by T. I. Lowe
“Ugh. No comment.” I place my head on the table. Great. Just great. My jailbird status has probably cost me that ray of hope for working with the paper full-time one day.
“Young lady.” She pauses, and I know I’m about to get a lecture. “You need to start making better choices. If you don’t, one of these days you’re gonna make a choice that’s going to haunt you the rest of your life.” It sounds more like an omen instead of a warning, and it makes me shiver.
I rise and head for my room. “Yes ma’am.” I turn back to my aunt and gently wrap my arms around her. “I’m really sorry for screwing up again, Aunt Evie.”
“I know, honey.” She pats my arm before I release her and head to my room.
I beat on Kyle’s door to rouse him as I pass it. I rummage through my clothes and decide on a pair of cutoffs and a holey T-shirt. I plait my hair in a long side braid to keep it out of the way while I work today. After dressing, I find Kyle sitting at the table eating his own Pop Tart.
“Did you feed Dog?” I ask him while I study our goldfish.
“Yep. He wouldn’t quit barking until I did,” he mumbles as he opens a second pack of Pop Tarts and continues scarfing them down.
I smile at the little orange fish in appreciation. He is as close to a dog as we will ever get. There’s simply no budget for pets in this trailer park life, so you won’t ever spot a cat or dog scurrying around. Aunt Evie surprised Kyle and me last Christmas with the goldfish. He’s probably as easy and as cheap of a pet you can have, and we like Dog pretty well. He keeps us content in the pet department, but when the need to have a furry, frisky dog eats at us, all we have to do is hop on our bikes and strike out to Shimmer Lakes Farms. The owner has a gorgeous yellow lab named Peaches, and neither he nor she minds us paying her an hour or two of attention once in a while.
After Kyle finishes up breakfast, we meet the guys outside. It’s already screaming hot. Ugh. This is going to be a long day. We decide I will be driving us over today. I’m too sore to think about a twenty minute bike ride. Leona has to work, so it’s just me and the boys today. We all pile in my Mustang like a bunch of sardines to head over to the dock. Mave’s knees are pushing through the seat and jabbing me in my back. I’m working really hard at not getting annoyed about it. I scoot the seat as far up as it will go, hoping he takes the hint. At least he’s not backing out on helping us.
I eye Dillon before pulling off. “Good morning Dimples. Did you have a good night?”
“You suck, Jewels,” he says as he leans his head on the passenger window. I can’t resist, so I lay the pedal to the metal and cut out of the parking lot in a jolt, making him tumble around unexpectedly. I give him a hard time and he grumbles the rest of the ride.
This guy named Jack, who lives in the trailer park, is past-due on his rent to Aunt Evie. Lucky for us he is an out of work construction worker, so she agreed to let him work off his rent by helping us out today. He meets us there and goes about instructing us on how to do the job properly. He grabs a hammer and goes to work right along with us.
We knock the dock out relatively easily, even though this extremely humid Georgia day makes it tough. Shimmer Lakes is nestled in the deep southern part of the state where the air is so thick and sticky in the summer that mosquitos can get stuck in midair. No joke. Well, okay, that was a joke. But southern humidity is not a joke.
We really only needed to replace two posts and the top decking. Most of the damage was to the boat itself. As the day progresses, so does my frustration. The heat has put a mean whooping on me today. My hair is completely soaked with sweat and my clothes are sticking to me with no pity. With blistered hands from hammering and my sore shoulder, the whole life situation is weighing me down today. Life is not fair, I know this. But man, wouldn’t it be nice to catch a break every now and then?
We pile back into my car by suppertime, and I am absolutely wiped out. Once we are all shoved back in, the begging and pleading begins for food. I knew it was coming. I am too tired to put up a fight, so I make the mistake of asking “where to?” After listening to them go around and around about what they want to eat, I crank up Pearl Jam and head to my favorite hangout. These boys can really act like a bunch of old ladies, not able to make up their minds about something and then bickering when the others make a suggestion. I ain’t got patience for that mess. Yes, I used ain’t. It makes a better point sometimes, don’t you think?
Fat So Moe’s Burger Joint has the best burgers around, hands down. We push through the front door and find the jolly owner at the counter.
Kyle is the first to greet the owner. “Yo, Moe!”
Moe looks up from the counter. “Yo, bro!”
It’s their usual routine, and we always laugh at this. Moe looks like Santa but with a really long goatee and several silver hoops through his ears. He wears shorts and T-shirts year-round with combat boots. He is a cool character for sure and has starred in many of my fictional stories. He talks as though he should live on a surfboard in the ocean and not in a boat on a lake.
We make it to the counter and grumble when he takes the opportunity to rag us a bit over our latest fiasco. “You scrubs finish walking the plank for the rich and flameless?” He’s just a-grinning. He thinks he’s funny. He ain’t. See. It just sounds better sometimes.
I glare at him for good measure before I order the pimento cheese burger with Cajun fries and a vanilla milkshake to help cool me off.
The boys order two burgers apiece with fries and sodas. We go to pay with the last bit of money we could scrape up. I think we should have an entire dollar left for the tip.
Moe holds his hands up. “This meal is on me. You kids got done dirty with the whole arrest show. I think you’ve earned a break for the day.”
We try to push the money on him anyway. Aunt Evie wouldn’t think too kindly about us having a free pity meal. But Moe says a few choice words on the fairness of this town, and he’s getting riled up. We think better of it, put our money back into our empty pockets, and thank him diligently.
I let the boys sit together, and I slide in a booth alone. I’m tired yet restless, and above all, I’m in a seriously bad mood. Earlier today a snobby group of teenagers wandered over to pretty much laugh at us while we put their precious dock back together. I’m sick of being laughed at, and I’m just not very hopeful at life ever getting better. This whole I’m better than you really hurts. I hate feeling like a nobody.
I pick at my food for a while, not really having much of an appetite. I sit a spell longer, listening to the rowdy boys goofing off in the next booth. Each one is slightly sunburned due to the last two days of dock work. We will look as though we were on vacation when we return to school in a few days, at least. I continue watching them. Kyle has french fry confetti sprinkled in his hair and hasn’t a clue that Mave has been adding to it the entire time they’ve been eating. Dillon just said something that cracks the whole table up, and now Max has soda shooting out of his nose. I know they are slightly younger than me, but I just wish I could let go like they do. Nothing seems to bother them, and it makes me jealous. I feel like I’ve had to grow up too fast due to the life dealt to me.
Dillon looks over and finds me glaring in their direction. We hold each other’s gaze for a few beats before he heads over and plops down in my booth across from me. Without asking, he begins to devour my food. I raise an eyebrow for a response. “No need in wasting it,” he answers with a shrug and a mouthful of my burger. “What’s the matter, pretty girl?”
I try to shrug back, but my sore shoulder is starting to really stove up and won’t let me. This catches Dillon’s attention. Before I know it, he drops the burger back on my plate and has slid in next to me. With a concerned expression, he eases my shirt off my shoulder. I hear him let out a sigh that sounds on the line of regret mixed with pity.
“Good grief, dude! Stop groping my sister,” Kyle complains, with the twins busting out in laughter.
“I’m next,” Mave declares.
“Shut up, Maverick!” Kyle and I shout at the same time, with both of us cutting him a sharp look.
Dillon rolls his eyes, but continues brushing his fingers lightly over the deep bruise. “We hurt her shoulder the other night, Kyle.” I kind of like how he takes the blame for the injury. I always feel like everything we get in trouble for is my fault.
This gets the boys’ attention and so the next thing I know, all of them are inspecting me like they would actually know what to do. It’s almost laughable. Except, it’s not. I’m in a lousy mood and don’t feel like being fussed over.
I shrug Dillon off. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine.” I push him out of the way and head for the door. “I’m tired. Let’s go.”
Kyle asks, “Can’t we stay for a little while, Jillian? Moe’s got the pool table set for free play.”
I turn back around and they are all looking at me, hopeful. One minute they are fawning over my injury, and the next they are acting like a bunch of selfish brats. This instantly shoves me further into my sour mood. “Sure. Stay as long as you want,” I mutter.
They all quickly head to the game room for a few games of pool, I’m sure. I continue to head for the door, without them noticing. I feel like teaching them a lesson on being more considerate, so I climb into my car and leave their behinds right there to find their own way home.
I look in my review mirror in time to see them all run out of the restaurant. Kyle has his arms in the air in frustration, while the twins look confused. Dillon stands there with his hands on his hips, grinning. I don’t know why, but that makes me smile, too.
* * * *
Sunday morning finds my crowd doing the nearly late for church shuffle. Aunt Evie had some minor emergency with a group of campers, so we are the last to arrive for worship service. We hustle in, and I have to refrain from moaning out loud. Kyle scooted in before me and swiped the last spot on the pew with the twins. The only remaining place to sit is directly behind them, and this is somewhere I try to never, and I mean never, sit. For one, they are way taller than me and I can’t see over their big heads. Secondly, they are such a distraction. I’m staring at the back of Mave’s head today, which is even worse. I’m seated beside Leona and her dad, so at least I have company to share in the aggravation. They undoubtedly were late, too.
Dillon is at the piano and is already playing the offertory hymn. He is dressed in a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to midway of his forearms and is sporting a pair of grey dress slacks. Cora makes him dress properly for church, even on the Sundays he doesn’t play the piano. I lean forward and scan the twins. As always, they are in the normal jeans and T-shirts. At least Kyle wore a blue button-down shirt with his jeans. I look down at my simple coral-colored sundress. I know God don’t care what we wear as long as we show up, but I do like to dress nice for my visits to his house on Sunday. I guess it’s one of those unspoken things I’ve picked up from Aunt Evie over the years. She’s a dress wearing kind of woman when it comes to church. She even leaves the tie-dye at home for the occasion.
I refocus on Dillon as he plays “Victory in Jesus” for the call to worship song. I can see most of him from this angle. I love to watch him bring the piano to life with his hands and his soul. He plays with such seriousness and reverence, with his head bent towards the keys. He eases the song to a close, then gets up discreetly and slides onto his designated spot on the front pew beside Cora.
Preacher Mike Floyd takes his place behind the podium, and I lose him behind Mave’s big head. “Good to be in the Lord’s house this fine day,” he says, and people amen their agreements. He leads us in a quick prayer before instructing us to turn to Proverbs Chapter 7. He then dives right in and reads verses twenty-four and twenty-five, and I know right then that, yes, they let the jailbirds into church service this morning, but we are about to receive ourselves some learnings. “The Lord’s Word says, ‘Hearken unto me now therefore, O ye children, and attend to the words of my mouth. Let not thine heart decline to her ways, go not astray in her paths.’ This world wants to lead us down the wrong paths. Youth today have too many temptations. Too many opportunities to easily make the wrong choices.”
I roll my eyes and slump even farther down in the pew. Good grief. We didn’t mean to blow up the blame boat. And we sure as heck didn’t openly make the choice to go to jail. Yes, I’m getting a bit defensive. You would too, if you had half of the congregation giving you knowing glances.
We are all of five minutes into the sermon when Mave’s head starts doing the bobbing around thing. The dude is going to have one sore neck. Mr. Dan leans up and nudges Mave on the shoulder to try to rouse him back awake. This works all of five more minutes, when the head bobbing picks back up with a soft snore to accompany the show. I can see over his head, now that it’s bent over, and I’m a little nervous at what I see. Preacher Floyd is steadily watching the snoozing boy as he continues his rant on how we need to keep our focus on God before we find ourselves on a destructive path we can’t find the exit for.
Preacher Floyd keeps right on preaching as he eases over to the first pew and picks up a box of unopened tissues. Without missing a word, he pitches the box. It bounces perfectly off of Mave’s head and wakes the boy abruptly. Kyle can’t refrain from snorting in laughter. I give him a quick slap on the shoulder to shut him up, before he gets a box to his head by the preacher, too. I don’t think today that such mess is very wise of the boys. Preacher Floyd seems to be on a mission to get ahold of us, and this won’t be making it any better for us.
“Mr. King—” Preacher Floyd says.
“That’s Maverick, sir,” Max blurts out as he points to his twin. I give the end of Max’s hair a mean tug to hush him up. Pointing out who’s who won’t be helping the cause.
The preacher shifts his gaze over to Max before looking back to Mave. “Young man, I do believe God may have something important you need to hear today. You need to wake up and listen up.” The congregation amens this as Preacher Floyd takes his position back behind the podium, hidden out of my view for the remainder of the service. Mave seems wide-awake now. Every so often, he rubs the spot where the tissue box made contact with his head.
Preacher Floyd repeats those two verses, I think specifically for Mave’s benefit. “Hearken unto me now therefore, O ye children, and attend to the words of my mouth. Let not thine heart decline to her ways, go not astray in her paths,” he reads loudly and with much emphasis. Then he adds Psalm 119:105. “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” Yes, I do believe I get the theme of this sermon. We are obviously heading down the wrong path, and we need to get off it real soon, before we mess up even more. Between Preacher Floyd’s fervent words from God, Cora’s wicked sternness, and Aunt Evie’s wise warnings for us to make better choices before the consequences catch up with us, I think they are hopeful at being able to turn off our stupid buttons. Fingers crossed, they will succeed.
We all file out somberly after Dillon sings while he plays the song, “The Old Path.” Do you know that one? Well just let me share with you that it’s all about staying on the right path with God and not straying from it. He sounds like an old man up there, crooning out the ancient lyrics. I’m not sure if this was a specific request or if Dillon thinks he’s funny. Either way, it was all I could do to not openly laugh during it.
I catch up with Aunt Evie outside and hear the rest of the crowd drifting behind us. They are whining about needing food—big surprise. They are always whining about needing food.
“I’m starving,” Mave grumbles, right on my heels.
“Well, my friend, I do believe if we stay on this here path set before us, we will be rewarded abundantly,” Dillon says. They are following Aunt Evie—the regular food source on Sundays. I know for fact that today will be no different. The ham is in the oven keeping warm with the mac and cheese. And the deviled eggs are keeping cool in the fridge with the layered salad and coconut cream cake. My mouth waters just thinking
about it.
“That sounds like the kind of path I can handle, keeping on the straight and narrow,” Max says. I want to tell them to knock it off before they get Aunt Evie riled up.
“Lead us, Aunt Evie, and let us not astray from your righteous cooking,” Mave says solemnly, and the guys crack up.
I step ahead of Aunt Evie. I don’t want to get in the way of the tongue lashing the boys are just asking for.
“I will let not thine belly decline her food.” Great. Now Kyle throws in his two cents. I glance over my shoulder and that’s when I see this lady has reached her limit.
She stops abruptly and faces off with the smart-mouthed idiots. “Well, I’m glad that you young’uns ain’t as stupid as I had suspected. You’re smart enough to remember Bible verses well enough to misquote them, so maybe there’s enough sense in you to be able to get it right.” This lady doesn’t get riled up too very often, and as I watch her place her hands on her thin hips, I know the boys succeeded. Fools.
She hollers over to the preacher, and the boys start to squirm. “Preacher Floyd, these here boys were just quoting those fine verses God had you share with us today. They’d like to share with you what they learned from the message.” Oh crap. They’ve gone and done it now.
I’m about to settle in my spot and see just what they come up with when Aunt Evie wraps my arm in hers. “You wouldn’t mind taking them home, when y’all done? Me and Jillian are going to go finish up dinner.”
“No ma’am. I don’t mind at all. Come on, boys. Let’s go sit inside and have a talk.” Preacher Floyd pats Mave’s shoulder firmly and directs them to follow him. They all file back in the church with their heads hung low. Boy, am I glad I managed to be overlooked. I’m impressed I didn’t follow the leader this time and have managed to keep my lips shut.
Needless to say, the boys didn’t make it back to the trailer for over an hour. When they do arrive, they eat in silence, and then do the dishes without being asked. They even thanked Aunt Evie and didn’t swipe the leftovers to take home as they usually do.