by Kata Čuić
I don’t know what makes him finally let go, but when he does, I immediately dart away and wipe the slobber off my mouth with the back of my arm. “What in tarnation was that?”
He shrugs and shuffles his bare feet a little in the dirt. “Ya wanted me to give ya your first kiss, so I did. There. Ya happy now?”
“No.”
“Well why in blazes not?”
“That weren’t no kiss. That was disgustin’.”
He slowly blinks at me a few times, genuine confusion dulling his usually sharp green eyes. “Huh?”
“That’s not how you’re supposta kiss, Jesse.”
“That’s how all the menfolk that kiss my ma do it. What was wrong with it?”
I wrap my shaking arms around my tummy. I don’t feel so good just now. “Everythin’.”
This time when I run away, he doesn’t follow.
Can’t See the Forest for the Trees
“Ya sure?”
With my back turned, I roll my eyes, so she can’t see me. Then immediately wince when my traitor of a daughter mimics my reaction as I tie her shoelaces.
My mother huffs an indignant sigh. “Know your place, girls.”
I straighten and paste on another phony smile. Pretty soon my face is going to stick this way, and it won’t be so hard to fake it. “Mama, I have to go into town for supplies for my classroom. It isn’t fair to Anne to keep her shuttered up here the entire school year. It’s bad enough as it is that there’s no preschool for her to attend.”
Mama gets right up in my face, lowering her voice, “Ya know there’s gonna be questions. There’s bound to be stares. It ain’t fair for Anne to hear ‘em or see ‘em.”
I squeeze my eyes tight against this new reality. “I know.”
“Well, if I can’t change your mind, at least let me come. I can be a good distraction when the situation warrants.” Her smile brightens my worldview when I open my eyes.
I place my hand on her arm. “You and Daddy have kept this secret for five long years. The questions coming your way aren’t going to be fair to you either.”
She steps back to a more typical distance and waves her hand as if she’s swatting away a problem the size of an annoying mosquito. “My family, my business. Ain’t no different than how anyone here goes about their lives. Daddy and me ain’t worried about no town gossip.” She casts a gaze full of love at her granddaughter then swipes a workworn, slender finger down my cheek. “The wellbein’ of this here youngin’ is our only concern. She’s the apple of our eyes like her mama before her.”
I fold my mother in a hug that is anything but fake. All the misgivings and failures that have piled up on my shoulders over the years fall away as she wraps her arms around me in return. No matter how hard this is going to be, I’m surer than ever I made the right decision by coming home.
She sniffles back a few tears of emotion then adopts the same overly cheery smile that’s been on my face since making this life-altering move. “Come on then. Let’s go into town.”
Anne’s surly mood doesn’t improve a bit, even with her Grammaw’s help. She plants herself more firmly on the bed, crosses her arms over her chest, and juts out her bottom lip, which deepens the dimple in her chin that’s usually not so noticeable.
Mama pins me with a look. “Lord help ya; she is her mama and daddy’s child through and through.”
It is precisely that knowledge that keeps Mama and me on our toes to interest Anne in any small glimmer of excitement during our trip to town—the elementary school she’ll attend next year; the library where we promise to get her very own card, so she can borrow books; the picturesque river banks that are perfect places for an afternoon picnic; the hand-churned ice cream shop where she’ll receive a reward if she’s on her best behavior during our errands.
Town isn’t bustling with activity in the heat of the day during a typical sweltering August. Especially not when the stench of the coke plant seems to coat one’s throat. The alternative is sweating to death in homes too old for central air. There are enough people trying to escape that stifling heat in the slight open-air breeze who are more than willing to make Mama’s predictions come true.
The weight of their judgment pricks the hairs on the back of my neck even as Anne skips happily along between Mama and me, clutching tightly to our hands.
“You’re gonna have to give ‘em answers soon enough,” Mama mutters. “Some of these folk are about to be your coworkers.”
“I know it.” The muscles in my face are taut enough to snap, but they impossibly tense even more as another familiar face from the past stumbles out the doors of the general store. On instinct, I shove Anne behind my body.
Mama closes ranks beside me, her voice sad and low. “Act natural. She ain’t gonna know no different. Nothin’ has changed for her, but everyone else watchin’ is gonna notice you bein’ jumpier than a coon dog on the hunt. These folk are simple, not stupid.”
With those wise words, I inhale a bracing breath and act as if I have nothing and no one to hide. “Mrs. Yates. It’s so good to see you. How are you?”
The woman blinks at me like I’m speaking a foreign language before glancing at the two ladies accompanying me. Even without the undoubted drugs and alcohol coursing through her frail body, it must be like a strange sort of mirage. Three generations of the same family who all bear such striking resemblance, an outsider might guess we’re either sisters separated by wide age gaps or a time travel experiment gone wrong.
Mama on one side, her once glossy auburn hair streaked with gray, shining green eyes surrounded by laugh lines, her beauty enhanced by age and wisdom instead of diminished by it. Me, a spitting image of my mother with the same hair, same eyes, same nose and chin, even the same exact height. Finally, Mrs. Yates’s eyes settle on the bouncing four year old between us, the sun cascading a kaleidoscope of copper against her wavy hair as she openly admires the display of candy just inside the shop window.
With great difficulty, the woman lowers herself to Anne’s eye level. The years have not been as kind to Shelby Yates as they have to my mother. Her beauty has been stolen by both time and circumstance. Her once glossy black hair now looks faded, dyed, and brittle. Layers of makeup—however artistically applied—can’t erase the wrinkles in her forehead or around her striking blue eyes. They’re not the marks of a life well-lived. She looks haggard, worn…old.
“And who’s this fine lookin’ princess?” Mrs. Yates glances up at me with an unexpected amount of pride in her dull eyes.
“My daughter, Anne.”
She returns her gaze to the girl who has her nose crinkled in obvious distaste. “Is that right now? And how old are ya, Princess Anne?”
“Four,” Anne mumbles.
“Four.” The woman nods slowly. “Four. Ya visitin’ your maw-maw and paw-paw with your folks? Takin’ a little family holiday to learn about your roots? I’d sore like to meet your pa, too.”
Anne’s face twists even further. This time in confusion. She looks up at me with a clear plea for a translation I have no intention of giving.
True to her promise, Mama clears her throat before her voice rings out in the town square, clear and confident. “Lenore is the new English teacher at the high school. Her and Anne are back at the homestead with me and Leland. Our whole family is together again.”
Mrs. Yates pushes to her feet, stumbling a bit before she fully rights herself. Even her low, throaty chuckle seems off-balance. “Is that the way of it? Well. Gonna be a might interestin’ time in Martins Landing then, I reckon.”
Panic rises in my chest as Shelby Yates turns toward me with an even louder cackle that seems to echo off the dilapidated buildings surrounding us. It definitely draws the attention of the few passersby who weren’t previously interested in this public show.
She pats my cheek a little too harshly. “I’m pleased as pie to see ya done followed my advice, Lenore. Ya ain’t done as well for yourself as I expected, but ya ain’t done nothin’
that can’t be rectified neither. Ain’t no shame in settin’ a spell to get your tail out from between your legs, but this town ain’t got nothin’ ya need. Catch your breath then move on.” She seems to sober on a dime, sweeping a clear gaze over me and my daughter before shaking her head, her gaze re-clouding in sadness. “Ya best prepare yourself for a fight, sugar. Don’t get too comfortable.”
My breath stutters in my chest in increasingly short bursts as Mrs. Yates stumbles away from us, disappearing into a random alley. “She knows. Oh my God, she knows.”
Mama grasps my shoulders in her capable hands. “She don’t know nothin’. Mind my words. Ya ain’t seein’ the forest for the trees. She was just givin’ ya as much love as she has to give with her advice. Ain’t no secret she took a shine to your sweet ways when ya was just little. She’s tryin’ to do right by ya and Anne. That’s all.”
A waist-high sniff diverts our attention to the girl who’s lost her taste for the promise of candy. “She’s ugly, and she talks funny. I hate Martin Land.”
Another little piece of my heart cracks as I kneel on the gravel in front of my daughter. “The mountains aren’t always fair to everyone, baby, but everyone deserves respect. Mrs. Yates is no different. You can’t judge her by the way she looks or talks. She’s one of the hardest working women I’ve ever met. And she loved you with only one look even though she doesn’t know anything about you.”
Anne doesn’t seem convinced, but another sniffle doesn’t escape my notice.
Mama has her hand plastered over her mouth as she stares in the direction Mrs. Yates went. She raises her eyes to the sky and mumbles, “Lawdamercy, forgive my lies.”
I rise to my full height, my resolve renewed. “You know she’d want it this way, Mama.”
“I know it,” she responds immediately, swiping a stray tear from her cheek before holding her hand out to Anne. “Now, let’s go see about some candy. Time for ya to learn how much your grammaw’s itchin’ to spoil ya rotten.”
Twenty-One Years Ago
“Daddy.” I tug on his pants to get his attention. “Who’s that?”
His eyes follow my pointing finger across the street to the woman walking out of the general store. “Why, that’s Mrs. Yates. She lives mighty close to us. Ya could say we’re neighbors of sorts.”
“She’s so pretty. Just like the princesses in my books.”
Mama grabs my hand in hers to cross the street.
“Why’s she so dressed up, Mama? Is she goin’ to a ball?”
“No, angel.”
I can tell by the tone of Mama’s voice she wants me to hush up. I’ve never been keen on doin’ what I’m told.
“Well, where’s she goin’? I wanna go, too. I wanna dress up like a princess, too!”
“Hush now, Lenore.” Daddy uses his stern voice. “No speakin’ ‘less you’re spoken to, ya hear?”
“Yessir.”
Darn grownups get to have all the fun.
“Shelby,” Mama says to the pretty lady. “Fancy meetin’ ya in town. It’s been ages.”
“Why, if it ain’t Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler. And little Princess Lenore, too! How ya doin’, sugar?”
“I’m fine, thank ya, ma’am. You’re pretty like a princess!”
Mama squeezes my hand sharply. I don’t know why. Daddy said not to talk unless she talked to me first. Well, she did.
“Well, ain’t you a little baby doll. The boys’ll be eatin’ outta your hands in no time, what with your pretty face and honeyed words.”
I don’t want no disgusting boys eating nothing outta my hands.
Daddy clears his throat. “Speakin’ of boys. Where’s your youngin’, Shelby? Ain’t seen him around much of late. He doin’ all right?”
“He’s just fine. Growin’ big and strong as boys do. He’s at home with his maw-maw. Town ain’t no place for a good boy like him.”
“How’s she doin’?” I can tell by Mama’s voice something ain’t quite right. “Y’all need anythin’ over there?”
“Now, now, Effie. Don’t ya worry your pretty little head none. I got everythin’ under control.”
Even though the lady is pretty, her voice is funny. It sounds like her tongue is too big for her mouth. I look around at all the other folk going by us. Everyone seems to notice her. Maybe because she looks so fine for a Saturday afternoon in town. All the other ladies must be jealous because they keep giving her nasty looks. The menfolk seem to like her just fine.
“It was such a treat runnin’ into y’all. I best be goin’ now. Got places to be and appointments to keep! Ya keep bein’ a sweet girl now, ya hear, Lenore?”
“Yes’m.”
She walks away down the side of the street. At the end of the block where the gas station is, a man I ain’t never seen around these parts before catches her in a kiss. That must be Mr. Yates. His kiss ain’t nothing like the ones Daddy gives to Mama. Something about it don’t quite sit right with me. That ain’t the way a prince is supposed to kiss his princess.
Mama and Daddy must be watching, too, because we keep standing in place instead of going into the store for the shopping.
“I hope I’m pretty as her when I grow up,” I sigh. As long as I get a better prince than that anyway.
Daddy crouches down in front of me and looks me in the eye. I know when he does that I should really pay attention to whatever he says. “Lenore…Be mindful, girl. Sometimes we don’t see the forest for the trees.”
I have no idea what he’s going on about. We ain’t even in the woods today.
Mama tugs me toward the door, but I look back one last time at Mrs. Yates. She’s getting into a fancy car and speeding away. I guess princes don’t ride horses no more.
All That Glitters Isn’t Gold
“I can’t believe you finally have a smart phone, and this is what you’re subjecting me to.”
I open my eyes to glare at the little screen filled with Liz’s face. “You’re the one who insisted on helping me get ready this morning.”
“Yes, and you should thank your lucky stars I did.” She points a virtual finger at me. “Have I taught you nothing? Purple eyeshadow makes green eyes pop.”
I sigh and continue swiping mascara on my naturally red lashes. “I’m not wearing purple eyeshadow to a faculty meeting.”
“Lenore, I am your best friend, and I am telling you beyond a shadow of a doubt. You cannot treat this like any regular faculty meeting,” she retorts. “It’s a first impression, and you know how important that is.”
“It is not a first impression,” I argue with the woman who has stuck by me through thick and thin as I slick on some clear lip balm then dab my lips with toilet paper to dull the shine. “I had most of these teachers in high school. They already know me. If I walk in there with a fully painted face, they’re only going to label me a hussy.”
They already think as much since I’m home with a daughter and no husband.
Liz nods in full understanding. She bites her lip, and her voice softens. “What about the principal you haven’t met yet? You’ll still be making a first impression on him.”
“Oh, no.” I pick up my phone from where it’s propped on the bathroom counter. “I know that look, Elizabeth Carter Preston. You need to get those ideas out of your mind right now.”
She opens her mouth—no doubt to protest—then snaps it shut again when the bathroom door swings open.
“Who in tarnation are ya talkin’ to in here?”
“Mama,” I sigh. “What if I had been getting out of the shower?”
Technically, I suppose that’s my fault for not locking the door, but privacy in this little house wasn’t something I ever considered when I was growing up.
Mama pins me with a hard stare. “All the more reason to be concerned about ya carryin’ on a conversation then, ain’t it?”
“I’m talking to Liz,” I explain with more patience than I feel.
“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler!” She waves on the screen.
“L
iz, honey!” Mama pries the phone from my hands, smiling at my friend even as she cuts a sideways glare at me. “It’s so good to see your pretty face while hearin’ your sweet voice! And to think, my daughter went five years refusin’ this sort of fancy technology, so I could see and hear her and my grandbaby without takin’ up your phone for hours on end.”
Ah, the good old Mama guilt-trip. Strangely comforting to know the more things change, the more they stay the same even in these tumultuous times.
“You know I couldn’t afford it,” I mutter. “Even with all the extra money Daddy worked so hard to send me. I wasn’t going to waste his sweat on things that weren’t absolutely necessary for Anne.”
Mama smiles sweetly at me. “And now that you’re livin’ at home for free, ya can afford to face call your friend. How about that.”
“So, I was just explaining to Lenore that she needs to dress to the nines for her first day on the job,” Liz rushes. Bless her heart for trying to derail Mama, but also curse her to the depths for pulling passengers onto the convincing train. “Please, tell her she needs to make a good first impression.”
Mama looks me up and down with a critical eye. “She looks fine. I don’t see no problem.”
Liz sighs, barely hiding her frustration even over the phone. “She needs to accentuate her gorgeous green eyes with shadow; she should curl her hair. She absolutely needs to trade in those plain leggings and that shapeless tunic for something nicer. At least convince her to put on a flattering dress.”
Surprisingly, Mama comes to my defense. “Martins Landing ain’t like Chicago. If she walks in there with a fully painted face and a dress that shows off her womanly figure, she’ll only be labeled a hussy.”
I sidle up beside Mama and stick my tongue out at Liz. “Told ya so.”
Liz rolls her eyes. “The new principal will be there…”
“Oh, gracious!” Mama turns to me with a fresh perspective. “She has a fair point. Ya need to make a good impression on your new boss.”
