Calling Home

by Janna McMahan

“I know about ten people with cancer right now. Don’t you ever think about things like that?”

  He stood up and looked at her. “I think about getting the next job done. That’s all.” She had her hands on her hips the way that says she’s serious; the gloves smeared moist earth on her shorts, but she didn’t care. “Look, when you’re farming you worry about the weather and about prices and about disease. You worry about things you can’t control.”

  “All I know is that Papaw sprayed every vegetable in his garden with some sort of pesticide. Sevin dust or something. If the can said wait twenty-one days, we ate it on day twenty-two. That’s just crazy.”

  Kerry went back to pulling. “People usually wait for a big rain.”

  “My point exactly. And where does it go after the rain? Into you and me and every animal on the farm that drinks out of the creek, and all the fish.”

  “Okay. I see your point. Can we just drop it? Look, this is picked clean. Let’s go.”

  They carried twenty sacks of young plants to the truck, where they took long drinks of water from a cooler. Kerry drove the truck down the bumpy side of the hill to the bottom. His father rode a tractor with a water barrel on the front. His sister Marcia Sue and her husband, Dave, sat behind on the setter. They each had a wooden box of tobacco slips in their lap. A paddle wheel contraption rotated between them. They took turns dropping slips into slots in the wheel that set each plant in the ground. A blade opened a furrow before the wheel and another closed the ground behind it. It was monotonous, hot work, but not as difficult as pulling slips.

  The truck rocked over the edge of the field and stopped. Shannon opened the cab door and sat watching the tractor. The perfume of raw earth enveloped her. At the end of a row, Bob Rucker stopped, hydraulically raised the setter behind, circled the edge of the field to line up for the next row, lowered the setter, and slowly made toward Shannon and Kerry. When he reached them, Bob turned off the tractor and it coughed to silence. Marcia Sue and Dave pushed away their lap boxes and crawled off the setter. Their footsteps pressed deeply into the loose black soil.

  “How there. Got a drink for your old man?”

  “Yes, sir. Your rows look good.”

  “Right you are, son. Real straight.”

  “We need somebody to walk behind and fill in,” Marcia Sue said. “We got out of rhythm and missed some.”

  “I’ll do it,” Kerry said. “How’s the water dropping?”

  “Working fine,” Marcia Sue said. “Sure beats having to ladle water on every plant like when we used to hand set.”

  Bob pushed his cap back and ran a bandana over his sweaty forehead. “Get the tool box out of the truck, Kerry. You and Dave come help me see what’s wrong with the setter. She’s wobbling again. We need to tighten her up.” The men walked off to look at the machinery. Marcia Sue fanned herself with a crumbled church fan on a wooden stick that she had unfolded from her pocket.

  “You need a hat, girl. You’re gonna burn those pretty little shoulders of yours,” Marcia Sue said.

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Still, you don’t want to be so fried you won’t enjoy yourself tonight.”

  “I just wanted some color. I’m always so pale.”

  “You accomplished that. What’s your dress look like?”

  “It’s blue. It’s a sheath with spaghetti straps. Momma made it.”

  “Your momma’s good at sewing. Everybody over to the factory says she’s a sewing firecracker.”

  Shannon shrugged. “I guess. But I wanted a Gunne Sax. That’s what everybody’s wearing this year.”

  “Yeah, but those dresses cost…what…a hundred dollars?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You having breakfast at somebody’s house?”

  “Anna Christie’s parents are having senior breakfast for some of us.”

  “You plan to stay out all night?”

  “I can’t. Momma would kill me. I had to beg like crazy to get to go to the early-morning breakfast.”

  “You are a little young to be out all night.”

  “I’ll be a senior next year. I’ll get my license in the fall.”

  “All mommas worry. You know a lot of stuff happens at prom.” She winked at Shannon. “That’s where we got Little Davey. Prom night.”

  Shannon was embarrassed by this unexpected confession. Marcia Sue laughed. “Good Lord, girl. Everybody knows. Things happen on prom night. You’re both looking handsome and you get a little beer in you and boom, four months later you got a wedding!”

  Kerry looked up from their work at the tractor and grinned at Shannon.

  “That boy’s plain crazy about you so you better watch out,” Marcia Sue said.

  “Maybe that’s why momma made me a sheath dress. I can hardly walk the thing’s so tight around my legs.” They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

  Shannon waved to Kerry. “It’s noon. Gotta go!”

  “All right. Be right there.” Kerry sprinted toward Shannon and said, “Jump in.”

  “’Bye, honey,” Marcia Sue said. “Y’all come by so we can see what you look like.”

  It took nearly half an hour to drive from Kerry’s house in the country to Shannon’s on the edge of town. Three times they were caught behind tractors moving fields. Men in overalls with stiff caps hiding their faces leaned on fences and waved as they passed. Kentucky was coming back to life in every shade of green possible—from the pale milky green of new tree buds to the healthy emerald of alfalfa. Gardens stretched toward the sun. Flowers speckled the hillsides. Ditch weeds were already shaggy enough to cut back.

  They rode with the windows down, and the unmistakable smell of manure spreading swirled around them. Shannon loved the earth scored with crops and strewn with smelly livestock, but she knew the reality of farming. These people were just making do. Her grandfather had barely scratched a living out of the dirt. This was not the life for her—summers spent canning and freezing food, working tobacco, milking at daybreak, cooking for field hands. It was literally a hand-to-mouth existence. Kerry would never be anything but a farmer, which meant they eventually had to break up. She liked him, had grown to depend on Kerry in so many ways. But he was pushing for more than she wanted to give.

  Shannon had intended to stay with him until she graduated from high school next year, but his impatience with her was growing. It was as if everyone expected her to give in to Kerry. He expected it. Pam expected it. Her mother was just waiting for the big fall. All Kerry’s friends gave him a hard time about it. Teenage sex was as much a part of this community as the zigzagging creeks that cut through every bottom. She was unsure how much longer she could push him away.

  “What you thinking about so hard?” Kerry asked.

  “Nothing.”

  She spent a lot of time calculating her exit from their relationship. She needed a graceful way to break up—some way that wouldn’t leave Kerry thinking she was a bitch. Maybe after school started and she got her license she would do it. Her senior year was going to be hard, with advanced curriculum. Kerry never wanted her to study, which she saw as his way of sabotaging her. After school started she could use study as the reason.

  In town, a group of girls from Shannon’s class came giggling out of a beauty shop with their hair piled high, spiraling tendrils bouncing. They held out their hands and admired their fingernails.

  “Don’t forget to stop and get the flowers on your way home,” Shannon said.

  “Thanks. I might of forgot that.”

  When they arrived at her house, Will’s dog, Moonpie, raised his head from the porch. The mutt lay back down when he saw they weren’t his boy.

  “Want to come in?” Shannon asked.

  “No. I got to pick up my tux and get those flowers and run out to Big John’s.”

  “Okay. See you around seven?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Marcia Sue wanted us to come by so she could see us.”

  “Shit. I don’t
want to drive all the way back out there. She’ll just have to see a picture.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. Can you get some film for my camera?”

  “Sure.”

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek and slid out of the passenger side. She was walking away when Kerry said, “Hey.” She stopped. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “You don’t seem very excited.”

  “I’m tired is all. I’m going to take a nap.”

  “Sure. See you tonight.”

  Virginia started talking as soon as Shannon stepped inside the kitchen.

  “Will and Jim caught a big mess of fish. You hungry?”

  “A little.” Shannon slumped into a chair. “I swear, those two fish more than they work.”

  Virginia dredged four-inch filets in cornmeal and set them to sizzling in oil in the electric skillet. When she finished she took an iron skillet from the oven, shook it, and expertly turned cornbread out on a plate. Shannon took a knife and cut the beautiful brown circle into pie shapes and spread butter on a piece.

  “Dinner’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” Virginia said. “Go on and wash up.”

  Shannon walked past her aunt, who was leaned back in the lounger watching television in the front room.

  “You excited about tonight?” Patsy asked as Shannon started up the stairs.

  “Oh, sure. It’ll be fun.”

  “You be careful and don’t drink. You know all the police in town are going to be out looking for drunk kids tonight.”

  Shannon’s baby blue prom dress hung elegantly on her closet door. Her dyed shoes were lined up below. Baby’s breath that she would wind into her hair sprang from a vase on the dresser. Beside that, an add-a-bead necklace borrowed from Liz.

  Shannon flung herself down onto her bed. All this buildup and she was suddenly drained and slightly worried by the prospect of prom. It was all supposed to be so perfect, so magical, but everything had been a struggle. Kerry hadn’t asked her until two weeks ago and her mother had thrown together her simple dress, which was pretty but not what Shannon had envisioned. The shoes didn’t exactly match, and her mother almost had a cow when they said it was going to be twenty dollars to dye them. Shannon had been on the prom committee and had worked all week hanging streamers and blowing up balloons, had become so obsessed that she dreamed nightly about the sickly green and cotton-candy-pink gymnasium. The stage was so overly decorated that it looked like a giant, frilly wedding cake.

  “Wake up, Shannon.” Her mother shook her softly. “It’s four-thirty. You’d better start getting ready.”

  Shannon rolled over, still drowsy. “I’m getting up.”

  “You didn’t eat dinner. You want a snack, or is Kerry taking you out to eat before prom?”

  “Oh, we didn’t talk about it. I guess I’d better eat something.”

  “All right then. Come on down when you’re ready.”

  Shannon ran the shower hot as she could stand it and scrubbed the dirt from beneath her fingernails. She washed her hair, shaved, and pumiced. She creamed and perfumed herself, and when she came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her Will said, “Finally!” He leaned in to sniff her and said, “Gee, your hair smells terrific.”

  Downstairs, she propped her feet on a chair and nibbled cold fish while her mother polished her toenails with perfect linear swipes.

  Patsy came into the kitchen. “Oooh, look at them nails. You’re going to be the belle of the ball tonight.”

  “I doubt that.” Shannon chewed her lip as her mother delicately finished a pinky.

  “Shannon, we need to have a little talk before you go,” Virginia said. She dipped a cotton swab in polish remover and ran it around Shannon’s cuticles to get errant pink sparkles. “Now, you know I want you to have a good time, but you’ve got to promise me that you’re not going to drink. Kids around here are always wrapping their cars around trees and running off bridges. I can’t help but worry about you, and if I didn’t think you were responsible, I wouldn’t let you stay out so late. You understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I want you to promise me that you won’t drink.”

  “I won’t drink, Momma. I promise.”

  “Even when other kids offer it to you.”

  “I promise.”

  “Because drinking leads to other things.”

  “I know, Momma.”

  “You know the kinds of things I mean?”

  “You mean those same kinds of things you’ve been warning me about for the last three years?”

  “Don’t get smart. There now. You’re finished.”

  Two hours later, Kerry’s father’s Buick Electra crawled into the driveway. It wasn’t a new car, but it would be one of the most elegant at the prom. Shannon had read in the Louisville Courier-Journal about city kids having proms at big hotels and renting limousines, but most of the kids at Baylor County would be coming in their parents’ cars and trucks. Their prom had never been held anywhere but in the gym.

  Shannon watched Kerry walk up to the porch in his white tux with the blue ruffled shirt. She grinned when he stopped and yanked at his shirt collar behind the bow tie. She waited upstairs until her mother knocked and said softly, “Kerry’s here.”

  Shannon’s reflection quivered slightly in the mirror at her mother’s knock. “Okay, Momma. Tell him I’ll be right down.” Shannon’s hair was pinned into a French twist with a shower of curls out of the top. Sprigs of baby’s breath were held in with bobby pins. She used a hand mirror to examine the back of her hair one last time. She smiled. Her hair looked better than those plastered jobs girls got at beauty shops.

  When she came down the stairs, Patsy clapped her tiny hands like a child at a birthday party. Will made a long, sharp wolf whistle. Kerry had a silly grin when he handed Shannon the paper box with her flowers inside. Virginia started barking orders and waving her camera. “You two get over there. Stand by the banister.” Will and Shannon stood together, then Shannon and Kerry.

  A pink-and-green balloon arch spanned the entrance to the high school’s atrium, quivering each time the front doors were opened. Kerry handed over their tickets while Shannon picked up her goody bag from the sign-in table. They entered the gym assaulted by a bad rendition of “Gimme Three Steps.” When their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they saw Pam waving from a flouncy-looking table.

  Shannon slid in next to Pam and said, “Hey, Eddie.”

  “Hey.”

  “We were going to go smoke,” Pam said. “But if you leave, they won’t let you come back in.”

  “Ain’t that a bitch,” Eddie said.

  “But we’ve got plenty to drink,” Pam said. “What did y’all bring?”

  “Kerry’s got bourbon, but he got me peach schnapps,” Shannon said. “He stuck it in the back of his pants.”

  The band opened its second set with “Kiss You All Over” and Shannon pulled on Kerry and said, “Come on. Let’s dance.”

  “I don’t dance.”

  “Just try.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Come on.”

  “No. It’s embarrassing.”

  “I’ll dance with you,” Eddie said.

  “Okay.” Shannon turned to Kerry. “You’re not going to dance?”

  “No.”

  “Not at all?”

  “Maybe if they play a slow one.”

  “This is a slow one.”

  Eddie put his arm around her waist. Shannon could feel Kerry’s eyes on them as they danced. She put her arm around Eddie’s neck and they spun around and Shannon threw her head back and laughed. They stayed on the floor for two songs, and when they returned to the table Kerry didn’t speak for awhile.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Shannon said and poked him in the ribs.

  “Nothing. I don’t like you dancing with other guys.”

  “So dance with me then.”

  “I don’t like to dance.
”

  “What are you going to do? Sit there all night like a knot on a log?”

  “How much clearer do I have to say it? I don’t like to dance.”

  “Okay. But I do, so stop sulking.”

  The band finished its set, and suddenly the gym went dark and shards of light flicked every surface as the glitter ball sparked to life. The Bee Gees blared into the room and people rushed out onto the floor. Shannon jumped up when she saw Will coming for her. Will struck a pose like John Travolta and motioned for Shannon to join him on the dance floor. They did a nearly flawless routine they had practiced for months.

  Members of the baseball team took turns dancing with Shannon and Liz all night. Shannon was giddy from spinning. She thrilled at being told how pretty she was by so many boys with alcohol on their breath. “Hey, that’s my sister you’re groping there. You be careful,” Will warned them. One boy asked her if she still had a boyfriend. Another asked if she was going to the big party after the senior breakfast. On the third song off the Saturday Night Fever album, everyone did a disco line dance. Halfway through, Pam signaled that she was going to the bathroom and Shannon stumbled out to follow. They slipped past the teacher posted outside the girl’s downstairs restroom and sneaked upstairs to their favorite one. Peach schnapps infused Shannon’s thoughts. Out the open window they could see students milling in the parking lot, cars pulling away. Shannon dipped a brown paper towel in water and touched it to her sweaty neck.

  “Where’s everybody going?” Shannon wondered. “It’s not even ten o’clock.”

  “To parties. Parties we’re not invited to. Parties over in Forest Hills and those big houses out by the lake.”

  “There’s a big party after the senior breakfast. Did you know that?”

  “I heard. We’re there. What about you? You have to go home, don’t you?”

  “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll stay out and take my licks tomorrow.”

  “Everybody’s leaving because this prom reeks. Too much teacher patrol,” Pam said. “Me and Eddie might go back to his house. His mom is gone on a trip or something. You two want to come over?”

  “We don’t have anything else to do.”

  When they got back from the bathroom nearly half of the students had left.