“Y’all go on and laugh. She’s the best cook ever.”
“You still got that Airstream?” Roger stomped his boots trying to wake up his numb feet.
“Yeah. But me and Betsy bought a house. I ain’t been out there, except to hunt.”
“It still in good shape?”
“Better than camping. You know you can use it any time. There’s some good quail out there. I’d meet you for a weekend sometime.”
“Sounds good. Let me buy you a coffee,” Roger said. They walked off toward the snack shed and Roger stopped when they were out of earshot of the rest of the group. “I got to be honest with you. Bootsie kicked me out and I’m looking for a place to stay for a while.”
“You’re welcome to the place. I lived there a year, but it ain’t the most comfortable. Heater works good, but I used the outhouse unless it was just so cold I was going to freeze my balls off.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’d be good to have somebody to keep the place up.”
“What would you take to let me live there for a few months?”
“Your money’s no good with me. Live there as long as you need to. But I got to tell you, it gets mighty lonely out there.”
“That suits me fine.”
25
The sky was gray felt, with vapors nearly low enough to touch. Last night, sleet had fallen on snow and now a film of ice crunched under Shannon’s feet as she helped her mother scrape the Chevy’s windshield.
“Defroster ain’t worth a damn,” Virginia said.
A plume of smoke curled from the tailpipe. Patsy sat in the passenger seat with her feet around a baked country ham big as a good-sized dog. Beside her were an oyster casserole and dressed bananas. She held a huge Tupperware container of tea.
“Do we have everything?” Virginia asked her sister.
“Lord, Virginia, we got everything here but the kitchen sink,” Patsy said.
“Oh, the eggs,” Virginia said. “I forgot the deviled eggs.”
“I’ll bring ’em,” Shannon said. “Kerry should be here any minute.”
Virginia had perked up enough in the last few days to cook for Thanksgiving. Shannon had watched her mother make the perfect eggs—bright yellow and stark white, sprinkled with paprika and each one in its own dished-out spot in the green egg plate. That’s what Shannon felt like sometimes, like her insides had been scooped out and smashed around and crammed back inside her.
“Okay, then,” her mother said. “I’ll see you at Momma and Daddy’s. Don’t be too long. We won’t wait food on you.”
“I’m not worried. You cooked enough for an army.” Shannon tried a smile.
“I can’t go waltzing in over there with crackers and dip like Margie always does.”
“Virginia,” Patsy said. “I’m freezing. Get in the car.”
Virginia ran her hand across Shannon’s cheek. “You feel okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine, Momma.”
The car snapped frozen puddles in the driveway, then reached the road and crept away, chunks of packed snow tossing out behind the tires. This was going to be a strange holiday. Most years her mother was upset from the get-go because Roger hunted all day and came dragging into the Thanksgiving meal just in time to eat. A couple of years he’d even brought strange hunting buddies to eat with them. This year her mother wouldn’t be dealing with that. Will wouldn’t be around to watch the football games and make bets and keep the other men in an uproar. And Liz wouldn’t be around this year either.
It got dark early now and was beginning to spit snow again, so Kerry already had his lights on when he pulled into the drive. She held the fragile platter of eggs tightly as she picked her way through the snow to the truck. Shannon scooted over next to Kerry until their legs touched and she saw a smile brush his lips. Ever since that awful trip to Lexington, Shannon had tried to be sweeter to Kerry, tried to return some of his kindness. Her mother would say that she’d acquired a better perspective. The day after she got back from Lexington, Shannon took to the bed with shame and a hangover. Her mother had hovered for a short while and then retreated to her own bed, and that was how they stayed all day. Again. But again, Shannon pulled herself together and went back to school and did what had to be done even though she was numb. She felt ruined and dirty, and the worst part was she had squandered the most special thing intended for two people in love. She wondered if Kerry would be able to tell she wasn’t a virgin if they ever did it.
Kerry drove the winding road to her grandparent’s house. They topped a hill and looked down in the hollow. The tiny home was flanked by trucks at odd angles around the barn yard, a layer of snow covering most except for shiny hoods where engines were still hot. People moved inside the house. Windows were frozen around the frame, making everything inside seem somehow unreal. A fat cat sneaked around the side of the barn, shaking her paws with each step.
“You ready?” Kerry asked.
“We’re only staying two hours.” Shannon opened the storm door with a metal S curved in a center circle. When she was small her granny told her that the initial stood for Shannon and she hadn’t figured out that it was for Spurling until she was nearly twelve. The inside door opened with a suck and they stepped into a warm cocoon of smells—cigarettes and mustard powder and yeast.
“There’s our Junior Miss…come on in here now…is the road slick…what did you bring me to eat…my, Shannon, you just get prettier every day…we wondered if you was coming…who’s this young fella with you…”
The dining room was transformed, piles of mail and sewing projects replaced by gleaming silver and thin china plates painted with tiny roses. The center arrangement was a horn of plenty filled with plastic fruit and vegetables and flanked by the same brown candles that Shannon had tried to light one year but was told not to. The tablecloth was the beige one that appeared every year, too, and the matching cloth napkins were even pressed, this being the only time of the year other than Christmas when her family didn’t use paper towels.
Ruby came from the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. In the kitchen, aunts and wives hustled to warm up food and pour tea in glasses. Shannon stuck her head in the den and said hello to the men watching UK stomp Rutgers, profanity their sideline sport. The only people in the front room were Shannon’s uncle Wayne, who everyone said lost his marbles in Vietnam, and his wife, Trang. They stared out the window at the snow with deadpan expressions.
Ruby hobbled, her gait favoring a bum hip. “Come here, honey, and give your old granny a kiss,” she said. Shannon thought Ruby’s breasts were the softest thing in the world. “Glad to have you back, Kerry,” she said and winked at him. She turned to her son Wayne and nodded. “Trang,” she said. “Glad you’re here, too.”
“Clyde, are we all here yet?” Ruby yelled at her husband in the TV room.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s your only job. Get to counting heads and let me know if everybody’s here.”
“Everybody’s here.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“What about Brian?”
“He’s not coming. He’s over to his girlfriend’s. Said they’d come by later for dessert.”
“Good,” Ruby said. “Get everybody around the table and let’s say grace.”
Somebody snapped off the television and someone else yelled down to the children in the basement, who came stomping up the stairs like a heard of animals. The family stood two deep around the table and some in the kitchen doorway, in the front room and down the hall.
“Lord,” Clyde said and all heads bowed. “Thank you for the many blessings we are about to receive. Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and thank you for all the friends and family who have joined us here today to celebrate your many blessings. We ask that you hold our dear Will in your arms since he can’t be here with us this holiday season. Let us have a moment of silence as we remember Will
and the joy he brought to our family.”
Ruby put her arm around Virginia’s shoulders and hugged her.
“In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”
“Amen,” everyone echoed low.
Virginia touched a dishrag to her eyes and slipped back into the kitchen.
“Let’s eat!” Clyde said.
Men positioned themselves on the needlepoint seats of the cherry Hitchcock chairs around the table. “Get on in here with us, Kerry,” one uncle said.
Don’t do it, Shannon thought.
“Come on,” the table urged. “Sit down here with us men.” Everyone stopped to see what he would do. Kerry hesitated. Shannon shrugged as if it didn’t matter to her.
“She’s testing you, boy.”
“Shannon thinks she ought to get to eat with the men. Ain’t that right, Shannon?”
“No,” she said. “I think everyone should eat together.”
“Oh, Lord, here she goes again. Pass the beans.”
“Shannon, give it up,” Patsy said as she came from the kitchen with a tray of dinner rolls. She flipped bread off onto the men’s plates, acting as if she would intentionally scorch them. They flinched away. “Don’t let me burn you,” she said. To Shannon she said, “You can complain till you’re blue in the face and nothing’s going to change.”
Kerry put his hand up and said, “Thanks, but I’ll eat later.”
“Go on then, boy,” Clyde said.
“You going to eat with the women or maybe the kids in the other room?” The men coughed and laughed.
“Now you lay off the boy,” Patsy said. “Go on and you two get a plate.”
“We’ll wait,” Shannon said.
Attention turned to the ham and turkey when they arrived.
“Who made the ham?”
“Virginia did.”
“I want the biggest piece if Virginia made it.”
Patsy yelled toward the kitchen. “Virginia, they’re fighting over your ham in here.”
Wayne got up from the front room and came to the table. Shannon squeezed past the chattering men and into the kitchen. Ice clinked into glasses. Some women served. Others made plates for children who would be eating on cardtables and TV trays in the den. Shannon pulled Kerry through the hot kitchen.
“I can’t wait to find out who shot J.R.” Lovey said loudly. “You know it was that floozy…”
They stepped onto the back porch and Shannon cranked open a jalousie window.
“Look at those big fat snowflakes,” she said. “Grab our coats. Let’s go out to the barn. Grandma said we have kittens.”
Kerry held Shannon’s jacket out so she could slip into it. “Did I pass the test?” he asked.
Shannon grinned. “Most of the women in my family work at the factory just like the men, but then they have to keep the house and cook the food and do the laundry and take care of the kids. They work for days to get the meals ready at holidays and then the men get to eat off the china while the women wait on them. Then they go watch TV while the women eat the leftovers and clean up. Do you think that’s right?”
“That is kind of weird. We don’t do it that way in my family. But I guess the women still do all the cooking. And most of the stuff with the kids, too.”
“Come on. Forget about it. Let’s go to the barn.”
They stepped outside. At first, Shannon thought the snow was soundless, but when her ears adjusted she found the fat, wet snowflakes were whispering hush, hush as they touched the carpet of white. Inside the barn, Shannon flipped on the anemic lights, their faint beams lost in dark corners. Cats streaked into the corn crib.
“Grandma said they’re in the first stall.” She took a flashlight from a nail by the feed bin. Kerry raised the wooden arm that locked the empty stall. The mother cat’s eyes were wild and bright in the flashlight. The animal laid back her ears and hissed forcefully, showing a healthy set of fangs.
“She means business,” Kerry said. “Will she let you get her kittens?”
“She won’t jump you. Scat cat!” The cat growled, made a high-pitched cry and then sulked away. Shannon gently moved hay to reveal four little faces, eyes wide and desperate. The mother cat slinked against a wall. A stippled kitten dangled from her mouth, paralyzed by his mother’s hold.
“Since we know where they are she’ll probably move them tonight,” Shannon said. She reached into the hay and lifted a striped kitten from the warm pile and held it inside her jacket. “They’re so sweet. I love kittens. Momma won’t let me take one home though.”
“I like the little red one,” Kerry said. All four kittens mewed, tiny voices crying out for comfort. Shannon gathered them into her lap and they stopped crying when they touched. “Don’t worry. We won’t hurt your babies,” Shannon said to the worried mother.
“Think I need a cat? I was going to get a dog when I move into Papaw’s place, but I could probably use a cat too. If you want to pick one out, I’ll take it.”
“Better claim one now. Grandpa won’t let them get much bigger. He’ll put them in a feed sack and drown them in the creek.”
“That’s awful.”
“He always does. He won’t spend money to get the females fixed. Sometimes she walks around crying for days after her kittens are gone. It’s so sad.” Shannon placed the kittens gently into the hay. “Okay, momma cat. They’re all yours.”
They shut the barn door and struggled against the snow on their way to the house.
“We got at least ten inches,” Kerry said. “That’s some kind of record for Thanksgiving, I bet.”
They knocked their boots against the steps. A wave of sour cigarette smell wafted over them when they opened the door. Women sat around the kitchen and dining room tables, their animated conversations flowing. The UK game was over and the men had started playing Rook, scattered about, four to a table or coffee table. A haze of laughter and smoke filled the house.
“Better get on in here or there won’t be no food left,” Virginia said.
Kerry piled his plate with oyster casserole, mashed potatoes, dressed bananas, green beans, baked country ham, turkey, dressing and gravy, and bright green gelatin salad topped with sour cream, yellow cheese, and tiny colorful marshmallows.
“What’s wrong Shannon? You not hungry?”
“Not really.” She put small helpings of corn and ham on her plate. “Besides, we still have to go to Marcia Sue’s,” she said, planting the seed for their departure. After Kerry had finished off a piece of Kentucky bourbon pie and Shannon had pushed her food around, they grabbed their coats and said good-byes while the truck heated.
“We’re leaving, Grandpa,” Shannon said into the den.
“You get enough to eat there, Kerry?” Clyde said. “Don’t want you to leave here hungry.”
“Yes, sir.” Kerry rubbed his belly. “But I ain’t finished yet. We still got to go to my sister’s.”
“You got good tires on that truck?” Clyde asked.
“Yes, sir. Chains in the back. I’m a good driver in the snow.”
Flakes fell straight down and covered the vehicles and buildings like a fuzzy chenille bedspread. Cold numbed Shannon’s neck and ears. The snow groaned as it packed under their boots. The sky rumbled.
“Snow thunder,” Shannon said.
“Dang, man,” Kerry said pulling his jacket around his ears. “Bet I have to go break the ice on the pond for the cows in the morning.”
Shannon slid in the driver’s side next to Kerry. As they pulled out he said, “You better scoot over and put on your seatbelt. I got to get up some speed to pull this hill.”
The truck fishtailed at the top, but Kerry kept it in the road. “It’s slick. Want to stop at the high school and do donuts in the parking lot?”
“Sure.”
Kerry concentrated on the road while Shannon sat mesmerized by the fat flakes that curved down into the headlights and flowed up over the windshield. The white spots against the dark night came at them in a relentless flow, o
ver and over the hood, intense and captivating.
“Stop!” Shannon cried.
“What?”
“Stop. Pull over. I’m sick.”
Kerry slowed, but before they came to a complete stop Shannon opened the door and leaned over like she was going to puke, but the wave of nausea passed.
“You all right?”
She wiped hard at her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“It was the snow coming at the headlights. It made me sick.”
Wind swept the cab. Shannon held her hands to her face and made a high-pitched wail.
“It’s Will,” she finally said. “I miss Will.”
“I’m sorry. Come here.” He gathered her into his arms.
“It’s not fair!” She pulled away. “I used to get so mad at Will because he’d sit at the table with the men and have the breadbasket right beside him and he’d shake it at me and say, ‘Shannon, honey, could you pass the rolls around like a good girl?’ He thought he was so funny.”
“Sounds like Will.”
“I just want to scream and scream and scream because everything is wrong.”
“Go ahead, then,” he said. “Do it. Scream your head off.”
The truck purred, idling on the lonely road. Shannon stared at him and wondered what he would do if she did scream, at the top of her lungs, right in his face. The thought made her smile. She pulled the door shut and said, “I’m okay. Let’s go.”
“Where you want to go?”
“Let’s go to your house on the hill.”
“It’ll be cold.”
“You’ve got firewood, don’t you?”
“Sure. Lots. I’ve got a couple of sleeping bags we can wrap up in.”
“Great. I just don’t feel like being around anybody else right now.”
Kerry insisted Shannon stay in the truck while he lit the fire, but she said no. He closed off the doors to the other rooms. His sister had bought him a couple of chairs at a yard sale and he pulled the chairs closer to the fire and draped the sleeping bags over each. They wrapped up and held their feet close to the fire until they could no longer see their breath.
“Feel better?”
Calling Home Page 21
