Close to Famous (21 page)

“I NEED TO let you know what it was like for me when I was growing up,” Mama began. “My daddy was a hard man, and sometimes,” she took a huge breath, “he hit my mother.”

I sat perfectly still.

“And she got used to it, I guess. Once she called the police on him, but his cousin was on the force and he covered the whole thing up. I'm not using this as an excuse, but it's what I know.”

“Did grandpa ever hurt you?”

“No. But knowing he hurt Mama hurt me. I'd go to my friends' houses and see their papas who weren't like mine. I wanted to live in another family. I wanted to run away, and eventually I did.” She smiled sadly. “Now, I was careful to avoid men like my daddy. When I met your father, he was the gentlest, sweetest man. But he was strong, too, and what a combination. Lord, I miss that man.” She sat there in the chair, eyes closed.

I waited for a minute, then I had to ask. “How come you ended up with Huck?”

She shook her head sadly. “Oh, Huck. I wish I could turn back the clock on that. I just wanted to sing and he kept promising me he'd help me. I can tell you, Foster, and this is God's honest truth. That night Huck broke the window and came into the apartment was the only time he hurt me. Something in me just snapped. I had to get us out of there fast.”

“You did that.”

Mama rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “And when I knew we'd left your daddy's pillowcase behind and Huck had it, I had to get it for you. That's the only reason I went back.”

I believed her.

“I only saw him for an hour, and when I was heading out the door, he grabbed my arm and yanked it so hard, but I left anyway. That's how I got the bruise.” She looked down. “I didn't fall.”

“I didn't think you did.”

She took my hand. Her fingers were strong. “I'm sorry I lied to you, Foster. I haven't told many people about my growing up.”

I gave her a big hug. She had tears in her eyes. “Mama, he knows we're in Culpepper.”

“I heard that.”

“That's not good.”

“No, it isn't.”

“Do you think he believed me when I said we'd moved? ”

She smiled. “I hope so.”

“Did you like the part when I said you had a new boyfriend like daddy?”

“That was definitely my favorite part.”

I started picturing Huck behind every bush. I told Macon, Garland, and Amy to be on the lookout for a yellow Cadillac that honked out “Jailhouse Rock.”

I didn't feel safe. When I saw the two prisoners from the work release program cleaning up the street, I ran away fast. When I worked at Helping Hands, I kept wondering if Huck was going to burst in and do something awful. This new lady, Val, had just come to stay for a few days with her little daughter, Pearly, and her baby boy named Babcock.

“You ever been real afraid of somebody you know real well?” Val asked me.

“Yes,” I told her. “I know what that's like.”

She gave Babcock a bottle. “I came here to tell my husband, Duke, we can't be together anymore. I want a divorce. He's not going to like it.”

At least Duke was in jail and couldn't get out. I thought about Huck out there looking for us. Pearly skipped into the kitchen with a picture she'd colored. “You give this to Daddy,” she told Val.

I opened my Bake and Take. I had vanilla cupcakes with sprinkles. “You want one?”

Pearly's eyes got big. Val smiled. “I used to make cupcakes with my grandma when I was a girl. I think that was the sweetest time of my life.”

It wasn't too sweet at the Church of God FOR SALE. Taco Terrific was buying the property. Perseverance Wilson tried to get Mr. Fish to change his mind, but he wouldn't. The contract was going through.

More people started wearing taco T-shirts with Xs through them. All of this was hard on Amy.

“I told Daddy he shouldn't sell the church, but he's scared about money. He's always been that way.”

“It's not your fault,” I told her.

Amy shook her head. “I walk down the street and feel like people can't stand us.”

“They can't stand your father,” Macon said. “Not you.”

I elbowed him.

The weather was hot, and Lester's tomatoes were fat, red, and juicy. I made bruschetta, which is grilled bread with olive oil, garlic, and tomatoes. Lester ate so much of it he had to lie down.

And the funniest thing happened with my reading. I started telling people I was working hard at it—and instead of laughing, they said, “How can we help?”

Garland told me the reason he was jumping fences was to build up his leg muscles. “You're just building up your brain muscles, Foster.”

Val at Helping Hands helped me read a little book to Pearly about a puppy that got lost and found its way home. Macon made word cards for me so I could practice. Mama and I created an alphabet food game.

“A is for . . .”

“Aioli,” I said. That's a sauce.

She grinned. “B is for . . .”

“Butter.”

“ C is for . . .”

“
Cupcake!
”

Going further down the alphabet,
U
is for
undercooked
.

I created a chocolate cupcake with peanut-butter frosting. I gave Mama the first bite and she said, “Take these out of this house or I'll eat every last one. Run!” I brought them to Angry Wayne's and they sold out fast. Muffins are good, don't get me wrong, but sometimes a cupcake just has your name on it.

Miss Charleena said her problem was that every cupcake had her name on it.

“I'm still waiting to see that dress of yours,” she reminded me.

I SLAPPED THE box with the white dress in it on Miss Charleena's counter.

“Let's see,” she directed.

I opened the box, took off the pink paper, and lifted the dress up.

“That's beautiful, Foster.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“And how did it get ruined?”

I lowered it and told her. “It was the dress I wore for the moving-up ceremony at my old school. I got out of that school by the skin of my teeth—that's what my one teacher said.”

“And that dress carries that memory for you.”

I told her about being limited.

“That's an ugly word. You're not at that school anymore.”

“I know.” The problem was the dress didn't know it. “I just want to put it back for right now, Miss Charleena.”

“I've got a box, too.” She put a bendy straw in her chocolate milk and headed down the hall. I followed. She stopped at a closet and opened the doors. It was so big, you could walk in. She dragged a step stool over, stepped on it, and reached for a little box on the top shelf.

She stepped down and handed the box to me.

“What's in it?”

“Something awful.”

The box didn't look big enough to have anything inside that was too awful. She walked into the living room and sat on her white couch. I sat down, too.

“Open it,” she said.

I did, and there was an envelope. I handed it to her. Her face got very stern as she took out the papers in the envelope and read, “Mike Tuller finds Bliss.”

“What does that mean?”

“Mike Tuller was my husband, and he started seeing a supermodel while we were married. Her name was Bliss. It was in all the magazines. I was devastated, humiliated. They were parading all over the world, this happy, perfect couple.”

“That's awful.”

She held up a magazine. “ ‘Charleena's Agony.' That was the headline. It sure sold magazines.” She sat back. “The reporters wouldn't leave me alone. They waited outside my house and followed me, taking photographs. They talked to my friends, my family. They wanted to record every tear I shed, and there were lots of tears.”

“I can't imagine how hard that was, Miss Charleena.”

She smiled sadly and looked at her closed curtains.

“It's a pretty day out,” I told her.

“I've missed a lot of pretty days, Foster. Back when I was acting, I was fairly well known—people recognized me in restaurants or driving down the street. But when my husband left me and it all went public, then I hit the big time. I was famous for being a jilted wife.”

I didn't know what to say.

“Fame can look good from the outside, darlin', but it can be a mean game. It plays by its own rules.” She closed the box.

“How did you get over it, Miss Charleena?”

“It took me a long time. I put some of the headlines from the magazines around the house. At first I could hardly stand the pain of looking at them and feeling betrayed. The photos of them so happy and me so miserable. But after a while, I got angry, and I thought, thank God I'm not married anymore to a man who would do a thing like that.”

“Is that why you came here to live?”

“I needed to get away from Hollywood like you can't believe.”

“Do you miss acting?”

She grinned. “Yes, I do. But Stan called today.”

“Your agent?”

“The one and only. Stan still believes in me.”

“Well, I believe in you, Miss Charleena. You're the greatest actor I've ever known. The only one I've ever known, but still.”

“Stan sent me a script. It might be the best way for me to stick my foot back into acting.” She laughed. “They want me to do the voice-over for a horse in a feature cartoon.”

“That's cool.”

She handed me a stack of papers with a cover. “That's the script. Read the first scene to me.”

I'd never seen a script before. It looked different from a book. To begin with, there weren't nearly as many words on the page. I liked that. I'm not sure what she meant by the first scene. The first words didn't make sense.

 

 

“I don't know what this means,” I told her.

“Fade in. It means the movie is starting, the camera is coming to rest on what you need to see.”

“Okay.” Now that I could read how Elvis loved his mother, I was feeling brave. I took a deep breath. “Fade in,” I read, “on a . . . black horse.” I looked up. “Is that right?”

“Keep going.”

“The horse . . . is . . .” I looked up again, pointed to the words.

“Running,” she said.

“Across a plain?” I wasn't sure if that was right.

She nodded. “You've got my interest.”

“Now . . . we see . . . another horse.” I'm reading slow, but I'm reading! I look at her. “I like this script, it's got short sentences.”