Ramona Blue
Page 28
He chuckles. “You’re right on that one.”
“But I think we can promise each other one day at a time. I think that’s fair . . . if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t want to hold you back from anything,” he tells me. “I already tried that with Viv.”
“And I don’t want to hold you back either, but I also know that I love you, and I think you still love me too.”
He takes my hand, tracing circles in my palm. “I’ve tried to stop,” he says. “But no luck.”
He pulls me in for a kiss.
With my eyes closed, I almost feel like I’m standing on the beach in the dark. In the pitch-black night. The only clue to where I am is the lapping of the ocean. In this moment, Freddie is my anchor. And the rest? It’s unknown. A great and beautiful question mark.
JUNE
FORTY-EIGHT
The first Sunday of June has always been my favorite day of the year. It’s the Blessing of the Fleet, the day all the little towns peppering the Gulf Coast bid farewell to the shrimping boats and wish them well as they head out for the season.
Boucher’s has a little tent set up where they’re serving corn on the cob and po’boys and frozen daiquiris. But I’m not working today. Tuesday was my last day at the restaurant, and this morning I rode my last paper route. I’m spending the next two weeks soaking up my town and my people before I head off to a new town and maybe even some new people.
Ruthie, Saul, and Hattie are all working the tent. This is Hattie’s first week back at work, which is why I’m wearing Sara Belle on my chest in one of those baby backpack contraption things. Tyler is around here somewhere, and so is his mom. I wave to my dad, who’s having a beer with a few of his friends who still make their living out on the boats. He was able to get us a two-bedroom apartment at a complex that was running a special for people affected by the tornado. The second bedroom is full of both my and Hattie’s things, and it all sits waiting for either one of us should we ever need to come back home.
I wave to Adam, who is in a tent across the way with Pam and Cindy, handing out coupons for the car wash. He gave Ruth Sophia’s phone number so she’d have at least one friend to start with in Hattiesburg. He also wore absolutely nothing under his robes at graduation last week. The plan was for him to streak, but he chickened out at the last minute. Unfortunately for him it turned out to be a very windy day.
The Mississippi sun is relentless as it throbs above us. I tug down on Sara Belle’s white boat hat and hope I slathered her in enough baby sunscreen. She’s fair-skinned like her dad. I don’t know what the future holds for my niece, but I do know that I have yet to see her in the same outfit twice, and I think that’s a good sign.
We duck around behind the tent, and Hattie meets me there.
She hands me a few bottles to put in the baby bag I’m carrying on my shoulder. “Pumped and dumped a little bit ago, so this should hold her over.” She takes Sara’s hat off and kisses her forehead. “How’s Mommy’s little cinnamon roll?”
I bounce a little to stop her from fussing. “Mom is supposed to come by after work,” I say.
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “She said as much the other night.”
Becoming a grandmother didn’t magically transform our mother, but I have noticed an effort that was never there before. She will always say the wrong thing and wear clothes that are too young for her, but part of being family is accepting one another’s flaws with the knowledge that sometimes people never change, and you have to decide what and who you can live with or without.
Hattie runs her fingers through my hair. “I still can’t believe you had the balls to cut your hair without me.”
My hair is mostly ashy blond now. Some people in town don’t even recognize me.
“Oh well. I’ll fix you up real good when I start hair school in September.”
My phone buzzes and I glance down to see a message from Freddie. “Hey, I gotta run,” I say. “I’ll have my phone on me if anything comes up.”
My big sister stands up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek.
I meet Freddie, Agnes, and Bart out near the docks, and the moment Agnes sees Sara, she melts. “Oh, my sweet girl!” she calls.
I give them all quick hugs hello.
“Ramona Blue,” says Agnes. “I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon.”
I sigh. “It doesn’t feel real.” The swim team at Delgado Community College does an on-campus training camp for a month in the middle of the summer, and then I’ll come home for a few weeks before the fall semester starts.
The last few weeks have been spent filling out financial aid forms and finalizing class schedules. I haven’t quite figured out how I will afford a four-year university or if I even want to go to one, but it seems that I can cover the cost of community college tuition and board with mostly grants and a few loans.
The idea of loans terrifies me, but Coach Pru said it was the only way to cover the gap in tuition until “the government gets their shit together and figures out how to handle the dadgum student loan crisis.”
Once the fall semester starts, I can apply for some jobs. I’m hoping for a change of pace with something like a clothing store or even on campus at the bookstore. Maybe something where I’m not always sweating or smelling like crawfish and oysters.
Agnes pries Sara Belle from me and shoves the baby bag onto Bart. “Y’all go have some fun while two old farts talk gibberish to this little meatball.”
“Okay,” I say reluctantly. “Her milk is in the bag. It’s fresh and if she needs an extra set—”
“We’ll be right here.” Agnes tries to hold back a grin as she points to a shaded picnic bench. “And we’ll be sure to call if anything comes up.”
I nod and watch as they situate themselves at the table.
Freddie tugs on my hand and whispers against my hair, “I miss you already.”
I whip around and give him a quick peck on the cheek.
I’m still trying to figure what I want to call myself. Gay? Bi? Queer? Pansexual? I’m not sure, but I’m going to figure it out as I go along.
Freddie doesn’t leave until the middle of August. I’ll have a few weeks with him after swim camp, but for once, it feels nice to be the one leaving. “You better keep up with your morning workout if you don’t want your ass handed to you when I get back from camp.”
All around us the festival is alive with music and food, and I can’t help but feel proud of my little town. Boats of all sizes line the dock, waiting for their blessing.
I lead Freddie to the other end of the docks, where Father Bell from St. Margaret’s is about to give his blessings. Father Bell, a young, tall white guy who is way too cute to be a priest, wears a short-sleeved black shirt with black slacks and his priest collar. He and Reverend Don from Eulogy Baptist take turns giving the blessing every other year.
The crowd thickens, and once Father Bell approaches the mic, a soft quiet rolls through the festival so that the only sounds left are the soft waves of the ocean and the squawking cry of seagulls.
Several altar boys and girls stand on either side of him carrying crucifixes and one of those gold-vase-looking things holding holy water. He opens a small leather book to a page he’s already bookmarked and begins to read. “Most gracious Lord, who numbered among your apostles the fishermen Peter, Andrew, James, and John, we pray you to consecrate this boat to righteous work in your name. Guide the captain at her helm. So prosper her voyages that an honest living may be made. Watch over her passengers and crew and bring them to a safe return. And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit be upon this vessel and all who come aboard, this day and forever. Amen.”
I close my eyes and let my head rest against Freddie’s shoulder. I’ve heard the words of this blessing enough times to know it by heart. But today is different. Today this blessing is mine, and I pray it over myself. I tattoo it to my heart. I am the fleet. I am the vessel. I am the captain.
&nbs
p; I stand here with my Wendy Darling as I prepare to do what Peter never could. Freddie takes my hand and pulls it to his lips as he kisses each of my knuckles. We sway back and forth until our rhythm is one with the ocean.
May my voyage be prosperous and my return safe.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing books never gets any easier, but the more time I spend in publishing, the more people I have to catch me when I fall, which is fairly often.
I took way too long to write this book. I begged for numerous extensions and had countless breakdowns and panic attacks. That must sound awful, I know, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been, and that’s because I have the endless joy of working with my incomparable editor, Alessandra Balzer. I am thankful to you for your insight and compassion, and for investing in me as an author and a human being. Oh, and I couldn’t forget an extra thank-you for all the pictures of Joey Ramone and Johnny Cash—the cats, obviously.
Magically, there is a woman who is always two steps ahead of me, laying the groundwork, and two steps behind me, covering my tracks. That would be Molly Jaffa, my agent and friend. Molly, I don’t think I’ll ever run out of ways to thank you or things to thank you for, but thank you for always being there for me in every way and soothing my most illogical worries with your perfect logic. And thank you to John and Donut, too. You’re all a package deal now, anyway.
I am additionally grateful for all the support I’ve received from everyone at Folio Literary Management, all the foreign agents and agencies I’ve worked with over the years, and all my foreign publishers, who have been so kind to me and my work. I am also deeply thankful to my film agent, Dana Spector.
I am lucky to have found a wonderful home for my books thus far in Balzer + Bray/HarperCollins. Caroline Sun, I am forever impressed by you and must constantly remind myself that I do indeed have as many hours in a day as you do. Aurora Parlagreco, I am obsessed with this cover and cannot thank you and Daniel Stolle enough for all the effort you have put into every detail. I also owe much thanks to Kelsey Murphy, Booki Vivat, Margot Wood, Elena Yip, Suman Seewat, Maggie Searcy, Patty Rosati, Molly Motch, Gina Rizzo, Heather Doss, Jordan Brown, Kristin Daly Rens, Viana Siniscalchi, Bess Braswell, Elizabeth Ward, Sabrina Abballe, Audrey Diestelkamp, Tyler Breitfeller, Nellie Kurtzman, everyone at Harper360, the team at HCC, Andrea Pappenheimer, Kerry Moynagh, Kathy Faber, Jenny Sheridan, Donna Bray, Kate Jackson, and Suzanne Murphy. I’m sure I’m forgetting someone, but every Harper event always feels like a homecoming, and that’s thanks to each and every single one of you who have had a hand in my books, even in ways I am unaware of.
Several writers who I admire greatly worked with me on this book and helped me make it everything it has become. Thank you so much to Natalie C. Parker, Bethany Hagen, and Jessica Taylor. Tessa Gratton and Justina Ireland, thank you so much for your sensitivity reads and for just being badass women in general. Dhonielle Clayton, thank you for reading a scene for me at the last minute and for answering all of my nagging questions about it. To all of you women: thank you for taking the time to talk with me about how our work is part of a bigger conversation and for never steering clear of conversations about sex, gender, race, and politics.
I also have a completely unorganized list of friends and loved ones I would like to thank, so in no specific order at all: Jeramey Kraatz, Jenny Martin, Caron Ervin, Corey Whaley, Adam Silvera, Jason Reynolds, Brendan Kiely, Katie Cotugno, Robin Talley, Dahlia Adler, Tristina Wright, Hannah Moskowitz, Amy Spalding, Gretchen McNeil, Zoraida Cordova, Kate Hart, Sarah Enni, Amy Tintera, Michelle Krys, Cindy Pon, Sarah Henning, Renée Ahdieh, Jennifer Mathieu, Kristin Rae, Robin Murphy, Domino Perez, Leigh Bardugo, Katherine Locke, Sona Charaipotra, Emery Lord, Sarah Combs, Stephanie Appell, Jen Bigheart, Becky Albertalli, Ilene Gregorio, Amy Plum, Anna Carey, Samantha Mabry, Brenna Yovanoff, Tara Hudson, Myra McEntire, Rae Carson, Rachel Caine, Ashley Meredith, the Trevino family, the Pearce-Trevino family, the Murphy family, John Stickney, Mary Hinson, Rose Brock, Hayley Harris, Laura Rahimi Barnes, and Ashley Lindemann. Whether it was a drink, a slice of pie, an email, a hug, a tweet, a writing retreat, or just a shared glance across a room, each of you has been in some way instrumental to me finishing this damn book. Thank you.
I am so glad to live in Texas, where everything is bigger—including the shared passion of librarians and booksellers. I am so grateful for all of you, but especially Kristin Trevino at Irving Public Library, Cathy and Valerie at Blue Willow, and all the wonderful folks at BookPeople.
I would be nowhere without the gracious support of bloggers and reviewers who take time out of their busy lives to share the joy of books with others. A very special thanks to Ginger at G Reads Books, Jen at Pop Goes the Reader, and Kate at Ex Libris Kate.
Ian, thank you for understanding when I’m up writing late enough to see you wake up for work in the morning. Thank you for all the work you do with your students. It inspires me daily. I couldn’t ask for a better partner. I love you forever.
Hillary Rodham Clinton, you are my shero. You have been since I was in second grade. Thank you for always inspiring me to do the most good. I am forever and proudly nasty.
Like I said earlier, I took a really long time to write this book, so this one is for everyone who’s decided to take the long way home. Take your time. We can wait. I love you.
BACK AD
DISCOVER
your next favorite read
MEET
new authors to love
WIN
free books
SHARE
infographics, playlists, quizzes, and more
WATCH
the latest videos
www.epicreads.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Christy Archibald
JULIE MURPHY lives in North Texas with her husband who loves her, her dog who adores her, and her cats who tolerate her. After several wonderful years in the library world, Julie now writes full-time. When she’s not writing or reliving her reference desk glory days, she can be found watching made-for-TV movies, hunting for the perfect slice of cheese pizza, and planning her next great travel adventure. She is also the author of Dumplin’ and Side Effects May Vary. You can visit Julie at www.juliemurphywrites.com.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
BOOKS BY JULIE MURPHY
Dumplin’
Side Effects May Vary
Ramona Blue
CREDITS
Cover art by DANIEL STOLLE
Cover design by AURORA PARLAGRECO
COPYRIGHT
Poor Song
Words and Music by Karen Orzolek, Nick Zinner and Brian Chase
Copyright © 2003 Chrysalis Music Ltd.
All Rights Administered by BMG Rights Management (US) LLC
All Rights Reserved Used by Permission
Reprinted by Permission of Hal Leonard LLC
Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
RAMONA BLUE. Copyright © 2017 by Julie Murphy. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.epicreads.com
* * *
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016950250
ISBN 978-0-06-241835-7
EPub Edition © April 2017 ISBN 9780062418371
* * *
17 18 19 20 21 PC/LSCH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
Level
13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON M4W 1A8, Canada
www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF, UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com