The Worst Romance Novel Ever Written (23 page)

How rude!
Marion thought.

How rude!
Gloria thought.

How perceptive!
“No,” Johnny said, “I stayed in the yard, but I was worried about Diane. Our neighbor had a massive Rottweiler that liked to eat cats.”

Angel’s face twitched slightly.

Ah, so danger is interesting to our little Angel.
“At least that was the rumor. There weren’t many cats left in our neighborhood. I called for Diane again and again, but only DeShawn came running to the fence.”

“
Who’s DeShawn?” Angel asked.

“
The Rottweiler’s name,” Johnny said, “was DeShawn.”

“
Where did you live?” Angel asked.

Johnny smiled. “When I was your age, I lived about four or five blocks from here near Forest Park Elementary School. I even went to first grade there.”

Gloria looked at Marion, and Marion shrugged.

“
But you’re white,” Angel said.

Johnny nodded. “Ever since I was born.”

Gloria mouthed, “Really?”

Johnny nodded. “It was only for a few months,” Johnny said, “and I didn’t tell your mama about it since she wants me to reveal things gradually for a more dramatic and shocking effect.”

Johnny went to my school?
Gloria thought.
Why don’t I remember him? I would remember a white kid. How much older than me is he?

Angel finished her pancake and took a sip of apple juice. “So what happened to Diane?”

And she’s still interested. Cool.
“Angel, it’s sad to say,” Johnny said sadly, “but I never saw Diane again. She vanished that day.”

“
Did … did DeShawn eat her?” Angel asked.

“
I hope not,” Johnny said. “But I’ll never know. All I do know is that DeShawn came tearing toward me as I stood at that fence, and I saw that he wasn’t on his chain. He was a powerful dog and had already escaped his chain and jumped over our fence a couple times.”

“
What did you do?” Angel asked.

She beat me to it,
Marion thought.

“
I froze,” Johnny said, “like a deer frozen in between two headlights.”

“
I’ve heard that works,” Angel said.

“
But DeShawn wasn’t stopping that day,” Johnny said. “He leaped high toward the fence and me …”

“
And you just stood there?” Angel asked.

Shoot,
Marion thought.
She beat me to it again.

“
I was scared, Angel,” Johnny said. “I was afraid. That dog was bigger, stronger, and faster than I was.”

“
Well,” Angel said, “you should have done something.”

Johnny looked at Marion and Gloria. “I did do something, Angel. I ducked.”

“
You what?” Angel said.

“
I ducked.” Johnny ducked in his seat for effect. “I crouched close to the fence, and DeShawn sailed right over my head.”

“
What did you do next?” Angel asked.

“
I climbed over the fence into my neighbor’s yard. DeShawn seemed pretty angry that I had tricked him, so he charged the fence again. I ducked, DeShawn sailed through the air …”

“
This didn’t really happen,” Angel said.

“
It did.” Johnny smiled. “We did this little routine three more times, and I was getting tired from climbing that fence. The last time I climbed over the fence into the neighbor’s yard, I decided that enough was enough. I was pooped.”

Angel’s mouth dropped open. “You … pooped?”

“
I was pooped. I was exhausted.”
Though I nearly did poop myself,
Johnny thought. “I looked around for something to throw for DeShawn to go fetch.”

Angel rolled her eyes. “And that’s when you found the mouse and threw it—”

“
No,” Johnny gently interrupted. “I found a stick and threw it behind me as DeShawn made his leap. I climbed one last time over that fence …”
And now it’s time for the ridiculously true ending.
“And that’s when my foster mother came screaming out of her house carrying a broom.”

“
To chase DeShawn away from you,” Angel said with a sigh.

“
No,” Johnny said, “to swat at a mouse she had been chasing through the kitchen and out onto the back porch. She chased that mouse right up to the fence, the mouse jumped through, and DeShawn had a nice furry mouse to snack on instead of me.”
The ridiculous end.

None of the three ladies in the kitchen said a word for a full minute.

“
That mouse didn’t really save your life,” Angel said.

Johnny shrugged. “Who knows what might have happened to me if that mouse hadn’t come scooting through the kitchen.”

Angel pushed back from the table. “I have to go get ready for school.” She turned to Johnny. “Nice story.”

After Angel left the kitchen, Gloria smiled. “That was the most ridiculous—”

“
It was all true,” Marion interrupted. “Little Johnny, Carol Springer’s foster son. What does that make you, thirty?”

Johnny nodded.

I was only one when he was at Forest Park.
Gloria squinted at Marion. “Mama, Carol Springer was black.”

“
Since she was born, I expect,” Marion said.

Gloria squinted at Johnny. “You were raised by a black woman?”

“
And her husband, Reverend Springer,” Johnny said, “but only for about six months. I was adopted after that. Mr. and Mrs. Holiday took me out to their farm in Blue Ridge. I had to ride a bus for an hour each way every day to school. I missed this neighborhood. There was always so much to do. It hasn’t seemed to have changed much.”

Marion stood. “Carol told me once about a time you sang in church.”

“
Um, yeah, that was … memorable,” Johnny said, looking away.

“
You sang in Reverend Springer’s church?” Gloria asked.

“
Well …” Johnny shook his head. “All I had to do was sing the chorus to ‘Love Lifted Me.’”

Marion burst out laughing. “Now I remember! I should have sent this story to
Reader’s Digest.
I still might.”

“
Something went wrong?” Gloria asked.

Johnny cleared his throat and sang, “Love Lipton tea, love Lipton tea, when nothing else could help, love Lipton tea.”

“
No,
” Gloria said.

Johnny nodded. “What made it even funnier is that I thought those were the actual words.”

Marion cleared the plates. “They should have handed you a hymnal.”

“
I couldn’t read very well yet,” Johnny said.

Gloria scooted her chair closer to the table so she could put her feet on Johnny’s thighs. “So, old neighbor, what do you think of my little Angel?”

“
She’s quite … literal, isn’t she?” Johnny asked.

“
What do you mean?” Gloria asked.

Why are Gloria’s eyes so close together all of a sudden?
“She’s, um, analytical. Scientific. I’ll bet she gets straight A’s in math and science.”

“
She’s only in kindergarten,” Gloria said. “And being analytical isn’t bad, right?”

He’s in trouble if he tells the truth,
Marion thought while rinsing the plates.

I can’t tell her what I really think. I can’t tell Gloria that Angel’s imagination is nearly nonexistent.
“Of course it isn’t bad. I’ve never met a child who is all about the facts. She’ll make a great doctor or lawyer.”

“
She can be whatever she wants to be,” Gloria said. “Just because she tried to poke holes in your story …”
She’s just like me.

“
She could be an engineer, or a general, or the president,” Johnny said. “She’s very grown up for a child.”

Time to bust out the potential boyfriend,
Marion thought. “So what you’re really saying is that Angel doesn’t act like a child.”

“
Right.” Johnny’s hands started to sweat.
Tag-teamed in the kitchen.
“She’s already a young lady.”

“
She’s still a child, Johnny,” Gloria said. “She’s only five.”

“
Goin’ on twenty-five,” Marion said. “Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

Gloria stared holes in Johnny’s head. “Well?”

“
Well …” Johnny stared at Marion.
Thank you so much, Miss Marion.
“There’s, um, there’s something missing in Angel.”

“
There is nothing wrong with my child,” Gloria said, dropping her feet to the floor.

“
I didn’t say there was,” Johnny said.

“
You implied it,” Gloria said.

“
I’ll just do these dishes while you two talk about Angel, okay?” Marion asked.

“
What, is she supposed to be fidgety, giggly, and goofy?” Gloria asked.

Why did I say anything?
Johnny thought.
My head hurts.
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt her a bit to be all of those things. It’s the joy of being a kid, the joy of not having a care in the world, the joy of making strange noises and doing funky dances.”

Amen, Johnny,
Marion thought.
Preach!

Gloria waved an index finger at Johnny. “Look. I have raised a calm, organized, respectful child who—”

“
She was kind of rude to Johnny this morning,” Marion interrupted.

Gloria glowered at Marion.

“
I’ll just, I’ll just tend to these dishes,” Marion said.

“
Angel can take care of herself,” Gloria said. “She is light years ahead of her snot-nosed classmates who can’t sit still, who say stupid things, and who make obscene noises for no reason at all.”

I have touched a nerve I will never touch again.
“I never said it was wrong, Gloria,” Johnny said. “I just find it kind of odd—”

“
Oh, and now she’s odd,” Gloria interrupted.

I wish I had a thesaurus.
“I didn’t say
she
was odd,” Johnny said.

“
He’s right,” Marion said. “He didn’t say she was odd. He kind of said that the situation was odd.”

“
Mama, go back to your dishes.” She focused on Johnny’s eyes. “Now what exactly do you find
odd
about my child?”

I wish we were arguing about toilet paper. I know I could win or at least hold my own in that argument.
“Like me, Angel doesn’t laugh out loud. You laugh out loud, but she doesn’t. Angel hardly smiles. I told a ridiculous story, and all she did was roll her eyes and sigh.”

Gloria shook her head. “Angel laughs all the time.”

“
When you’re not here,” Marion said. “But only a little, sad to say.”

“
Mama,” Gloria said, “you ain’t in this.”

Marion dried her hands on a towel. “I’m not? I’m here when you aren’t here.” She sat in Angel’s seat. “Johnny, trust me. Angel can be a giggly, goofy thing, especially around me, and if her mama weren’t sitting there this morning—”

“
That’s not true and you know it,” Gloria interrupted. “And I’ll prove it to you. Angel, get down here!”

“
What are you going to do, Gloria,” Marion said, “try to make her laugh?”

“
You’ll see,” Gloria said.

Angel appeared in the doorway. She was dressed neatly in creased jeans and a bright pink coat, book bag ready, her hair perfect, her eyeglasses spotless. “Yes, Mama?”

Gloria took one of Angel’s hands. “Remember last year when you ate that yellow crayon. Wasn’t that funny?”