On the third morning Jim sat at her table she offered him breakfast. After that it became a Saturday routine, with Jim joining the family for the last few minutes of their meal, seemingly eating only leftovers, but devouring enough food it was apparent he had not eaten. She had invited him to watch Will play ball. Jim showed up with a heavy blanket that he offered to share with Virginia. She had thought it would be wrong to show any public displays of affection; after all, they had not even verbalized their interest to each other. Then her gaze had fallen on Roger standing down the fence line, his fingers hooked through the chain link. Suddenly she felt cold and needed the warmth of the blanket and Jim close to her.
When he had finally asked her to dinner she had acted nonchalant. But on the day of their date Virginia had laid her three good outfits out on the bed and dressed and undressed without satisfaction. Shannon helped her apply makeup, which Virginia had then buffed to nonexistence.
Jim picked her up on time. He wore a sport coat and jeans. They got in the car immediately, as though if they didn’t leave that minute, one of them might change their mind. They drove an hour to Bowling Green to see Coal Miner’s Daughter. Afterward they went to The Iron Skillet, where a line of people trailed out from the entrance. Couples sat on benches to the side of the fake double barn doors. Children played in the graveled landscaping. The place was designed to look like a weathered tobacco barn, which didn’t make sense to Virginia. Why anyone would want to eat in a barn was beyond her, but there was no telling what would appeal to people in a city like Bowling Green. It wasn’t big like Louisville, still had people who wanted to play at being country folks, or maybe they wanted some of the food they grew up with instead of thin excuses for hamburgers and greasy attempts at biscuits.
“Twenty-minute wait,” Jim said when he came back out. “Want to go somewhere else?”
“I can wait if you can.”
“Let’s have a drink.”
Virginia had never actually had a drink in a bar, but she said okay as if she had done it every day of her life. The lounge was packed, but a name was called and a couple vacated their relaxed spot next to the fireplace and Jim sat down. When the waiter came around, he ordered a bourbon and Coke.
“Something for the lady?”
“What would you like, Virginia?”
“Oh, something without too much alcohol,” she said.
“A glass of Chablis?” the waiter suggested.
“What’s that?”
“White wine.”
“Okay. I’ll try it.”
When their server had gone, Jim said, “So, how’d you like the movie?”
“Oh, I loved it. I thought Sissy Spacek was so good. I heard she sung all her own songs for that movie. Can you believe it? She sings as good as Loretta Lynn.”
“I agree.”
“I just hope the rest of the world doesn’t think that’s what all of Kentucky’s like.”
“Only Appalachia.”
“Shoot. I’ve got relatives in Paintsville and Prestonsburg and they don’t live like that.”
“You know somebody does though.”
“True, but still, they seemed so pitiful. I wanted to cry a couple of times.”
The waiter flipped two square napkins onto the tiny tabletop and set their drinks down. “The hostess said to tell you the wait will be a little bit longer than anticipated. I’m Eric. Holler if you need anything.”
The wine was sour in Virginia’s mouth. “It’s real good,” she said and smiled.
Jim took a big gulp of his drink and sat back to watch the silent basketball game on the bar TV. Players raced back and forth on the screen, their movements followed closely by jerky camera shots.
“Kentucky had a bad season,” Jim said. Basketball was always the topic of spring conversation, particularly if the Wildcats were winning. Virginia never understood why people got so tied up with certain teams, crazy about them like they had gone to that school. Seemed like everybody she knew followed UK basketball even though most of them had never set foot on campus. “They did okay in the SEC tourney. Got nudged out by two by LSU. But they were out of the NCAA tournament early.”
“Did you go to Kentucky?”
“Two semesters. Then I got married and moved to Indiana.”
Virginia finished the last sip of wine, and a tingly sense of calm came over her. She relaxed into the overstuffed chair.
Jim’s eyes were gray, with smile lines crinkling the corners. “Want another drink?”
He held up two fingers to the bartender, who nodded.
“You haven’t said, do you and Mary Jane have any kids?”
“No. Never got around to it.”
“Guess that would make getting divorced a little easier. No kids to fight over.”
“You and Roger fighting over the kids?”
“Not exactly. He’s not even interested. We’re not Kramer vs. Kramer.”
“Mary Jane drug me to see that. Strange to think a woman would run out on her kid like that.”
Virginia straightened in her chair. “Men do it all the time and nobody ever blinks an eye, but if a woman runs away, well, she’s dirt for sure.”
“I don’t know. When Mary Jane and me got divorced you would have thought I was the devil incarnate the way she talked about me to the judge.”
“Why’d you get divorced?”
“Irreconcilable differences.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Hell if I know. I guess it means we don’t get along.”
“Sounds like a good thing to say without saying anything.”
“That sums up our whole marriage,” he said. He seemed sad, but he winked at her. “So why did you and Roger split up?”
As their second round of drinks arrived, Virginia took the moment to ask herself if she wanted to be honest. Should she make Roger sound like the dog he was or should she take the less bitter route? She settled on a noncommittal answer. “I’m sure Roger had his reasons for leaving. He’s just not sharing them with me.”
“Ah, communication problems. Any good marriage counselor’ll tell you that’s the first thing to go when a marriage is falling apart.” Jim sneered.
“You and Mary Jane went to counseling?”
“For a while. But it didn’t work. Waste of money.”
“I don’t guess it’s any secret that Roger moved in with that woman who runs the Beauty Boutique.”
“Yeah, I heard tell.”
“I suppose that sums up our problems right there.”
“He’s an idiot. Why would a man go out for cheap pizza when he can get filet mignon at home? You know, I always had a crush on you in school.”
“You lie. You didn’t know I was alive.”
“I was going to ask you out, but then I heard you and Roger were getting married.”
Virginia gazed at the little pond outside the window. Two ducks paddled in the ridiculously small pool of water. Droppings littered the mulch chips. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. Let’s talk about that game. Bet you’re proud of how Will pitched tonight.”
“I am.”
“He’s got a good head on his shoulders. I hope that Western scout takes a shine to him. I tried to walk on the baseball team at UK but didn’t make it. College sports are a big step up from high school. You go to college?”
“Lord, no. I got married and started raising kids.”
“You were a year behind me, but I remember everybody thought you were smart.”
“I did okay.” A little stab of pain hit Virginia when she remembered how her grades had fallen off her senior year when Will was a baby. She ended up graduating near the middle of her class and even that had been a struggle.
“Does Will have good marks?”
“His grades are fine, but Shannon’s the one with the straight A’s. She studies her little head off.”
“What subjects does she like?”
“Science and math. You wouldn’t believe
some of the classes they’ve got her taking. Advanced placement they call it. Chemistry and trig and economics. When I was in school I took typing and home ec and history.”
“I think kids have a lot more to learn now.”
“Shannon really takes to science. She’s always carrying around some bug or frog or snake and talking about how it reproduces and how pollution and people are destroying where animals live. I don’t understand half of what she talks about, but she’s won a lot of speech contests. When I was a kid everybody was trying to kill animals and weeds and insects so they wouldn’t eat our crops and now she’s off on some campaign to educate everybody not to kill things. She’s getting all geared up for Junior Miss this fall. Both my kids are competitive. They have ribbons and trophies all just so in their rooms.”
Shouts erupted in the bar, cutting off their conversation. Jim got up to get a closer look at the small screen. When he sat back down he shook his head as if to say it was nothing important. “Will fish? I haven’t been in a long time. Not since I got back to Falling Rock. I need somebody to show me the good spots.”
“Oh, he’d love that, I’m sure. He likes to fish. Hunt, too. Anything outdoors, Will’s good at.”
“He seems pretty industrious.”
“Both my kids work hard. They’ve had to since their daddy’s such a slack-ass. Oh, there I went and said something bad about him and I promised myself I wouldn’t.”
Jim laughed out loud. “It’s okay. Fresh wounds. Believe me, I understand.”
“I guess I’m fortunate my kids are so smart. I don’t have to worry about them too much. At least not Will. Now Shannon, she’s got a bunch of book sense, but not a whole lot of common sense. I have to keep her on a tighter leash.”
“That so?”
“Both of them are chomping at the bit to get out of Falling Rock, but Shannon’s the one who’ll try anything. Will’s a little more careful. He plays more by the rules. Shannon wants to go to some rock concert in Louisville and she’s mad at me because I won’t let her go.”
“What’s the band?”
“Some guy named Pink Floyd. I’ve never heard of a guy named Pink. I guess it could be a girl.”
“That’s the band’s name. I’ve heard their music.”
“What’s it like?”
“Interesting. Strange. Loud.”
“Think that concert is somewhere a fifteen-year-old girl needs to be?”
“Not really. Probably a lot of drugs.”
“And what about all those people who died up in Cincinnati last December? That sounds too rough to me.”
“That was a Who concert. They had festival seating, which is a free-for-all. No assigned seats. People got crushed trying to rush in to be right in front of the stage. Most places don’t have festival seating anymore.”
“Still, I don’t think it’s right for her to go. She said I favor Will because I let him, but things are different with boys. You don’t worry so much about boys.”
“Yeah.”
“Fewer things can happen to a boy. You know?”
“I don’t blame you. I know what boys are like. If I had a daughter, I’d probably never let her out of my sight.”
9
The fire alarm reverberated down the concrete-block halls of Baylor County High School. “Come on. Single file. Let’s move!” Teachers shouted and waved students outside. The far perimeter of the school grounds was soon packed with teenagers clad in Izod shirts, concert baseball jerseys, and Levis. Uniformed cheerleaders bounced as if they would be responsible for leading the cheer should the school go up in flames. Students slipped away to the parking lot to smoke. A few ditched for the day.
“This’ll delay the pep rally,” Shannon said.
“Thank God,” Pam said.
Kerry snaked through the crowd behind Shannon. Pam saw him, but he put a finger to his lips. He grabbed Shannon around the waist.
“Gotcha!”
“You cut Miller’s class? You’ll get in trouble.”
“It’s okay. Look, I’ve got to help Pop this weekend. We’re pulling plants, so I won’t be able to take you to Will’s ballgame.”
“That’s okay,” Shannon said. “Hey, my grandpa used to pay us grandkids to do that. He said we were closer to the ground.”
“We’re gonna set on Sunday. We could sure use some help. If you come over, you can ride the setter.”
“I’d rather drive the tractor.”
“You always want to drive.”
“Don’t worry about the ballgame. I’ll ride with Momma.”
“And her new boyfriend,” Pam said.
“Oh, God,” Shannon said. “How weird is that?”
“Is she sleeping with that guy yet?” Pam asked.
“You’re grossing me out. Stop talking about it.”
The fire alarm abruptly stopped and voices dropped an octave. The gym teacher shouted through a bullhorn for students to file inside. “Everybody back to class. Pep rally in fifteen minutes. Go back to class and check in.”
Kerry grasped Shannon’s hand and their fingers intertwined as they approached the front doors of the school. The gym teacher stopped with the bullhorn long enough to say, “No public display of affection, Miss Lemmons. Mr. Rucker, keep your hands to yourself! Mr. Rucker, don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Catch you later.” Kerry sprinted away to his class as they entered the school at another door.
“He’s so whipped,” Pam said. “Has he asked you to prom yet?”
“No. But he will.”
“You know he will. I can’t stand not knowing who I’m going with.”
“Go stag.”
“Right. Volunteer to hand out lemonade and take tickets with the rejects. No thank you.”
Shannon laughed.
“I heard Eddie Horn might ask me. I’d go with him. He’s wild and he’s got a nice car.”
The Pep Club clustered at the bottom of the bleachers, nervously talking and handing out red-and-white pompoms. Shannon and Pam each took one and found a seat away from the most enthusiastic students. The cheerleaders postured, a couple fiddled with the paper arch the team would break through as they entered the court. The arch was scrawled with giant, colorful letters—REGION 5 CHAMPS/SWEET SIXTEEN here we come! A small group of band members tooted their instruments and the drummer occasionally let go with a spate of rhythm. Less interested students gathered at the top of the bleachers. They slumped against the gray block wall below the scarlet, eight-foot cardinal. Shannon searched the crowd for Kerry but saw only Will and Liz. Liz waved, Will’s thick gold ring flashing in the gymnasium lights.
Kerry materialized from a throng of black-sleeved concert T-shirts featuring snarling rock stars and lightning bolts. He sandwiched in beside Shannon and shook her hand that held the pompom.
“Yay, rah, go, team,” he said.
Pam grimaced.
“What’s with Miss Negative?” Kerry asked.
“She doesn’t have a prom date yet.”
“You’re one to talk,” Pam said. “You don’t have a date for prom either.”
Both girls looked at Kerry. He froze. “What? I swear. I was going to ask you.”
“So we’re going?”
“Of course. What’s the big deal?”
“We have to plan what we’re going to wear and it’s only two weeks away now.”
“So?”
“So, we have to match. Your tux has to match my dress. We have to pick out flowers. Stuff like that.”
“Good grief.”
“Didn’t you go last year?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It just seems dumb. Dressing up like some penguin. Wearing flowers and stuff. I can’t dance.”
“I can teach you. Will and I dance in the basement sometimes.”
“I can move around in a slow circle. That’s it. No disco.”
“Aw, come on.”
“Nope. No disco.”
The ba
nd started the school fight song and the student body rose to its feet in a jostling, singing mass.
Oh when those dear old boys fall in line,
We’re gonna win this game another time,
And for the dear old school we love so well,
We’re gonna fight, fight, fight,
And yell and yell and yell…
We’re gonna fight, fight, fight forever more,
We’re gonna win this game and win some more,
We’re gonna roll those Dragons off the floor, out the door,
Rah! Rah! Rah! Ay! Ay!
Kerry clapped half-heartedly and leaned over to shout in Shannon’s ear.
“Sarah asked me if you wanted to work at the boat dock this summer.”
“Really?” Shannon stopped clapping. “What would I do?”
“Run the store. Rent out boats. Sell gas, oil. Stuff like that.”
When the band finished the school song, the cheerleaders flipped and plunged across the floor. “All right!” they barked at the crowd. “Let’s go!” They began to sing and Pep Club followed. The song moved up the bleachers, loosing gusto as it climbed. We are the Cardinals! The mighty, mighty Cardinals! The stands groaned as students stomped. Everywhere we go! People wanna know! Who we are. So we tell them. We are the Cardinals. The mighty, mighty Cardinals…
“You’d have to run the grill. Can you cook?” Kerry yelled.
“I can cook a stupid hamburger.”
“We’ll go after school and see if Sarah’s there. She wants somebody she can trust. Last girl stole from the drawer.”
“How would I get to work? I can’t drive yet.”
“I’ll take you.”
“Oh.” Shannon flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you! That’s so cool!” She kissed him hard on the mouth and a teacher yelled, “Hey! No PDA or I’ll separate you two!”
“Sorry,” Kerry mouthed.
The student body of Baylor County High School came to their feet and roared as their undefeated basketball team ripped through the paper arch and spilled out onto the worn gymnasium floor.
Calling Home Page 7