Be It Ever So Humble

by Jenifer Jenkins

  “Haven’t run away yet.”

  Yet? It was meant to be a reassuring comment, but it left me worrying. The mere mentioning of John running away had me terrified that he would.

  “What’s wrong?” John asked as my thoughts translated to my face. It was one of the things about being an actress—and a pretty good one, I thought—that was irritating. I was so in tune with my emotions that every thought I had read on my face. My heart was on my sleeve, I was an open book... all of the clichés.

  “Just embarrassed again,” I lied.

  His brow contorted so that it looked like he only had one, and I finally understood the phrase “knit his brow.”

  “Chastity, I like you,” he said. “Maybe I’m not supposed to say it, but I do. Even though we have our little tiffs and we say or do stupid things sometimes... I’m not going anywhere. I like spending time with you, and I like kissing you. I understand if you don’t want to. If this is moving too fast or something, we can slow down.”

  “Why are you so sweet?”

  John smirked. “I think it’s because I ate a lot of Frosted Flakes as a kid.”

  “Don’t make me kiss you again.” I stepped closer to him.

  “Are you threatening me with random acts of...?”

  Then I kissed him before he could finish the sentence.

  ***

  Kissing John became my favorite pastime after that. We weren’t all over each other or anything. He treated me with respect. Too much respect sometimes. Every time things would get a little handsy, John would put the fire out. He told me he meant it when he said we could take it slow since I was still recovering from traumatic events. Without a doubt, he was a therapy kid. It sounded like it came right out of a textbook. I didn’t argue with him... much. Taking things slow wasn’t a terrible idea. My last relationship was anything but slow, and it had been a mega-disaster.

  We spent most waking hours together. We worked on the farm, took turns eating our meals at Kenny and Martha’s or at his mom’s house, and even snuck into town a few times. We always made sure it was at night, and I was always careful to be incognito. We watched a couple of movies at the old single-screen movie theatre, the only movie theatre in town. Well, watched was a stretch. We spent a good portion of the films making out in the back row. I had no interest in movies when John was around.

  One night, we felt daring and went to the Dairy Queen after our movie. I had never been to a Dairy Queen before—which shocked John momentarily, then made complete sense to him.

  “What would you like?” John asked me as we approached the counter. “I’m buying, so the sky’s the limit.”

  “Actually,” I responded, “I’m buying.” I pulled the wallet from my purse before he could get to his pocket. Perusing the fluorescent menu behind the counter, I finally decided. “I’d like a hot fudge sundae.”

  “Really?” he balked. “But that’s dairy. I mean, obviously, this is Dairy Queen, but they do have things that aren’t—”

  “You said the sky’s the limit.” I folded my arms to my chest. “Well, my sky is filled with hot fudge sundaes.” Okay, so it didn’t make any sense. I knew that, but I went with it.

  John laughed and also ordered a hot fudge sundae. The boy behind the counter wasn’t amused. He was probably counting down the seconds until he could get home to work on his homework or play video games. He appeared young enough to be in middle school with his tall, skinny build that looked like he’d just started growing into his body.

  The cashier ran my card through the machine and then scowled. “Declined.”

  “What?” I was shocked. My card had never been declined before. That was another thing I’d only seen in movies. “Do you think maybe your machine is broken?”

  He shrugged and tried the card again. “Declined.”

  John placed a reassuring hand on the small of my back. “It’s okay. I told you I’d get it.”

  Embarrassed, I allowed John to pay, as if I had any other choice. I tried not to worry too much about my bank account and the lack of funds. This was an old establishment. Their equipment was probably substandard.

  We took our desserts outside. The night was clear, and the air was dry for a Missouri summer, or so I was told. Sitting at a table outside the fast-food joint, we laughed as we recalled the few parts of the movie we actually saw. We weren’t sure it was supposed to be a comedy, but what we saw was so bad it was funny.

  “Johnny,” a birdlike voice lilted through our merriment.

  It was like we turned in slow motion, unwilling to be interrupted in our reverie.

  “Sandy. Justin,” John responded when he saw them and stood up to greet the couple. “Chas, you remember Sandy, and this is her fiancé Justin. We all went to school together.”

  Oh, I remembered Sandy all right. Too beautiful to be a small-town girl Sandy. Ex-girlfriend who clearly isn’t over John Sandy. That Sandy. I tried desperately not to be jealous as she smiled at me patiently. “Yes, of course. Sandy Winters, right?”

  “Soon to be Summers,” Justin pointed out.

  “What?” I gasped. “That’s amazing! It’s like fate. I mean, Sandy matches Summers better than Winters, don’t you think?” And better than Reed, I thought.

  Justin wrapped his arms around Sandy’s waist and rested his head on her shoulder. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Sandy smiled at him and angled her head so they could rub their noses together in that cutesy way couples do. I was simultaneously relieved that Sandy seemed so into her fiancé—thus over John—and jealous that they were so open with their relationship. The moment they’d arrived, John jumped out of his seat and placed a platonic shield between us.

  “Chas, was it?” Justin asked, directing his attention back to me. “You look familiar.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” John blurted. “I mean, you don’t know her. She didn’t go to school with us or anything. She just moved here.”

  Now I could add another of his personas to my growing list—Smooth John. “I just have one of those faces, I guess. People always think they recognize me. I think it’s scientific, like a symmetry thing. I saw a documentary on it once.” Okay, so I wasn’t any better at being smooth than John was. People always expected me to be a good liar because I was an actor, but the two are not synonymous. I chose to believe that my brand of acting was honesty in its purest form.

  “I thought your name was Sissy?” Sandy frowned.

  So Sandy wanted a beat-down. Her memory certainly was sharp. Why was she so observant? Why couldn’t she be completely self-absorbed like any other girl our age? Maybe I was filling that quota for both of us.

  “It is Sissy,” I responded more calmly than I felt. “Chas is just a nickname.”

  Justin made a face. “A nickname for what?”

  “Just an inside joke of ours,” John intervened and quickly changed the subject. “It is great to see you guys, though. How is the wedding coming along?”

  Sandy smiled. “It’s comin’ along. You know these things are never really settled until the big day.”

  Was that a hint that she wasn’t really committed to her relationship with Justin? That maybe she was giving John a chance to swoop in and win her back? What did she want him to do, barge in when the priest asked if anyone objected? Was I overthinking this?

  Sandy spoke breezily about wedding preparations, glancing at me every once in a while. I was sure she was sizing me up, and I felt self-conscious. That was ridiculous, wasn’t it? John was with me now, she was with Justin, and most importantly, I was a TV star. TV star was greater than ex-girlfriend. Those were the rules.

  After listening to Sandy drone on about mason jars and hay bails—so it was going to be a Pinterest wedding then—John politely bowed out of the conversation, pretending to have an early day in the morning.

  We said our goodbyes, and Sandy extended me an invitation to her wedding as John’s plus one. That bitch. Why was she so gracious? Why couldn’t she let me pretend she was some awful
person that “Johnny” was lucky to get away from?

  “Are you okay?” John asked as we got into his truck.

  “Of course.” I didn’t want him to know that I was mentally comparing every one of my features to Sandy’s. And I definitely didn’t want him to know that my stomach was gurgling from eating dairy. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He held his face in his hands and shook his head. “I used your real name when I introduced you. I’m so stupid.”

  “Oh. Right,” I said. “Well, I don’t think they noticed. Anyway, you called me ‘Chas,’ not Chastity.”

  John closed his eyes. “But I also called you Sissy. Chas. Sissy. What if they put it together?”

  I hadn’t considered that. I was too busy simmering with envy at the sight of John’s perfect ex. “I think it should be fine. What are the odds they’ll put it together? Nobody is going to suspect that Chastity Sullivan is hiding out in Ozark territory. It’ll be fine.”

  “It’s so cute when you talk about yourself in third-person.” His eyes glinted. “But you’re probably right. Besides, you’ve got that hat covering your eyes, and you have that hot fudge glob in the corner of your mouth. That was probably a distraction.”

  “What?” I shrieked and smacked his arm. “I had hot fudge on my face the whole time, and you didn’t tell me?”

  John flashed a smile. “No. You don’t. I just wanted to change the subject. Did it work?”

  “Not really. But, honestly, I think I need to go home. Like, now.” The gurgle in my stomach was becoming flip-flops, and I cursed my stubbornness in ordering the hot fudge sundae. Why hadn’t I realized I’d get sick after eating dairy for the first time in as long as I could remember?

  “Chastity, are you alright?” John asked as I clutched my midsection.

  A knock on the glass interrupted us, and we both jumped. Justin was on the other side of John’s window.

  “Justin, is everything all right?” John asked as he rolled down his window.

  “I think Sissy left her purse on the table.” Justin revealed a purse that was definitely mine. In our haste to escape, I must have forgotten it.

  “Thank you,” I said and reached over John to take the purse out of Justin’s hands.

  “No problem. Sandy saw it on the table and figured you wouldn’t want to lose it.”

  “Well, thank you... and thank Sandy for me,” I said begrudgingly.

  “Will do. And we hope to see you both at the wedding.”

  We watched impatiently as Justin walked away. Then, John turned to me. “Now, let’s get you home.”

  ***

  The next evening I was helping my aunt dry the dinner dishes when the phone rang. I flinched at the sound. Clairvoyantly I knew it was my mother on the other end. When I’d first arrived, I called her weekly. Lately, though, I hadn’t thought about her at all. John was the only person on my mind. Talking to my mother would be such a buzz-kill in my current state of hormone-induced euphoria.

  Aunt Martha answered the phone politely and quickly handed me the receiver.

  “Oh, hi Mom,” I said, tucking a stray hair behind my ear as if she could see it out of place. “Uh... How’s it goin’?”

  “‘How’s it goin’?’ Sounds like you’ve taken to the local lingo.” She let out a broad, reverberating laugh. “It’s goin’ wonderfully here. The weather is perfect, of course. I’m lying out by the pool as we speak—a Mai Tai in one hand, your voice in the other. I wish you were here beside me, though. I miss you, Sis.”

  “I miss you, too, Mom.”

  She laughed again. “Well, that’s nice to hear since it‘s been a while since you’ve called.”

  “I’m sorry.” I sat down and fiddled with an apple from the bowl on the table. “I’ve been a little preoccupied lately.”

  “Well, I should say so. Meanwhile, I have been waiting by the phone every night hoping to hear from you, praying you hadn’t been in some freak farming accident.”

  I snorted. “You were not.”

  “Of course I was. You think I have a life outside of you? Your career, your life... that’s my life.”

  “Well, then maybe it’s time you got a life,” I said carelessly. It was meant to be a joke, but instantly I knew she would not take it that way.

  “Get a life? A fine thing to say to your mother who loves you and is always looking out for your best interests.”

  Whoops. This conversation was off to a rocky start. “Look, I’m sorry. It was a dumb joke. You’re right. I should have called sooner. In fact, I almost forgot... I was planning to call you. Last night, my card was declined at the Dairy Queen.”

  The other end of the line was dead for a moment. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Yeah, it was surprising because it wasn’t that expensive. But it was declined multiple times.”

  “Declined at the Dairy Queen, you say?”

  Then I realized she might be more concerned that I’d been eating ice cream than that my card had no money on it. “It’s not like I go all the time. This was a special occasion.”

  My mom cleared her throat. “You know I put a little extra on that card when you arrived. How long has this been going on?”

  I shrugged as if she could see me. “I don’t know. It was the first time I tried to use it.”

  “Oh?” My mom sounded surprised. “That’s good, I guess. Not getting out too much? Anyway, don’t you worry about that card. I’ll look into it and make sure everything’s fine.”

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t know how to change the subject, but she did. “So, what was this ‘special occasion?’”

  Now I’d stuck my foot in it, but at least this time, it wasn’t literally. “Maybe special occasion wasn’t the right term. It was just the first time John and I had snuck into town,” I lied, “so I thought I’d try something new. Don’t worry, I’m not eating hot fudge sundaes all the time.”

  “Hot fudge sundaes? Well, that sounds delicious, but it would go straight to my hips! You’re still young. I suppose one won’t hurt. I wouldn’t make it a habit, though. And what’s this about you going into town? What if your cover had been blown?”

  “It wasn’t,” I defended. “I was incognito, and John and I weren’t even there that long.”

  “John? You mean that rude boy from the airport? I thought you hated him. Every time you mention him, he sounds worse.”

  I instantly regretted ever telling her about John. “That was sort of a miscommunication. We didn’t understand each other then.”

  “What’s there to understand?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that question. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together working on the farm. I spend almost all of my time with him, actually. He’s not like I thought.”

  “Oh no,” my mom tsked. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for a townie!”

  The word townie offended me for some reason. “He’s not just a ‘townie,’ Mother. He’s been out in the world. He lived in New York. He’s cultured.”

  “Well, he can’t be that cultured if he went back to that godforsaken town,” her tone turned snarky.

  “He is,” I defended. “We have plenty of things in common, and he respects me. He sees me.”

  She snickered. “I have no doubt he ‘sees’ you. He’s most likely seen you on his television since he was a child. He’s not really interested in you, Chastity. He’s interested in your image, your glamorous life. A life, I might add, that you used to love.”

  I wouldn’t allow her to disparage John like that or imply that what we had was anything less than real. “He knows me, Mother. The real me, not just a TV personality. John cares about me. He knows everything about me. He knows things I’ve never told anyone, not even you, and he still wants to be with me.”

  “Well,” she sighed, “if you’re willing to throw away the chance of a lifetime for some country bumpkin...”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I have some exciting news, Sissy.” She s
ounded like she might burst—as if she’d been waiting this whole time to tell me whatever she was about to say. “The director of that hot, new Netflix post-apocalyptic series called to offer you a lead in the next season. Isn’t that exciting? It’s edgy, you’ll be playing an adult, and you’ll probably have your own action figure!”

  I was silent. In the past, I would have jumped out of my seat, elated. Now, it didn’t thrill me in the slightest. “Oh,” was the only response I could manage.

  “Baby, isn’t that terrific? You can come home. I think you’ve been away long enough. When you first left, a few people suspected that something was up, but I put the squash on that. You’re in the clear. You can get back to your career now!”

  “I thought you sent me here to get better, not just to hide out.”

  “Of course I did, but you’ve been there long enough, don’t you think? Don’t you feel better?”

  How could I tell my mom that I didn’t want to go back yet—that I was actually enjoying my prison sentence? She’d say I’d developed some sort of Stockholm syndrome, and she’d want to spring me even faster. I knew my mother well enough to know that she was fiercely jealous when it came to my attention. She’d hate to know that I actually liked Kenny and Martha and that I didn’t think they were just two stereotypical hicks. She’d hate to know that they made me feel grounded and balanced in a way that she never could. Staying with them had been a godsend. And then there was John. I didn’t want to leave him either.

  “I don’t think I’m ready to go back just yet,” I said slowly. “I’ve been useful here. I think Kenny and Martha really need my help.”

  “I thought you said John helped them.”

  Why had I told my mother so much? “He does, but, well, you know they’re not getting any younger. And what with Kenny’s heart attack...”

  “What?” My mother sounded shocked.

  “Kenny had a heart attack. He didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  Was that supposed to be some sort of secret? I couldn’t imagine why. “He was in the hospital for a couple of days, but they put him on some medication. He seems better now. Maybe he didn’t want to worry you?”