Wire Nut

if you know how to run
Sweet Virginia, you should run
if you know how to play
Sweet Virginia, you should play

Crawford, Texas, 1980

We pay a visit to my great-grandfather, Papa Chicho.

He doesn’t speak English, but he smiles and rubs the tops of our heads. He is a little, fierce man, brown and shriveled from 90 years of sharecropping and rattlesnake bites.

My grandmother tells me he once rode with Pancho Villa.

* * *

Saturday

I pull out the old dishwasher.

“It’s hard-wired.”

“Vut does dees mean?”

“It means we can’t just plug it in. I’m gonna have to, you know, mess with wires and stuff.”

“Do you know vut to do?”

“Uh.” I pause. “Sure. Heh.”

I find the fuse box in the garage and toggle ‘Kitchen,’ ‘Dishwasher’ and ‘Kitchen Lights.’

I step back in the house. All the kitchen lights are still on.

* * *

Crawford, Texas, 1980

I always lie on the carpet here. Papa Chicho’s ceiling is textured, and interspersed with sparkles. I imagine each sparkle is a ray of sunlight to the outside world.

“Do you and your sister want to go outside and play?”

We are both bounding down the steps without even answering, and headed towards the bull pasture.

We never get too close, because the big, black bull usually stands right next to the fence, a simple row of wooden posts, topped with a single, solitary wire. We never believe that this fragile barrier is enough to keep the bull from us, from grinding us into bits, blowing smoke from his nostrils onto our remains. The fear draws us mightily towards him.

But on this day, the bull stands in the middle of the field, under the shade of a solitary pecan tree. So we are able to come directly to the fence.

My own fear somewhat dissipated by the bull’s distance, I am overfilling with big brother bravado. I look at my sister and say, “You better stay back at the house. I’m gonna throw a rock at that bull. This ain’t no place for a little girl.”

She looks scared, and this delights me to no end. But she tags along, anyway. All the way to the fence.

“I’m warning you. When that bull starts running at us, I ain’t waitin’ up.”

Still, she lingers.

I smile and think of some way I can impress her with my courage even further. “In fact, I’m even gonna climb this fence and then throw the rock from the other side.”

The look of fear is now so great in her eyes that I can barely contain myself.

* * *

Saturday

I unplug the wiring from the old dishwasher, carefully unscrewing the wire nuts from the black, white and green wires. The bare copper menaces me, eager to latch on to my bare skin.

I look up at the kitchen lights, perturbed that they are still on.

I look back at the wires.

“Here, Spot!”

“Vut are you doing?”

“Uh, you know. Just testing to make sure that the power really is off.”

“Vith zee dog?”

“Uh. Er. Yes.”

“Dees eez awful! She eez eenocent dog!”

“Well, I’m gonna have to touch the wires, too! I’m not asking her to do something that I’m not willing to do! You know, afterwards.”

I call the dog again, but she stops a few feet away from me, sniffing the air. She won’t come closer.

“Dees dog eez very smart.”

I reach into the nearest counter and pull out some crackers. I crumble them onto the tile in front of me, holding the wires by the plastic covering. The three bare copper strands look like a claw. Spot takes a step closer but stops again, looking at the wires. Her tail creeps even further between her legs. She looks at the crackers and grudgingly takes a step back.

Our little dog, Mila, hearing the commotion, runs into the kitchen and heads straight towards the crackers. Alex and I both scream in unison, “No!”.

Neither of us want to electrocute the little dog.

Mila finishes the crackers and looks up, completely oblivious of the wires and what great risk she has taken for a few measly crackers.

* * *

Crawford, Texas, 1980

“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of,” I say, contemptuously.

In reality, however, I have no intention of sharing a pasture with that bull. But she doesn’t say anything to stop me. Doesn’t put a hand to my arm and implore me not to climb that fence. Doesn’t cry out with that satisfying threat of ‘I’m gonna tell Mom!’.

Her refusal to swerve in this game of chicken forces my hand. Out of frustration, I reach towards the solitary wire atop the fence. “I’m serious. I’m gonna climb this fence!”

My hand grasps the wire, and I immediately feel as though a giant bull has struck me, a charge that hits me solidly in every muscle and bone of my body. My hand clenches around the wire and even if I could will it, I could not force it to let go. I cannot so much as think, so powerful is this hammer that now controls my every movement.

But just as abruptly as the pain began, it stops. I unclench my fist, only now noticing that my legs have given way. When I let go of the wire, I slide to the ground. Lying on my side, facing Papa Chicho’s house, I see that my sister is merely a dot on the horizon, little cloudbursts of dust kicking up behind her feet in flight.

* * *

Saturday

I call Spot again, but she doesn’t budge, even though Mila has safely maneuvered the death trap. I roll my eyes and tell Alex, “Oh, well, you know, I don’t really believe the wire is hot, anyway.”

Still, I pause a little before I touch all three wires to Mila’s head.

She wags her tail.

Wondering if the wires have actually come into contact with her skin, I force the wires again through her fur.

Still wagging the tail.

I can hear Alex let out a breath of relief.

“We’re not done yet!” I say.

I look at the bare wires. I reach out with my finger, just a hairsbreadth away. I swipe at the wire, hoping that the speed will somehow reduce the shock, should the wires still be hot and our little dog somehow impervious to electricity.

Nothing.

I take another breath. I reach for the copper with my thumb and index finger. “Okay, here goes.”

I squeeze the wire.

I scream out in agony and shock, “Aaaaaahhhhh!!!!”

Alex jumps and screams, “Vlaaaaahhhhh!!!!”

I laugh. “It’s alright. I’m just kidding. I don’t know what you’re so afraid of.”

I release my inner breath, and wipe the sweat from my forehead.

The dishwasher works just fine.