But please, ma, don’t let him hurt you anymore. Watching him hurt you all those years probably caused me more pain than it did you, and knowing that you are safe and unharmed will bring me far more peace than it ever will you.
I would like to say I love you, but I don’t know how true it is anymore. I forgive you, and I miss you more than anything else in the world, but I don’t’ know if I can truly say ‘I love you’. I don’t know if I could love a woman who abandons her children and never sends them word. I don’t’ know if I could love a woman who let her only daughter die and her only son be left with a drunken father who doesn’t do a damn thing to help out.
But, to help us both move on I will say it; I love you. I love you more than the earth and the moon and the sun, and every day since you have gone I think about you and can’t stop. As much as I want you back in my life I want more than anything for you to simply be safe and to be happy. I would rather continue on with my life alone anyway. I am tired of that awful feeling you get inside when you lose someone you loved so much.
As much as your absence had made me weaken, it eventually made me stronger than ever. And therefore you are the only person I can thank for making me who I am.
I love you, ma.
Sincerely,
Lawrence Solomon Rutherford