Page 87 of Possibly Texas

Jack nodded then spelled out Auggie’s name before tapping the fingers of his right hand to his lips and then bringing it to his left hand. Then he took his right hand with only his index finger and pinky sticking out, held his index finger under his nose, and rotated his wrist a few times, bringing his pinky up and down.

Auggie’s a good kid.

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s all right. For someone who believes in ghosts.”

Jack held his belly and his mouth went wide, though no noise came forth. However, he was laughing. Just as I loved making Auggie laugh, I loved making Jack laugh. If not for the same reason.

When I made my way upstairs finally, leaving Jack to his T.V. shows, I stripped down and stared out the dormer window at the barn. In the early afternoon sun, its red paint blazed like a beacon by Susurrus Creek. I wondered what Auggie was doing as he waited for eleven-thirty to come. Was he as excited—and nervous—as I was?

I didn’t slide under the covers. I was still too warm to need them. But I napped peacefully for hours.

Taaaaap. Tap. Tap.

Tap.

Tap. Taaaaap.

Taaaap. Tap. Tap.

Something was tapping inside my head.

After dinner with Jack, followed by T.V. time watching silly comedies, I had gone up to my room and laid down on my bed to stare out at Possibly. I must have drifted off into a heavy slumber because when I heard the tapping, I was startled to the point that I nearly fell out of bed.

What was inside my head?

Taaaaap. Tap. Tap.

Tap.

Tap. Taaaaap.

Taaaap. Tap. Tap.

Roused from my sleep, I sat up in bed and shook my head to chase away the tapping noise coming from inside my skull. When the tapping continued even after I had shaken off my sleep, I jerked my head around, looking for the source of incessant clatter. Nearly coming out of my skin, I jumped when my eyes landed on the dormer windows and the shadowy figure just beyond, perched on the roof outside of my bedroom.

Then my eyes locked with the figure’s and I smiled.

Auggie.

Auggie was crouched on the roof outside of my window, smiling in at me.

Thank God I hadn’t stripped down to my boxers for my second nap.

“Hey,” I said.

Mindlessly, I hadn’t thought that he might not be able to hear me through the closed window, so I leaned over my bed and raised the window.

“Hey,” I repeated.

“Is baby boy sleepyheaded?” he asked with a grin.

“Shut up,” I said. “What are you doing on the roof?”

“It’s time to go ghost hunting, friend!” He crowed up at the night sky.

I looked up at the starlit sky through the window, that velvety, speckled sheet blanketing the sky above us.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re on the roof and peeking through my window.”