I looked around to see who it was.
It sounded like Billy.
“Wiley!”
The voice came from somewhere far, far away.
I turned back to Papaw, but he was no longer there.
Neither was the casket.
“Papaw?”
Confused, I turned about in a small circle, suddenly afraid and anxious.
Everyone was gone.
“Papaw? Where are you?”
“Wiley!” the voice came again.
There was a pain in the back of my head. Sharp, insistent throbbing. I tried to open my eyes, feeling incredibly tired, wishing I could fall back to sleep, or wake up, or something.
“Wiley!”
I felt someone or other grasp me by the shoulders. I opened my eyes to see who this was but couldn’t see clearly, couldn’t focus on the person talking.
“Jesus!” the voice exclaimed.
It was Billy’s voice. I’d know his “Jesus!” anywhere—lots of heavy emphasis on the first syllable, making him sound like a Baptist preacher. Jeee-sus!
“Billy?” I muttered, thinking we must have gotten into a fight and he had roundhoused me.