A slyly sensual sound at a time when sex wasn’t talked about, except by married women on front porches in the summer twilight, or wildly exaggerated by teenage girls, also in whispers but with a throatiness, a raw edge which might cause the speaker to break off, red-faced, while the rest of us looked at our feet.
I felt something inside me I’d never felt before, and I let out a scream that climbed Devil’s Backbone, then dropped to the hollers where it stilled the deer. It felt like someone had taken out my heart, torn it in half, and put it back in.
Onan sees himself as a child, playing with his truck in the red clay of the hill. He sees Rochelle. He sees little Rochelles. He sees a little boy who looks exactly like him, playing with trucks in a sandlot, about to make the same mistake he did.