Cliques, Hicks, and Ugly Sticks

by KD McCrite

  All in all, you would have thought Isabel and Ian would’ve been happier than two pigs in slop to be in their own pretty house. Ian was satisfied, because he said he had always been a country boy at heart. Ole Isabel was probably happy, too, but she rolled her eyeballs every time he said it.

  I was rather glad to help sweep and dust and lay shelf paper and all that kind of stuff to get Ian and Isabel’s house ready for them. Isabel looked on in her pretty, pale yellow living room and ordered everyone around like Marie Antoinette. I hoped no one’s head would roll.

  The St. Jameses did not have furniture until right before they moved in because they had to sell everything before they came out here from California. You know all about that mess, so I won’t go into it again, but the good folks along Rough Creek Road and at church all pitched in and donated things so Ian and Isabel would have everything they needed.

  Grandma donated a nice recliner that she had bought when old man Rance was hanging around, but once he was out of our lives, she never used it. Mama and Daddy gave Ian and Isabel their own big old comfy bed and bought themselves a new one in Harrison. Ian and Isabel had slept on that bed so long, it was like it was theirs, anyway.

  Mr. and Mrs. Hopper, an old couple down the road, gave them a rocking chair and a couple of cast-iron frying pans. Pastor Ross donated a small dining table and chairs that someone had given to him a few years ago.

  All in all, they ended up with enough furniture to fill that house, and not only that, folks gave them pictures and curtains and lamps and a TV and rugs and a refrigerator and blankets and sheets and everything. Nothing matched, and most of it was used. I figured ole Isabel would curl her nose up at it, but if she did, I never saw it.

  We threw a celebration party for them on the second Friday night in November. Grandma and Mama cooked it up. Grandma and me and Myra Sue and Temple were the ones who put most of it all together, although Mama did sit in bed and write out invitations for everyone. I about halfway figured the only ones who’d show up would be the Reillys, the Freebirds, and the St. Jameses, and maybe good ole Pastor Ross. Everybody was supposed to bring sandwiches and chips and cookies and such like. Of course, Temple balked at that, and she said she was gonna make big double batches of her nature cookies and bark bread.

  All I could say about that was I was glad we were gonna have ham sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies because that stuff Temple makes is purely awful. Nobody would eat any of it, I knew, because everybody had been well-educated the hard way about Temple’s snacks. But I’d be sure to eat one just so she’d know somebody was brave and loyal. Mama probably would, too, if she was sure one of them nature cookies wouldn’t hurt the baby.

  Since Ian and Isabel’s house was only a short way down the road, Mama insisted on going to that party.

  “There’s no sense in trying to make me stay home,” she told us all, “because I have not been out of the house except to see the doctor for weeks. I’m going, and that’s that.”

  Shortly before it was time to leave that night, there was an Awkward Situation, and it was all because Grandma is more popular than she ought to be. Ole Ernie Beason knocked on our door, and he’d no more than come inside when someone else knocked.

  I opened that door, and who do you think stood there, grinning all happy as he could be? I’ll tell you. Rob Estes, that’s who.

  I reckon my ole eyeballs got bigger than two full moons when I saw him. If he noticed, he did not say anything. Instead he handed me a box of Mint Dreams.

  “You share those with your sister, okay?” he said.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you very much.” I was thrilled with the gift, but I also had my eye on this whole boyfriends situation as Rob walked into the living room.

  You know what? Rob smiled at Daddy, then he smiled at Ernie just like he wasn’t a bit surprised to see him, and they shook hands.

  Mama waddled into the living room, dressed in a dark blue maternity outfit with a lacy white collar and wide pant legs. She was wearing a pair of Grandma’s ugly old shoes because her own shoes were too tight on her puffy feet.

  When she saw both men, her eyes got big for a second, then she gave them both her pretty smile, just like this was not an Awkward Situation at all.

  “April,” she said, glancing at me, “would you run upstairs and tell your sister to hurry along?”

  I was pretty sure she wanted me to inform Grandma of her two gentlemen callers while I was up there.

  I dashed upstairs to knock softly on the door of Myra Sue’s bedroom.

  “Woo?” Grandma called.

  “Grandma!” I screamed as loud as I could while whispering at the same time.

  She opened the door, and would you believe she had false eyelashes on one eye but not the other? She was holding the other strip of lashes between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand like it was a spider she’d just plucked from the back of the closet.

  “Grandma, who are you going to the party with tonight?”

  “Going with? Why, I’m ridin’ along with your mama and daddy and you girls. Why you asking?”

  She went back to the mirror and made the awfullest face, with her eyebrows raised way high and her mouth drooping way open, and she poked those fake lashes on her eyelid.

  “’Cause Ernie and Rob are both in the living room this very minute, waiting for you,” I said in a loud whisper.

  She was so startled, her hand jerked and those dumb eyelashes ended up on her forehead. She whirled around and gaped at me.

  “What?” she squawked, like a strangled duck. “Why are they here?”

  “Well, I don’t know, Grandma. They are your boyfriends, not mine.”

  “Oh, hush that!” She scowled at me and bit her lower lip, thinking. “What am I gonna do?”

  That was a good question.

  “I think if it was me,” I said, “I’d at least take my eyelashes off my forehead.”

  “What?” She spun back around and looked at her reflection. “Oh, good gravy!”

  She set about removing those eyelashes and fixing her face, but she looked all wide-eyed, and I could tell, plain as day, she wasn’t thinking about that dolling-up she was doing.

  “Okay,” she said finally as she put on some shiny black pumps, “here’s what we’re going to do.”

  “We?”

  “Yes. We. I can’t go down there and tell one I’ll go with him and leave the other behind, so you and me and Myra Sue will ride with both of them.”

  She grabbed her coat out of the closet. Her face was pinker than strawberry Jell-O.

  “All in the same car?” I hollered before I could stop myself. “Are you kiddin’ me?”

  “Hush, I said! And, no, I am not kiddin’.”

  “Grandma, I don’t want to go with you—”

  “You are going, and that’s that. Get your sister, and we’ll all go downstairs together. There’s safety in numbers.”

  Oh, good grief.

  Rob had the biggest car, so he drove. Grandma hustled me and Myra Sue into that backseat. Then she plunked herself down back there with us. That left ole Ernie to ride in the front seat with Rob.

  Nobody uttered one mumbling word that whole entire trip. That was about the most awfullest, uncomfortablest car ride I’ve ever been on. I wished Rob would at least turn on the radio so we’d have some music to listen to instead of all that quiet. You know what else made it bad? I’ll tell you: the amount of time it took to drive that short distance, that’s what. Up ahead, Daddy drove Mama in the Taurus, and he was as careful as anything going over the bumps and rocks and ruts. Following along behind the way we were, it took us about a decade to go that half mile from our house to the St. Jameses’ place. There was nothing to do in the car, and it was dark outside, so I couldn’t even look at the landscape.

  When we arrived at the St. Jameses’, I was never so glad to get out of a car in my entire life. Right then I decided Grandma was on her own until it was time to leave. I figured it would be the same exact situ
ation at that time, only backward. If I was lucky, maybe Isabel and Ian would invite me to spend the night.

  I don’t know how many folks showed up at that party, but I’ll tell you something: it was a good thing all those men had worked on that house, ’cause I think it might have exploded from all the people filling it. I tried to walk from one side of the room to the other, and it like to have taken me a year and a half to push through all those bodies. Not only had everybody brought food, they’d brought presents, too—doodads and wickyjiggers to set around and look pretty. Sandwiches and chips and cookies and pies filled all the counter space. The pile of presents—flower vases, baskets, candles, that kind of stuff—took up a spot underneath the front room window. That mound nearly reached the hem of the St. Jameses’ short, white living room curtains.

  Ole Isabel and Ian were speechless as two rocks for the longest time, just kinda standing there in the middle of that party and food and gifts and people and fun. I made my way across the crowd and edged in next to them.

  “How do you like your party?” I asked. And I had to ask loud because there was an almighty amount of noise from everybody talking and laughing.

  Isabel blinked a bunch of times, but Ian was the one who spoke up. “I can hardly believe everyone has been so generous and kind. The fact that they’ve given us so much when most of them hardly know us nearly renders me speechless.”

  Isabel nodded, and I’m pretty sure I saw a tear or two swimming in her dark eyes.

  I looked out over that bunch of people, with their paper plates full of baloney sandwiches and potato chips and pickles and cookies. I knew it wasn’t the kind of fancy food the St. Jameses were used to having at parties in their other life, but a look at their faces told me that, at least for that night, baloney sandwiches were just fine.

  After a little while, Daddy and Mama got ready to go home. I wanted to go with them, but you know what? Grandma caught me at the door and said, “April Grace Reilly, don’t you dare desert your grandmother in her hour of need.”

  “That’s right, honey. Stay and help clean up, please,”

  Mama said. She looked around.

  “Yes’m.” And that’s what I did.

  Let me tell you something: I was none too happy about the whole business of that ride home, and I wanted to get it over with. When folks started getting their coats and leaving, I plowed through that house, picking up cups and plates and paper napkins, and I didn’t stop until everyone was gone.

  My sister wasn’t much help cleaning that party mess, but Grandma made Myra Sue sweep the floor while she and Isabel put away food that people had left.

  Ian and Ernie and Rob stood outside on the porch and talked. I reckon most men are allergic to housework ’cause it seems to me they always disappear when the brooms and dishrags come out. Daddy helps from time to time, but sometimes he ducks out, too.

  “This was just lovely, Grace,” Isabel said, wiping a dab of water off her nice new white countertop. “I don’t know when I’ve had a nicer party.”

  Grandma smiled and folded her dish towel across the drying rack. “I hope you feel right at home now, honey. Having your own place will make it a lot easier on you.”

  “It will, but I can never express how grateful we’ve been for everything you and everyone else have done for us. It has been simply amazing.”

  I just stood there and watched and listened. I don’t think I’d ever seen Isabel look so content, and I know I’d never heard her speak so warmly. I was purely glad she was happy.

  Ian came inside just then, and a chilly breeze chased through the open door before he closed it.

  He looked around his house, and it was plain as day from the smile on his face that he was satisfied with what he saw there.

  When he spotted Isabel wearing one of the floweredy aprons Auntie Freesia Maloney had sent in a box of kitchen linens and gadgets, his grin got bigger. She held a dish towel in one hand, and a lock of her short dark hair hung loose in a single curl on her forehead. The color of her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes right then came from excitement and happiness, not makeup. She gave Ian a smile that lit up her whole face.

  All of a sudden it felt like the rest of us weren’t even in that room, like that moment belonged totally to them.

  “Get your coats, girls,” Grandma said in a real quiet voice, as if she thought that speaking out loud would change something.

  Myra Sue and I went quietly into the small blue-and-white bedroom and got the coats from off the top of Ian and Isabel’s bed. Their room was pretty cozy with neat white curtains and a braided blue rug on the floor. The dresser and the chest of drawers did not match, but they were clean and polished, and the light from a pair of round white lamps gave the room a soft, warm glow.

  We went back into the living room and handed Grandma her coat. Isabel and Ian were kissing. I won’t say a single, solitary word about it, except to remind you how I feel about kissing and all that slop.

  Just as we opened the door, Ian said, “Wait a minute, ladies. Let me get my coat and keys, and I’ll run you home in the pickup.”

  “You needn’t bother,” Grandma told him. “I’m sure Rob will take us home.”

  Ian cleared his throat, and an odd look flickered across his face.

  “Uh, Grace . . . uh, Rob and Ernie left,” he said.

  Grandma’s eyes got big. “They did? ”

  He nodded. “I’ll get my keys.”

  While we waited, Isabel gave each one of us a hug. “Thank you for everything,” she said, and smiled at each of us in turn.

  “You’re so welcome, honey,” Grandma said, smiling back at her. But I’ll tell you something. Grandma did not say another word until she told Ian good-bye when he dropped us off at the house. She remained silent when we went inside, and then she went straight upstairs without saying boo to anyone. She did not even go knock on Mama and Daddy’s door to see how Mama was feeling.

  Myra Sue and I looked at each other. All big-eyed, she bit her lower lip. “Uh-oh,” she said, real quiet.

  I nodded ’cause I had a strong suspicion that instead of two boyfriends, Myra Grace Reilly now had none.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The Show Goes On

  Once the St. Jameses were a half mile down the road instead of just across the field from us, ole Myra Sue drooped around like a wet hound dog until I got sick of looking at her. At least working with Isabel on the Christmas program kept that goofy girl from drooping completely away. And we all had Thanksgiving to look forward to.

  Around our table on Thanksgiving Day, besides us five and a half Reillys, there were the St. Jameses, the Freebirds, Melissa Kay Carlyle and her mother, and Mr. Brett because his family lives so far away. Our dining room held us all, believe it or not. That room was made for big dinners, ’cause my great-grandma used to feed a bunch of farm hands in there every day at noon.

  I will not bother to tell you everything that was set before us, but besides the usual turkey and dressing, we had green beans, field peas, sweet baby peas, corn, pickled beets, bread-and-butter pickles, sweet little gherkins, dill pickles, deviled eggs, garden salad, cranberry salad, Jell-O salad, carrot salad, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn muffins, yeast rolls, biscuits, and I’ll stop there without mentioning everything else and all those desserts still in the kitchen, because I’m making myself hungry.

  I want you to know that when we finished our dinner, Melissa and I went into the bedroom and looked in the mirror at our tummies, which were actually Sticking Out from all that food. We’d have laughed ourselves silly at that if we hadn’t been so all-fired full. And after a little nap that we seemed unable to control, we went back downstairs for a snack.

  By mid-December that play was coming along pretty good, and nearly everyone had learned their lines. All those kids who had auditioned and did not get a part had been asked to help find the rest of the props we’d need. Also, Daddy, Ian, and Forest had worked with the others in the church basement, making the sets Isabel i
nsisted we have. Mr. Brett showed up a couple of times and helped with the carpentry part of it. Forest was an artist, and he painted rooms on the folding walls that Daddy and Mr. Brett made, and he’d done it so well, you would vow and declare that was a real fireplace and windows with curtains.

  The only problem was Lottie Fuhrman, who made goo-goo eyes at ole J.H. instead of paying attention to when she was supposed to speak. I thought Isabel was gonna have a stroke a few times, she got so aggravated by that girl.

  I knew ole Lottie’s part as well as I knew my own and everybody else’s, and I could’ve helped her if I’d wanted to. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to. To make matters entirely worse between Lottie and me, she seemed to believe I was as crazy over that silly boy as she was, and she constantly shot me dagger looks and said all kinds of mean things. I do not know why she thought I liked J.H., because I told him to get lost, turn blue, and leave me alone about twenty times a day at school, and every bit as often during play practice.

  I even told Lottie so, but you know what? She broke her Lottie rule about not talking to me and said, “You’re just playing hard to get because you know that will make him like you even more!” Then she folded her arms and flounced away. She sat by herself because Aimee did not get a part in the play and she had flat-out refused to help with anything if she couldn’t be one of the stars of the show.

  Myra Sue’s recent lessons on projection with Isabel had paid off. She spoke her part loud enough to be heard to the back of the sanctuary, and when Isabel praised her, she preened like a parrot and smiled until I thought her mouth would fall off. I hoped she’d be able to speak loudly when we had to put on the play in front of the whole world.