by Ruth White
And as quickly as that, the moment was gone.
EIGHTEEN
I was dead asleep in the middle of the afternoon when Beau opened my door and hollered, “Git up, Tiny! There’s a boy on the phone for you.”
I swung my feet to the floor, and shook my head.
A boy? Jesse!
I stumbled down the stairs to the phone in the hall.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Tiny? This is Jesse.”
He did! He called! He said he would call and he did!
“Who?” I said.
“Jesse Compton. You remember, we met last night at Big Lick.”
“Oh, hey, Jesse. What a surprise!”
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, I was just … doing some stuff. Nothing special.”
“Well, I wondered if maybe we could go to a show tonight in Black Gap.”
“I guess so. What’s playing?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“You’ll go?”
“I gotta ask Mama.”
“You want me to hang on while you ask her?”
“That’s okay. She’ll say yes.”
“Good. Seven-thirty?”
“That’s okay.”
“One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Where do you live?”
“Oh, Ruby Valley. You know where that is?”
“I think so.”
So we spent the next five minutes going over the route to my house; then we hung up.
I had a date. My first date. And he was real cute. He had his driver’s license. He was smart. He played football.
I took a deep breath and went into the kitchen, where Mama and Vern were eating something at the table.
“Can I go out tonight, Mama?”
“Where to?”
“To a show.”
“Who with?”
“Just a boy.”
Both their heads shot up.
“What boy?” they said together.
“I met him last night.”
“What’s his name?” Vern said.
I ignored him.
“He has a blond crew cut, Mama.”
“Well, who is he?” she said.
“Jesse Compton”
“We don’t know no Comptons.”
“He’s from Big Lick.”
Mama and Vern looked at each other.
“Well, what’s he like?” she said.
“He’s real cute.”
“Who’s his daddy?” Vern said, and I ignored him again.
“Mrs. Clevinger told me she grew up with his mama,” I said.
“Who’s his daddy?” Vern repeated.
“I dunno,” I mumbled.
“Well, is he gonna come in the house and meet us like a gentleman,” Mama said, “or is he gonna sit outside and blow his horn?”
“Oh, Mama,” I said, sighing. “You know he’ll come in!”
They were both quiet.
“You’ll like him, Mama,” I said.
“Mmmmmmmm …” was all she said.
I went back to my room quickly, hoping they would say no more.
About six o’clock I took a bath; thirty minutes later I was back in my room wrapped up in my robe when Vern suddenly pushed open my door and stuck his old bald head in. He had a strange expression on his face.
“What d’you want?” I said, pulling my robe tightly around me.
“I just want to tell you, you better behave yourself tonight with that boy.”
My volcano started to spew toward the top.
“If you don’t get out of my room right now,” I hissed at him, “I will scream for Mama.”
“This is not your room!” he hissed back. “I paid for everything in this house, and that includes that damn dawg!”
He backed out and closed the door without another word.
I had to sit down to still my trembling. That fat old pig was jealous of Jesse. I clenched my fists in determination. I would not let him spoil my date. I would have a good time. I sat there pulling myself back together.
I wore my blue-and-green-plaid skirt, my blue sweater with matching cardigan, loafers, and blue knee socks. I put my hair up in a high ponytail and taped spit curls around my face. I put on just enough lipstick, and curled my eyelashes. I would wear my band letter jacket.
Well, I thought, as I stood in front of the mirror and remembered what Aunt Evie told me that day about saying nice things to myself. You look good, Tiny Lambert! You look pretty, and Jesse Compton is going to fall madly in love with you this night. How can he resist?
Then I practiced smiling and greeting him at the door.
“Well, hi, Jesse! I guess you found me.”
No.
“Jesse! Is it seven-thirty already?”
No.
“Hi there! Come in and meet my mama.”
Would Vern say something stupid to Jesse? If he said anything at all it would be stupid. Maybe he would just be quiet.
I took the tape off my spit curls, picked up my pocketbook, and went down to the living room, where I found Mama, Vern, and all the kids watching television. I was nervous.
I sat down between Mama and Luther.
Pamper, Pamper, new shampoo
Gentle as a lamb, so right for you!
Gentle as a lamb?
Yes, ma’am!
Pamper, Pamper, new shampoo.
Would I have to introduce him to everybody?
“You look pretty, Tiny,” Mama interrupted my thoughts. “Your hair shines just like you been using Pamper.”
“Where you goin’ to?” Phyllis demanded to know.
She was curled up beside Vern on the other couch with her bare cold feet pushed up under him.
I didn’t answer her.
“Mama, where’s Tiny goin’ to?” she persisted.
“Y’all be quiet!” Beau shouted.
He was trying to watch Have Gun Will Travel.
“Tiny’s got a date,” Vern announced just because he knew I didn’t want a lot of attention.
I could have killed him.
“A date?”
“Tiny’s got a date?”
“Who with?”
“Where you goin’ to?”
I got up and marched out of the room into the kitchen. Phyllis followed me.
“Who is he, Tiny?”
“Why don’t you put your shoes on?” I screamed at her.
She looked down at her dirty, bare feet dumbly.
“Sometimes y’all act like a bunch of hillbillies!” I sputtered.
“Who is he, Tiny?”
I just knew Jesse would come now while everybody was asking a lot of dumb questions. They would gawk at him and giggle and act stupid. I was so nervous I couldn’t sit down. I started pacing the kitchen floor.
“Who is he, Tiny?” Phyllis said for the third time.
“You don’t know him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jesse.”
“That’s a girl’s name.”
“It is not, and don’t you go out there and say something stupid like that to him.”
“What about Jessie Deal and Jessie Lou Looney?” she went on. “They’re girls.”
“And what about Jesse James?” I said. “He’s a boy.”
“Who’s Jesse James?”
Lordy.
“Just leave me alone, Phyllis.”
“What does he look like?”
“He’s real cute.”
“Is he tall?”
“Not real.”
“Short?”
“No, medium.”
“Dark hair or blond?”
Somebody knocked on the front door, and my heart jumped. God, don’t let Vern go to the door. But I should be so lucky. Phyllis, Luther, and Beau scrambled all over each other and fell out the door in a pile, while Nessie started barking and going around in circles. I closed my eyes.
“D
oes Tiny Lambert live here?” I heard Jesse’s voice.
“Tiny!” they all yelled for me, but I was right there by then.
“Hi, Jesse, come in and meet everybody,” I said, feeling my face flame.
Three pairs of blue eyes stared at him.
“Well, you’ve met these three,” I said. “Beau, Luther, and Phyllis.”
Nessie barked and everybody laughed.
“Oh yes, and that’s Nessie, short for Tennessee,” I said, loosening up.
I closed the door as Jesse stepped inside. He had on his football jacket—maroon and white.
Mama and Vern stared as much as the kids. I introduced them.
Mama said, “Hey, Jesse.”
But Vern sat in silence. I wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.
“Where you goin’ to?” Phyllis said.
“To a show, I reckon?” Jesse said and looked at me.
“I reckon,” I said.
“Indoors or out?” Vern said.
Him and his dirty mind.
But Jesse didn’t understand.
“What?”
“You goin’ to a drive-in show?” Vern said.
“It’s almost November, Vern,” I said sharply. “The drive-in closed a month ago.”
I turned to Jesse quickly. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
I grabbed my school band jacket and my pocketbook.
“Glad I met y’all,” Jesse said.
“Yeah, nice to meet you, too, Jesse,” Mama said. “Now, Tiny, you remember to be back here by eleven.”
We were out the door and I breathed a sigh of relief. We looked at each other and grinned as we went down the tall steps.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi, yourself.”
That was nice.
The air was clean and crisp and the sky perfectly velvet blue, with a little sliver of moon rocking on a mountaintop.
“You look pretty,” he said, and I smiled up at him.
He had a brown-and-white ‘57 Chevy, absolutely spotless. I loved it. He opened the door for me and I slid in. I could feel the kids all staring at us from the front window. Well, let ’em stare. He came around to the driver’s side, got in, and started the car. He had automatic transmission.
“Nice car, Jesse.”
“It’s my daddy’s, but I drive it all the time. He lets me as long as I take good care of it, and I do.”
We backed down to the road and headed toward the highway. We talked about the football season that ended last week. Black Gap and Big Lick both had winning seasons. We usually beat Big Lick, but this year they beat us.
“You stomped us,” I said. “That was a good game.”
“They had us right there till the last quarter. Say, I remember the band. Y‘all were real good. Didn’t you play ‘Dixie’?”
“Yeah.”
“And ‘His Truth Is Marching On’?”
“Yeah, ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic.’”
He was groping around for my hand and I helped him find it.
“Come on over closer,” he said, and I slid across the wide seat beside him.
“I thought about you all day,” he said. “I couldn’t sleep even after staying up all night”
“I thought about you, too.”
“Did you want me to call?”
“Sure I did.”
Then we glanced at each other and smiled.
It was cold and Jesse turned on the heat. Shortly we were cruising down Main Street, and ready for a Saturday-night date in Black Gap.
The movie was at the Regal. There was another theater in town, but nobody ever went there on a Saturday. It was understood that the Regal was the only place to be. The movie was something with Jane Powell or Dick Powell—I don’t remember which one. We bought snacks, then went up to the balcony. Every popular person I knew was there. They hollered hey to me. Some of them knew Jesse and hollered at him, too. I was proud to be seen with him.
It was dim up there and the air was heavy with that theater smell—popcorn and bodies—and the floor was sticky and grungy with thousands of pops and food of all the Saturday nights before still clinging. We found seats by the railing and settled down with all our stuff.
Before the cartoon was over I heard my name called, and there was Rosemary and Roy. We made a lot of commotion as they settled in beside us, and I introduced everybody. Rosemary poked me and whispered, “He’s cute!”
The cartoon ended and the newsreel came on. Jesse took my hand and we snuggled shoulder to shoulder. By the time the movie ended, our palms were stuck together with sweat.
“Y’all come go with us to the CAR-feteria,” Rosemary said. “Everybody’ll be there.”
“Why don’t y’all come with us?” Jesse said.
Yeah, I was thinking, that would be better because I wanted to be seen with Jesse in his Chevy.
Roy and Rosemary agreed.
You could always tell when the Regal let out on Saturday night because a solid line of cars streamed down Main Street to the drive-in restaurant. The CAR-feteria was just out of town at a wide place in the road so there was plenty of parking space and room to cruise in and out among the cars. And that’s what everybody spent a lot of time doing on Saturday night. It was stroll-and-perch time in cars.
We ordered hot dogs—no onions—and cherry Cokes. Roy ordered a big dill pickle just to be different.
Then there was Connie Collins right beside us with one of the Owens boys in a new Lincoln with a Continental kit. And she had on a black mouton jacket. Did she always have to outdo everybody in everything?
“Hey, Connie!” Rosemary called to her sweetly.
Connie flashed a big toothy grin. We waved at her.
She started looking at Jesse and he started looking at her like they never saw the opposite sex before.
“I can’t stand that girl,” Rosemary and I said together, but still smiling.
“What girl?” Jesse said.
“Connie Collins,” Roy said. “The blonde in the Lincoln.”
“Oh,” Jesse said. “I was just admiring the Continental kit.”
“Sure you were!” we teased him.
“I really was,” he said. “The prettiest girls here tonight are in my car!”
And he squeezed my hand.
Our hot dogs came, and I don’t remember if mine was good or not. It didn’t matter. We were having fun, and nothing could spoil it. Roy passed around that silly pickle and made everybody take a bite. We laughed till we hurt.
Later, Jesse drove me home and we were quiet all the way. I was thinking, I never want this night to end. I’m going to remember it all—the balcony and Roy and Rosemary, and the CAR-feteria and that pickle and how everything smelled and how the Chevy chrome sparkled in the lights, and how Jesse said I was pretty and held my hand. And I’m going to remember everything he said and write it all down when I get home. Because this is the beginning of happily ever after, and I don’t want to forget any of it.
We sat in the Chevy on the little dirt road going up the hill to my house and looked at the night and still said nothing. It must have been about five minutes till eleven. All the lights in my house were out except for the living room, where I knew Mama was watching the last few minutes of television before it signed off; and the front porch light was on, of course. Vern, no doubt, saw to that.
“I have to go in,” I said at last.
Jesse got out and came over to my side and helped me out like they do in the movies. Then he put his arm around me and we went up the tall steps like that. On the top step right under the porch light he kissed me.
“Call you tomorrow,” he whispered.
And he left.
I floated into the house.
Whee … eee …
NINETEEN
Jesse called the next day and we went for a ride up the river. I heard from him on Monday, Tuesday, and the rest of the week, but it was Friday before I saw him again. By that time I couldn’t bring up his
face in my mind’s eye, but when he came to the door Friday night, it all rushed back to me: his special smell, the way he looked at me, this habit he had of cocking his head to the side when he teased me.
That night we went to the sock hop in the school gym, sponsored by the Band Parents. I wore my black slacks and my white Banlon cardigan buttoned up the back. It was the style. Jesse wore corduroy. We were together most of the weekend, and it whirled by breathlessly. I couldn’t write it all down or remember it. I wanted everything to slow down so I could hold on to it a little longer and think about it while it was happening. But there was no time for holding or thinking, and I learned as the weeks went by to go with the moment, to love it better than any other moment, then let it go, and hurry to the next one.
Sometimes we sat in his car and kissed till our lips were numb and we were breathless. Then Jesse would say, “I wish we were married.”
And I would say, “Me too.”
But we didn’t do a thing. Just talked about it, and the shining future that spread out before us. Jesse was planning to work for his daddy in his welding shop, and someday we were going to get married. We would live with his folks until we could afford to build our dream house. Then we would have babies … and they would grow up and have babies … and we would be grandparents … then … ?
Sometimes when we were kissing in Jesse’s car in the driveway, I would see Vern looking out the window. I was overwhelmed with shame, and I wished he would just drop dead and be out of my life. I vowed never, never to tell anybody—never. I would die if Jesse found out what Vern did to me. It would be the awfulest thing that ever was if Jesse found out.
Then I tried to forget it and wipe it out of my mind. But I woke up in a panic in the night two or three times. I was dreaming, but I couldn’t remember what.
“I will forget,” I said to myself. “I will never tell—ever. And I will forget about it. Then it will be like it never did happen.”
At Christmas, Jesse gave me his class ring, and I wore it on a chain around my neck. That meant we were going steady. About that time, Mama decided to act like a real mama and give me a good talking-to. It was that old “all boys are after one thing” talk. I had heard it a thousand times from every woman I knew. I acted like I was taking everything in, and agreeing. All the time I was thinking about Mama and Ernest Bevins up on Ruby Mountain getting me. In the end she made me promise not to “do anything” I would regret, and not to be alone with Jesse so much, because it bothered Vern. He was real worried, she said, about me getting in trouble. Well, she could have gone all day without saying that. It did nothing but make me mad.
