It's Not Like I Knew Her

by Pat Spears

  Twenty-One

  Crystal Ann drove in silence, and Jodie stared ahead into the whirling tunnel the headlights cut through the darkness. Jodie chose to believe Crystal Ann’s silence was the result of exhaustion, and not that she regretted her hasty decision.

  Over the car radio, Bing Crosby sang of a white Christmas, and Jodie turned to Crystal Ann and asked, “Did you ever see one? White Christmas? Like the song says?”

  “Did once, right here in Selma.” Crystal Ann frowned. “Was the same year I started working at the Wing. Can you believe twenty years ago come January? Minus six months spent in Waco, Texas.” Her laughter was thick with regret.

  Desperate for more talk between them, Jodie asked, “What’d it feel like? Snow, I mean.” She sat back against the torn seat, a cushion spring jabbing into her shoulder, prepared to wait out any silence.

  “Wet, cold, and short-lived.”

  Jodie sat forward, fervently nodding, and she must have looked like a puppet tangled in its strings.

  “I did like the way ice hung in the bald trees like tiny fairies, dancing in the wind.” Crystal Ann paused, glanced at Jodie and back at the road. “Then, pretty don’t last.”

  Crystal Ann could be hard to follow, but Jodie recognized talking in riddles as a way of staying away from the hurting parts of her story.

  After miles of more silence, Crystal Ann’s mood seemed to turn a page the way Jewel’s could, and she began to hum along with Andy Williams.

  “Don’t you just love his brand of holiday? It’s so fucking perfect.”

  They turned onto a bone-jarring dirt road and after a mile or so arrived at a Pepto-Bismol pink trailer, raised on cinder blocks, situated in a small clearing cut from a withered corn field. A string of colored lights hung from the roof’s edge, giving the tin box a false gaiety, akin to a made-up, but not made-over, aging woman.

  “Those lights … they’re from a better time. But they’re kind of nice. Like a welcome home you can count on.”

  Jodie nodded. More riddle talk, she decided, and she followed Crystal Ann along a weedy, trampled path and into the trailer.

  “Place ain’t much, but it’s always better after I’ve shed my girdle and thrown back a few.” Her tone was one of getting her through the door. “Don’t know why I bother. Damn thing pushes my belly fat to where I once had a waist.”

  Crystal Ann slipped off her white oxfords and walked stocking-footed into an alcove that served as a one-butt kitchen. Jodie watched as she poured a double shot of Four Roses, the cheap whiskey the band boys had drunk. Jodie imagined it burning its way down her throat, making her braver.

  Crystal Ann downed the drink, then tossed Jodie a box of matches and told her to light the kerosene heater in the hallway. When she had a fire going, she glanced about the shoebox shaped room, bare except for a lumpy brown sofa, a coffee table made from a wire spool, and a television with splayed rabbit ears wrapped in foil chewing gum wrappers. There was no Christmas tree.

  “Go on, girl, take a load off.” Crystal Ann poured a second drink.

  Jodie took a seat on the couch and stared at the cover of the Sears Roebuck Christmas Wish Book, romance and movie magazines, and an ash tray running over with dead butts. Along with a couple of bad habits, Crystal Ann appeared to have more interest in wishful thinking than housekeeping. There was no evidence of Ted or his belongings in the room. Then, she hadn’t seen the bedroom.

  Crystal Ann’s brow gathered. “You want to know why there’s no tree?” She came from the kitchen to stand next to the wire spool table.

  The question took Jodie by surprise, and before she could respond, Crystal Ann added, “Came home from work one day last spring to find her side of the closet cleared out. No note. Nothing, mind you—just an empty closet.”

  Jodie had clearly heard her when she’d expected his, for she had decided the absence of his belongings could explain Ted’s last visit to the Wing, and the hushed exchange that appeared to have to do with something neither of them wanted. Maggie had claimed that a hen’s craw held the stories she’d swallowed while some rooster crowed, but that didn’t appear to match Crystal Ann’s story.

  “The next morning, that creep, Buck, who’ll never do better than pump gas, strolled into the Wing, wearing his normal stupid grin. Sally asked if he’d had a better night than he deserved, and he blurted out that she was going to be a gal short.” Crystal Ann got up and brought a box of Kleenex back to the couch. She dropped back down, honking into a tissue.

  “That’s how I learned for certain that Brenda had left me. Standing like a fool in the middle of the Wing, loaded down with a tray of hot food, my legs nearly buckling from under me.” Crystal Ann wiped at her tears. “And you know the worst? If she showed up here tonight, begging me to take her back? Against everything I know about her, I’d do it. I’d take her back.” She sobbed. “She promised we’d be family.”

  Crystal Ann rested her head against Jodie’s shoulder, and although Jodie had no notion as to the nature of a family of two women, Crystal Ann’s painful loss was nevertheless real. But how did Ted figure into her story?

  “Sweetie, tell me I’m right about you.”

  The muscles in Jodie’s shoulders twitched and she stared at the space above Crystal Ann’s head. “There’s nothing more to tell. You know what there is to know.”

  “Did you understand anything I just said?”

  “What if I did?” She stood and glanced toward the door. She’d walk back to her room over the Wing if she had to.

  “Jodie, don’t be afraid. I’ve known about you for some time. But I need to hear it from you.” Crystal Ann reached a hand, guided Jodie back onto the couch.

  “Okay, so what?” Her relief was sweet terror. “How did …?”

  “I know? Maybe it was the way you never flirted with the young guys. And there were the times you stared at my prizes when you didn’t think I noticed.” She laughed softly, and Jodie felt her face flush hot. She swiped her sweaty palms along her thighs and stared at her shoelaces.

  “Aw, sweetie, I think we somehow know each other. While straights miss what’s right under their noses. That is, unless we slip up and say something honest.” Crystal Ann laid a warm hand on Jodie’s knee.

  She hadn’t known there was a word for the others. She felt let down. Straight wasn’t hateful enough to balance the names she’d been called.

  “What about Sally? Does she know?”

  “Hell no. Considering she’s blind to Arthur’s doings? If she knew he was mixed up in that civil rights mess, he’d be fired before he could boil a pot of grits.”

  “What’s that mean, exactly?”

  “He goes nights to citizenship school. Means to learn enough civics to pass a test to vote. Then, nobody in Alabama’s fixing to give Arthur the vote. If they intended to, they’d throw out them arbitrary tests and poll taxes.”

  Crystal Ann looked at her. “Let’s forget about him for now. I want to know more about you.”

  “Got nothing more to tell.” Her breath got short, and she felt the walls of the trailer pressing in on her.

  “I already know you’re a runaway, plain and simple. Figure you may have left a mess behind. But I don’t need to know about that.”

  “What then? You already know about … the other.”

  “But, you’re so young. Are you sure?”

  “I’m older than you think. And yeah, I’m sure.”

  Crystal Ann smiled. “What’d your mama have to say?”

  “Not a lot. I guess she figured a hard warning was all she owed me.”

  “Aw, baby, that’s awful.” The toughness Crystal Ann showed at the Wing melted, exposing a vulnerability Jodie had not seen from her.

  “And the girl who broke your heart, sent you running?”

  “We were going away together—to Dallas so I could try out for the Texas Cowgirls basketball team—but that didn’t work out. Never meant to land in Selma. I’m putting money aside, leaving again for Dallas in abo
ut six months.”

  Jodie felt emboldened, which maybe explained her reaching for Crystal Ann’s hand. It was bigger, rougher than Clara Lee’s, but warm and strong. Crystal Ann didn’t resist, and Jodie felt her heart accelerate.

  Crystal Ann’s body tensed and she grew quiet. The only sound was the popping of the trailer’s thin walls contracting from the cold.

  “You’ve got to know I’m a drunk. But I like the word alcoholic better.”

  “No way. If you can haul out of bed at dark-thirty, six days a week, and drive twenty miles to work, hung over or not, you’re neither. I’ve known my share of drunks, and trust me, you’re not one.” If Crystal Ann sought a contradiction she could hide within, Jodie meant to give her the benefit of her talent for lies and half-truths. There had been no good way to think about her mama’s blues or the whiskey and drugs that pushed her down one wrong road after another.

  Quiet returned.

  “Jodie, have you thought about moving out of that nasty room? Rent here’s cheap, and half wouldn’t be but fifteen dollars. Best of all, it’s a place where you won’t need to live a lie.”

  “Are you saying I should move in here with you?” Doing so would mean less for the coffee can, but she believed she’d heard more than charity in Crystal Ann’s offer. Jodie glanced toward what she thought was the bedroom.

  “Uh, that’s if you don’t mind sleeping on this couch.” She squeezed Jodie’s hand. “Let’s say I’m not over Brenda just yet.”

  Jodie pondered her future, deciding that Crystal Ann would grow tired of being alone. What did she have to lose?

  “I’ll be fine here on the couch. I’ve known worse.”

  “Okay, that’s settled. Now, Jodie Smith, let’s cut us a tree. I’ve had my eye on a pretty cedar out beyond the clearing.

  “It’s Taylor. Jodie Taylor.” She owed Crystal Ann that much.

  “You had the entire phone book to pick from, and you chose Smith?”

  “I was jammed in the moment.”

  Crystal Ann laughed softly and Jodie Taylor breathed deeply.

  Twenty-Two

  Christmas morning arrived on the back of a hard freeze. Cold had penetrated the thin trailer walls and now hung damp, the smell of it strong in Jodie’s nostrils. She moaned, threw back the quilts, and hurried off the saggy couch. She fumbled with stiff fingers to ignite the kerosene heater, and stood before it, shivering.

  The cedar they’d decorated late into the night stood in a corner of the room, and Jodie felt blessed that she hadn’t woken to the misery of the room above the Wing’s kitchen. Still, she felt badly that she had nothing under the tree for Crystal Ann.

  At the sound of water running in the bathroom down the hall, she decided to dress and go for a quick run. She pulled on yesterday’s jeans, a double layer of sweatshirts, and two pairs of socks. She thought about leaving a brief note, but where would she find paper and pen? Still, it felt good to have someone who might question her absence.

  After what she judged a brisk two miles, Jodie turned back for the trailer. Nearing the clearing, she made out the approach of a vehicle and wondered who it might be. She sprinted the last quarter mile and upon reaching the outer edge of the clearing she leaned, her palms braced on her knees, and sucked cold air into her lungs. An apple red Studebaker coupe, the ugliest car ever built, idled in the clearing.

  A smiling Crystal Ann came from the trailer, and it was clear the passengers were welcome. The driver shut down the engine and the car belched, sputtering to a stop. Crystal Ann hugged a petite woman while a second woman got out of the car, frowned, and kicked a front tire. There was much about her stocky, muscular body and cocky, one-sided grin that reminded Jodie of someone she’d seen. But she was certain she didn’t know the woman.

  “Jodie, come on over. We have company.” Crystal Ann motioned her closer.

  Jodie’s pulse rate had leveled out, but for some reason she couldn’t fathom, her flight reflex kicked in. Crystal Ann reached and put an arm around Jodie’s waist, drawing her closer.

  “Jodie, these are my dearest friends, Maxine,” she giggled, “and I do believe you know Teddy. She’s the handsome one there, punishing faithful Bertha.”

  The three smiled at her, and Jodie struggled to hide her bafflement. She felt the fool—the butt of their shared joke. She swallowed hard and tried speaking, but her astonishment left her tongue out on a limb. Inside her head, she sorted pronouns: he/she/Teddy—she/he/Ted. Nothing she’d ever experienced helped her to make sense of what she saw.

  “You’re one damn lucky stray, kid.” The woman’s grip was strong, and she squeezed hard, making her point. “How’s the training going? Crystal Ann tells me you’ve got big-ass plans.” Teddy looked Jodie over, an appraisal behind her hard stare.

  “Just fine … ma’am, and I do. Did … have a plan. Then it got waylaid a bit.” She hated her hesitancy. She’d need to learn to own up, speak out, even in those moments when self-doubt undercut her resolve.

  “That’s fine. Plans are good,” Teddy’s cockiness taunted. “And I may be ten years your senior, but I’m not your damn granny, so lose the cracker politeness.”

  “Oh, baby, hush your rudeness.” The one Crystal Ann called Maxine gave the big woman a playful slap on the shoulder and turned to Jodie. “Sweetie, don’t mind her. Reared by a mean cave bear. Resulted in no social skills of note.” She flashed the purest smile Jodie had known since saying good-bye to Ginger Sutton.

  “You know you like my cave bear.” Teddy leaned and nuzzled the back of Maxine’s neck, kissing her there.

  Enthralled by Maxine’s feminine appearance, Jodie riddled as to whom Maxine imagined during sex: Ted or Teddy? She’d never before seen such intimacy pass openly between women. While it felt forbidden, it carried an equal weight of liberation, excitement, and a strong sense of pride she had nothing to compare to, other than the exhilaration she felt when lifting off the gym floor and reaching the ball beyond the outstretched fingertips of an opponent, followed by nothing but the sweet swish of net.

  “I’ve got sweet potatoes ready to go into the oven. Ham hocks and turnips ready for the pot.”

  “Teddy roasted a turkey, and I made Mama’s cornbread dressing. And of course there’s pumpkin pie.”

  “Teddy is as good with meat as Arthur,” Crystal Ann declared, smiling at Jodie. Teddy beamed.

  Maxine and Crystal Ann took the picnic basket from the car and entered the trailer, leaving Jodie alone with Teddy. She had no idea what was expected in the way of conversation.

  Teddy crossed her arms, leaned back in a stance that spoke brazenly of challenge. “If that old rusty rim there on that tree’s not just for show, what’d you say to a little wager on a game?” Teddy grinned as though the pot was hers to claim. She took a scuffed basketball from the car and pulled a fist full of dimes from a pocket of her jeans, laying them on the car fender.

  “Since we just met, and that ball’s yours, it’s only fair that I warn you .…” Jodie matched Teddy’s stance.

  “Uh-huh, we’ll just see about that.” Teddy tossed Jodie the ball and dropped into a crouch.

  Jodie rested the ball on her hip and gazed at Teddy.

  “But first, I gotta know.”

  Teddy straightened, and at her full height she was three inches shorter. “All right, spit it out. Let’s get it over with.”

  “Why? Why do you .…” Air squeezed from Jodie’s lungs.

  “Pass … as a man, sonsofbitches that they are?”

  “No, forget it.” Jodie bounced the ball. “Let’s play.”

  “No, girl, let’s put it behind us. Besides, it’s easy. Auto mechanics make ten times what harder working women make. Men don’t hit on me. I’m not expected to bend over for every low-life with nothing going for him but his pitiful dangles.”

  “Is it hard, what you do?” Jodie felt her face fire, and she looked away.

  “Nah, it’s not hard if you’re of a mind to forget the part where I get found out and g
et gang raped and dead. Then there’s sterilization. Or worse—Maxine loses her babies on account of me.”

  Jodie saw genuine fear in the big woman’s eyes.

  “Now, if that don’t satisfy you, then picture me flirting with any woman I like.” She winked, her fear only slightly dissipated.

  Jodie had tried imagining the lives of others like her, but she’d never dreamed there were women like Teddy. Nor mothers with children at risk. Clara Lee’s fear of God’s abomination felt inconsequential—cold and distant as the stars. Maxine and Teddy’s fears were immediate and constant: damnation and death real. Jodie felt ushered into a new world far more complicated and more dangerous than she’d ever envisioned.

  Teddy now sprawled on the hood of the Studebaker, her powerful arms folded across her breasts. Her sly smile spoke to her mocking wit.

  “One more question, kid. Then school’s out.”

  “Who did you say I’m playing? Not that it matters.”

  “Girl, you’re dropping coins to Teresa Granger. I’ll see she get them.”

  Teddy wasn’t bad for a slow, flat-footed shooter. Move her off her sweet spot and her shots bonged off the rim seven out of ten times, but she hustled, played a dirty black-and-blue game, using her superior lower body strength to block Jodie’s approach to the basket. Then, she was a sucker for a quick jab step, getting her back on her heels, creating space. When they were called to dinner Teddy’s bank was bled dry, and Jodie’s pockets jingled. Teddy copped to an off day, and bragged that Jodie should save her money for a rematch. Jodie decided Teddy was someone she could learn to like.

  Dinner conversation turned to Maxine and Teddy’s sadness at not having Maxine’s kids for any part of the holidays. They were with their alcoholic father and his live-in girlfriend.

  “Asshole refused the Santa Claus I got them unless Maxine agreed he got to put his name on everything.”

  They sat silently, their shared pain and anger seething, threatening to set aside the good they’d felt, until Teddy reached and patted Crystal Ann’s forearm.