The Law of Moses(22)

Ms. Murray wasn’t really a crier. She was usually pretty serious and stiff. She was a good teacher and she didn’t yell or get all emotional when kids messed up or were disrespectful, which I frankly appreciated. High school was crazy enough without teachers adding to the drama. When Ms. Murray wasn’t happy, she usually just stared you down and started heaping on the homework. She didn’t cry.

This wasn’t good. Apparently Moses recognized that fact, because he dropped the marker clutched in his hand and stepped away, looking from side to side like he was planning his escape.

“What is that, anyway?” Charlie Morgan spoke up, never one to hold still or hold his tongue. I usually hated that he could never shut up. But I didn’t hate it now. Now, I was glad. I was glad because I wanted to know too. Charlie pointed at the board. “Is that a waterfall?

When Moses didn’t respond Charlie continued. “Behind the waterfall—those are people, right?” Charlie laughed. “They’re making out! And it doesn’t look like they’re wearing any clothes.”

A few of my classmates laughed, but we all stared, our eyes drawn to the way the water spilled down from the cliffs surrounding the two people who were almost hidden in the silvery fall. If I squinted, blurring the reality of the black lines and the unromantic whiteboard, I could almost imagine the picture was real, that the people behind the water were living and breathing, that they were truly kissing and we were peering through the spray, watching the intimate encounter unfold. And they were definitely naked. I felt my cheeks get hot and I pulled my eyes away. Looking at what Moses had drawn made my skin feel too tight and my body ache with a need that had become an ever-present thing where Moses was concerned. It made me think of the night at the water tower, and the kisses we had shared and the heat that had remained in my belly long after we parted.

“Did you draw that?” Another kid spoke up from behind me. It sounded like Kirsten, but I didn’t turn my head to see for sure. “It’s so good. You’re an amazing artist.”

“Students!” Ms. Murray had found her voice, though it shook and wavered like she was still crying. “I need you to head out to the commons area. Take your things. Use the time to work on the paper due Friday. Moses, please stay.”

Working on my paper didn’t sound half as interesting as seeing Ms. Murray crying over a whiteboard drawing of naked people, drawn by none other than Moses Wright—my Moses—who also happened to be the strangest person I’d ever met. But free-time was way better than instruction, and I didn’t have any choice in the matter, so we all reluctantly rose and filed out the door. I was the last to leave, and I caught Moses’s eye as I let the door shut behind me. He looked as if he wanted to call me back, as if he wanted to explain. But then the door swung closed, and I stood on the other side. Still, I thought I heard Mrs. Murray ask Moses the weirdest question.

“How did you know?” she asked. “How did you know about Ray?”





Georgia



MOSES WAS SUSPENDED. Apparently, Ms. Murray didn’t like him drawing naked people kissing under a waterfall on her whiteboards. I was actually a little surprised. It hadn’t seemed malicious. But I guess it was a little erotic for the classroom. I felt hot all over again and wondered what Moses had been thinking. What had compelled him to do something so stupid? Was it the attention? It was only the beginning of the school year, May was a long way off, and from what I’d been able to coax out of a reluctant Moses, he couldn’t afford to miss anything. He was a senior but didn’t have enough credits to graduate unless he worked his butt off. And getting suspended was pretty counter-productive.

I thought for sure his grandma would be able to twist some arms and smooth things over to get him right back, but over the next two months it was one thing after another, and Moses couldn’t stay out of trouble. He painted another barn in town with blacks and silvers and streaks of gold so vivid it looked as if the entire north side had been swallowed by a black hole that left a violent storm in its wake. I didn’t find out until later that that barn had been struck by lightning thirty years before and burned to the ground, killing a man in the process. The man had been trying to get his horses out and was engulfed in flames. The painting wasn’t quite as beautiful when I knew the story behind it.

The barn had eventually been rebuilt and his wife had remarried, but Charlotte Butters, his widow, wasn’t especially impressed by Moses’s artistic ability and made sure everyone in town knew what a cruel joke she thought it was, though I doubted it was anything but a coincidence. It would be a shame to paint over something so awe-inspiring, but Charlotte Butters was fuming, and Moses’s grandma had smoothed her feathers by promising that Moses would fix it, plus paint the rest of the barn to make amends. No swirls of color or Sistine chapel this time. Just plain barn red and long hours on a ladder. I was, of course, keeping him company even though he was trying to convince me to leave. As usual.

It was October, but although there was a nip in the air and the light warmed the earth at a different angle, we were having a string of unseasonably warm days, warm enough to make painting a barn after school not completely unappealing, especially if it meant I could see Moses…whether or not he wanted to see me. He and I had the strangest relationship. One minute he was telling me to scram and the next he was kissing me like he would never let me go.