4 P.M., AUGUST 28, 2011
She looks down into the swelling and churning water and watches all the things passing below, picked up from the shore along the way: branches, barrels, a green rubber boot, trees, a refrigerator. She blinks, disbelieving. Laughs.
“Fucking beautiful!” she calls out, the sound of her voice swallowed.
She thinks back to the farm where she grew up, ten miles upstream, headwaters to this creek and all it harbors. “Wash us all clean,” she whispers, her arms outspread toward the roiling water. The roar of the water is all she can hear. The rain covers her face, her hair, soaks through her sweatshirt, her pants, her white sneakers. She tips her face back and faces that rain. So cool. Effervescent! She wishes Vale were here to see it. Why aren’t you here with me, Vale? That perfect mole at the back of her neck, dark curls. Bonnie hears the crack of something breaking. She looks down—the concrete ripples below her feet. A black thing floats by. Wings. A large bird! Raven? Hawk? Owl? Her mother had one. An owl. Otie. Bonnie laughs, just thinking of it. Her mother and her owl. But what is happening? Electricity through her body. Water all in her white sneakers. The ground under her shifting. Another crack like thunder. Jesus, what is happening? Jesus: Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Ain’t that the truth, Bonnie thinks, looking down at the water below her feet. The love of Jesus! As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. The bridge is cracking, breaking, but Bonnie’s body does not fall. It doesn’t crash with the concrete into the roiling water below. Instead she walks across to the other side. To solid ground. To cool, black earth beneath her. Arms spread. A smile across her lips. Cackle of high laughter. The love of Jesus pounding in her chest and everywhere. She turns and watches the bridge crash and crumble and break, bones of green iron and steel and concrete disappearing into white water. Sweet water! Oh, Vale, baby. Whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Vale, baby, Bonnie thinks, laughing, walking, I’ve always loved the motherfucking rain.