In Parched Gardens: Book 1

Chapter 10: The Shimmering Sky

He was waiting for his dad on the single step up to the wrought iron gate at the front of his yard. He was turned on the step and looked straight ahead. Although it was morning, it was already getting hot and he relaxed into the warm air as he looked over the fields. He could see the buzz of insects in the tall grass and weeds, bees and dragonflies darting between scraggly windflowers. Between the fields, he could see the occasional car glide down Fairview Street, the road almost shimmering between the rolling green. Beyond the fields, he could see the cemetery arching up its slight slope. And beyond the cemetery, more fields, away to the far corners of Allbrook. If he looked just slightly to his left, he could see his neighborhood, in checkered pattern, rolling toward the center of Allbrook just eight blocks away. Yet, there was something peaceful about the fields, even the cemetery, on clear summer mornings. In the warmth and the yellow glow of morning, in the birdsong and bee hum, in the calm and the waking, in the green rolling of the fields and the gray mausoleums, things felt at peace. Fin felt like there may even be some peace, there, on these mornings. That perhaps the butterflies, in their first flights of day, would visit and eat at the flowers' nectar there. That the swirl of their color would rest easy on the gray and the green of the lonely graves. That someone could perhaps even visit at a time like this, and sit with the pale light and the shimmering sky, and not be crushed and wretched. Perhaps.

Not long into his sitting, he saw the truck making its way down Hudson Street. Quickly arriving, his father parked just beyond where he was sitting, at the edge of the street. The front passenger window rolled down and his grandmother waved at him from inside the truck. "Morning, Finegan," she called to him.

"Morning, Grandma," he called back, standing up to join them.

Before he could get to the truck, its back door swung open and his grandfather stepped down onto the grass there just as Fin reached him. "Morning, Finny," his grandfather said, hugging him quickly. Standing there for a moment, he looked at the house before them. "The house looks good," his grandfather said, studying the yard. "Bob and Cheryl'd be happy with everything. Well," he continued, "we'd better get goin' before there aren't any parking spots left," he said, stepping back into the truck.

Fin walked around the truck and got into the back seat behind his father. His father smiled at him and nodded visibly in the rearview mirror. "Morning, Fin," he said. "Great day for the festival isn't it?"

"Morning, Dad," Fin started. "Really is. Hey," he continued as they turned away from Fin's house toward the center of town, "Isaac said he'd like to come with us if that's alright."

"Of course," his father answered. "Does he want a ride?"

"I told him we'd probably be able to pick him up this morning. I'll let him know we're almost there."

"Oh good," his grandmother said. "We'd love for him to come with us," she said sincerely. "I haven't seen that boy in a long time."

"Yeah, he's excited to see everyone too," Fin replied.

Quickly, they made their way to Isaac's house. Just three blocks south and half a block west of Fin's, the drive was short. Already, some people in the neighborhood were walking toward town, going to meet with neighbors, or setting things up for cookouts in their yards. Almost every lawn in the neighborhood that spanned east and west of the center of Allbrook had an incredible view of the fireworks display. Every year, people from all around Allbrook gathered at cookouts, often spending the whole day in yards in this neighborhood.

Stopping in front of Isaac's house, Fin examined it. It was a two story house with a small front porch. It was painted gray, which had lightened over time. Several windows were opened and music could be heard from inside the house. Fin turned toward the side yard now, just as someone he imagined had to be one of Isaac's roommates walked out of a side door toward the back yard. He was wearing swim trunks, an American flag apron, and a chef's hat. It appeared like in one hand he was carrying a tray that easily held ten pounds of uncooked bacon and a beer in the other hand. As Fin was looking, the guy turned, seeing the truck parked there, and raised his beer hand in a wave to them. "Happy Fourth!" he yelled to them as he rounded the corner to the back yard and Fin's father turned to him in the backseat. "Is this really who Isaac lives with?" he asked, smiling.