Petting Them: An Anthology of Claw-ver Tails

by Tate James

  “Hey, I’m not finished with you.” She jogged to catch up to me. “I love you, Frankie. I get that this sucks for you. Stop trying to make it easier on us. That’s our fucking job, for chrissakes.”

  “Okay, fine. Then you’ve got to do something for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Stop fucking swearing so much. You’re going to make my mother faint if she hears it.”

  She pursed her lips and gave me a long look, then exhaled slowly. “No can do, Frankie. But I will say as little as possible to your parents…We can call it a wash.”

  I choked on my laughter. “God. What’m I gonna do with you?”

  “Oh, honey,” she murmured as she pressed herself against my side. “You know I get horny when you slip into your ‘southern belle’ accent.”

  “Stop humping Frankie and get in the car,” Amy sighed. “I can’t take you two anywhere.”

  I caught sight of my grin in the mirror as I buckled up. They’d done it again, made me forget how much pain I was in for a few minutes. Nothing more was said as Amy followed the nav system to the address I’d punched in. We’d decided I should drive the last leg, but as we got close, the shaking in my hands only worsened with each mile. Finally, Amy suggested she finish the trip, so I’d have time to think.

  Mom and Dad were waiting on the front porch by the time I climbed out of the car. Mom was a wreck, but no one but those who knew her best would’ve been able to tell. Even after what must have been two days of crying, not a hair was out of place.

  But Mom never fidgeted unless things were really bad, and when we hugged, her eyes were tight and red-rimmed. And yet, she was still the consummate hostess.

  “How was y’alls trip, ladies?” Her sweet accent just about made Amy and Kate fall over themselves to get her to keep talking. They walked into the house together, Mom chatting up my friends like she’d known them both all their lives.

  Dad hung back with me, stopping to pinch deadheads off the honeysuckle that grew by the door. “Your friends seem nice, Pigeon. Sure was sweet of them to come with you.”

  “They are nice. They’ve also been ragging on me to introduce them to my parents for years, so this was as much an excuse as a mental health intervention.”

  “They comin’ to the funeral? Your mom did it up. So, you know it’s gonna be real nice.”

  I nodded and let him take my hand. “What time do we need to be at the church? I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, but work…”

  “It wasn’t like you could plan for Blue to take on like she did. Stubborn old woman never did take to doctors.”

  There I was, smiling again. “You going soft now for her? Not three weeks ago you called her a cantankerous alley cat.”

  “Well, tomorrow, when we’re remembering her each our own way, I’ll tell you a few stories. But today is for your mom, and for Blue’s sisters. Got to watch my mouth for a tick.” He pulled me against his side and kissed my temple, his arm around my shoulders. “Funeral’s at two, I gotta get your mom there at one. Supper’s here, so you make sure your friends get settled in and ready to eat some real southern food.”

  And eat we would. I’d never been touched this closely by death, but it had passed near enough for me to know that the procession of food wouldn’t stop until there was no fridge, counter, or icebox space left for casserole dishes and pie plates.

  Kate called my name from upstairs and I took the steps two at a time. “I’m here, I’m here. You caught me as I was about to sneak into the kitchen for a snack.” I took the wad of black fabric she held out to me and headed into my childhood bedroom, still painted yellow and pink, my track ribbons and soccer trophies still on the shelf above my dresser.

  I changed quickly and joined the others in the front hall as Mom gave them directions to the church. “Hey guys, do you mind if I go early with my parents?”

  “We’ll follow behind you, see if there’s anything we can do to pitch in.” My mother threw an arm around each of them and hugged them.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed behind my mom’s back. Amy winked, and Kate pretended my mother’s affection hadn’t touched her.

  A male voice called out from the kitchen and Mom scurried off to meet them, leaving us alone at the bottom of the ‘grand stair’, as Mammie Blue had called the sweeping staircase that led upstairs.

  “Frankie, how the heck did you make that dress look so good?” I glanced down at the narrow rows of ruffles that ran from the high neck to the waist of the dress.

  “I look twelve.”

  “You look like how we think all southern belles are supposed to look.”

  “Ultra-feminine,” Amy agreed, “and untouched.”

  “Virginal black, who’d have thunk.” I rolled my eyes at them as they snickered. Kate, a headhunter with our firm who was known for her stark wardrobe of black suits and white button downs, was wearing her usual pantsuit with a silky onyx shell underneath. Amy wore a bodycon LBD with a duster length black cashmere cardigan over it. “You both look stunning. Thanks again for going to a stranger’s funeral with me.”

  “No, seriously. How the hell can you look so good in that dress?” Kate pushed her lips into a pout.

  “Uh, ladies, when y’all are finished with your funeral fashion show, I’d like to know where y’all want this.”

  I spun around and stared straight into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. “Who the hell are you, and who crapped in your crawdads?”

  His eyes widened. “I’m the guy who was asked to make something to honor Ms. Jackson. Who the hell are you?”

  “This is my home.”

  He cleared his throat and handed me a large oval object wrapped in burlap. “Then, Miss Bonhomme, I guess you can take this.” He turned away before I could say anything more, but I saw his body tense as Deputy Dolan, the man who had tormented my mother and I throughout my youth, exit the kitchen and head straight for us.”

  “Damn, LeBlanc, I didn’t think you were stupid enough to come into town these days.”

  “Sheriff.” His voice was a growl. “I thought your campaign promise was to be the face of the new, compassionate sheriff’s department. People are in mourning here.”

  Kate scoffed softly at his sudden concern for our feelings, but I touched her arm and she went quiet.

  “So, it’s sheriff now, is it?” I asked, stepping between the men and holding my wrapped parcel like a shield in front of me. “Last I saw you, you were telling me what a shame it was that I didn’t get more of my daddy’s ‘white’, instead of my momma’s ‘chink’. How the straight fuck did they let you become the boss?”

  The man behind me gasped and I would’ve sworn on a stack of bibles he legitimately growled, like a predator would. “Of course he did.” He pushed past me and stood toe to toe with sheriff Dolan. “Maybe you ought to go on to the church, Sheriff. You know how the public like to see a man in uniform honoring the common folk.”

  Dolan curled up his lip in disgust but strode out without another word. LeBlanc, since that seemed to be his name, sighed and followed close behind, leaving the three of us staring at each other in confusion.

  “Well, open it,” Kate finally hissed. “Let’s see what this LeBlanc guy brought to honor Mammie Blue.”

  It was large enough to be cumbersome, maybe two feet across and two and a half tall. We moved into the parlor and I unwrapped it on the table, Kate bracing it upright as I unwound the cloth.

  “Oh my God. That looks just like her picture,” Amy breathed.

  Kate held it so I could see it better. It was a carved wooden cameo, almost life-sized, of Blue. She wasn’t young, but not so very old as I remembered her. With fine lines on her face that would one day become the silken soft wrinkles I’d traced with little pudgy fingers, once upon a time.

  Amy sighed. “Well. He’s a jerk, but I’ll be damned if that isn’t the finest carving I’ve ever seen.”

  “It looks like she’s about to turn and look straight at you, it’s so lifelike.”
<
br />   I had to agree with them both. And he’d been so angry when I called out the sheriff for being in my home. It made me wonder what kind of man had the kind of heart needed to create something so beautiful, but could still carry such a chip on his shoulder.

  “Certainly, he is a handsome one Could be trouble.” I could almost hear Mammie’s voice in my head, the way she’d wink at me about any boy she could see I liked.

  “He certainly is, Mammie,” I whispered to the cameo as my vision blurred. “Definitely trouble, if I was ever going to see him again.”

  3

  Two days had passed since Mammie’s funeral. It was beautiful, and quite frankly, over too fast. I didn’t know how to say goodbye, when I’d been so terrible about keeping in touch after I’d left Louisiana for New York.

  The house was full of well-wishers at all hours, people coming to pay their respects to the remaining ‘Jackson girls’. But there I failed again. When I was a kid, they’d been busy raising their own families. There had been scant time for visits outside of holidays, and those passed quickly, adults mostly ignored by us children.

  By the beginning of day three, I didn’t know what to do with myself. The ladies of the town were like a fine-tuned engine, neither needing or wanting the assistance of three northern gals. Worse, they said it in a way that suggested they both felt sorry for us for not knowing how to help a family drown their grief in etouffee, and they were embarrassed by our lack of southern hospitality.

  “They think we’re idiots because we haven’t seen enough death, right?” Amy muttered at me as we hand-washed an entire sink-full of dishes that wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher.

  “Yup. I don’t think we were going to win this one no matter what. Either we’re just dumb kids because we don’t have husbands and children, or we’re dumb northerners, even though none of us was born north of the Carolina’s.” Kate scoffed as she leaned against the counter, watching us work. Kate had never washed or dried a dish in her life. The death of a stranger wasn’t about to lower her to menial labor.

  I threw down my damp dish towel. “It’s like they’ve erased me from my own dumb hick family. I should be grateful, but I’m just pissed off. This is my mom and dad they’re pretending I don’t belong to. I wouldn’t mind so much if it were my drunk, survivalist uncle.”

  “Dad’s side, huh?” Kate glanced around and lowered her voice.

  “My uncle Jian.”

  Kate sputtered and Amy laughed. “Oh, I can just imagine. I have some family who came here thinking that was what being American meant. They have a bunker now and everything.”

  I snickered and covered it with a cough as Ms. Dutchy glanced into the kitchen, a severe scowl on her face. “Ya’ll take so long with those dishes, I can tell you don’t do much around the house.”

  “You have three maids and from what I’ve heard, you’ve never even cooked a meal for your own family, Eliza Dutchy.” My mother’s voice floated in from the dining room. “Leave the girls be. They came all this way to help, and it wasn’t even their family that passed.”

  Her face flushed crimson and Ms. Dutchy fled as Kate lifted her mint julep glass to my mother. “I love her. There’s absolutely no question where you come from.”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “Sometimes I wish I was more like my dad. You know, quiet and kind. But I hate bullies, and so does Mom. I can’t stop sticking up for people just because I might have to raise my voice.”

  “Let’s get out of here.” Amy placed the last sparkling plate in the drying rack. “Yesterday Kate and I found this hole in the wall, straight out of a movie, dive bar. I can’t imagine you’ve ever been there. Let us show you a little of your hometown.”

  I hung mom’s apron on the hook inside the pantry door and followed Kate and Amy out to the car without saying goodbye to anyone. They had told us they didn’t need us, and I’d rather take them at their word, then give them time to think of more housework for us. Especially since they assumed we’d all share the work. I love Kate, but that was never going to happen.

  They headed across the bridge and to the outskirts of town, to a wooden building with ‘My Ex-wife’s Place’ blinking in neon over the door.

  “Classy, ladies. Why am I not surprised you found this place?”

  “We weren’t sure you’d know it. The owner talked to us last night, and she knew your parents in passing, but not you.”

  “I’ve never actually been inside, that’s for sure. Dad probably played pool here when he was younger.” I imagined him bent over the table, measuring his shots, Mom making sure he didn’t drink enough to lose his edge. “It was Mel’s, back then.”

  “So, Mel retired?” Kate held up three fingers at the bartender.

  “Divorced,” I mumbled around a handful of beer nuts. “Emily’s the owner still, right?” They both nodded. “She’s the ex, mentioned in the sign.”

  Kate crowed. “Oh, my God. I love this place now.”

  We took our drinks to a table in an almost quiet corner, where we could watch the pool tables and wait for an opening.

  “Oh shit. We finally get to watch you play in your natural habitat,” Amy giggled.

  I hadn’t played pool in months, not since Amy’s boyfriend had coaxed me into hustling his brother and best friend. It’d been fun, until the guys got in their feelings about being beaten by a girl.

  Our waitress came by and deposited three more bottles, adding our empties to her tray. “From the guys at table three,” she explained, sashaying away in the direction she’d pointed.

  I followed her with my eyes, all the way across the room, where the guys from table three were watching us. I didn’t immediately recognize the first two, but the third made the smile drop off my face. Goddamn it. Mr, LeBlanc, in the flesh.

  “Hey, isn’t that hot guy sitting with the rude sexy carpenter who dissed us?” Kate leaned forward, and the one at the table watching us grinned, probably at the amount of cleavage that her maneuver revealed.

  “Yeah, that’s LeBlanc. We should take the drinks back.” I sighed and set down my beer. We don’t need him feeling entitled to anything from us.”

  Kate mumbled something unintelligible that sounded like, “Speak for yourself.” But when I shot her a dirty look, she just shrugged.

  “Table’s open,” Amy whispered, nudging me.

  I jumped up and cracked my knuckles. “All right, it’s on.” I took my beer over to the table where the hot guy with long, dark curls watched us while his friends pretended that they hadn’t even seen us yet. I walked around and placed myself right in front of LeBlanc. “Thanks for the beer/”

  Dark curls spoke up. “You’re welcome.” He grinned at us and let me see him look me over. “I don’t recognize you. Thought you might be new in town, could use some hospitality.”

  “Shit,” the third guy finally spoke up, and as soon as he did I remembered him. “She’s not new. This is Frankie Bonhomme, prettiest girl to ever graduate Robert E. Lee High School.”

  “Carter White, as I live and breathe.” I gave my old classmate a big hug. “When did you get so damn tall?”

  “College,” he shrugged. “I guess I probably look a little different, huh.”

  “Well, aside from the extra three inches in height, the extra six in biceps muscle, and the sexy beard…nope, you look exactly the same.”

  He laughed and Kate cleared her throat behind us. “Sorry. These are my best friends, Kate and Amy.”

  “I’m Adam,” our benefactor waved from across the table.

  “Yankies,” LeBlanc sniffed.

  “Carpenters,” Amy drawled.

  The unnamed guy who’d bought us beers chuckled. “What the hell did you do to piss these pretty ladies off, Cash?”

  Cash LeBlanc. I knew the name but couldn’t place it for a moment. “Wait just a goddamned minute. You graduated a couple of years ahead of me, so I never knew you…But didn’t your pops and mine team up for a bit?”

  “Yeah, they did. Your mom used to co
me round the house and help mine when they went out.”

  “She never brought me with her.”

  LeBlanc glanced at his friends then back at me. “She had, uh, RA. Sorry, rheumatoid arthritis. It was hard for her to get around, and they always demanded I be in sports and stuff, so…”

  “Huh. I’m glad to have met you, then. You make a shitty first impression, though. Has anyone ever told you?”

  Adam laughed so hard I thought he was going to fall out of his chair. “Woman, you are all right,” he wheezed. “And to answer your question, it may have come up a few times.”

  “Every time,” Carter interjected, prompting another round of laughter from Adam.

  I caught a biker eying the now empty pool table and tugged on Kate’s sleeve.” Well, it was nice to see you, Carter, and nice to meet you, Adam. We gotta move or we’re going o lose out on a pool table.”

  Cash’s eyebrows went up, but he said nothing, and I didn’t encourage him to change his mind. His dad had always been kind to me, but the son was nothing like the father. I couldn’t tell what rankled more, that he was a jerk to me, or that I still wanted to have those icy eyes on me anyway.

  Best leave that one be, as Blue always said, I thought to myself as I peeled off my jacket and browsed through the cues for the straightest ones. Amy and Kate were still learning to play, but I’d been handling a cue since my daddy bought me a half-sized one for the table in his den. I’d even made some money hustling frat boys in college. But one night, I’d hustled the wrong guy, and he’d scared me straight. Now I barely had time to play, and I hoped Cash LeBlanc and his friends found something more interesting to watch than my rusty game.

  I racked and Amy broke, sinking the nine ball. “Stripes,” she called out.

  “Hey, at least you can say you sunk one before Frankie finished the game,” Kate replied in a saccharine voice.

  Amy shot her a look over her beer and waited for me to finish dropping solid balls into pockets. It was just supposed to be a fun game, so I left anything that required strategy, and sat after only sinking four balls.