Sweet Dream Baby (11 page)

Griner just stands there grinning with his hands shoved into the pockets of his greasy jeans. He's got on the leather jacket and he lifts one of his boots and scuffs it again, hard, on the white rock. It leaves a black mark. He's got a big, red bruise above his right eye. I can see black thread in the middle of it. I count the stitches, six, and he sees me doing it, and he takes his hand out of his pocket and touches the red welt. There's crusty black blood where the skin is pulled together with thread.

Behind me, my Aunt Delia says, “Kenny Griner, you scared the hell out of me. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that.”

Griner shrugs and goes out to the edge of the cliff and looks down. He turns back to us and says, “Same old Widow Rock. Except it ain't the same with you here, Miss Delia.”

“Don't
Miss
me, Kenny. I don't like it when you
Miss
me.”

Griner looks at me, then at my Aunt Delia. His eyes get small. “What
was
you two doing when I come up on you, Miss Delia? Look like you were nearbout naked. How old you say that boy is?”

My Aunt Delia's cheeks get the two red spots, and the spots start to grow. She says, “We were just sunbathing as you very well know. And if you start talking ugly, Travis and I will leave.”

“Aww, don't leave,” Griner says. He scuffs the rock again with his big-heeled boot. He shoots both hands out straight, and the wings of his leather jacket spread like he might take off and soar over the gorge. He says, “It's lonely enough up here on a Sunday morning.” He squints over at me and my Aunt Delia. “Hey, why ain't you two in church? Shouldn't you be praise-the-Lording and amening with all them other good citizens?” Griner throws his hands out again and the leather wings flap. I see a brown bottle in his hip pocket. It's like the one Mr. Latimer had, only smaller. And now I see that Griner's eyes are like Mr. Latimer's were that day in the alley.

I guess my Aunt Delia sees it, too. She says, “Why, Kenny, you've been drinking. Damn if you ain't got three sheets to the wind on a Sunday morning.”

Griner's eyes get small, and he raises a hand to shade them. He peers under it at my Aunt Delia. He says, “I ain't been drinking.”

My Aunt Delia nods her head very slowly. “And I'm your fairy godmother. Look out or I'll sprinkle you with pixie dust.”

She looks at the empty nothing out there over the river and then closes her eyes and leans her head back in the sunlight. She takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh and says, “Kenny, why don't you take off that jacket. It's dead summer, and you're sweating like a field hand.” She opens one eye and looks over at Griner. He's looking out into all that nothing, pretending he doesn't hear her. My Aunt Delia's voice is sleepy-dreamy again. She says, “Oh, well, I guess that jacket's your Marlon Brando disguise, and you just can't be seen without it. Not even up here on Widow Rock with old Travis and me.”

“Damn you, Delia.” Griner is still looking out over the gorge, but his voice is smaller now, and I know his throat is getting thick.

My Aunt Delia says, “You can't damn me, Kenny. Only God can do that.”

Griner turns and looks at me, and I know how he feels. My Aunt Delia takes away all his words. She knows what he's thinking, too. His shoulders go down flat, and he shrugs and takes off the jacket and folds it and lays it on the rock at his feet. He doesn't like me seeing him do it. My Aunt Delia isn't even watching. She's got her eyes closed again and that sun smile on her face.

Griner reaches back to his hip pocket and takes out the bottle and tilts back his head, and bubbles rise up the neck of the bottle. My Aunt Delia doesn't see it. I wonder what she's going to do when she opens her eyes and sees him drinking. Griner lowers the bottle and looks at me, and his eyes are big and wet with the sting of what he swallowed. My dad let me taste his beer once, and I know what it's like. It's cold, but it burns all the way down, and it makes your nose itch and your eyes get big.

My Aunt Delia says, “Bring that over here, Kenny. Or are you gonna pig it all yourself.”

Griner walks over and looks down at her. The bottle hangs from his hand, and she lifts her hand up and just holds it there. She doesn't open her eyes. The bottle's six inches from her hand and Griner whispers, “Damn it,” and leans down and guides it into her fingers. She takes it, wipes off the mouth, and says, “Thanks, Kenny old buddy. You're not a pig after all.”

Griner turns and looks at the river. My Aunt Delia raises the bottle to her lips and lets the brown liquid slip into her mouth. I watch close to see how much she takes. She takes a lot. She holds it in her mouth, then swallows, then smiles and holds the bottle out to me. “Give this back to Mr. Griner, will you, Travis?” She still hasn't opened her eyes.

I take the bottle from her and sniff it. Even that makes my eyes water a little. It smells like the rubbing alcohol they put in your ears after you swim at camp. It smells like something burning, too, like smoke. I like the way it smells.

My Aunt Delia says, “That was good. I thank you, Kenny.” Then she says to me, all sleepy-dreamy, “Travis, we just toasted religious freedom in Widow Rock.”

I say, “I didn't get to toast.”

My Aunt Delia says, “You got to sniff. I heard you. Sniffing's good enough for a guy your age.” I like it she called me a guy. I look over at Griner like a guy, and he looks back at me and shakes his head.

My Aunt Delia says, “Kenny, religious freedom's my excuse, what's yours?”

Griner puts his hand to his split-open head and says, “Pain's mine. Your daddy hit me in the head with that knuckle-duster of his the other night.”

My Aunt Delia pushes herself up hard, and her eyes open so quick I can almost hear them snap. She says, “My daddy what?”

“Hit me,” Griner says. “See?” He leans down, and the split-open welt in his forehead looks like a ripe plum bursting in the sun. My Aunt Delia looks at it. “You had an accident, Kenny, just like Daddy said. You were driving that stupid car of yours too fast, and you went off the road, and you hit your head on the steering wheel.”

Griner says, “Dumb little Delia Hollister. She just don't know how it is.”

My Aunt Delia says, “Oh, I know how it is, Kenny Griner. Boys lie and girls listen. They listen 'til they're sick to death of it.” She looks out over the gorge. “Why, this place is named for a woman who got sick to death of it.”

Griner's voice is low and quiet. “I ain't lying, Delia. He hit me. And it didn't have nothing to do with my driving. Not driving on
that
road anyway.”

“What do you mean, Kenny Griner? What are you insinuating?”

“Never mind,” Griner says. He turns his back and goes out to the very edge of the cliff and stands there in the sun. He's got on a white T-shirt, and there are sweaty spots under the arms, and he's got a pack of Camels rolled up in one white sleeve, and his arm muscles are big and bunchy. There's a tattoo on his other arm muscle. I can't see all of it, but some of it's a girl in a grass skirt doing the hula. He's got long, oily black hair so far down the back of his neck it soaks the collar of his T-shirt. I remember Bick Sifford calling him Duck's Ass in Tolbert's Drugstore. I look at the hair now to see if it really looks like a duck's back. It does.

My Aunt Delia says, “Kenny, I'm waiting.”

Then we hear a car door shut down below, and then voices, and my Aunt Delia says, “Well, Kenny, sounds like the whole town's coming out this morning.”

Griner looks at the opening in the trees that leads to the path we took to come up here. “Some of your rich shit friends, I guess.”

I don't like him talking that way in front of her, even if she says the same words herself sometimes. But I don't know what to do about it. It seems like up here on Widow Rock things are different. People come here to do things they wouldn't do back in town. I like it, but it scares me, too.

We hear another door slam and more voices. I recognize Caroline Huff's voice, or maybe it's Beulah Laidlaw. It's one of them giggling. Griner raises the bottle to my Aunt Delia. “I guess I won't stick around for the rich folks' party.” He takes a long drink, and his eyes get that sudden crazy light in them, and I hear Bick Sifford call from down below, “Delia! Delia Hollister, are you up there?”

Griner rares back and throws the bottle as far as he can out over the gorge. It almost makes the other side. I picture it splashing that other white rock shelf with dark glass stars, but it hits the cliff below the shelf. It breaks with a muffled pop, and the pieces rain down into the brown water.

I hear the voices again, and I look at the opening in the woods that leads to the path. When I look back at Griner, he's got his black leather jacket in his hand. He smiles at me, and it's a smile I don't like. He doesn't take the path we took. He steps into the trees on the downstream rocky cliff. My Aunt Delia says, “Be careful, Kenny. It's slippery that way.”

My Aunt Delia and me wait and listen to the voices. As they get closer, she reaches into her jeans and takes out a pack of Spearmint gum and puts a piece in her mouth. She winks at me. “Don't want booze on my breath,” she says. She offers me a piece, and I take it. She tucks her shirt back in and buttons her jeans. We sit on the rock like before, and she closes her eyes and lifts her face to the sun. I listen to the voices.

I know them all but one. There's Bick Sifford and Ronny Bishop and Beulah Laidlaw and Caroline Huff, and there's another one. A boy. I hear Bick Sifford say, “I know she's up there. Ain't but one white Chevy around here, and it belongs to Delia Hollister.”

“Why didn't she answer you, then?” It's the new boy's voice. Bick Sifford doesn't say anything.

We wait and the kids come through the clearing and out onto Widow Rock. It's a big place, but it looks crowded with all of them here. My Aunt Delia doesn't move when they come up. She just sits beside me with her face to the sun. Caroline Huff says, “Hey, Delia. We missed you in church.”

Beulah Laidlaw says, “Yeah, Delia. Your mama said you were under the weather.” When Beulah says, “under the weather,” she imitates my Grandma Hollister's voice, kind of high and out of breath. Everybody laughs.

My Aunt Delia doesn't open her eyes. She says, “I
was
enjoying the weather. It's so nice up here.”

Bick Sifford and Ronny Bishop walk over to the edge of the cliff. Ronny takes a pack of Salems from his pocket, and Bick leans over while Ronny tries to keep a match going in the cool wind that blows up from the river. The new boy stands by himself behind Beulah and Caroline. He looks like he doesn't care if anybody notices him or not. He's wearing cool clothes, like Ronny and Bick wear, only better. His penny loafers shine like a wet bird, and the copper pennies in them look brand new. He's wearing a blue shirt with a button-down collar and tan pants with a sharp crease and an alligator belt. He's got brown hair in a crew cut and patches of freckles under both cheeks, and his teeth are white between his thin lips. His face is long and narrow like a preacher's. He watches Caroline and Beulah talk to my Aunt Delia, and she still hasn't opened her eyes.

Ronny and Bick get the cigarettes lit, and they stand there in the cool wind smoking. They take little puffs and hold the cigarettes out in front of them and turn their hands over and admire their fingernails. They knock their hips out to the side and flick the ashes from the cigarettes. Ronny flicks his so hard the whole red coal at the end falls on the ground. He looks over at the girls and whispers, “Shit,” and bends down and sticks the coal back into the end of the cigarette. Bick Sifford laughs and says, “Smooth move, Ronny.”

Beulah Laidlaw says, “Hey Delia, we want you to meet Quig Knowles. He's Bick's cousin from Birmingham.”

My Aunt Delia says, “Quig? What's a Quig?”

Beulah looks at Caroline, and their mouths get small and tight. They don't like the way my Aunt Delia's acting. They want her to jump up and get all flittery like they are about Bick Sifford's cousin Quig from Birmingham. My Aunt Delia's eyes roll open like two grouchy cats waking up, and she looks out at Ronny and Bick smoking on the edge of the cliff, and then over at Caroline and Beulah. “Where's this Quig?” she says. “I ain't never seen a Quig before.”

Quig Knowles steps up between Caroline and Beulah and says, “Hey, Delia. I heard a lot about you from Bick and his friends here. Sounds like you know how to have a good time.”

My Aunt Delia shades her eyes and looks up at Quig Knowles. She says, “Not like they do in Birmingham. I hear they have a
big time
in Birmingham.” She looks at me. I don't know what's going on, so I just look back at her. She winks at me and says, “I bet you have a big time in Birmingham, Quig. You better not hang around Widow Rock too long. You'll forget how.”

Caroline and Beulah giggle, and Bick Sifford comes over from the edge of the cliff and says, “I told Quig if he'd come down and visit, we'd raise some hell. All we did so far is get stuck going to church.” He stands over my Aunt Delia with the cigarette smoke burning up his arm. “And you skipped it, Delia. You're supposed to be home in bed with some lady complaint.”

Caroline slaps Bick on the arm, and the cigarette showers sparks, and Beulah says, “Oh Bick, don't be ugly.” Bick laughs and rubs his arm, and Beulah giggles, and my Aunt Delia gets up and dusts off the back of her jeans. I stand up too. My Aunt Delia says, “Well, this is it. This is what we call a good time in good ole Widow Rock. Anybody bring a radio?”

Beulah reaches into her bag and takes out a little transistor radio and tunes it to Birmingham and sets in on the rock where we were sitting. Up here on the high ground, the songs come in strong. The Shirelles are singing, “My Guy.”

My Aunt Delia goes out and stands by the edge of the cliff and starts to move with the music. She slides her hips and dips and rolls her head, and her black hair swings around her face. It's slow and sleepy, and the boys' eyes change watching her. After a minute, Caroline and Beulah go out there and start dancing, too, and they aren't as good as my Aunt Delia is. Caroline's okay, but Beulah's kind of stiff like she's watching herself in a mirror. The three boys stand together, and Ronny gets out the pack of Salems, and they light up again. My dad says menthol cigarettes are for women. The boys want to dance, but they're too embarrassed. I would be, too. I'd rather strike out with two down in the ninth inning and the bases loaded than dance. The boys watch for a while, and Bick Sifford says something low behind his hand when he raises the cigarette to his mouth, and the other two laugh. Finally, Quig Knowles says, “Aww, what the hell,” and goes out to the edge of the cliff and starts dancing.

He looks stupid doing it, and his face gets red, but he's out there, and I know Ronny and Bick wish he'd stayed with them. They smoke and watch. Quig dances with all of the girls for a while. They're all out there, and from where I'm sitting on my Aunt Delia's rock, it looks like they could take one step the wrong way and they'd be dancing on air. They're all moving kind of loose and crazy to the music, and then Quig Knowles isn't dancing with three girls. He's dancing with just one, and it's my Aunt Delia. He faces her, and each time she tries to slide back to Beulah and Caroline, he steps over in her way. He moves her off from the others, and they dance that way for a while.

Caroline and Beulah don't like it. They look at each other like they do when my Aunt Delia drives too fast or changes their plans without telling them or tells them to stop biting their nails. Beulah says, “Come on, you two. Dance with us.” Ronny and Bick look down at their penny loafers. Then they look back up at the white sky, and Ronny blows a smoke ring. Bick says, “It's too hot to dance. Let's go over to Warrington. I know a guy who'll sell us some shine. We'll come back here and have a real party.”

The radio plays a slow song, “Sleep Walk.” It's all guitars, no words, but it makes even me want to get up and move. Quig Knowles takes my Aunt Delia by her waist and her hand and pulls her close to him. They dance that way for a while. Caroline and Beulah stop dancing. I guess they'd look silly dancing to a slow song together. Caroline looks over at Bick and Ronny. “What a couple of dorks,” she says. “Yeah,” Beulah says. Then Quig Knowles leans his head toward my Aunt Delia and tries to kiss her. She says, “Wait a minute, Buddy,” and pushes him hard, and he stumbles backward to the edge of the cliff. He waves his arms in wild circles trying to get his balance, and his face goes as white as the rock he's trying to get a purchase on, and then he gets his balance and jumps away from the edge.

Caroline and Beulah both stand with their hands over their mouths and they're both white as rock, too. “Damn, girl!” Quig Knowles says. “Are you trying to kill somebody?”

My Aunt Delia looks at him. Her eyes are cold. “Maybe. Are you trying to kiss somebody?”

“Shit,” Bick Sifford says. “Let's get out of here. It's too hot up here. Let's drive to Panama City and find some air-conditioning somewhere.”

Beulah says, “Yeah, let's go.”

And Caroline says, “Yeah, I'm for that.”

But Quig Knowles comes over and bums a cigarette from Ronny Bishop and says, “Naw, let's stay here for a while. I like it here. I want to talk to Delia.” His hands shake when he pulls the cigarette out of the pack. His face is still a little pale. I think of what it would be like to fall. I think of the widow in her black veil floating down in the moonlight. I wonder if she screamed as she went down. I wonder what was in her mind.

Quig Knowles says, “I think I know you, Delia.”

“Sure you know me,” my Aunt Delia says. “You just tried to kiss me. You have to know a girl pretty well to do that.”

Quig Knowles shakes his head. He takes a big puff on the Salem. He knows how to smoke better than Bick and Ronny. He smokes like my dad, pulling hard and closing his eyes when the smoke is way down in there. He says, “No, I mean I think I heard about you. You ever meet a guy named Morgan Conway?”

My Aunt Delia closes her eyes and tilts her head to the side and says, “Let me think. Morgan Conway. Morgan Conway. Nope. It doesn't ring a bell.”

But something's wrong. When she opens her eyes and looks at Quig Knowles, she slips her hands into her pockets because they're shaking. I look at the others. They see it, too. Maybe not Bick or Ronny, but Caroline and Beulah. Caroline gets still and small, and Beulah buttons the top button on her blouse. They're not thinking about Panama city and air-conditioning anymore. They want to stay and hear this. Quig Knowles walks out to the edge of the gorge and looks down. “Man, it's a long way down there. Anybody ever fall off this damn rock?” He looks at Bick and Ronny. They both grin and shrug. Ronny says, “Some ole girl a long time ago. The widow of Widow Rock. At least that's what I heard.”

Quig Knowles looks down into the gorge again, takes a puff from his cigarette, flicks it out into the empty nothing, and says, “Man, that's a long way down.” He turns and looks at my Aunt Delia. “This guy, Morgan Conway, and I go to school together.”

Beulah pipes in, “Quig goes to the Masterson Academy. Lah-dee-dah.”

Caroline says, “I don't know what he's doing out here in the piney woods with us common folks.”

Maybe they're trying to change the subject. Quig Knowles doesn't even look at them. “Anyway,” he says, “this guy Morg, he's a pretty cool guy, and he told me he met a girl named Delia last summer when he was a senate page in Tallahassee. He said she was some hot babe. He said she came from around here.” Quig Knowles looks at my Aunt Delia like she's supposed to prove she's not some hot babe.

She smiles at him, and the two red dots get bigger on her cheeks, and her mouth is small and tight. She says, “Now I know what a Quig is.” She walks over to me and holds out her hand, and I take it. She says, “Come on, Travis, let's go. We got to get our tummyaches back home.”

We walk past Caroline and Beulah, and they look at my Aunt Delia like they don't want her to leave them alone here. We walk past Bick and Ronny, and Ronny looks down at his loafers, and Bick smiles at my Aunt Delia, and I can't tell what his eyes mean. Behind us, out on the edge, Quig Knowles says, “Ole Morg said it was just like baseball with that ole girl Delia. He said it was first base, second base, third base, and then, what do you know, home run. All the way around the bases with ole Delia. That's what Morg said.”

Caroline says, “Bick, tell your friend to stop that ugly talk.”

Beulah doesn't say anything. I don't care if Caroline is dumb as dirt and her butt wiggles like a duck when she walks, I'm always going to like her.

We're in the trees, and then we're on the path, and it's slippery, and we have to be careful. My Aunt Delia says, “Take your time, Killer. We're not in any hurry,” but she's the one pulling me by the hand. She's the one going fast. I can hear Beulah's radio playing back there on the rock. It's Del Shannon again, “As I walk along, I wonder, what went wrong with our love, a love that was so strong.”