“What’d ya eat for dinner?” Jenny asked as she came out of her front door and sat on the steps to strap up her sandals.
Rosey had taken off her church dress with complementing shawl and slipped on some white denim shorts and a little T-strap top with yellow polka dots on the front. “Oh, the usual. Fried chicken, rice and gravy, some butter beans and corn, and homemade biscuits.”
Jenny tugged at her strap. “Why doesn’t your mama ever cook for you?”
“I don’t know,” Rosey said, having never really thought about it. “We just always go to Mamaw’s for dinner.”
Jenny hopped up from the step. “Even during the week?”
“Well, not every night during the week. But most nights. I mean, have you ever tasted anything my mama’s cooked? It’s really pretty gross,” Rosey said, starting toward the river. “So what do you think Billy wants to do at the river anyway?”
Jenny widened her dark eyes at Rosey. “Silly goose, he wants to kiss you.”
Rosey’s face registered horror, but she recovered quickly. “You think?” she added nonchalantly.
“That’s what all boys his age want. At least that’s what my mama says. And that’s what Stephen at school has been trying to get me to do all year. But I told him, these lips weren’t made for kissing; they were made for—” She stopped and looked at Rosey.
Rosey tugged at her arm. “Made for what? What did you tell him?”
Jenny’s face blushed. “Made for singing.”
“Well, I’ll agree with you there. In fact, how ’bout you and me make a deal. If I die before you, promise that you’ll sing at my funeral. Because with the way you sing, I bet Jesus would come flying in on an angel or something.”
Jenny nudged Rosey’s shoulder with her own. “I’d be honored to sing at your funeral.”
“Plus, with all the sinning Charlotte does around our house, it ain’t a real bad idea to have someone getting us closer to heaven.”
“Maybe I should sing at her funeral too.”
Rosey could surely agree with that one. “That might even be more important than singing at mine. I’m not sure if Jesus will be showing up any other way.”
“So back to the kissing,” Jenny said.
“Well, I’m not afraid to kiss him,” Rosey said with a shake of her head.
“Oh, well ain’t you Miss Brave Pants. ‘I’m not afraid to kiss him,’” she mocked, sticking her nose up in the air as they reached the end of the street, where a trail between two houses led to the river.
Rosey put her hands on her hips and stopped. “Well, I’m not.”
“Rosey Lawson, you ain’t ever kissed a boy in your life! You know you are shakin’ in your sandals. Now, come on.”
Before she started walking again, Rosey gave Jenny her most mature expression. After all, she was maturing—she was actually starting to wear shoes. “Just because I haven’t kissed a boy doesn’t mean I’m afraid to. It just means no boy worth kissing has ever showed up.”
Jenny grabbed her hand and pulled. As they walked, she asked, “And you think this long-haired drummer boy is worth kissing?”
They scrambled over a fallen tree limb.
“I think he’s worth thinkin’ about kissing.”
“Well, you don’t have much time for thinkin’ because I spy with my little eye a long-haired boy headed straight for you.”
Rosey looked up from the path and saw the blond tresses bouncing on the shoulders of her heartthrob. Now, granted, she and Jenny would never forget Donny Osmond or Michael Jackson, but neither one of those boys had shown up in the city of Mullins, and truth be told, she wasn’t quite sure if they ever would. So there was no reason to waste a perfectly good Billy Monroe.
Rosey’s heart started beating fast. Jenny stopped, because Billy now blocked the path. Rosey didn’t have to, because one glance had her frozen in place.
“Hey, Billy.” Jenny said, breaking the tension that surrounded Rosey’s immobilized feet.
Billy’s mouth spread into a big, cocky grin. “Hey, Jenny,” he said. “Hey, Rosey.” He pointed his shining, silver metal smile in her direction as he pushed his sunglasses on top of his head.
That melted her. “Hey, Billy,” she whispered back, digging the toe of her sandal into the dirt.
“Well, what a great day for being out here in this beautiful place with all this fresh air,” Jenny said, spreading her arms and taking in a big whiff of the air. Air that wasn’t as fresh as she had originally thought. “Ooh, might be a skunk nearby,” she said, crinkling her nose and coughing.
Rosey didn’t pay her any attention. Billy didn’t seem to either.
“Well,” continued Jenny, “I’ve been wanting to follow that path over there to see where it leads, so if y’all don’t mind, I think I’ll just catch up with you later.” Away she went, singing to herself.
Billy stuck his hands in the top of his pockets and struck a pose. He flicked his head so a lock of hair flipped to the other side of his face. Unfortunately, that sent his sunglasses flying. He recovered them quickly and returned to his pose. “So you like to climb trees?”
Billy Monroe and trees. Rosey couldn’t ask for more.
She lived in trees. She and Christopher had created more tree houses in her short years of living than their yard had trees. That’s when they moved their building efforts to Mamaw’s. “I love to climb trees,” she responded, her feet still yet to move.
“Well, this is a great one to climb,” he said, pointing and heading over to a big nearby oak that had two limbs protruding over the river.
Finally, she got her legs to work and followed him. Billy climbed up ahead of her. She at first thought it was kind of rude that he didn’t stand behind her to help her up, but then she figured he was going ahead of her to make sure she got up safely. Though he never looked back to extend a hand. Well, at least he had asked her to climb it with him.
They sat down side by side on one of the limbs, with their legs dangling over the edge. Rosey grabbed the bark intently so she wouldn’t fall into the water below. Because after all, she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of a high schooler. Some things were worse than death, and that would be one of them.
“So how long are you staying around here?” Rosey asked as she slowly began to swing her feet beneath her.
He brought one leg up onto the bark and sat his foot down flat with his knee bent. It was so manly, Rosey thought, until he momentarily lost his balance and had to grip the limb with both hands to steady himself. Rosey pretended not to notice, and it didn’t take long for him to regain both his composure and his cockiness. “Oh, a couple more weeks. I just came down to see my sister before I go home to Florence and go back to school. I’ll be a freshman, you know. And I’ve already got the place ready to welcome me with open arms. I really am one of the more popular kids in my class.”
“But aren’t you kind of afraid of being in such a big place with older kids?” She swung her legs around and straddled the limb, then put her hands in front of her, since she couldn’t think of anything else to do with them.
He made a puffing sound. “They ain’t nothin’ to be scared of. They’re just a bit bigger than me, but I could take on any of ’em.”
Rosey was certain he could. With his long, gangly arms, entire villages could be decimated. She studied his face. Besides a few little pimples on his forehead, he was flawless. And he studied her. She could tell by the way his eyes scanned her. She hoped he thought she was pretty. She knew she wasn’t close to high school, yet for today she was here, and other girls weren’t.
“So how long have you been playing the drums?” She tried to stay cool.
“Oh, since I was nothin’ but a kid. I have a rock band back at home, you know. It’s called Billy and the Boys. We meet every Wednesday in my garage, and word around the street has it that we’re going to be picked to play for the prom this year.”
“Wow, you must be so excited about that.”
“Ye
ah, well, we really are one of the best bands in the city.” He blew his scraggly hair out of his face. It fell right back.
Rosey tried not to smile too big. “So do you like it around here?”
He swung his leg to the other side of the tree limb and inched closer. She felt her insides start to swim and realized that maybe Jenny had been right. “Yeah, I like it around here,” he said with a smile that raised one corner of his mouth and twisted the other.
He scooted even closer. Rosey had only been this close to a boy one other time. It was last year at school with Sean Patterson. He was the cream of the sixth-grade crop, and crazy about Rosey. He cornered her in the hall one day to try to kiss her. Then a teacher who’d spotted them through the glass pane of her door came to Rosey’s rescue. At least that was how Rosey viewed it. Sean and the teacher, however, seemed to have different perspectives.
But something in Rosey felt different today. Excited, curious. She brushed a piece of stray bark from her white shorts. A small brown smudge remained. She looked up at him, then shifted her gaze over his shoulder.
He wasn’t deterred. He came closer, and his knees touched hers. “I really like the fact that you’re here most of all.”
She kept looking over his shoulder. She figured he’d think she was partially blind or cross-eyed, but she just couldn’t bring herself to look him square in the face. “Well, uh, it’s pretty neat that you’re here . . .”
And before she could finish her sentence, he made his move. Almost like a wasp diving in for the sting, and in that moment, fear made its way to the surface. She placed one of her hands firmly on his shoulder, hindering his momentum so that his face slipped past her own. His shoulder hit hers, and they tottered slightly.
Rosey let out a nervous laugh as they both regained their balance. She prayed he’d spend his life thinking he had simply missed her face.
His face began to be swallowed whole by a red sensation that started at his neck and then splotched its way to the top of his head. He swiftly brought their adventure to an end. “Well, I need to get going. My sister’s probably wondering where I am,” he said. He swung his legs up and returned to the trunk for his descent.
Rosey’s face flushed. She wanted to jerk him back and kiss him smack-dab on the lips. How could she have let the opportunity of kissing such a boy slip away? And more than that, she hated the thought of all the questions Jenny would pummel her with on their walk back home. Rosey slowly lifted herself to start the climb down to where her future husband had paused to brush off his sagging jeans.
“It was really nice of you to ask me out here today,” Rosey said to the top of his head. “Maybe we can come out here again next Sunday or something.”
He looked up at her and smiled hesitantly. “Yeah, maybe we can do that. Well, I’ll see ya later.”
Rosey hopped down onto the hard ground. But just before Billy turned to go, as if in slow motion, she felt a warm slathering of something fall across the left side of her head, down onto her left shoulder. By the look of horror on Billy’s face, she could’ve guessed what it was. But Jenny’s return saved her the effort.
“Oh my word, Rosey, look at your shoulder. You’ve just been pooped on by a bird.”
Rosey was certain her face had turned the color of her hair. She hoped that would make her blend in with her surroundings and disappear. Billy’s lips had distorted in disgust. Before she could open her mouth, he waved his hand and headed off back to wherever he had come from.
Jenny came around to get a better look at Rosey. “Oh, Rosey,” she said, shaking her head.
Rosey just stood there with her hands spread out, not wanting to move. Finally, she brought her left hand to the side of her hair and touched the goo. She gagged immediately.
Jenny took her by the arm and marched her straight to the riverbank and all the way into the water until every gooey bit was floating downstream. And once Rosey recovered from the horror of the moment and the likely loss of her future husband, she realized that the entire incident had made Jenny forget to ask about the kiss. That was enough to be grateful for.
9
A kid picking his nose in a van loaded down with an entire flock of young’uns brought Rose back to the road in front of her. The vehicle came alongside her, slowly over-taking her, as two of the errant children pressed their faces against the back windshield and stuck their tongues out at her. Rose struck back in perfect Gene Simmons style. She couldn’t help it. At first she reminded herself that kids weren’t what they used to be. But then she decided monsters like that deserved retaliation. They one-upped her, though, with the finger of choice. Her phone rang before she could respond in kind.
“Hey there, sis. Just wanted to check in and see how the trip is coming.”
She loved the sound of this voice. “Odd, actually.”
“Odd? How’s that?” he asked, the Southern lilt still rich.
On anyone else the sound grated on her, but on him and her mamaw, and even Charlotte maybe, she could tolerate it, because it brought back some wonderful memories. “Oh, nothing worth talking about. Just a bunch of kids acting like, well, kids. Giving me a taste of what you and I tortured people with for years.”
“What? Did somebody moon you?” He laughed.
She had forgotten about that particular escapade. “No, no full moon over North Carolina yet.”
“So where are you?”
She looked up to gauge the road signs. “Somewhere near the Blue Ridge Mountains, I think . . . To be honest, I have no idea. I do know, however, I have awhile to go.”
“Really? I thought you would be pretty close by now. Mom said you left early.”
“I’m sure she did,” Rose retorted.
“Rose, this is no time to be catty. You need to put your differences away. She’s more than paid for what she’s done.” His tone was different. It was the fathering tone he had attached to her.
Rose tried to hide her disgust. “You and I have a different measure for penance, obviously.”
He laughed. “We’ve always had a different measure for penance.”
That was so true.
“Well, if you care to remember, I wasn’t the one who discovered that if you swung lizards hard enough, their tails would come off,” she baited.
“No, and I wasn’t the one who discovered that if you threw lizards hard enough against the side of the house, they’d die,” he countered.
The dark cloud brought on by his previous remark dissipated. “I’ll never be convinced they were dead. I think they were only stunned.”
They laughed together. “I’ve missed you. It’s been too long, Rosey.”
She wouldn’t correct him. It wouldn’t matter anyway. “I’ve missed you too. But we’ll catch up. Maybe we can get away, just the two of us.”
“If I can get away from Blaine. Her hormones are killing me. You’ll hardly recognize her. Her stomach’s grown so much and her face is so puffy, I hardly recognize her.” She knew he was smiling.
“I do hope you have not shared that observation with her.”
“Crazy I am not. A pregnant woman and insults aren’t company you want in cramped quarters.”
“I’m sorry it’s been so long. You and I should make more time for each other. Our worlds don’t need to be this busy.” She knew even as she said it that it wasn’t “their” worlds that had become too busy.
“I’d like that. Maybe this summer we can come up and spend some time with you in DC.”
She sat up taller in her seat. “That would be great. And I can take the baby to see the Smithsonian and the Holocaust Museum.”
“I’m sure a newborn would love all those things. We’ll plan it when you get here. So how much longer do you think you’ll be?”
“I’m not sure.” She felt the beginning pangs of hunger. “I think I’m going to stop here in a minute and get me something to eat. So, hopefully, no later than seven or so.”
“Well, be careful. I can’t wait to see you.”
She passed exit sign after exit sign for the next twenty minutes, but not one offered any “real” restaurants. And when Rose got hungry, Rose got irritable. Maybe that was what Helen was talking about. How Rose acted when she was hungry.
The phone rang. It was Helen. Helen already thought she might be telepathic, so Rose wasn’t about to tell her she had been thinking about her. Nor would she tell her she hadn’t read her e-mail yet.
Rose hit the phone button and started talking before Helen could get a word in. “I’m hungry. I’m irritable. I’m stopping.”
All she heard was Helen laughing hysterically before the line went dead.
The red light was blinking on her BlackBerry. She picked it up only to discover she had seven new e-mails. The first of which was the one she promised to read hours ago. She’d just have to get off at the next exit no matter what.
The only item listed on the next restaurant sign was “Diner.” In the South, that word had multiple meanings and one constant: grease. Rose hated grease. She did now, anyway. She liked tofu and organic food. Real stuff. Not artificial. She had enough of that in her life. She pulled up to the stop sign at the end of the exit and studied her options. There still remained just one, “Diner.” She didn’t have a choice. Plus, by this point she probably had ten e-mails to answer.
“Surely diners have salads,” she convinced herself as she pulled into the parking lot.
Rose studied the other cars, an observation that caused her to park at the far end of the lot in order to prevent at least one side of her car from getting mutilated. The vehicles were, well, used. Granted, tweety bird’s lunch still had left a milky fog where her windshield wipers couldn’t reach, but that was the extent of her vehicle’s appearance issues.
The wind was milder than back in Virginia, but after exiting the car, she still draped her shawl around her shoulders, then grabbed her purse and BlackBerry. She closed the door and pressed the little black button on the door handle, listening as the doors locked with a click. In the windows of the small diner, she could see the tops of diners’ heads. She pulled her wrap even tighter around her.
Flies on the Butter Page 8