by Debby Mayne
“No, I’m just tyin’ up loose ends before I get ready for the big party.”
Sheila continues lookin’ at me with a curious expression, makin’ me mighty uncomfortable. “Tim, have you noticed Priscilla’s been actin’ a little different lately?”
She’s right, but I don’t wanna get into a discussion with no one about Priscilla on account of I might say somethin’ I’ll regret later. “I dunno.”
“Takes a smart man to admit he don’t know somethin’.” She gestures for me to get closer, so I do. “Let me give you a little advice. Pay real close attention to Priscilla. I sense change comin’ with her, and you might pick up on some clues that you need to be aware of.”
“Okie dokie.” I back toward the door. “I better get goin’. The party’s comin’ up in a few hours, and there’s things to do.”
Actually, since Laura ran me off, I don’t know what to do with myself, since I’d planned to wrap everything up at the community center before headin’ back to the hotel to get ready. I glance at my watch and see that almost an hour has passed. Maybe Laura and her kid are done now.
Her minivan is still in the parkin’ lot, but I go ahead and pull up alongside it. With the time bein’ what it is, I s’pect she’s prob’ly about to go home. As I round the corner, I glance in the window and see Priscilla’s face on a big screen at the front of the room, above the stage. What is goin’ on here?
I have to resist the urge to bust in on whatever Laura’s doin’ and ask her that very question. But I don’t. I know I have to do somethin’, though, so I figure I’ll just warn Priscilla that she might be the center of attention in the program.
As I enter the humongous room, I make as much racket as I can to warn Laura. She looks up, and her boy shuts the computer down. Both have guilty looks on their faces, but I pretend not to notice. This worries me ’cause I know Laura don’t treat some folks so good, and Priscilla just might be one of them folks tonight.
“I gotta set everything up and make sure it all works before I go to the hotel and get dressed.”
“Go right ahead,” Laura says as she guides her young’un toward the door. “We’re all done here ’til tonight. See ya in a coupla hours.”
As soon as they’re gone, I look around for signs of what they been doin’, but I don’t find a single solitary thing. So I pull out my list and check everything off as I do it. Looks like all the cords are here and in place, the tables are set up for the food, and the sound system works just fine. I walk around once more, and this time, I spot a table sittin’ off to the side of the stage. There’s a black piece of material coverin’ a real tall lump. I look over my shoulder to make sure ain’t no one watchin’, and then I lift the corner of the cloth. It looks sorta like a trophy, so I turn it toward the light to see what the printin’ on the bottom says. Then I drop the cloth and smile. Priscilla’s gonna be real pleased tonight. Her classmates is finally gonna give her some credit for all she’s done.
Now that I know what Laura has up her sleeve, I’m not so worried about Priscilla. Yeah, I know I should never worry about Priscilla on account of she’s always been good at takin’ care of herself, but I can’t help myself.
Showered, shaved, feelin’ all fresh and manly, I amble up to the front door of Priscilla’s mama’s house. Right about this point when I first came here, my nerves near ’bout got the best of me. But now, I’m feelin’ all confident and know I’m just as good as anyone—even a college professor. Ms. Slater might know her way around the grammar rules, but I think I understand human nature a bunch more. That woman turns more folks away with her persnickety ways than she attracts, and I s’pect that’s what’s turned her into a sourpuss. She used to have her nose stuck up in the air, but now her face looks like she’s been suckin’ on a lemon all the time.
I ring the doorbell, expectin’ Priscilla to answer, but that don’t happen. Instead, Ms. Slater flings it open, and I’m dumbstruck by her big ol’ honkin’ smile.
“Hi there, Tim. Come on in. Priscilla will be out shortly, but I’d like you to meet someone.”
Her niceness has completely and utterly caught me so off guard I open my mouth and nothin’ comes out. So I follow her into the family room like a puppy dog with a new kid.
Sittin’ on a couch is a man who looks like a bigger version of Mr. Slater. Priscilla’s mama turns to him. “Stand up, Barry. This is my daughter’s friend, Tim.”
The man stands and sticks out his hand. “Good to meet you, Tim. I’m Barry Barrymore.”
I have to stifle a snicker. “Nice to meet ya, Mr. Barrymore.”
“Call me Barry.”
“Okay, and you call me Tim.” How lame is that, I think. He done called me Tim. I wanna kick myself in the behind for bein’ such a doofus.
“Would you like some sweet tea, Tim?”
I know my eyes must look like they’s about to pop outta my head, but who is this woman and what did she do to Priscilla’s mama? “Um . . . no, thank you, ma’am. As soon as Priscilla’s ready, we best be gettin’ on over to the party on account of I gotta help out with the signin’-in.”
Barry nods and smiles. “I remember my last reunion.” He hikes his britches up by the belt loops and shakes his head. “Next one’s gonna be a biggy. It’s the fiftieth.”
Priscilla saves the moment by appearin’ in the doorway. “My, don’t you look lovely, sweetheart?” Ms. Slater goes up to her daughter and gives her a smooch on the cheek. Priscilla’s eyebrows shoot up fast as mine done a few minutes ago. “You two run along and have a wonderful time.”
On our way down the sidewalk to my car, Priscilla shakes her head. “She’s totally different around Mr. Barrymore.”
“So do you like this guy?” I ask as I slide into the car beside Priscilla.
“He was okay. Most of the time we never gave him a second thought, but when he left and Rottweiler came—”
“Rottweiler? As in the big dog?”
She laughs. “His name was Rotteler, but he was so mean we called him Rottweiler.”
“My cousin used to have a Rottweiler, and he was a nice dog.”
“Well, this one wasn’t. I think he was trained to kill.”
All the way to the Community Center, we laugh and kid around about some of our meanest teachers. There’s only a coupla cars in the parkin’ lot when we arrive—Laura’s mini-van and Jimmy and Celeste’s SUV. Before I get out, I turn to face Priscilla. “I’m not sure if I should do this . . . I mean, I’m kinda torn, but . . . ”
“Spit it out, Tim.”
“Expect anything tonight.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just don’t be surprised by anything that happens, okay?” I hold up my hands. “That’s all I’m sayin’.”
“Tim, come on. We’ve known each other how long? You know you can trust me.”
“I done said too much already. Come on, let’s go in and see what Laura wants us to do.”
She opens her mouth, but I shake my head, and she laughs. “Okay, whatever.”
44
Priscilla
The moment I spotted Tim talking to Mother and Mr. Barrymore, I wanted to grab Tim by the hand and run away as fast as I could. And I might have if seeing him hadn’t made me so weak in the knees. He’s been having a strange effect on me lately. It’s almost as though I’ve been seeing him with different eyes. I know he’s pursued me as a romantic interest in the past, but sometimes I wonder if I’ve become more of a habit to him now than someone he wants a love relationship with. And that really bothers me way more than I ever thought it would.
And now he’s telling me that something’s going to happen, but he’s not about to tell me what it is. My mind races with all sorts of possibilities. When we get to the door, I stop and tug on his sleeve. “Tim, please tell me what you were alluding to back in the car.”
“What I was what?”
“You know, when you said to expect anything.” I look up at him, hoping he’ll at least give me more
of a hint. “Please tell me what’s going to happen.”
“Priscilla . . .” He takes a step back. “I’m afraid I said too much. To be honest, I’m not a hundred percent sure something’s gonna happen. I just want you to brace yourself, in case it does.”
“How do I know what to brace myself against? Is it . . . good or bad?”
He cups my chin and holds my gaze. “In my book, it’ll be good.”
At that very moment, I know what I want to happen. All this time I’ve been taking Tim for granted I’ve missed the most important thing in my life. Tim is a loving, caring man who has always been there for me. He’s smart, even though his grammar can still use some work. But seriously, that’s the only thing I’ve ever been able to find wrong with him.
I want to start a romantic relationship with Tim and see where it takes us. In the past, my fear was having my focus diverted away from my goals, which unfortunately turned out to be so much less satisfying than I imagined. Without fulfillment in my personal life, everything else seems insignificant.
“Nickel for your thoughts?” he asks.
I stick out my hand. He fishes in his pocket and comes up empty. “Sorry, I left my change on the dresser back at the hotel.”
“Okay, you owe me. I was just thinking that tonight just might be one of the best nights of my life.”
He nods and gives me a serene smile. “I think it just might be.”
Maybe . . . and that’s just my wishful thinking . . . Tim is hinting that he wants the same thing I want. He’s actually given me enough clues in the past, but it’s been awhile. Not once during our current visit to Piney Point has he even brought up the subject of something more between us than friendship.
“Hey, Priscilla . . . Tim.” Trudy and Darryl come up from behind. “We thought we’d get here a little early and see if y’all needed some extra hands.” She gives Darryl a loving look. “Actually that was Darryl’s idea, and I thought it was a good one.”
Before I have a chance to say a word, Laura darts around from behind the pillar. “Why don’t y’all sit here at the sign-in table ’til Celeste and Jimmy get here?”
As Trudy and Darryl take their places, Tim pulls Laura off to the side and says something that causes her to look at me and frown. I wonder if it has something to do with whatever he’s being mysterious about.
I’m given the assignment of being a greeter. Since we’ve never had a greeter at our other reunions, I know it’s something Laura and Tim manufactured just to keep me out of the way. But I do it, hoping that I’m making it easy for whatever Tim has in store for me.
The second Celeste walks through the double doors, she marches right up to Trudy and scowls. “Get up. It’s always been my job to sign people in.”
Trudy laughs. “That’s fine. I wouldn’t wanna take your job away from you. I was just helping out ’til you arrived.”
Celeste rearranges all the name tags, and from the way it appears, the only reason she’s doing it is to let Trudy know who’s in charge of the sign-in table. Trudy obviously couldn’t care less as she walks around, holding onto Darryl’s arm, chatting and laughing in a way I’ve never seen her do before. This guy must be special to bring out the likable side of Trudy.
Then Trudy’s ex-husband, Michael, walks in and struts right past the sign-in table, over toward me. “Where’s my ex-wife?”
Before I have a chance to say a word, Laura appears. “Which one?” That woman seems to be everywhere.
“Which one?” Michael folds his arms and gives her a condescending glare. “Which one do you think, Lorraine?”
“My name’s not Lorraine, and you know that, Michael . . . and just for that, I’m not helping you find anyone.”
I stifle laughter. Looks like not everyone got the message that it’s okay to change. Michael obviously hasn’t. And speaking of folks not changing, here comes Maurice, with Didi right behind him. Or should I say Dr. Didi Holcomb, ear, nose, and throat specialist—the woman who has always felt slighted by the fact that I edged her out of being class valedictorian and voted Most Likely to Succeed by a very slim margin.
“Hey, Maurice,” Laura says much louder than necessary. “I thought you weren’t comin’, Didi.”
Didi narrows her eyes and glares at me then grabs Maurice’s arm. “I changed my mind.”
“Well, good. Get yourself a name tag, grab some food, and find a seat. Zeke and his band are playin’ ’til the program starts, which should be in”—Laura glances at her watch then at me before turning back to Didi—“about an hour or so.”
Tim appears and takes me by the hand. “Let’s get our food and grab a decent spot before everyone else gets here.”
After we fill our plates with chicken wings, mini crustless sandwiches, veggies, and dip, we make our way back toward the tables, all clustered around a dance floor in front of the stage. A hand waving about in the air gets our attention.
“Hey, Priscilla! Over here.” It’s Trudy, her face lit up as though she’s really excited about having us sit with her.
I glance at Tim, and he shrugs. “Whatever you wanna do, Priscilla, is fine by me.”
“We might as well sit with them.” And deep down, I’m looking forward to getting to know Trudy’s guy, Darryl, a little better. He must really be special to have had this effect on her.
As soon as we join them, Darryl strikes up a conversation with Tim. They have quite a bit in common, and within minutes they have plans to play a round of golf next time Tim goes to Atlanta.
Tim leans toward me and whispers. “I like this guy. Maybe the four of us can get together sometime.”
I nod. “Sounds good.” Now my hopes are higher than ever that Tim’s little secret might be what I want.
Every now and then, he touches my arm, or he looks at me in a way that makes me tingle. I want to say something about how I feel, but this doesn’t seem like the best place to do that.
Zeke and the Geeks entertain us with their own style of music—including some we actually recognize. I know that our reunion budget is slim, but I would think Laura could find a better band. However, I also know that Zeke is one of Pete’s former drinking buddies, and he feels an allegiance to the guy.
After a slow song that was popular back when I was in school, Zeke calls Laura up to the microphone. Tim stiffens and gives me a strange look.
“What’s wrong?”
He folds his hands on the table, stares up at the stage, and shakes his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Just look up there.”
Next thing I know, I see my picture on the screen behind Laura. I cast a curious look at Tim, who nods toward the stage.
“So you knew about this?”
“Actually, I wasn’t sure until I cornered Laura and asked her about something I seen earlier. She told me you was gettin’ the award this year.”
“Was this the secret you couldn’t tell me?” I bite my bottom lip to keep the tears from forming. This award is nice, but it’s nothing compared to what I really wanted . . . and now I want that more than ever.
“What’s the matter, Priscilla? You look like you’re about to cry.”
Now I can’t stop the flood of tears and flow of words letting Tim know what’s been on my mind. “I was hoping you would . . . tell me you . . .” I pull my lips between my teeth, sniffle, and take a deep breath. “Tim, I know this is a weird time to say this, but I can’t help myself. I love you, and none of this matters if we can’t be together.”
His face goes blank, and I want to crawl beneath the table. But then Laura says something that has everyone looking at me, so I have to pretend. Again.
45
Laura
The lights are low, with the glow from the PowerPoint presentation flickerin’ at the front of the room. Most of the folks have quit blabbin’, so the sound of my recorded voice screechin’ through the speakers in the corners of the room comes through loud ’n clear. I cringe as I hear my country twang. I’ve always prided myself in tryin’ to have good grammar,
but now I think I might should put some effort into my accent. I mean, a southern accent is soothin’, but not when it sounds like it comes from the sticks.
“Good job, hon.” Pete winks at me.
“I shoulda had someone else talk.”
He crinkles his forehead. “What’re you talkin’ about? It sounds just like you.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about. I sound like a hick.”
He puts his arms around me and squeezes. “You’re my hick, though, and I love ya.”
I cut him a look lettin’ him know I don’t like bein’ called a hick. He tilts his head back and laughs out loud.
“Sh!” And that doesn’t come from me. Apparently, folks like what Jack and I put together.
I look over at Priscilla and see the tears tricklin’ down her cheeks . . . and not a single bit of her makeup is runnin’. That just beats all. If I’d been in her shoes, I’d have streaks of mascara and eyeliner runnin’ down my face.
But I can’t let her cry-happy moment irritate me so much. I got my own personal joy to smile . . . and cry about. My oldest young’un is doin’ great in the Army. I mean, he’s only called home cryin’ twice, and that’s just ’cause he misses my casseroles that I’m not makin’ anymore. Renee finally kicked that Wilson boy to the curb, and even though I got my doubts about her gettin’ a job at a bank, she knows what she wants to do. Bonnie Sue is prob’ly gonna not only finish high school, she’s lookin’ at colleges. If someone had told me when my young’uns were little that Bonnie Sue would turn out to be the academic one, I woulda laughed my butt off on account of she’s so into boys and hair and makeup and fashion . . . and celebrity magazines. I actually thought she might wind up doin’ hair and workin’ for Priscilla, but fickle as she is, she’s decided she might wanna learn business instead.
And then there’s little Jack, the youngest of my four kids. That boy has always been determined to do whatever he wanted to do, which most of the time isn’t what Pete and I want. Before he started talkin’ about gettin’ his learner’s permit, I never saw him actually study a book more than a coupla minutes at a time. But that child is determined to do it on the first round, and he’s already memorized most of the book.