“You can make it work.” B?o beamed optimistically.
“Yes,” Jack said. “That’s the beauty of it. Fixing broken things … it kind of feels like medicine for me.”
In the moonlit calm of the workshop, Jack pulled out a square paper envelope from one of the drawers and revealed a new, pristine crystal.
“We’re going to make this old watch so spiffy that no one ever mistakes it for junk again.”
The replacement glass rested in his palm.
“Now, let me show you how we do this.” He pulled a watch case press from the shelf. Then, step by step, he showed B?o how to slip the new crystal into the gasket.
“Next thing is getting it to keep time,” he laughed. “That’s the tricky part, B?o.”
He took out his set of tools, lining up the pliers and the small tweezers. “You have to imagine that the inside of a watch is like a human heart. When it’s broken, you need to mend it with a lot of care.”
The energy between the two of them shifts as they work side by side.
As Jack guides him, B?o feels the same warmth he once experienced with his dad back in Vietnam. A wave of fascination and excitement washes over him, for he is eager to learn something new. He is grateful to Jack for sharing his wisdom.
Jack does not say how B?o’s presence in the store has helped him. He does not say that when they listen to the songs on the radio together, the music brings him back to another time, to a part of his history where men like Doc or Stanley are still alive beside him. Or Becky is nestled against him in bed.
It gives him great satisfaction that B?o now considers the workshop a safe space to practice his English, that he asks if he can arrange the toolbox or wind the smaller timepieces in the display case, not just the larger ones displayed in the showroom. He is comforted by theboy’s affection for Hendrix, his ability to be quiet and still when he is deep in concentration.
But what is unexpected—and what he’s almost at a loss of words on how to express—is the realization that the child has made him feel like he has something of worth to offer.
“We fix it together,” B?o says. And Jack’s heart nearly explodes within his chest for it’s the same sweetness and innocence he saw at a distance when he cleaned desks at Foxton or when he sat beside Stanley with his Bible. It is so pure and bright, it lights up the room.
He realizes that the Golden Hours has become a sacred space for yet one more person. A refuge for the broken to heal.
CHAPTER 64
BUDDY SEIZES THE CAN OF WHITE SPRAY PAINT AND WALKStoward the back of the gym as the music pounds from inside. Queen’s “We Are the Champions” is playing, and everyone is loudly chanting the lyrics.
He doesn’t think about what he’s going to write, but the humiliation and rage he feels toward Katie, combined with the beer, fuels him.
He takes the paint, holds the nozzle down with his forefinger, and scrawls in large white letters,Katie Golden is a WHORE.
Clayton grins as his friend steps away from the brick facade to reveal what he’s written. He stares at the letters, watching with great titillation as their wet borders drip down the wall like the edges of an angry scar.
“We should probably get the hell out of here before we get caught,” Buddy spits as he throws the can into the shrubs and casts a frenzied glare in Clayton’s direction.
Neither of the boys saw B?o riding past the school on his way back from the clock store. Just as he rolls his bike around the rear perimeter, he eyes Buddy stepping away from his hateful graffiti.
B?o stares at the words. It takes him only seconds to recognizes Katie’s name and the last name of the one family who has shown him and his aunt Anh kindness since they arrived. And although he does not know the exact meaning of the sentence, the fury and haste in which it has so obviously been written exudes a palpable aggression. He immediately senses that the menacing white strokes of spray paint are a slur against Katie.
He stands near the bushes, still perched on his bike, and considers saying something to the boys, but the words are caught in his throat.
But even so, as the boys hoist their legs over their bicycles and start to ride off, his desire to reprimand them and punish the villains, just like his favorite superheroes would, gets the better of him.
He pushes off pavement with his foot and begins to follow them.
As B?o pedals behind them, still at a distance, the other boys don’t yet take notice of him. In his mind, he is channeling the warrior spirits of Giong, Jayna, and Zan. He is thinking how he will correct a wrong that has been done to Molly’s sister and make it right.
Clayton and Buddy continue to ride far ahead, inhaling air into their lungs enjoying the sensation of speed beneath them.
The tall lanky one rides on a dirt bike, his knees nearly up to the handlebars, the fat wheels veeringSshapes as he pedals forth. He is laughing with his head thrown back, the hair on his head rising in the rush of autumn wind.
It isn’t until they approach the Ace Hardware Shopping Center and steer toward the entrance that leads to the reservoir and their fort that Buddy senses they are being followed.
