A Girl Called Sidney

by Courtney Yasmineh

  They were bringing me around, pulling me by the arm, introducing me to kids who I either hadn’t met yet from other grades at school or kids who went to other nearby schools. I wondered about the guitar brothers. Where were they?

  As I was thinking about them, another set of headlights came busting down through the woods, the car was low and making its way unceremoniously over roots and branches and rocks until it was squeezed into the circle. The sunroof opened and a boy pulled himself out through the opening. A window opened and another lithe boy emerged. Everyone was laughing and congratulating them on squeezing their car into the circle.

  My new favorite girl, Jenny, came over to me, “Sidney, those are the boys I was telling you about, the Parker brothers. Aren’t they divine? Do you see that sweet car? Isn’t it cool?”

  “What is that kind of car called? It’s like half car-half truck.”

  Honestly, I thought it looked kind of stupid and hick, but I was definitely in the mood to like everything so I went along with her enthusiasm.

  “It’s an El Camino. That’s the coolest car you can drive besides like a Camaro I think. And in the daytime you can see it better; it has a sweet custom paint job. See? See the sides have flames painted? Oh, they’re getting their guitars out!”

  The brothers had fancy-looking guitars in big cases. They kept them in a special trunk latched down on the flatbed. These guys were like big fish in a very tiny pond. Everyone was gathering around and all the radios got shut off. The woods were silent except for the crackling fire as they tuned their acoustic guitars. I watched them carefully, deciding what I thought of what they could do. So far the music I’d heard from the kids at my new school was pretty low-quality. Their singing wasn’t great and their abilities on the instruments in the band and orchestra were disappointingly elementary. But these brothers were making a big enough deal out of this that I thought I might be in for something special.

  They launched into their first song. Their style of guitar-playing was not something I was familiar with, nor were the songs. One brother was taller and had very dark thick hair that hung over his eyes. He had a wide grin and twinkling eyes. Everyone liked him. He seemed very gentle and kind. He was playing a twelve-string, which I thought was probably harder, but I wasn’t sure. He was doing a lot of fast picking. The other brother was younger, not as tall, a little more mischievous and slightly strange-looking. He was playing a six-string that was a little more beat up and he was mostly thumping out a lower bass-like part. I asked one of the guys from school who seemed especially into the song what kind of music this was.

  “Yeah, its bluegrass! Aren’t they great? They usually have a washtub bass too. The song’s from the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. That’s their favorite band.”

  They were singing the chorus now and their harmonies were thrilling.

  I loved it. I loved them. I stood alone listening carefully to every song, every melody, every lyric. Some songs I knew. They played some folk and some rock. The bluegrass stuff was the most fun.

  I yearned to sing along. I wanted to get my guitar and play too.

  I stood still in the crowd of kids, thinking about it all.

  Then Jenny and some of the other girls came over and grabbed me and dragged me up to the brothers.

  “Dale, Greg, this is Sidney.”

  “She’s from Chicago.”

  “She plays guitar.”

  “She sings really well too.”

  “She’s living out here on the lake for the winter.”

  Dale, the older brother, put down his guitar and jumped down off the hood of the car where they’d been sitting.

  He put out his hand for me to shake, which was charming, “Hello Sidney, I’m Dale. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  I laughed.

  “Thank you Dale, it’s a pleasure to make yours as well.”

  The younger brother squeezed in and got in front of him.

  “Hi Sidney, I’m Greg the ‘little brother.’ Which is not actually accurate if you get my drift.” Everyone laughed. Kids started goofing around again. The radios went on again. Dale stood next to me looking at the scene.

  “Are you having anything to drink?”

  “No, I don’t really drink. I don’t like the taste of beer. And I don’t want to get drunk.”

  “I know what you mean. I don’t like to drink myself. My brother loves to drink, I mean, loves to. But my dad gave it up and he says he’s a better man for it so that’s good enough for me. Why go through the misery just to find out what somebody else already learned? That’s how I see it.”

  This Dale guy could not be for real. He was so chivalrous and earnest. It was like he was not meant for this earth. What a sweet guy! You could just see all the way through him straight to the center of his soul, and it was all clear blue skies and sunny days all the way. A diamond in the rough maybe, but a diamond with no ugly flaw of charcoal buried inside to ruin it. I knew it from the minute I met him. I could see that everyone felt the same way. He was just true blue to the core.

  Dale turned to me, “Excuse me Sidney, I’m going to go over and say hi to some kids I haven’t seen in a while. You’re welcome to join me if you want to be introduced around. Maybe we can talk guitars later or if you want you can play some of your stuff. You could use mine.”

  “Thanks, yeah, we’ll see.”

  I was standing alone. An awesome song came on the radio and the kids cranked all the car stereos louder. Tom Petty sang “Refugee” and then all the kids joined in on the chorus.

  Now, the little brother was back, and handed me a brown bag crushed around a glass bottle. His eyes were shining bright and his lips were pink and wet. “Here Sidney … Sidney? Is that it? Is that really your name? That’s like a guy’s name. I mean, like no offense. I like it. It’s sexy. You’re sexy. You are very sexy. I think my brother likes you otherwise I’d like you. But I think I’m gonna let my brother have this one, you know, it’s the least I can do for the guy. Ha, ha, yeah like I have a chance, right? Do you want some of this? It’s delicious. Try it. Come on. Don’t be a baby. Just swig it down. Just like this. See? That’s not so bad. Come on. Live a little, Sidney.”

  I thought, and maybe I said out loud, “Oh, what the heck.”

  I took a sip. It was good. It tasted like Hawaiian punch.

  I liked the little brother. He was funny.

  “Come on, Sidney. Let’s sit down on those stumps by the fire and get to know each other a little better. I’ll share this with you.”

  I sat down with him. I couldn’t believe how great everything was. I loved the party. I loved the music. I thought Dale was so wonderful. I was happy to be with his brother because I felt like I was like an insider with him, like I was closer to Dale, closer to the music. I let Greg pass me the bottle and I kept drinking from it. I let him tell me stories about their antics as boys together. I just sat happily watching the fire start to blur.

  At some point the brothers were both sitting with me. They brought over a guitar. The radios went off and I played a couple of songs. On the second one, the old John Denver “Country Roads,” the brothers joined in and we sang the rest in three-part harmony. I got to do a higher descant at the end and then the other guitar came out and Dale and I sang some more songs we both knew. I felt so wonderful. The music sounded like heaven. I was surprised by how easily I remembered all the words and just sang effortlessly, not embarrassed or hesitant at all.

  After a while the brothers told everybody they had to work early and were going to leave.

  Dale asked if I needed a ride. I said I had my truck. I sat a while longer listening to the songs playing on the radio and staring at the fire. I was aware then that Dale and the brother had left. I got up to go pee but I couldn’t walk straight. No one was paying attention. Everyone who was still there was probably very drunk. I was pretty sure the girls I knew had said goodbye and left long ago. I stumbled into the woods.

  I pulled down my jeans and squatted.
The fire was going out and it was pitch dark. I knew no one could see me. I didn’t think there was anyone left that I knew anyway. I pulled up my jeans and stood. I was dizzy and I felt like I might vomit.

  I started to head back for the fire, but then I knew I was going to throw up so I turned and bent forward, heaving onto the dry leaves in the woods.

  I walked a few steps and knew I had to lie down. I had my sweatshirt on and I pulled up the hood and tied the strings as best I could. I sat down in the leaves. I couldn’t keep my head up and I lay down with my head on my arm and curled up my legs. I fell asleep. I must have been asleep for hours. I heard footsteps and I sat up, startled, my heart pounding.

  It was Dale. “Oh geez. Somebody didn’t make it out alive.”

  “Hi.”

  “I saw the red truck. Lucky for me I was driving by this way. Lucky for you too, I guess.”

  “I got drunk.”

  “I see that.”

  “It’s your brother’s fault.”

  “Well, see now, you’re already catching on. Everything’s always my brother’s fault. Let’s get the leaves off of you and get you in the warm car. You must be frozen.”

  “Luckily it was such a nice clear night. God, that was so stupid.”

  “You could have been eaten by a bear or a wolf.”

  “Geez.”

  “Do you remember me telling you that I don’t drink much?”

  “Yeah, vaguely.”

  “Well, it’s because this kind of thing is what always happens. It’s just inevitable.”

  We walked to his running car and he opened the passenger-side door for me.

  “You stay here and warm up. You got your keys? Let’s see if that baby starts.”

  I got the keys out of my pocket and handed them to him.

  His car was warm and he had more than one of those silly pine tree-shaped air fresheners hanging from the rearview mirror. It was overkill on the fresh scent, but it was still nice to be in his well-kept new car.

  Dale came back and got in the driver’s side.

  I saw the exhaust from my truck in the cold morning air and was glad it started.

  “I can take you home and we can get the truck later if you want.”

  “No I’m okay. I am really embarrassed. I never drank before. It tasted really good. What was it?”

  “It’s the stuff my brother always makes when he’s going to try to pick up girls. He calls it Wanderer’s Punch. And he says ‘makes ‘em wander right into my arms.’ I don’t think he was trying to get you drunk though, honestly, he’s gonna feel really bad when he hears about this. Of course, we were supposed to work together today and he didn’t get out of bed.”

  “You guys seem like you make a good team.”

  “Yeah, except when he’s hung over in bed. He’s in the same shape as you this morning. Well, not really, yours was beginner’s luck. He should know better by now.”

  I looked at my truck running and realized I had to get home. I had no idea what time it was, but the sun hadn’t hit the road yet so it was probably still very early.

  “Well, thank you so much. I better go home. My dog’s been alone all night. I’m gonna take a hot bath. Luckily I don’t have to be anywhere today. I really like your music. I’m glad I met you guys. I hope I can hear you play again sometime.”

  I opened the car door and stepped out into the frosty air, which seemed so much colder after being in his warm car.

  “What do you say I come by and take you out for a decent dinner some night? I’m making good money in the mine and I live at my parents’, so there’s plenty extra to show a girl a nice evening.”

  “I’d love that.”

  “Okay great. I’ll swing by your place later and see how you’re doing. If you’re up to it, we could get dinner tonight. You’re out there after the Johnson place right?”

  “Yeah, the one with the turnaround driveway.”

  “Yeah, I know it. Okay see you soon.”

  I ran to my truck. He had the heat blasting. I shifted into drive and swung it out onto the frost-covered asphalt, heading for the cabin. I was excited to be going on a date. I was excited about singing harmony with guys who could sing. I thought about what I could wear that night once I got cleaned up. My head was throbbing though and I knew that the first thing was to take the hot bath and a long nap. Poor Brandy would need attention first. He’d been alone all night.

  Dale must have driven all the way back to his parents’ place and all the way back out to my cabin because he showed up showered and well-dressed in a black cowboy-style shirt and dark blue jeans, dark brown cowboy boots, and a grey wool jacket. He looked great. I was wearing my flannel prairie dress, fitted at the waist and flaring out down to the tops of my nice Frye boots. I had my old faded jean jacket, which wasn’t warm enough but looked really cute over the dress. My hair was a little longer now and I liked it that way.

  We made a cute couple when we walked into the old Daisy Bay Supper Club on the lake. Dale ordered a steak and said I should get one too so I did. We had fun. When he brought me back to the cabin he kissed me on the cheek as I jumped out of his car. He honked as he headed out. I was glad he didn’t try to come in, but I hoped I’d see him again soon.

  AUNT EVIE

  My mother called from Chicago late one night crying hard into the phone, “Sidney, Aunt Evie died this afternoon. She went down to get the mail. I was out when it happened. She climbed the three flights of stairs and sat down at her kitchen table. Preston had sent her a letter. She just laid her head down on the table with his letter in her hands and died. I read Preston’s letter. It was sweet, telling her how school was going and that he loved her. It’s a very beautiful way to die. No hospital. No pain. She was feeling just fine when I left in the morning. And she loved Preston so much. I don’t know what to do next. They came and took her body already. I’m going to have to close up her apartment and get rid of all her things. Oh dear! It’s really going to be a lot. Oh dear! Well, how are you doing? Is everything all right up there?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I feel bad about Aunt Evie.”

  “Well, feeling bad isn’t going to help. You feel bad? What do you mean by that? I don’t think you understand what she meant to me. After my mother died, my Aunt Evie was my family. She was the one person who really cared about me. I was only eighteen. My father remarried right away and I was pushed out.”

  “Okay Mom, I get it.”

  “No, you don’t get it.”

  “Yes I do Mom, don’t say that. She was my aunt too.”

  “Your aunt, too? She was your great-aunt. Yes, she was that. And she did everything she could to make you happy. She brought you down to the Christmas lunch at Marshall Field’s. Do you remember when we did that for her employee lunch? You were so enthralled with the Christmas Fairy?”

  “Yeah Mom, of course I remember. That was one of my favorite things ever.”

  “But when poor old Aunt Evie came to stay with you when you were older, when I was so terribly sick in Florida, how did you treat her?”

  “Mom, she thought the refrigerator was blowing up every night.”

  “I don’t care. How did that make her feel? You and she never had the same relationship after that. No, I’m not surprised that you aren’t crying over her death. That’s just who you are.”

  “Please Mom, don’t say that.”

  “Good night Sidney. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Mom, please … ”

  She hung up. I turned around and stared at the empty living room. I looked at the doorways to the three bedrooms and the bathroom. I looked out the picture window at the dark autumn night. The sky had been overcast when the sun went down so there were no bright stars, there was no bright moon. Most people who had places along the lake shore had closed them up and left for the winter and there were only two places with electric lights visible on the far shore. There were no lights down our point until the old lodge that was now somebody’s summer house, which had a big
floodlight that stayed on all the time. The resort I worked at was further out on the main road and its lights were obscured from my view by an island that sat uninhabited most of the year, black as the night. Aunt Evie was dead.

  I got ready for bed. I tried to wash my face in the bathroom but I felt like somebody was behind me every time I tried to wash the soap out of my eyes. I kept opening my eyes and looking into the mirror to be sure there was no one. My eyes were stinging. I went into my room and for the first time realized that the knotty pine was very dark and had shadows from the knots that looked like faces. I thought of all the times my mother would say that the fireplace stones held the faces of Indian spirits. I went back out into the living room to check on Brandy. He was curled up in one of the duck-print chairs with his nose tucked under his paw, which I knew meant he was cold. I tucked in the big warm wool blanket that had been over the back of Grandpa’s favorite chair around him. I stared at the fireplace stones. The fire needed stoking. I added two more logs and, through the glass window, watched them get enveloped by the flames. I looked at the stones again. The spirits’ faces were visible tonight. I could see them clearly and they were laughing with wide open grinning mouths, “ha ha ha.” I left both living room lamps on. I went to the kitchen door to be sure it was locked. There was a padlock with a metal hinge you could flip and then put the heavy free-hanging lock on the metal loop. I did that for the first time. I left one of the electric wall sconces lit in the kitchen. Aunt Evie was dead.

  I closed the kitchen door to help keep the heat in the living room. I kissed Brandy one more time on his soft forehead. I went into my room and got out the gun. I didn’t open the soft felt bag. I just held it and looked around my room for a better place to keep it. I decided to pull the pink wooden desk chair over next to my bed and place the gun on its seat.

  I looked at myself in the dresser mirror. I was wearing my long flannel nightgown from Chicago that I luckily found in a box. My hair was longer now because I didn’t think about it and it just grew out. It looked pretty good, it was more blonde from the summer sun.