Bad Water

NOTE: This story connects to a old Blues song and tells of a young girl's older brother dying from drinking contaminated water.

Bad Water by Almeta Whitis © 2025

“Can’t you hear me calling you? Can’t you hear me now? I need a little bit of water, every little once in a while. . .

Bring me little water, Sylvie. Bring me little water now. Bring me little water, Sylvie, every little once in a while.

Bring it in a bucket, Sylvie.” Bring it in a bucket, now. Bring it in a bucket, Sylvie, every little once in a while...

~Blues Song by Huddie Leadbetter~

“Y’all best be careful out there and don’t drink water from the spigot!” Mama called out after us as us kids skipped and ran along the blackberry bush-lined path leading from our ramshackle shotgun style house, whooping and hollering at the top of our lungs.

“C’mon, Pee Wee… You always so slow. Hurry up or they gonna leave us!” my brother George teased. Like most young boys of the time, George was rambunctious and loath to have to include me, his little sister during his playtimes. He would much rather hang out with his buddies… and, NO girls allowed!

That sun-shiny day is one that I will remember. . . forever. Dreary days laden with heavy rainfalls had caused the West Virginia creek near our small rural community to rise way up, flooding the fields. This was the first day without rainfall and we children were anxious to play outdoors. All of our parents had previously warned us not to drink water from the community spigot because it had become contaminated. On that day, when George’s friends showed up, asking him to come play with them in the nearby woods, I wanted to go, too.

“Go on home, Pee Wee.” George scolded as I tagged along behind them. “You are too little to go along with us. Besides, no girls allowed!”

“Why?”

“Because I said so!”

“Why?!”

“Why are you always asking questions, girl? You are the nosiest person I know!”

“Am not!”

"Are too!"

“Am not!!”

“Are too…and that is the end of it. I mean it! Go home, Pee Wee!!”

As much as I wanted to stay with them, I did what George said and went back home alone, to play by myself in the front yard. George came back a little later, silent, not his usual boisterous self. His mumbled “Hey, Pee Wee.” greeting felt preoccupied and distant.

“Hey, George.” I replied. “How you?”

“Okay. Tell Mama when she gits here that I’m laying down. I don’t feel so good.”

“What’s wrong, George? You sick?”

“I dunno…just feel real tired… I’m gonna lay down.”

“Yeah, you do that George. Want me to go get Mama?”

“No need to bother her, Pee Wee. You keep on playing… I just need to rest awhile, okay?

“Okay, George.” Despite my worry, I did as my big brother said. Instead of playing though, I sat on the front stoop’s lowest step, digging holes in the ground with my finger… waiting for Mama.

Earlier that day, she had left to walk down the mountain from our Salt Pork, West Virginia home, headed for the railroad tracks. Following them, she would walk to the nearest town about five miles away to shop for food and household supplies. Her going “shopping”, was always an all-day affair… Mama took her time to visit with family and friends, catch up on the latest gossip and other community “goings on”. The sun was just beginning to set when she walked into the clearing in front of our shotgun-style house.

“Girl, what you doing sitting out here by yourself?” she asked me.

“Nothing.” I glumly replied.

“What’s the matter, Pee Wee?”

“George is sick, Mama.”

“What! Where is he?!”

“He inside laying down. Been there all day…”

“Lawd, have mercy!!” Mama exclaimed, rushing up the front steps and into our house. I hurried along after her as the look on her face told me that she was really worried. Slamming her shopping onto our kitchen table, Mama ran down the hall to the tiny bedroom that George and I shared. My brother lay on the bed shaking, his clothes drenched with the sweat pouring off his body.

“What’s the matter, George?” Mama asked as she sat down on the bed next to him to comfort her first born - her only son.

“Mama, I don’t feel so good.” My brother’s voice sounded soft, weak….

“Pee Wee, run and get me a pan of cool water, some rubbing alcohol - it’s in the package on the table - and some clean cloths. And remember to draw the water from our rain barrel, not the spigot!!!”

“Okay, Mama.” I did as she told me. First, I took down the wash pan from its’ wall peg in the kitchen, took it outside to the corner of the house where the barrel that collected rainwater stood. After filling the pan, I went back inside and tore open the store-bought package to find the rubbing alcohol. Then, I went to the cupboard, gathered some clean white cloths and took everything to Mama.

“George gonna be alright, Mama?” My brother had stopped moaning and shaking. He was real quiet. His skin had turned sorta grayish . . . his chest hardly moving.

“What’s wrong with him?"

“I don’t know, Pee Wee. Where did y'all go to play today?”

“Nowhere, Mama.” I lied.

It is not good to tell a lie, but George was my big brother and I wasn’t gonna tell on him. It was his job to look after me when Mama and Daddy were away. Mama was too busy tending to George to ask me any more questions and I felt relieved to not have to answer any.

By the time Daddy come home from his shift work at the coal mine, George had lost consciousness after throwing up a few more times. My brother couldn’t keep anything down, not even water! Seeing the looks on my parent’s faces, I began feeling more afraid. When they left his bedside to sit on the settee, talking in soft whispers, I crept back into our bedroom to see after my brother.

“George… it’s Pee Wee… You okay, George?” No answer.

“George, it’s me, Pee Wee! … You okay, George?” Still no answer. My brother George lay still not even moving a muscle - and - not breathing.

“MAMA!!!!” I screamed.

My parents rushed back into the cramped bedroom, took one look at George and all hell broke loose! Mama let out a guttural howl, started screaming "NO, NO, NO.... " as she collapsed down onto the floor! While kneeling to comfort her, Daddy cast a last, longing look at the body of his first-born son, cold and quiet… the bed his cooling board. Their pain began flooding into me - I could only stand there and stare. . .

The next few days remain a blur in my memory… people coming over to see after us, bringing food, handmade notes that offered their condolences. The graveside service, where we said goodbye to George - my big brother, protector and closest friend - was somber. Daddy supporting Mama to stand, as she leaned on his strong arms… Me clutching onto the skirt of Mama’s good black dress, the one she wore to church and on special occasions. Wailing of ancestral, funereal dirges and the sound of suppressed sniffles punctuated the air… no birds sang, no wind - even the air was still and quiet. It felt as if the whole world had died along with my brother. A couple of nights later, while fast asleep, I awakened to the sound of my brother's voice . . .

“Pee Wee… Pee Wee, wake up.”

Groggy with sleep, I raised my head to look around the room and heard it again, louder this time. . .

“Pee Wee, wake up!” It was George’s voice.

“George? Where you at, George?!”

“Right here, Pee Wee!”

“Where?! In this room? I don’t see you!”

“Up here, Pee Wee. Look... I’m up here.”

Casting my eyes upward, I saw my big brother hovering over the bed with the biggest smile spreading over his face. He looked so happy and all better.

“What you doing up there, George?!” I whispered. “Mama gonna get you for scaring me like that! Come on down here. . . I miss you, George!”

“I miss you, too, Pee Wee. That’s why I came back for you. Come with me. You'll like it. There’s lots of fun here.”

Now feeling terrified, I shut my eyes and screamed at the top of my voice, “MAMA!!!!”

Mama and Daddy rushed in to find me flailing my arms, kicking my legs and crying, “George is here, Daddy…and he wants me to go with him. I don’t wanna go, Mama!! I wanna stay here with you!”

“Shh... hush there now, Pee Wee.” Mama soothed me with her voice while cradling me in her arms. “We told you that George is gone far away.”

“No, he isn’t… George right here in this room!”

“Where?” asked Daddy.

“Up there.” I pointed to the ceiling where my brother floated overhead looking serene with his same sweet smile flooding over his face. My parents looked up, questioning and puzzled.

“Nobody is here besides us, Pee Wee. There is nothing up there. Now you listen, George is gone forever and he ain’t never coming back.”

“Yes, he is here…don’t you see him, Mama?!” Pointing upward, “He right there!!” I insisted.

“Girl, now you stop all this nonsense.” Daddy admonished. “You gonna make yourself sick with worry. Close your eyes and go back to sleep, Pee Wee. I mean it now!”

I looked at Mama. I looked at Daddy. I looked up. George had disappeared. They were right, “Okay, Mama. I was just scared.”

“That’s okay, Pee Wee.” You gonna be alright?”

“Yes, Mama. I’ll be alright.”

“Good. Now, go to sleep and no more stories about George floating on the ceiling, girl!” Daddy tried his best to look stern, but I could see the love and feel the care for me in his eyes.

“Okay, Daddy…no more stories.” I promised and closed my eyes.

A little while after they left me, I'd fallen back to sleep, only to awaken and hear my brother calling again - his "sing-song" voice wheedled …

“Pee Wee…wake up! It’s me, George. Come with me, Pee Wee! Come on with me. Pee Wee … Pee Wee… Pee Wee….” And, I chose to keep my eyes and ears shut and go back to sleep!

As an adult mother of four young children, some 27 years later, I now lived in Buffalo, NY. and took a Greyhound Bus home to Salt Pork, West Virginia for my school reunion. An older boy and a friend of George's named Larry recognized me and came over to talk.

“Hey, uh, Pee Wee, can we talk?" He began nervously. "I been wanting to apologize to you for a long time.”

“Why do you feel a need to apologize to me, Larry?”

“Remember the day your brother George got sick and died?”

“Yes…” The memory of that terrible time rushed in, as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

“Well, we kids all knew not to drink the water from the spigot. But I dared George to drink that water. And, George was never one to back down from a dare, so he just laughed and took a couple of long swallows. Then he wiped his face with his hand and grinned at me saying, ‘Your turn now!’

But I was too scared. Our parents told us not to drink that spigot water. The boys all called me a coward, but I didn't drink that water, which is why I'm here today.

Oh, Pee Wee… I am so sorry! If I hadn’t dared him, George would a never have drunk that bad water and died. It’s my fault. I killed your brother, Pee Wee! Can you please forgive me?!”

That day, I told Larry that I forgave him, but I didn’t. Although he felt better, I felt a cold anger rising up in me as I listened to his story. How could he take my brother from me on a dare?!!

That night in my hotel room, I tossed and turned with that painful truth rolling around in my head. I began to wonder if things would have turned out differently had I gone along with the boys on that day.

Would my big brother have listened to me?

I will never know, but as I drifted off to sleep, I heard my brother George calling …

“Pee Wee? Wake up, Pee Wee? Come with me. Pee Wee…Pee Wee…Pee Wee….

“Can’t you hear me calling you? Can’t you hear me now? I need a little bit of water, every little once in a while. Bring me little water, Sylvie. Bring me little water now. Bring me little water, Sylvie, every little once in a while.”

~FIN~