My Best Everything

by Sarah Tomp

  “Mmm,” he said, more subdued.

  Something occurred to me. “Let’s sell moonshine at the party. Remember how they ran out of beer? We could probably clear a run’s worth.”

  “No way, Lu,” you said. “That’s too much face time. Selling to people who know our names. We have to make big out-of-town sales.”

  “Do we have any more of those lined up?”

  Before you could answer, a man stopped by the table. Swayed with his buzz, holding a beer in one hand. He said, loud and slow, “I know you.”

  At first I assumed he was another rabid Lullaby Breaker fan. But instead of looking at Roni, he leaned over the table toward me. In a voice meant to be a whisper, but way too loud, he said, “You got me laid.”

  You hopped up from the bench—looking incredibly hot, because I’m shallow and like when my boyfriend acts tough—and said, “Apologize for that mouth.”

  He laughed and shoulder-nudged you. “Lighten up, son. I don’t mean no disrespect. She sold me a magic potion. Works like a charm on the ladies.”

  Roni said, “Do you mean the rat poison, sir?”

  I exaggerated a gasp. “You didn’t actually give that to someone, did you? We can’t be responsible if you’re going to misuse our product.”

  He cocked his head, uncertain. “Poison?” Then he busted out laughing. “You’re yanking me. I know what I had.”

  You looked ready to pop him. On general principle for being rude and crude. I reached up and grabbed your hand. “Sit down, Mason.”

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll drink her own potion.” He laughed again and disappeared into the crowd.

  “Mother-of-a-creeper,” said Roni. “That poor girl, whoever she is. Probably doesn’t know what hit her.”

  I hadn’t thought of what we were selling that way. That our moonshine might make people do things they wouldn’t normally do.

  “What was that about?” you asked.

  Roni and I looked at each other.

  Bucky said, “Didn’t you know the girls have been selling more than auto parts down at Sal’s? How do you think Roni could afford these nice new boots she’s wearing?” He leaned back in the booth, with his arms crossed. “Has Lulu been keeping secrets?”

  I tried to explain. “Only a few bottles. To friends of Ollie and Randy. All the money is going to the group. Ask Roni. She’s got it all.”

  You said, with an edge, “This isn’t about money. It’s about being smart. I told you, homegrown sales get messy.”

  “We’ve got to sell it somehow.”

  “Give me a chance. It takes time.”

  I didn’t have time. The days were getting crossed off of my kitty calendar way faster than the money was adding up. “I want to come with you whenever you go again,” I said. “In case something goes wrong.”

  Bucky laughed. “What are you going to do, Lulu? You got some secret superhero skills we don’t know about?”

  “I could call for help.”

  “Who are you going to call?”

  He had a point. We were on our own.

  Alone.

  We couldn’t call the police or our parents or Sal or anyone at all. There was no backup. No rescue party. No one in the whole wide world could know what we’d been up to.

  The four of us had to stick together because there wasn’t anyone else.

  Later, we strolled out of Wally’s moving slow and lazy, a few feet behind Roni and Bucky. I took your hand, wishing that I didn’t feel quite so full of pizza, but glad we had matching garlic breath. I wanted to finish up our first date making you forget about being annoyed with my side sales.

  A voice broke through the dark, “I saw your truck.”

  You stopped. Looked across the parking lot to where Seth stood waiting. Dropped my hand.

  Seth said, “Peanut said you sold it, that it wasn’t you parked here. But I knew you wouldn’t do that. Not without telling me.”

  When he settled his eyes on me, I said, “Hi, Seth. Good to see you again.”

  “I wish that meant something,” he said, with an off-kilter smile that glowed in the parking lot light. “Unfortunately, you must have pretty low standards for good, seeing as you’re hanging out with this ugly thing.” He moved in close enough that I could smell his metallic breath.

  I backed up a step.

  Seth said, “Whoa! Shoo, fly, shoo.”

  “Take it easy,” you said.

  “Of course. Nothing but easy.” He laughed too loud and too long. “Oh, come on. You know what I mean. Skip to my Lu, my darling.”

  “Oh, that’s funny.” Roni sang out, “Fly’s in the buttermilk, shoo, fly, shoo.” She’s always been good at the art of deflection.

  “That’s it!” Seth spun around. “Exactly. But seriously.” He turned back to me. “Shoo, fly, shoo. I need to talk to my cousin here.”

  “Don’t talk to her like that.” Your voice sounded sharp. Then, “Talk to me tomorrow. I gotta get Lulu home.”

  “That’s the problem with dating babies, Cuz. They gotta go home to Mama. That’s all right. I’ll come with.”

  “Not happening,” you said.

  All of a sudden, a shot of venom laced his words. “You owe me, Mason. You know you do. I’m happy to skip little Lulu along, but one way or another we’re talking.”

  You and he faced off. I wasn’t sure how I’d ever confused the two of you. Not now that I knew every splash of freckle and crinkle around your eyes, the exact way you grinned and listened and eyed the world. Your strength was for lifting, his for weighing down.

  You said to me, “Give me a minute.”

  I stood with Bucky and Roni as you walked him across the parking lot, talking low.

  Roni said, “What does Seth want?”

  “Hard to say,” said Bucky. “He’s flying on something. Couldn’t you see it in his eyes?”

  A hard lump sat in my stomach as I watched Seth climb in your truck, right into the seat I thought was mine.

  You came back, said, “Bucky, can you get Lulu home?” Then, to me, “I’ll call you later.”

  “You sure you have my number?” I tried to tease.

  You gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then you left.

  Feeling a deep and annoying disappointment, I climbed in the backseat of Bucky’s truck. Through the window, I watched you pull out, wheels screaming in the night.

  You never told me what happened with Seth that night. I didn’t ask either. The way I didn’t tell you every time Mom turned to a quivering Jell-O mess, you didn’t have to tell me the details for me to know your burden wasn’t an easy one to carry.

  24

  Roni had been itching to go night swimming all summer. It was one of those things we did every year—something we had to do at least once before I headed off to college. Usually we went to the tiny pool in her grandpa’s trailer park, but when you and Bucky had to work late at the Country Club, she and I showed up with bikinis under our clothes and mischief in mind.

  We didn’t expect any hesitation. You and Bucky looked at each other. Raised eyebrows, grunted and grimaced. Roni and I have a much more perfected mind-meld.

  “You don’t want to swim with us?” Roni asked. “Seriously? You have other plans?”

  “Maybe we can meet you later?” You looked hopeful.

  Roni crossed her arms and glared.

  “Whaddya think, Mason?” Bucky said. “Shall we bring ’em along?”

  “Yes,” I said, because it didn’t matter where.

  But yes. Of course yes. We absolutely wanted to go on a secret moonlight delivery.

  You’d made a deal with a friend of Jake’s. “He wants a silent deal,” you said.

  “Which is why y’all weren’t invited,” said Bucky. “Seeing as neither of you understands silence.”

  You were supposed to drop ten one-gallon milk jugs in the woods beyond Betty’s Candy Factory. Our client would show up later, pick up the liquor, and head on his way. No face-to-face contact, no money
directly changing hands. It was the kind of deal made when there’s no trust on either side.

  “It’s not uncommon,” you assured us. “It’s safer. For all of us. That’s why we’ll make even more than usual. They’re paying for the convenience.”

  “When do we get our money?” I asked.

  “He’ll leave it at the gas station,” Bucky said. “In the locked drop box.”

  “What if your dad gets it?”

  “Lulu, do you really think we’re idiots? That we can’t think of something like that?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “But?”

  Bucky groaned. “It’s a specially marked envelope. My dad won’t touch it.”

  Roni squealed. “Are you using one of my envelopes?” Apparently Roni left Bucky sexy love notes at work. Bucky’s dad knew better than to mess with the pink-hearted envelopes.

  We drove into the valley, with Roni singing and all of us silly and wild. We were ahead of my weekly sales goal, had more bottles on hand and ready to sell, Baby was working the mash with Aunt Jezebel, and the stars sparkled bright in the sky. Everything was perfect.

  The four of us unloaded the jugs and stashed them beneath the plastic tarp in less than fifteen minutes.

  “All right,” you said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “That’s it?” I said. “We could wait and spy from behind those bushes.”

  “Nope,” you said, scooping your arm around me. “That’s a violation of the terms. We have to leave. Immediately. In fact, we need to return to the club as soon as possible.”

  “For an alibi?”

  “And important studies.” You tugged at the stretchy cord hiding beneath my hair. “I need to investigate what that red strap leads to.”

  After parking down the Country Club driveway where Roni had left her car, we crept back to the pool, whisper-giggling. At the locked gate Bucky turned to you. “Can you get us in?”

  I thought maybe you had a key, since you worked on maintenance and repair. Instead you shimmied up over the top of the fence. Dropped down and opened the gate.

  The night was warm and the water cool. The full moon was almost too bright. Definitely enough light that I felt shivers when you first saw me in my bikini.

  The cement deck felt bigger without the usual crowds. Every sound echoed. Every splash and giggle bounced back at us. At first we tiptoed and whispered, but the same way we adjusted to the water temperature, we relaxed into the night. You put Bucky to shame on the diving board. I don’t know where you learned to flip like that.

  Bucky couldn’t stand you beating him at something, so he challenged you to distance leaps off the side of the pool. Then, while you two tried vertical reaches for the flags over the lap lanes, Roni and I hung our calves over the edge and lay back in the water like we used to do when we still had underwater tea parties and dreamed of being mermaids.

  I asked, “You decide about the band tour yet?”

  “Nah. Maybe after the Queens’ party I’ll know better.”

  That’s when you and Bucky couldn’t stand that we weren’t watching your tricks. The two of you leaped over us.

  After squealing and splashing and wrestling, Roni and Bucky anchored themselves to the stairs of the shallow water while you and I drifted in the deep end. At some point they disappeared the way they always do.

  You and I talked about silly nothings. Flirting, ducking, dipping under, then up again. Moving in and out of each other’s reach. Even with all that chatter, I had trouble focusing on much of anything except the warmth of your skin when we touched. After a long, deep kiss, feeling dangerously out of breath, I pulled away.

  You looked surprised, but didn’t try to hold me back as I climbed out of the water. I lay facedown on the warm cement, trying to calm my trembling. That wasn’t shivering. Not from the cold. That was because of you.

  I’d had the virtue of chastity drummed into my head all my life. Or at least ever since my breasts popped out. The advice of Mrs. Young, my catechism teacher, on dating had been “When you’re with someone special, leave room for the Holy Spirit in between.” And “If you’re tempted to go too far, ask Jesus to come sit beside you for a while.” That’s a hard image to shake. Basically, the threat of hell and disappointing my parents had kept me saying no. Fear worked.

  You had a way of making me brave.

  It scared me.

  You leaned against the wall, arms resting on the edge. “You all right?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “You gonna stay out there?”

  “Yep.”

  We were silent, the dark night between us. Then you turned back to the pool. “I’m going to take a lap.”

  While you swam in a burst of flurry and noise, I shivered alone in the dark. I knew me saying no and needing to cool things down was going to put a bump between us. I still had about six weeks left in Dale, and we still needed to work together, but now things were going to change. We’d argue. I’d avoid being alone with you. You’d get irritated and frustrated and make awkward comments to make me feel guilty. I’d been to this place too many times to pretend it could go any other way.

  Back at the wall you said, “Hey, Lu?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “That’d be impossible.”

  I knew that wasn’t true. I’d been called prude, frigid, ice princess, prick-tease, and worse. After prom, Patrick James wore gloves to school and told everyone he’d gotten frostbite from me.

  You said, “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Done what?”

  Your voice had turned husky. “All of this. Any of this. Being with you.”

  Of course you had.

  “Not sober. I started drinking before I cared about girls. Then I was always drunk or stoned. Always. Once I finally got sober, I couldn’t deal with anything more than surviving. There hasn’t been anyone else. Not like this.”

  I slipped back in the water and wrapped my arms around you. We had to work together to stay afloat.

  Cool water, warm night, hot skin beneath the surface. Moon shining all around.

  Later, closer to early morning, with my lips feeling deliciously tender and my neck tingling from tiny scrapes of your whiskers, I snuck into my dark house. I was surprised to hear Mom’s voice coming from the guest room.

  I dreaded coming home each night. Hoped I wouldn’t find Mom broken down in the dark. After that last bad night I’d called Daddy, but since I caught him as he was about to board a plane for Brazil, I didn’t even bother telling him. There wasn’t anything he could do.

  That night she sounded anything but broken.

  Her voice drifted down the hall, light and giggly. Flirty, I’d say if it wasn’t my mother. I paused in the hallway, standing outside the door. Listening to her coo—and some kind of low, deep murmur in answer—I was terrified what I’d find behind that door. After being with you, I recognized those kinds of noises. I suddenly remembered the night I’d walked in on her and Sal drinking wine.

  Back in the kitchen I felt a deep and burning mad.

  No longer sleepy, I put my anger to work. Using Mom’s biggest pot, I mixed and boiled cornmeal and sugar. Waited for her to hear me. I didn’t have Baby, but I used Mom’s baker’s yeast. Dared her to ask me what I was making. Wished she’d stop whatever she was doing to investigate. She didn’t come out. She never saw me cooking. When it was done, I poured the mixture into one of the buckets her flour came in. Then I stored the fermenting, festering secret in the garage.

  25

  I couldn’t let myself think about the sounds Mom made behind the office door. At work, Sal’s booming voice and laugh grated on my nerves. The smell of his aftershave made me queasy. Roni noticed something too. “I think Sal must have a new sweetie,” she said. “Thank the Lord for girls who don’t mind used parts.” I cringed to think she might mean Mom.

  She also gave me her
own kind of wisdom. “Lulu, I know Catholics don’t believe in birth control. But if you and Mason…”

  “We’re not. We haven’t.”

  “Yet,” said Roni. “I saw you at the pool. Promise me you’ll be as smart as you should be. If you’re gonna break one rule, break the other one too.”

  Our secret moonlight delivery turned out to be a bust. The money never showed up. Bucky was certain no one at the gas station had taken the envelope. You and Bucky went back to the drop-off spot, and it was like all those jugs had never been there. The clincher was that you couldn’t get ahold of the buyer. We’d been ripped off.

  “That’s the way it goes sometimes,” you said about a week later when I was still obsessing.

  The two of us sat on the floor of your room at Saint Jude’s slurping Popsicles. You were almost done fixing it up for Father Mick. The built-in bookshelves and fold-down desk fit the wall perfectly. The curved corners and the extra trim added a simple elegance. It looked so smooth and honey-golden I’d had to run my fingers along the grain.

  I found it mysteriously frustrating that you didn’t care about the loss of money.

  “I do care,” you said. “But caring doesn’t change what happened.”

  We’d kept Aunt Jezebel working that week. You’d gotten a fresh bit of Baby and were excited that Jake had shown you how to divide her and feed her so she’d stay happy while waiting in his cabin. A stockpile of jars and jugs was hidden in the woods, since it was too much to fit in my car at the junkyard.

  None of it would do me any good if we couldn’t sell it.

  I was supposed to leave in five weeks. It had been a little less than six since we stole Aunt Jezebel, so it felt both doable and impossible. Like I was standing on the middle of a seesaw waiting to see which side I’d fall on.

  Father Mick peered in the room. “Did you need to see me, Lulu?”

  I hadn’t made it to confession for weeks. I was mad at God. Didn’t feel like apologizing. For so long I’d tried to do the right things. I’d played by the rules. I was tired of God getting in my way, making everything so hard. Now we hadn’t even gotten the money we’d earned. I shook my head and said, “I’m just here to help Mason.” As if there was anything I could do.