Bombshells (27 page)

I crank the car and put my head on the steering wheel for a minute. How in the world did I get to this place in my life? He flashes his headlights, and I put the car in drive. I sure as hell take my time driving that mile.

He spreads me across the picnic table.

A leering grin contorts his ugly face as it comes toward me. I close my eyes and wish I were dead. His breath stinks of coffee and stale cigars. His wet, rubbery lips move over mine. Bile burns in my throat. His fingers reach under my blouse and grab at my breast. Pain shoots through me as he grinds into me, rocking the picnic table like a boat about to sink in rough water.

After, he zips his uniform pants, then wipes his hands and face with his big, white handkerchief. “You drive safe, now, you hear?”

I throw up three more times before I can drive. I turn the car around and go back to the truck stop. I ask the waitress for some vinegar.

She gives me a look of pity, and fills a white coffee mug with vinegar.

“How much do I owe you?” I ask.

She waves me off. Doesn’t say word.

I wonder if Wally the Cop brings all his
dates
here.

In the bathroom, I soak a paper towel with vinegar to improvise a douche. I don’t want Wally’s bastard. I wash up the best I can.

I drive as far as Perry, Georgia, then have to pull over to sleep.

Jacksonville, Florida

MELANIE

I sprawl on a sunny patch of grass in our back yard. The afternoon sun is warm on my face, the grass cool against my back. For the first time since last night, I feel like I can breathe without my chest breaking open. Around me, pine needles stick up out of the grass like tiny spears. Daddy says he’s going to have the big pine tree cut down because it’s too close to the house. A hurricane could make it crash and destroy the whole house.

It seems like danger is everywhere I look these days.

I hear footsteps and glance over to see Steph crossing the yard. I pretend I don’t know she’s coming, closing my eyes.

I feel her standing beside me for a few seconds before she flops down on the grass. “Sure is quiet in your house.” She kicks off her loafers and wiggles her sock-covered toes. “Where’s Aunt Lola?”

And just like that my chest feels like there’s a brick on it. Sitting up, I take a deep breath. “She left this morning. Real early.”

Real early. I’d heard the front door click and checked my clock. Two o’clock. The middle of the night. I knew she was sneaking off like a… I can’t even think of a bad enough word.

Part of me wants to believe that what I saw didn’t mean anything. That it was just human nature, like Daddy tried to explain. But I can’t buy it. I can’t convince myself that people can behave like that and not understand how it hurts other people.

And no one, absolutely no one, can make be believe that a kiss is about the same as a handshake.

No, a kiss is more than that.

Lips are different from hands, and kisses on the lips aren’t the same as pecks on the cheek. Daddy kisses Birdie and me on the cheek. Mama kisses us on the cheek. But Mama and Daddy kiss each other on the lips, on the neck, on the hand and on the cheek. I understand what I saw Daddy and Aunt Lola doing.

It was wrong.

Aunt Lola proved it by sneaking away in the middle of the night. Daddy proved it by not looking me in the eye this morning.

I yank up a handful of grass, then let it slide through my fingers like green rain. Choosing a fat blade, I hold it between my thumbs and blow. Nothing happens, except suddenly my chest feels lighter.

“You’re still trying to learn how to do that?” Steph carefully places a blade of grass between her thumbs and blows. The shrill blatting sound sets the hair on my arms standing on end.

Slowing shredding the grass, Steph says, “Why did she leave so early? She usually stays until dinner time.”

My stomach rolls and I prepare to tell the same lie Daddy has been telling. Only Birdie and Mama think it’s the truth. “Lola needed to get home. She has a union meeting tonight that she forgot about.”

Lying makes me feel heavy again. I’m disgusted with Aunt Lola, but truthfully, that isn’t a completely new emotion. My feelings for her usually teeter between love and something else.

My disappointment with Daddy seems to be slowly crushing the life out of me.

I need to think about something else or I’ll end up telling Steph what happened. And I can’t do that. “Are you excited about becoming an auntie?” I say. I don’t warn her not to be like Lola.

Steph exhales sharply through her lips, making them buzz. “I guess so.”

“Cherie looked really pretty when she came to visit us the other day.”

“Yeah, I guess she’s okay. My mom acts like Cherie died or something. Mom keeps moaning about how Cherie’s life is ruined. I don’t get it.”

“Do you think Cherie’s happy?”

Steph shrugs. “Who knows? I went over to their apartment. It’s really just a couple of rooms in an old house, but Cherie acted so proud.”

“It must be pretty neat to have your own home.”

Steph picks up a pine needle and begins to braid the three pieces together. “I think Clint blames Cherie for getting pregnant. He never smiles. While I was there, he didn’t even tease me. He just got his beer out of the fridge and went downstairs to sit on the hood of his car to smoke. He never sat on the hood of his car before.”

“How can it be Cherie’s fault? I specifically remember that part of
The Talk
where it takes two, a man and a woman, to make a baby.”

Steph looks up and said, “Haven’t you figured out that facts and reality are two different things?”

The truth of her words hits me like a rock between the eyes. I fall back on the grass and stare up at the clouds milling around in the bright blue sky. That’s a lot like what Daddy said last night. I wonder if Clint feels like Cherie made him do something he didn’t want to do? I’m so confused. All I really know is that none of this can be love. Not real love.

I think sometimes love seems like the prism we used in science class. In the same way the prism takes ordinary sunlight and throws out reflections of every color imaginable, from indigo to canary yellow, love seems to take ordinary life and cast it in different colors, shades bright and dark, depending on who is on the other side of the glass.

Steph rolls onto her stomach, props her chin in her hands, and stares through the chain link fence to the back of Marvin’s house. We can hear his guitar. He’s practicing again.

“What’s new with Marvin?” I ask.

“Not much.”

I roll over, too. “You never finished telling me about the kiss. What was it like?”

She shifts her gaze to me. “It was cool. Can you believe he even slipped his tongue in my mouth? That’s called Frenching.”

“Really?” I tried to imagine how that would feel.

Yucky.

Robert hadn’t put his tongue in my mouth. But the way his kiss had made me feel—soft, and like I wanted more of something—makes me think that maybe I would like it. Only if it was Robert doing it. I can’t imagine letting any other boy put his tongue in my mouth.

Was that what Daddy and Lola were doing? I shudder and try not to see it again in my head.

“Yep. Okay, now I’ve had my kiss. What about you? Just because Cherie killed our plans for the Sadie Hawkins Dance doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Who are you thinking about for your first kiss?”

For Stephanie, kissing is like reaching President Kennedy’s goal for the standard number of pull-ups or something. Kissing Robert was a lot more than that for me. It was all the best things about being grown-up. He made me feel special and beautiful.

Suddenly it’s important for me to know that Steph has some feelings for Marvin. Because if she doesn’t really
like
Marvin, then she’s kind of like the women Daddy talked about: the ones who ask for it. Like maybe Cherie did? Would Steph turn out to be an aunt like Lola and give her niece red satin underwear? “Do you really like Marvin?”

“Sure. He’s a good guy.”

“I mean for a boyfriend.”

“No! Hellfire, Mellie. He’s, well, you know.” Steph pauses and looks back toward Marvin’s house. “He kind of scares me. He makes me think about stuff I don’t want to think about. He makes me try to understand things. It’s hard. It’s like I’m small, and he’s pulling and tugging to make me stretch.”

It sure sounds like she has some feelings for him. I just can’t tell what they are. “That’s not all bad, is it?”

“I guess not.” Steph stands up and brushes the back of her slacks. “I think I’ll go over and see him. Want to come?” She sticks her feet into her loafers. “Maybe he has a friend over, and we can take care of your kissing too.”

I stand up, too. Maybe I’ll just make an excuse that I have to go help Mama. Only, I don’t want to go back into the house. Guess I’ll go to Marvin’s with her. But I’m not kissing anybody.

NORAH

I’m taking the sheets off the bed in the middle bedroom when I hear Mellie come home. “I’m glad you’re back,” I call. Birdie flaps the top sheet like it’s a parachute, then she dives beneath it. “You’re supposed to be helping me, Birdie. Get out from under there.”

Mellie stands silently in the doorway. I say, “You’ll never guess who called this afternoon.”

“Who?” She comes in and reaches across the foot of the bed to lift the last tucked corner, then tosses the sheet to Birdie at the head of the bed.

Birdie covers herself and walks around with her arms sticking out like a ghost. “These smell like Aunt Lola,” she says. “Woooo. Wooooo. I’m the ghost of Aunt Lola. I only appear at night.”

Again, I wonder what Clay said to make Lola mad enough to leave like that. I don’t think Lola was still mad about my reaction to the underwear. We had a good day together on Saturday. I was so groggy when I took DC from Melanie last night, I can’t remember what they were talking about. But, it seems like there was tension in the air.

I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Lola had to get back for the union meeting like her note said. It’s still strange that she drove off in the middle of the night.

Mellie unfolds a fresh sheet over the mattress. “Who called? Aunt Lola?”

“No. She’s probably at her meeting. I’ll give her a call tonight, I guess.” I tuck the upper corners of the fresh sheet under the mattress while Mellie tucks the bottom. “Myra Mayfield called. You remember, our neighbors who got stationed in Cuba? They’re coming to stay with us for a little while.”

“You’re kidding.” Mellie stands at the foot of the bed with a look of disbelief on her face.

“No. Mr. Mayfield wants them out of Guantanamo, and they need a place to stay until they can get housing on the base. They’ll be here sometime Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“That sounds really bad. Mr. Mayfield doesn’t think they’re safe anymore?”

“Don’t worry, sugar. I’m sure Joe is just being careful. But it is sad that Kevin and Brooke have to leave their home and their school.”

“Where’s everybody going to sleep?”

“We’ll put Brooke and Myra in here on the fold-out sofa and Kevin will have to camp out on the couch in the living room. It’s just for a few days.”

I sit down on the freshly made sofa bed, and sigh. I wish I could take a nap, but I’ve still got a lot to do. I’m still not back to normal. Sometimes, I swear I’m walking around in my sleep. It didn’t seem to take this long to recover after Birdie was born. I guess six years make a big difference.

I hope the Mayfields will only be here for a few days, but from what I’ve seen, the Navy does things in its own sweet time. If a lot of families are evacuating—that’s the word Myra used, but I don’t want to scare the girls—there may not be much base housing available. I couldn’t say no to Myra. She was my best friend before she moved away. Forcing a smile, I say, “Won’t it be nice to see Kevin and Brooke again?”

Mellie shrugs and gathers up the dirty sheets. “What does Daddy think about this?” She sounds so much older than she did just a few days ago.

I smooth the coverlet on each side of me. Mellie doesn’t need to know that Clay and I fired off a few angry words at each other after Myra’s phone call. That’s a few more angry words on top of arguing about Lola. He still won’t tell me what set her off like that.

I take a deep breath and will myself to calm down. If I can’t stay relaxed, my milk supply will be gone in just a few days. Maybe, that would be for the best. DC does well on a little formula every day, so he should adjust to all formula easily. Maybe I’ll get some of my energy back if I quit nursing. Besides, bottles would be more modest with so many more people in the house, and Clay and Mellie could help out more.

I look up to see that Mellie is still waiting for my answer. I won’t lie to her and tell her that Clay’s approves. “It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

She leaves with the dirty sheets bundled in her arms. Birdie struggles to put a fresh pillowcase on. I grab the other pillow and slide the case on.