Twang

by Julie L. Cannon

  “You’re right.” I took a sip of my coffee.

  “Hey!” Tonilynn laughed. “Maybe there’s a song in that for you. About a weed being a beautiful flower fit for a queen? Guess I got something from Aunt Gomer, because I just love all kinds of plants, weeds or not.”

  “Me too.” I was thinking of the ferns and mosses along the rivers from my childhood, the sycamores along the Cumberland.

  “I take that back,” Tonilynn said, a scowl crossing her face. “There’s one plant, well two if you count Poison Ivy, I literally despise!” Her brown eyes narrowed. “I told Bobby Lee just this morning, ‘I’ve a good mind to get the chainsaw and cut that nasty row of catalpa trees down. I don’t know why on earth you have to obsess on those disgusting worms!’ ”

  I figured she’d get around to explaining it all, and she did, in her roundabout way.

  “I mean it, Jennifer. I told that boy I’ve seen artificial catalpa worms, which look exactly like the real ones he harvests from those nasty catalpa trees. I’ve seen them in the Walmart fishing tackle section. But he claims they got to be live for the catfish to go crazy.”

  I recalled Bobby Lee saying the large, juicy worms he harvested from his “worm trees” were like manna to catfish and bream.

  “And, oh, my goodness,” Tonilynn sighed, “it’s that time of year when the boy’s literally obsessing. Reckon why the Lord makes men love football and fishing so much?”

  I didn’t answer. An obsession with fishing or football was a walk in the park compared to one with drinking and chasing wild women.

  “You can’t tell Bobby Lee a thing when it’s football or fishing season, either one,” Tonilynn continued. “But I reckon I ought to call it worm season. Now that the catalpa eggs have hatched and it’s caterpillar stage. And Aunt Gomer!” She blew out a blast of frustration that sounded like “Phwuh!” “That woman makes me spit nails!”

  “Why?”

  “She encourages him, says to me, ‘Honey, Bobby Lee’s just doing what he loves. He’s not going to tumble into the lake. He’s the best fisherman around here. Can outfish any so-called able-bodied man, blah, blah, blah.’ ” Tonilynn paused for a gulp of her coffee. “See why I get so put out with her? She needs to keep a better eye on my boy. He’s out there at those catalpa trees day and night, determined to beat the wasps that love to eat the disgusting caterpillar worms. Our freezer’s running over with them.”

  “He freezes them?” I was on the edge of my seat.

  “Mm-hm. Now I admit that part’s amazing. Bobby Lee explained it to me one day. He says it’s something to do with a thing called cryogenics, and the worms are just suspended in the freezer, dormant. He says all he has to do is just tuck the jar near his backside, and before he even gets down to the water, they’re wiggling around like new, absolutely frantic as they search for the leaves that keep ’em alive.”

  I could see it in my mind’s eye, and I smiled. “I’d like to see one of those worms.”

  Tonilynn laughed. “I wouldn’t touch those nasty things for nothing! Ooey gooey, pale-yellow wormy looking things, with a black spine and a horn on their rear. Bobby Lee says if you leave ’em be, they’ll turn into some kind of sphinx moth. But moths are hardly better than worms or caterpillars, are they?”

  I didn’t answer. I liked moths.

  “Anyway, back to the host trees for those buggers. Catalpas have got to be the messiest trees ever! Got big old ugly leaves, almost as big as tobacco leaves, and these enormous brown pods that look like cigars and drop off all over the place. The birds open them up for seeds and make a pure mess. I don’t even like the flowers. They’re these whitish-purple blooms that look cheap.”

  I was gripping my coffee cup’s handle so tight my fingers were white, watching Tonilynn’s furious face. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her so riled up. “Aunt Gomer says to Bobby Lee, ‘Go get ’em,’ and ‘You’re amazing on those wheels,’ and ‘When you want to do something, there’s nothing can stop you.’ ”

  Something in me had the feeling that Tonilynn might be overreacting to Aunt Gomer and maybe just a little jealous of how happy those trees and caterpillars made Bobby Lee.

  “Know what, Jennifer?” Tonilynn said after a spell. “I think Aunt Gomer has a mean streak in her she hasn’t turned over to the Lord yet. Whenever I remind her Bobby Lee’s handicapped, she says, ‘Motorcycles don’t crash themselves.’ ” She made her voice sound exactly like Aunt Gomer’s, but despite the mocking, I noticed tears in her eyes.

  “Know what I’m terrified of?” Tonilynn asked softly, leaning forward to whisper.

  “What?” I whispered back.

  “I’m absolutely terrified that Aunt Gomer’s gonna get those nasty creatures out of the freezer and cook ’em up in one of her famous spaghetti casseroles.”

  “Ewww!”

  “I thought she might have the old-timer’s, but now I’m sure of it.”

  I felt the sides of my throat aching. Poor Aunt Gomer.

  “I just know she’s gonna get mixed up and cook those worms, and I’m going to be so exhausted from work, I won’t even notice what I’m eating until it’s too late.”

  “Surely she can see they’re worms.”

  “I don’t know. She’s still spry and able-bodied for the most part, but I’ve noticed that in addition to her mind going, her vision’s growing dim. I’ve seen her squinting at her gardening catalogs, and she’s moved her rocker up not five feet away from the TV to watch her shows. I used to think Aunt Gomer and Bobby Lee were the perfect team.”

  Tonilynn blotted a tear from her cheek with a napkin. “Anyway, now I realize more than ever how much Aunt Gomer needs Bobby Lee, and here she is claiming I spoil him! That I’m squelching his happiness, and I ought to kick him out of the nest.”

  I watched Tonilynn twirling a little silver cross on her necklace, thinking how capable both Aunt Gomer and Bobby Lee seemed to me. I was sure they’d each one do fine on their own. But I would never say this to Tonilynn.

  “It just breaks my heart,” Tonilynn’s voice trembled. “If I ever did kick Bobby Lee out of the nest, he’d die of loneliness. None of his old friends come around anymore. Reckon most of ’em are married and got families to tend to, wives who want ’em home, but still, doesn’t seem right to just totally abandon someone. Seems after they realized Bobby Lee wasn’t gonna get the use of his legs back, they decided they didn’t have no more use for him.” She looked at me, eyes pleading. “I’m doing right by my boy, ain’t I?”

  I was thinking Tonilynn would be the one who’d die of loneliness if Bobby Lee moved out. I felt an urge to get up and hug her, but I was nervous because I’d never been the hugging type. Finally, I set my cup down and stood up to go settle on the sofa next to her, reaching my arms out to encircle her, saying, “Of course, you’re doing the right thing.”

  Tonilynn smiled through her tears and whispered, “Thank you, hon,” and for one brief moment my heart fluttered with joy.

  I figured the joy came from knowing that I was not alone in my human frailty and that I did know how to connect with another human.

  The Eagle was a smooth bird, cruising along I-40 and into Little Rock with hardly a lurch or a shimmy. Both Mike and my publicist hovered over their laptops. When we got onto I-440 West toward Texarkana, Tonilynn and I sat watching Braveheart on my laptop. I’d brought the movie to distract myself, to push my angst into one dark corner of my mind. Right before we merged onto I-30 West toward Hot Springs, we stopped to refuel the bus and grab some fountain drinks. “Here’s to knocking ’em dead in Houston!” Tonilynn said, lifting her Diet Coke toward me. “We’ll be in Texas real soon. Yippee!”

  “Yippee,” I said, holding my Mountain Dew high, silently willing time to slow down, stop. I found myself short of breath, my heartbeat accelerating as I thought about performing “Daddy, Don’t Come Home.”

  We climbed back on the bus and the driver tuned the radio to a local station. Taylor Swift sang “You Belong With Me,” and
then came “Lost You Anyway,” by Toby Keith, followed by a surreal clip of me singing “Blue Mountain Blues,” and an advertisement for tomorrow night’s performance, the deejay saying it was sold-out.

  “Listen!” Tonilynn reached over to grab my arm. “A total sellout! Old Holt’s ugly mudslinging didn’t hurt your career one teeny bit.”

  She turned to me when I didn’t answer. “You hear me? Girl, your success has not faded one smidgen! You got your third consecutive album debuting at number one on Billboard 200 and Billboard Country!” Tonilynn gulped her drink, looked hard at me. “Seriously, Jennifer, sometimes I don’t think you realize what you’ve accomplished. Nashville’s like Hollywood—she chews up and spits out tons of wannabes every single new season.”

  Tonilynn was right. I wasn’t grateful enough. Many singers and bands, even ones who got big radio play and had lots of money behind them, faded away fairly quickly. And she was right about Holt too. His accusations hadn’t hurt my career as I’d feared. I guess it was hard to rejoice too much because Holt’s career was in full upswing as well. If vengeance was the Lord’s, like Tonilynn claimed, seemed his songs should be tanking. I mean, come on—a mean, drunk, porn addict? Happily, my feelings for Holt remained in the disgust category. The few times we’d crossed paths, I totally ignored him. Recently I’d been sitting in one of the recording rooms of Flint Recording just staring at some pages in my song notebook, at lyrics about forever love and kisses to die for, and I began to wonder, Why was I such a fool? How could I not have seen the truth about Holt? Could I really have been into a man who brought back ugly memories of someone else I knew? Knowing I’d overcome this hurdle was empowering, but not enough.

  “Jennifer, look at me.”

  I turned my eyes from the quarter moon I’d been watching out the bus’s window.

  “Talk to Tonilynn. Are you okay?”

  I didn’t know how to say what I was feeling. I wanted her to pull it out of me, use her supernatural gift. But then it struck me like a lightning bolt, that her asking me was I okay proved her so-called gift was a sham! I squeezed the padded armrests. What was I going to do now?

  It was dark when the Eagle pulled onto US-59 toward Houston. Tonilynn was in her pink satin nightgown, a white mask of cold cream on her face. “I’m off to bed now, hon,” she said a bit after eleven. “You get some good rest tonight, hear? Be ready to knock Houston off their feet.”

  I was so weary of fighting the memories, so tired of battling them alone. But how could I close my eyes when the concert was less than twenty-four hours away? The awful stage fright was proof I wasn’t going to triumph after all.

  “Know how you were saying you didn’t have a friend in this world when you were growing up?” Tonilynn rummaged around in her beauty case for a palette of creamy foundations that don’t melt under stage lights. “Well, it’s put me in mind of that sweet hymn, ‘What a Friend We Have in Jesus.’ You know it, don’t you?”

  I didn’t feel like talking. Besides being exhausted from a night spent tossing and turning, I had only three hours until I was up onstage, and before my concerts I liked to kind of draw inward, reflect on my song lineup, what I planned to say between numbers, and that sort of thing. Today this preparation was extra heavy on my mind and even heavier on my heart. I shrugged one shoulder, but Tonilynn didn’t take the hint.

  “Well,” she said, leaning in and squinting to dab concealer beneath my right eye, “I like to picture this image of Jesus holding my hand like a best friend. In my mind’s eye, you know? I do that whenever I get to feeling scared or down or just plain-out lonely. And let me tell you, he’s got the gentlest hands. Sometimes I can even feel where the nail scars are. I want you to have that too—the assurance that if you put your hand in his, you can walk through fire.”

  Tonilynn raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer when I didn’t respond. “Jennifer, I’m feeling a lot of anxiety in you. I want to make sure you have peace. Every single one of us goes through hard trials, you know? We all fall into the pit from time to time. But if you got Jesus holding your hand, you know everything’ll be all right in the end. You know all those ugly things have a purpose.” She squeezed my shoulder. “ ’Course, before I was saved, I couldn’t see how any of the messes in my past would ever work out to make me stronger.”

  Tonilynn seemed sure that someone somewhere orchestrated everything to her advantage, the good and the bad. I had to admit it would be nice if some benign higher power could wave a wand over my past and make it all okay. But there were things in my life I knew had no redeeming aspects whatsoever. You could dig them up, analyze them from every angle, and never find a way to use them for good. What a simple soul Tonilynn was! This realization made me feel tender and mad toward her at the same time. It also hit me then, like a knife in the heart, that I’d never have Tonilynn’s peace. I would go on my whole life just like this, running and hurting.

  “Hey, hey, what’s this about?” Tonilynn moved to the end of my kneecaps. She set the foundation palette down and took my hands in hers. “Don’t cry. If you got ugly things back there, just commit them to the Lord, and I promise he’ll use them for your good. It may not be right now, or even in the next couple of years, but someday he’ll use them.”

  All I could do was shake my head, swallow my tears. Tonilynn let my hands go so she could wrap me in her arms. She pressed my tense body to her, and I buried my face in her shoulder. It felt good to be held as I breathed in her honeysuckle smell, and she murmured comforting words, telling me it would all be fine, that I was a sweet little lamb, and I’d never have to walk through life alone. After a while she pulled away, lifted my chin with her pointer finger, looked at me with pleading eyes. “I think it’s time to tell you a little story about bad things working out good in the end.

  I nodded, and she hooked a lacquered fingernail into the collar of her blouse, pulled it away to expose a tattoo inked over her left breast. It was a red and blue heart, like a medical drawing in a textbook, with black wings spreading out on either side and a banner scrolled across the top, stretching to the tips of the wings that said: “Robert Lee Gooch.”

  “Janis Joplin was my idol. I thought she was so cool.” Tonilynn let her blouse fall back. “I was fourteen, running around with a bunch of wild kids. We’d skip school, get drunk, and go for rides all over the county. Thought we were invincible. Didn’t give a fig about nothing or nobody.” She shook her head. “If I needed money for beer or cigarettes or dope, I just took whatever I needed, including every last dime from Aunt Gomer’s handbag or the jar of change she saved for the missionaries. At times us kids would be so high we didn’t hardly remember plowing down somebody’s mailbox, trenching their lawn, or worse.

  “But we were living for the minute. I got to hanging out so much with one particular group of brothers, three of the Gooch boys, and by and by I fell for Robert. I’d just turned fifteen, thought I knew everything. He was a good bit older, a bad boy, pure wild, and when he started flirting around with me, I thought I was Miss Everything. One day he said ‘Let’s drop out of school and go traveling across country on my motorcycle.’

  “I thought that sounded like the best thing in this world. Getting away from a Holy Roller to run with a Rock ’n’ Roller.” Tonilynn chuckled. “Me and Robert took off, free as birds and partying like there was no tomorrow. Well, I got knee-walking drunk one night when we were in Louisiana, and woke up with the tattoo I just showed you.”

  She paused to pop the tab on a Diet Coke. “But I wasn’t mature enough to realize actions have consequences, and pretty soon I found out I needed more’n a boy’s idea of love. When I told Robert I was pregnant, you never saw a change in nobody so fast in all your life. Robert claimed he’d never really loved me. Claimed it wasn’t his. Left me in a back alley in Shreveport.

  “Sometimes, I look back and shake my head. It was kind of like history repeating itself, you know? How my own father took off?”

  I managed a nod.

  “
Well, anyway, I called Aunt Gomer and she quoted Proverbs 11:22 to me: ‘As a jewel of gold in a swine’s snout, so is a fair woman without discretion.’ Made me so mad. I cussed and yelled at her, and at God, or my idea of him anyway, until my voice gave out. It just made me determined to be even wilder, and I fell in with an even worse crowd.” Tonilynn paused to tuck a wisp of hair back up into place.

  “I got into the big H, you know? Heroin felt like the answer to squashing the awful pain inside me. For a while anyway. I didn’t care if it hurt me, but I probably wouldn’t have done it if somebody told me it could hurt the baby. I’m always thanking God that my Bobby Lee has no side effects from all my stupidness. That’s pure mercy. Thankfully, I got busted for possession, and when I got probation, I managed to kick my habit, got a job at a dry cleaners because by that time I did have a baby to support. But my soul still hurt me, you know? So eventually I started up all over again with cocaine. Getting high as often as I could afford it, which wasn’t too often and which made me start stealing things.

  “I was pretty talented, you know? But one day I got busted for shoplifting some jewelry, and sitting in jail the only person I could think of to call was Aunt Gomer. I sure didn’t want to, and part of me, a big part, figured she’d do me like she had before. But she was my last chance. She was my baby’s last chance too. I’d never been a religious person, but I got down on my knees on that cement floor and I said to God that if he could perform a miracle and make Aunt Gomer happy to come get me, then I’d know without a doubt he existed and I would straighten myself out and . . .”

  Tonilynn trailed off, gazing into the distance, smiling nostalgically.

  “What happened?”

  “Man, oh man,” she breathed in an awestruck voice, still staring. “I vomited all over the floor, and then I called Aunt Gomer, and when she said, sweetly, ‘Let me get my handbag and I’ll be there directly,’ I thought I was having a dream, and then, when I realized it was real, I felt this million-pound weight lifting off me and I started screaming, ‘Thank you, Jesus!’ over and over so loud the guards had to restrain me.