Page 70 of Possibly Texas

“What’s the point of stars if you don’t have someone to gaze at them with?”

“True,” he said. “I guess we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a full moon anyway. The stars wouldn’t have seemed as bright. Maybe this was good?”

“Maybe. The moon would have been awesome, though. So? Next time?”

“Oh, we’re kicking this thing’s ass next time!”

We both whooped and hollered, determined that our next adventure with the art installation would be victorious.

The stars would still be there for it.

AMOR was playing Gimme a Pig Foot and a Bottle of Beer by Bessie Smith. It was the perfect theme song for strolling through downtown Possibly on a hot July day while sipping Mountain Dew from an actual glass bottle. On Independence Day, as Auggie and I had planned, we went to Possibly’s Fourth of July BBQ. Around ten-thirty, the two of us met at Bend of the Road Graveyard—which wasn’t nearly as creepy with the sun out—and walked to Liberty Lane together.

Off of the street, just past the tram tracks, dozens of smokers and grills had been set up by the tiny hamlet’s residents. Sticky, pungent puffs of smoke belched from them in gusts, scenting downtown Possibly with the aroma of liquid smoke, meat, and mesquite. The taste of brown sugar and molasses seemed to waft through the air and stick at the back of my throat, but was quickly washed away by another sip of soda.

Though I’d had breakfast, I had caught the smell of the BBQ back at the graveyard, and my stomach groaned with pleasure. I wasn’t sure what all was being prepared in the plethora of grills and smokers on Liberty Lane, but my stomach wanted to taste it all. Of course, lunch wasn’t to be served until noon—apparently, some of the cooks had been setting up before sunrise to make sure everything was ready—so I had to swallow my hunger.

Not one to be run off by a community activity, Earl Dean and his pickaxe were doing their work on the asphalt of Liberty Lane. No one paid him much mind other than Officer Hanning. He wasn’t hurting anyone. So, Possibilians left him to his work as they zigzagged to and fro, greeting their friends and family, peeking in the front window of AMOR, talking to the cooks at the grills and smokers, and saying “hello” to Jasper as he lounged lazily in his tram car.

Even on the Fourth of July, and with so many people on the street, Jasper was sticking to his up and down the tracks on the hour schedule.

Wyatt, though he seemed to be helping out at grills and smokers along Liberty Lane, didn’t forget to fire his gun periodically.

Schedules—or maybe, habits—were important in Possibly, apparently.

Auggie and I said our hellos on Liberty Lane when we first arrived, but our first order of business was to procure the aforementioned Mountain Dews in glass bottles. That task was completed by visiting Samuel’s Soda Spray. While he planned to close at noon for the BBQ and the rest of the day’s activities, he had chosen to open during the morning. Though there were plenty of coolers full of drinks lining the sidewalk outside of AMOR on Liberty Lane, nothing inside of them could compare to Samuel’s offerings.

After leaving half of the town’s residents behind at Liberty Lane, we found what seemed like the other half in a line outside of Samuel’s. The line stretched nearly from the corner of The Pueblo, around Mystic Molly’s tent, and down the street into Samuel’s. The line moved quickly, all things considered, because Samuel was a wiz behind the counter. Chocolate malt? Minute or less. A fountain drink? Five seconds, tops. A sundae? Give him thirty seconds and you’d have the most delicious sundae you’ve ever had.

With Levi Lee behind the register—one of his part-time jobs aside from being an “all-around handyman”—the two had the line moving rapidly.

However, under the summer sun, as nice as it usually seemed to be in Possibly, the line couldn’t move quickly enough. As Auggie and I moved with the line, the moments we were standing under the shade of trees or store awnings were the best.

The Possibilian breeze still blew through town, carrying the sounds of Susurrus Creek, but it was warmer than usual. Downtown Possibly felt like an oven. An oven on its lowest setting, obviously, but the warm summery days made pleasant by the cool breeze seemed to have abandoned the town for its Fourth of July BBQ.

As Auggie and I were standing in line for Samuel’s, just outside Mystic Molly’s tent, I felt a drop of sweat trickle its way between my shoulder blades, down my back, and into my shorts.

Swamp Ass.

I didn’t want that. Glancing around, I noticed that Mystic Molly was seated at her table in her darkened tent. She was watching the crowd shuffle by, but her eyes didn’t focus on anyone in particular for long. Outside of her tent, propped up against the right flap, she had a sandwich board which proclaimed that she was doing Tarot card readings for free. Though mysticism and the occult didn’t appeal to me—maybe even creeped me out a bit—the interior of the tent was shaded. Its darkness beckoned to me as I stood in the sun and sweated into my ass crack.

“Auggie,” I said, “let’s get a Tarot reading.”

Auggie glanced out of the side of his eye at Molly’s.

“I don’t really care for the Tarot,” he said and went back to look down the line towards Samuel’s.

“Come on.” I gripped his forearm and pulled him towards the tent. “It won’t take too long. And it’s free!”

Auggie sputtered as I dragged him out of the line and the people behind us moved up to take our place. Outside the opening to Molly’s tent, Auggie pulled his arm out of my grasp with a laugh.

“We lost our place, Jordan! We’ll have to go to the back of the line, and—”

“Come on,” I said, pleading, not wanting to explain that my buttcrack was becoming Florida in August. “Just one reading. We weren’t waiting that long anyway.”

He rolled his eyes playfully.

“Fine,” he said. “Hopefully, Molly tells us we are going to win a million dollars or something.”