Bless Her Heart

by Sally Kilpatrick

  Paltry? No wonder she’d scored so well on the SAT. I blinked and a new margarita had been slid in front of me. That second margarita somehow turned into a sampler of shots.

  “No,” I said, rubbing my belly. “I can neither eat nor drink anymore. Clothing shopping will be a disaster after this.”

  Rain reached for one of the shots.

  “Fine!”

  She instructed me on how to take my shot: salt on my hand, lick the salt, toss the shot, suck on the lime. I giggled. “This seems pornographic not to mention . . . unsanitary. You mean to tell me you’ve done this?”

  “I may or may not have attended some parties where tequila was shot.”

  I snort-giggled at her wording. “Have you considered a career in law?”

  She grinned, “Actually, I have.”

  She motioned for the check.

  “Rain, you don’t need to pay for this,” I said. The restaurant spun around me, my words thick in my mouth.

  “I have a job,” she said. “Besides, you’re eventually paying for it. I put all of those figurines on eBay and some of them are already selling.”

  “That’s great!” I had no idea what she was talking about.

  Once we’d paid, Rain took my arm. At first I thought she was being really sweet. Then I realized I needed help walking.

  “I think I’ve achieved gluttony,” I groaned.

  “Good! Two down and five to go,” she said.

  “Three down,” I said.

  “Three?” she asked as we walked down the sidewalk.

  “Envy.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Not really.” I stopped when we passed a tanning salon I knew I hadn’t seen before. “Isn’t the car in the other direction?”

  “The car is in the other direction, but my new place of employment is two more shops down, and I want you to see it. Now tell me about envy anyway.”

  “I want to have a baby and a husband like Liza’s. Even Granny saw it and told me not to covet.”

  “Oh, Granny.” Rain shook her head. “I need to have you hang out with Abuelita more. She’s not so judgy. And she buys the good tequila.”

  “There’s better tequila?” At the moment I couldn’t think of anything more wonderful than the warm, fuzzy, dizzy euphoria that enveloped me.

  “Uh, yeah. The stuff they gave you for shots is all right, but I’m guessing they put the rotgut in the margaritas.”

  I stumbled over an uneven place in the sidewalk. At least I thought the sidewalk was uneven. I could’ve tripped over my own feet.

  “Maybe we overdid it,” she said.

  “D’ya think?”

  “Just a little bit farther,” she said.

  I didn’t want to see Rain’s new job. I didn’t want to see it in a boat or with a goat or on a train or in the rain. “I think home would be better.”

  “We’ll be quick,” she said.

  Next thing I knew, we were standing under a sign that said The Pole Cat.

  “Rain.”

  “I’m just working the reception desk!”

  No. No more reception desks. Ever.

  “Tell me you’re not a stripper.”

  “No. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Not yet?”

  “Look, college is expensive and neither Mom nor Papi have the money for undergrad much less law school. Know what they have near college campuses? Strip clubs. Vanderbilt ain’t cheap, big sis.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I’m going to be a lawyer, and that’s a lot of tuition.”

  I didn’t have an answer for that, so inside we went. “You do know Pole Cat is another name for skunk, right?”

  “Don’t be judgy,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “I’m not judgy!”

  “Yes, you are!”

  “No, I’m not. I’m worried.”

  She fixed me with a skeptical look that was Granny made over.

  “Don’t look at me like that. Big sisters have the right to worry.”

  “Whatever. Tonight’s a free mini-class, and you’re going.” Rain put her hands on her hips, her dark eyes daring me to disagree.

  “Not a good idea. I don’t have rhythm even when I’m sober.”

  “You’re coming or I’ll tell Granny you’re the one who broke her Jimmy Carter commemorative plate.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Oh, I would. I want you to come in here and see everything so you’ll know it’s all okay.”

  “Fine.”

  We walked in and Rain asked if we could join the free class. The lady behind the reception desk greeted us with a big smile and a clipboard for our contact information. I gave her Chad’s email address.

  As we walked past her, I noticed she wore at least three-inch heels. “You going to have wear shoes like that?”

  “Only if I become an instructor,” Rain said.

  Shame I’d thrown away my collection since Rain and I shared a shoe size despite our differences in height. Then again, I never wanted my little sister to have to take a walk in my shoes.

  We entered a dark room with hardwood floors, a mirrored wall and, of course, several poles. “Have mercy.”

  Rain scored a flute of champagne from a lady walking around with a tray. She handed it to me. “Would you loosen up, please?”

  I drank the stuff mainly because it was in my hand but also because I was in a room with poles. And women wearing lingerie. And it was uncomfortable.

  The instructor taught choreography, getting very intimate with the pole. Each student took a turn, even my sister. Rain, as much as I hated to admit it, had a natural gift that probably came from all of those years of gymnastics. But then she turned to me. “Okay, Pose, show me what you’ve got.”

  “Oh, no. I am observing.”

  I must’ve been too loud because the instructor came over, her ample bosom spilling over the top of a tightly hooked corset. “In this room there are no observers, only participants. You do not watch a dance class. You dance a dance class.” She looked down at my name tag. “Looks like Posey here needs some encouragement, y’all.”

  The class began to chant, “Po-sey, Po-sey, Po-sey, Po-sey!”

  Rain took my flute, and I somehow found myself acting out the moves I remembered to thunderous applause and whistles. Apparently, the members of the class had taken the admonition to encourage each other to heart because they were definitely applauding effort and grit rather than talent. Or even basic coordination, really.

  “Good, good!” Corset Lady enthused as I backed up to take my place with the others. She added, “Now it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for: the fireman’s spin.”

  “The what?” I didn’t need to spin. After the flute of champagne, I was already spinning.

  I watched the instructor model the move twice then Rain bounced up to the pole and executed a perfect spin, her long hair flowing behind her. I knew I shouldn’t be cheering her on. I knew Granny would probably freak out and Mom would give us both a long lecture on how strippers catered to the patriarchy, but darned if she wasn’t so graceful. As if to prove my point, each woman who attempted the spin after Rain had very limited success.

  “Miss Observer?”

  That was my cue. I closed my eyes and willed the room to quit spinning long enough for me to. I thought through all of the steps: how many laps around the pole, where to put my arms, when and how to hoist myself high enough so I had the space and momentum to spin. In my mind I was almost as graceful as my little sister. In reality, I barely lifted myself an inch off the ground and slammed my shin into the pole so hard I saw stars for a few minutes.

  “Ow, do you want to try again?” the instructor asked.

  “No, no. I think that’s enough.”

  Blessedly, the lesson was over. As the instructor gave the room full of women information on when classes would be held and how much they cost, Rain and I slipped out.

  My heart still raced, and I was still sweating when
I stopped to lean against one of the Pole Cat’s blacked-out windows. “And that’s where you’re going to work?”

  “Just through the summer,” Rain said. The pay is really good—especially if I can progress to being an instructor. Then I’ll move over to a club to pay for college.”

  “Must you?”

  “I don’t know why you are so uptight,” she said. “Dancing isn’t prostitution, you know.”

  “I’m not worried about what you’ll do. I’m worried about the people in the audience.”

  She rolled her eyes. “There’ll be bouncers.”

  “How do you know you can trust the bouncers?”

  “For crying out loud! Is this like that lecture Granny used to give me about not staying out late, not because she didn’t trust me but because she didn’t trust other people?”

  “Yes!” Well, that, and I didn’t want my little sister to be forced into wearing anything she didn’t want to wear or doing anything she didn’t want to do. My sister Rain was so beautiful and graceful and young, and I didn’t want anyone to ever take advantage of her.

  “Well, you’re going to have to trust me. I’ve got this.”

  I chanced a peek at my shin. A huge goose egg glowed purple in the beam of the security light. That was definitely going to need some ice. “That was quite a workout.”

  “Yeah, it was,” she said. “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll go get the car.”

  “I like this plan.” If I leaned against the window and held myself as still as possible, then the world didn’t spin as much. Also, the cool air made me feel much better. The Pole Cat’s back studio had been entirely too warm, not to mention the exertion after copious amounts of alcohol. I had to be getting more sober, though, because my shin throbbed something terrible.

  “Posey? Is that you?”

  I opened my eyes, but it took a minute for the person to come into focus. “John the Baptist! What’s a place like you doing in a guy like this?”

  He winced. “Don’t say that. He ended up without a head, you know.”

  “Sorry,” I said. I’d never intentionally hurt John. He was my favorite.

  He took a step closer. “Are you drunk?”

  “A little,” I conceded. “Okay, a lot. First time.”

  The wind shifted, picking up strands of his hair in the wind. He’d worn it down and looked more like a dangerous pirate or the rock god he’d almost been than a piano tuner. My eyes wouldn’t look away from his full lips.

  “Are you okay? Do I need to help you get home?”

  “Rain’s gone to fetch the car.”

  “Oh, good. I’ll wait with you until she gets back.”

  More concern for me in five minutes than my husband had shown me in ten years.

  He probably acted like the men in those books Rain lent me. He probably kissed like the heroes in Rain’s books. I burned to find out. After all, I’d had a crush on him forever. What would it be like to kiss a decent man? Before I could stop myself, I raised to my tiptoes and placed my lips on his. He froze in surprise, but then his arms wrapped around me, and he joined the kiss enthusiastically right up until the moment I came to my senses and broke the embrace to lean against the wall with a contented sigh.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Just always wanted to do that,” I said, my fingertips touching my tingling lips.

  “Really?”

  “Since eighth grade. You really knew how to turn in a paper.”

  “That’s funny.” He laughed a little and looked away.

  My cheeks burned hot from embarrassment as much as from the alcohol. “Why is that funny?”

  His eyes locked with mine. “I’ve had a crush on you almost as long, but I always thought you were too smart to want to go out with the likes of me.”

  “Too smart? I’m a freaking idiot.”

  “No, no you’re not.” He closed the distance between us, and his right hand cupped my cheek. Oxygen became awfully scarce. This time, he kissed me. This time, my arms wound around his neck. This time, we went from barely touching lips to tongues and even a bump of the teeth.

  “Hey!” Rain called. “What do you think you’re doing to my sister?”

  Cold air smacked me in the face as John took a step back, taking all of his warmth with him.

  “I, uh. She kissed me first.”

  My little sister looked from him to me and back to him. An ache bloomed behind my left eye, the euphoria of earlier was giving way to something darker, but my heart still hammered at the thought of one perfect kiss with John O’Brien. “Rain, I did kiss him first.”

  And I would totally do it again.

  “Well, I’m taking you home,” Rain said. “If you two want to knock boots when you’re sober, that’s none of my business, but not while you’re wasted. Not on my watch.”

  John took another step back. “I would never take advantage of her. I promise.”

  Rain held up her hand in a V and pointed at her eyes, then at him, and back again. “C’mon, Posey. We’re going home.”

  I kept looking over my shoulder at John, who stood on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, head to one side as he studied me. Rain had to put a hand on my head as she helped me into the passenger seat, and I touched my fingers to my lips because they still tingled.

  I tingled all over.

  Lust.

  Lust was my new favorite.

  chapter 14

  Gluttony was so not my favorite. Neither was tequila.

  I ran to the bathroom and bowed before the porcelain god before lying down to put my too, too warm cheeks on the cool tile.

  My head throbbed. I needed to brush my teeth, but that would require standing. Standing was not good, so not good.

  “Posey, you need to get out of the bathroom so your grandmother can go.”

  Was that my mother’s voice coming from above? For irrational reasons, I didn’t want her to know I was hung over. Sure, she’d no doubt experimented with various mind-altering substances while out in California, but, for whatever crazy reason, I didn’t want her know I’d been drinking.

  Maybe I was still hoping for a normal mother-daughter relationship.

  “Posey!”

  With a groan I made myself stand even though my head was heavier than a cinder block. As I brushed past mother and grandmother, Granny said, “Pregnant, are you? Eat some crackers.”

  No, Granny, and thanks for the reminder.

  “Go on to the kitchen, and I’ll make you some ginger tea,” my mother said before disappearing in the bathroom where she was helping Granny.

  What the heck was ginger tea going to do?

  I stumbled into the kitchen and lay my head on the table. The sound of water heating up in the kettle told me this mysterious and, hopefully, miraculous, ginger tea was on the way. A cool, damp washcloth appeared out of nowhere.

  “No lectures?” I asked before I put the washcloth over my mouth.

  “Tempting as it may be, no. You’re an adult. Besides, I’m banking on this hangover being its own worst punishment.”

  She always had been a huge fan of what she called natural consequences.

  “At least my little sister likes me again?”

  “Yes, and getting drunk to win her over was such a good idea.”

  “Mom, she was the model designated driver and didn’t drink a thing. She even talked about college.”

  And doing exotic dancing to pay for it, but we could only cross one bridge at a time. Besides, my head wouldn’t be able to take the yelling that would occur if I told Mom that. For the most part she was all about making one’s own decisions, but she had strong opinions on anything that might perpetuate the patriarchy.

  “Well, that’s something. I was beginning to fear she was going to skip it.”

  “Like you did?”

  “Well, I wasn’t doing my best thinking then. I would never force her to go, but she’s so smart and could do so much good. Can’t you imagine your sister as an activist? Maybe
even a politician?”

  “Uh.” My first mental image was of Rain spinning around a pole. “Sure.”

  “Or maybe a lawyer. An activist lawyer!”

  My mother, still hoping for an activist in the family.

  “Mom, she’s afraid you and Santiago don’t have the money to pay for college.”

  “Really?”

  Even as I’d said the words, I knew I shouldn’t, but now I knew my sister’s hatred of high school was her way of looking for an out. If she flunked out of high school, then her parents wouldn’t have to pay for her college tuition. They would make her pay her way, which is exactly what she wanted to do in the first place. It was all very convoluted, far more convoluted than I could handle that early in the morning with a hangover.

  “We need to get enough fluids in you and send you back to bed,” Mom said, obviously not willing to talk more about Rain and college.

  The kettle whistled causing me to jump again. She gave me a curious look before bustling about making tea for me. She surprised me when she put a saucer over the top of the cup.

  “Ginger,” she said. “It’ll take longer to steep, but it’ll be better for your stomach.”

  I closed my eyes. No need to subject them to sunlight if I had to wait for the tea to steep.

  “I certainly hope you’ve learned something from this experience.”

  I nodded. “I promise I will never drink again.”

  She reached across the table and took my hand in hers. “Posey, don’t make promises you can’t keep. Besides, the problem wasn’t so much that you drank but that you drank entirely too much. You know what Emerson said—”

  “Moderation in all things.”

  I ought to know what Emerson said. Next to Amelia Earhart, my mother loved Emerson and Thoreau best. She was especially fond of paraphrasing Emerson to say “Whoso would be a woman, must be a nonconformist.” As for Thoreau, she’d sent me off to school each morning for a month with “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.” Then she’d gone back to finding herself and let Granny get me off to school. Granny, on the other hand, said things like, “If you get a whupping at school, you can bet just as sure as God made little green apples that you’ll get another one here so behave.”

  I must’ve been quite the disappointment since I was neither nonconformist nor dreamer.