Page 23 of Theo of Golden

The oak nearest the Chalice, on the southeast side of the tree, had a scar on its trunk, eight feet above the ground, that bore the unmistakable shape of an eye.

Some of the older Black folk in the city called it “the Eye of God.”

It harkened back to a time, still alive in their ancient memories, when public executions took place in the median, and hangings — unspeakable injustices — were carried out on the strong limbs of those trees. Crowds came shamelessly, in the broad light of day, to witness and even celebrate those lynchings.

One old soul, who had actually been alive to witness such barbarism, once offered her belief about the tree in an interview with the local evening news.

“God sees. The Eye o’ God sees. The Lawd God sees it all. He keepin’ sco’. That’s why the grass don’t grow up under dem trees.”

And they swear that, at times, the Eye of God weeps. Others say it’s just rainwater and tannin. But those old timers brook no dissent.

“No, chile, dem is the tears o’ God. Put some o’ dat on ya’ tongue. It’s all bitter. Bitter, hurtful tears. He cries some ever’day. Every day this world give Him reason, us too, to cry some mo’. The eyes of God in the Promenod. ‘Dey sees it all. But He gawn make it right one day.”

The Promenade, the Fedder, and a carefully selected spot beside the river: those three places became, in many ways, the center of Theo’s life in Golden. For the year he dwelled there, the Eye of God was always near.

CHAPTER 14

Mr. Ponder handed Mrs. Gidley a list of four more names. She ever so slightly rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Ponder, you have to admit. This is ridiculous and dangerous, approaching total strangers like this. One of these days a policeman or an angry husband is going to show up, and we’re going to be stuck right in the middle of it.”

The venerable consultant did not argue.

“Anita, I’ll admit it’s unusual. But I’m proofing all of his letters to make sure they’re appropriate. And seven o’clock in broad daylight keeps him pretty safe.”

And so, bestowal number five.

Intuition and appearance (“faces that have suffered loss”) eventually led Theo to the portrait of Kendrick Whitaker.

Theo learned from Shep that the young man worked as a custodian at the university. It was a job for which he was grateful, in which he took pride, and to which he brought an admirable combination of punctuality, diligence, and excellence. Working night shift meant he was invisible to most of those who benefited from his work (he usually left before they arrived at their jobs), but his efforts were noticed, admired, and appreciated.

He had a serious, quiet demeanor that could easily be, and sometimes was, mistaken for sullenness. Beneath the exterior, however, for those able to pierce it, he was a thoughtful and gentle man.

Kendrick rarely patronized the Chalice (there was free coffee at work, after all), but when he did, he said little, rarely smiled, and always ordered a medium brew of the day with room for cream.

Mrs. Gidley sent Theo’s handwritten letter through the university’s custodial department.

Dear Mr. Whitaker,

You and I have never met in person but I saw your portrait recently at the Chalice coffee shop. I bought the portrait and would like to give it to you as a gift. You can do with it as you please.

I understand you work at the university on the night shift, on weekdays.

I would like to meet you at the fountain in the median across from the coffee shop to give you the picture. I will be there at 7:30 this Thursday morning. It should only take a few minutes.

I know this might seem a bit strange. For some reason, I feel that the picture should be with you. If you wish not to have it, I will take good care of it.

I look forward to meeting you.

Just so you’ll be able to recognize me. I am an old man. I will be wearing a brown jacket and a green cap.

Wishing you the very best.

Every blessing,

Theo

At seven a.m. on Thursday, Theo was sitting at the fountain. The spouts were idle, and the water was calm enough that coins were distinguishable beneath the surface. One red plastic cup, a souvenir from the previous night’s reveling, floated lazily on its side.