“To be free,” Myra said.
“I was the wind beneath his wings!” Courtney sang sarcastically. “And next thing you know damn if he didn’t fly off.” Then she laughed her fabulous laugh and Truely and Myra laughed with her. They couldn’t help it.
“Courtney keep the sense of humor,” Myra said.
“God bless her,” Truely said.
“So we can spend a couple of nights here with you, True?” Courtney asked. “Maybe you could wine and dine Myra and me a little. Lord knows, we need it.” He studied Courtney’s expression the best he could without being obvious, but saw no real warning signs of high distress or anguish.
“Sorry, ladies. I’m driving down to San Diego tomorrow,” he said. “Taking Shauna’s dogs — whom you just met — down to her mother’s house. You guys can have the place all to yourselves. Knock yourselves out.”
“We’ll have a pajama party, Myra,” Courtney said.
“I need some dinner,” Myra said. “That’s what I need.”
TRUELY TOOK THEM DOWNTOWN to dinner at Scala’s, one of Courtney’s favorite spots. It was there that she announced, “I want to go with you tomorrow, True. Okay? I’d love to meet Shauna’s mother. I could help you with the dogs.”
“What about Myra?” he asked.
“I stay at your place,” she said. “Maybe I call Lola to come too. We make a little vacation.”
“Perfect,” Courtney said.
“Also we clean your place a little too.”
“No need,” Truely said. “The place is clean. It’s fine, really. You guys just relax and have fun.”
“First we clean,” Myra said. “Then maybe we relax. Your apartment get away from you. You a bachelor now. A bachelor always think his house is clean. It’s like bachelors — they go blind.”
“If it makes you happy, Myra, you can paint the damn place,” Truely teased.
They ordered more food than any three people could eat. It was a habit Truely had acquired since his divorce to always order more food than necessary so there would be some to take home and eat the next day or two. Now at least Myra would have sustenance if she wanted it. If she disapproved of the dust in his apartment he expected her to doubly disapprove of the meager contents of his refrigerator and his basically bare cabinets. He didn’t actually keep a stocked kitchen these days. He didn’t get that much drop-in company.
They ordered a second bottle of wine and drank just enough to keep them away from the subject at hand. Hastings had told Courtney he was moving out, that when she got back home on Monday morning he would be gone — maybe for good.
Myra was the only one who seemed unafraid to speak Hastings’ name. “Mr. Hastings come back to his senses after while,” she said. “I tell Courtney, Mens, they go loco sometimes. He just scared he getting too old.”
Courtney didn’t respond, but Truely thought he saw a pained expression move across her Botoxed eyes.
WHEN THEY GOT HOME Truely dug into his linen closet for some clean sheets for his bed. It took him a few minutes to find a matching top and bottom, which he knew in this instance might matter. His sheets had seen better days. “I remember these,” Courtney said. “See?” She pointed out the monogram, TJN. “I gave you and Jess these for your wedding. Remember?” Truely cringed. How old were these damn sheets anyway? Why hadn’t he ever thrown them out? After Jess left, taking with her whatever she wanted, he had just kept the rest without even paying attention to what it was.
“We need to go shopping, True-baby.”
“If you’re looking for a project, big sister, I ain’t it.”
“You’re giving me an idea.” She laughed. “A woman in my fragile state of transition needs the distraction of a project.”
“Just don’t get any ideas that concern me,” Truely said. “I mean it, Court. Besides these are just for sleeping — in the dark, with the lights off. Doesn’t matter what they look like. Right? We’re not making a statement here.”
“Of course you are,” Courtney said.
“Courtney believe everything make a statement,” Myra said. “Give me them sheets and let me get this bed fixed. I’m tired. I never stay up this late no more.”
Courtney and Myra slept in Truely’s king-sized bed on his shabby monogrammed sheets with a worn but well-loved quilt his mother had made him. He bunked on the sofa with another set of his frayed mismatched sheets and a faded old blanket. When did everything get so ragged? He hadn’t really noticed before Courtney and Myra showed up unexpectedly and more or less pointed it out. It wasn’t that it embarrassed him. It was that his failure to notice was annoying.
THE DOGS WERE QUIET until the sun came up. The minute day broke they seemed to sense the journey at hand. He and Shauna had made this same trip with Foxie and Fred many times before. They had their rituals now, dog biscuits as needed, favorite stops along the way for water and running around. Leisurely travel was the only option. No hurry was possible. That was one of the good things about traveling with dogs. It was almost easy to load them into their crates in the backseat of his car. Foxie was actually whining with excitement the way she used to when Shauna was around.
Myra saw them off, saying, “As soon as you two get on your way, and out of my way, I’m gon to take this kitchen apart.”
Oh shit, Truely thought.
TRUELY COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time he’d made a car trip with his sister. Nearest thing he could recall was one of their rare so-called family vacations years ago, when they had set out in the overpacked station wagon with their there’s-no-place-like-home parents to visit a distant cousin over in Meridian or down in Phenix City, Alabama, or best of all, their cool bachelor uncle who lived in a beach condo down in Panama City, Florida.
Courtney was a surprise. She seemed to really enjoy the dogs, rationing out their biscuits and chewy treats, talking to them, sensing when one of them needed a bathroom break. She was patient and relaxed, ready to stop a dozen times for dog reasons real and imagined. She got Truely and herself bottled vitamin waters or cranberry juices while he walked laps in the grass with the dogs. Twice she got hamburgers and fed the meat to the dogs, making them friends for life. Truely didn’t tell her that Shauna would not approve.
They were several hundred miles into the trip when Truely realized that Courtney didn’t seem to want to dissect her relationship with Hastings, which was what he had expected. They hadn’t avoided the subject altogether. She had shared a few details with him. “Hastings is seeing a therapist,” she said. “It was Meghan’s idea evidently.”
“I’m surprised,” Truely said. “Hastings has never seemed like the therapy type.”
“Well, it’s not an ordinary secular counselor, True. He’s seeing a Christian therapist. He’s really well known nationally. He’s written some books and all. He specializes in prayer counseling. They say he doesn’t take that many clients anymore.”
“But he took Hastings. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Hastings is in his permission-seeking phase,” Courtney said.
“His what?”
“I’ve been reading some books. We all seek permission from some real or imagined authority when we set out to make changes in our lives.”
“So these books? They keep you one step ahead of him?”
“Not really. They just help keep me sane. More or less. Like my own do-it-yourself therapy I guess.”
“Does it bother you?”
“That Hastings wants change or that he’s in therapy?”
“Either one.”
“I guess I think if he suddenly believes therapy is the answer, then maybe we should have gone to therapy together before things got to this point. Maybe I should have suggested it.”
“You always do that, Court.”
“What?”
“Take responsibility for Hastings’ behavior — good or bad.”
“I do?”
“You do.”
“Then I need to stop.”
“Yes, you need t
o stop.”
BY THE TIME THEY PULLED into Suleeta’s driveway it was dark. The dogs realized where they were and began to yap and whine. Foxie chased her own tail in circles in her crate, urinating on herself. Courtney struggled to get the leashes on the dogs but they were so frenzied it was impossible. Truely had to take them out one at a time and grip their necks with a near stranglehold while Courtney snapped their leashes on. Suleeta heard the dogs’ frantic barking and came outside. “There they are,” she called out, inciting a near riot. They strained to get to her, jumping at her, barking as if they might bite. Truely had to yank their leashes to keep them from knocking Suleeta down.
“They glad to see me.” Suleeta knelt to embrace the dogs. They sniffed her shoes and the hem of her slacks and began to tremble with recognition. Suleeta bowed her head over them and Truely saw tears in her eyes. The quivering dogs were silent then, licking Suleeta’s face and hands, waiting for her tremor of grief to pass.
“Oh God,” Courtney whispered, watching.
For the rest of the evening the dogs sat at Suleeta’s feet. If she tried to walk across the room for a glass of water they circled her so nervously that she could barely take a step. Before bed Truely volunteered to take them out for a long walk, to help them tire enough to sleep. Suleeta had set out two dog beds in her bedroom, but at this point the dogs were too wound up to even think of sleeping. Truely was actually glad for the excuse to get out into the late-night air, and Foxie and Fred seemed more than willing to go with him. An hour’s walk easily turned into two hours.
When he got back to the house he went in quietly through the kitchen and took the exhausted dogs down the hallway, back to Suleeta’s bedroom, where their new beds awaited them. Truely tried to make them lie down. Minutes later he turned off the light, a signal they understood, and closed the door behind him and they were silent.
Truely walked back to the den, where he found Suleeta and Courtney huddled on the sofa, drinking hot tea, speaking in quiet voices, almost whispers, he thought. He didn’t like it. He looked closer and wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe Courtney was crying. It frightened him a little. “Is everything okay in here?”
“Everything fine,” Suleeta said.
“Courtney?” he asked.
She nodded as if agreeing. Now it was clear that she had been crying.
Truely took a couple of steps in her direction but Suleeta said, “Oh no, True. You go on ahead to bed now. I got Gordo’s room ready for you. Clean sheets on the bed and good towels on his chair. You make yourself at home. Me and your sister, me and Courtney, we just sit up and talk little bit longer. Okay? You go ahead to bed now. You tired after your long drive.”
It was like she was delivering an ultimatum. He resented being sent to bed like a child. When was the last time anyone had told him that it was his bedtime? Even his mother had not bossed him that way.
“Courtney?” he asked.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“You’re sure?”
“We’re having a good talk, True. That’s all.”
He left the room reluctantly. Suleeta was right about one thing, he was tired.
He walked down the hall to Gordo’s bedroom and looked inside. It was just like he remembered it except that Suleeta had put an imposing photo of Gordo on the bedside table. He was wearing his army uniform. His shaggy hair was shaved short and he had what Truely would call a nervous smile. Gordo was a good-looking kid. He was open-faced and clean-cut. Truely turned the photo so it faced the wall. He didn’t think he wanted to sleep with Gordo staring at him all night. He stripped down to his boxers, then remembered the pajamas Shauna had worn last time he was here. He fumbled through a couple of Gordo’s drawers until he found them, folded neatly. Even though he wasn’t a pajama man he stepped into the pajama bottoms and crawled into Gordo’s bed, where the clean sheets awaited him. It was a small gesture, sleeping in something belonging to Gordo. That was all.
THE NEXT MORNING Truely was up before Courtney or Suleeta. It was still cool and dark outside. He decided to go for an early run while they slept. He hadn’t had the best night of rest. He had tossed and turned, looking around Gordo’s room in the dark, almost seeing him there, fooling with his stereo system or getting a clean shirt from his closet. The room even smelled like Gordo — part sneakers and socks, part Obsession cologne that a would-be girlfriend had given him, part stale enchiladas, any number of which had doubtless been eaten there. Truely got dressed in his running gear and turned the photo of Gordo face front again. “Morning, Gord,” he mumbled.
By the time Truely got back from his run Suleeta was in the yard in her housecoat with Foxie and Fred on their leashes. He noticed the dark circles under Suleeta’s puffy eyes. Her face looked drawn, as though maybe she hadn’t slept all night. The dogs were sniffing around the flower beds with great agitation. They must have known on some level that they were home again. On the other hand they must have wondered where Shauna was and whether or not she was ever coming back.
“Morning, Suleeta.” Truely was winded. He needed to walk a while to cool down. “You’re going to have your hands full with those two.”
“They keep me company,” she said. “It’s good.”
When he went in the house he found Courtney dressed and drinking coffee in the kitchen. She had her wet hair tied up in a scarf, no makeup. It occurred to him that she looked clean and young. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said. “What time did you night owls get to bed last night?”
“It was nearly morning before we shut it down, True.”
“Who knew you two would have so much to talk about?”
“I know that makes you nervous, huh?” If she was making fun of him he didn’t much like it.
Truely poured himself some coffee. Suleeta came in the house and took the dogs off their leashes so they could race from one end of the hall to the other. Truely could see that Shauna was right about one thing, the dogs would be good for Suleeta. It was clear they would keep her annoyingly busy and distracted and maybe pleasantly exhausted too. It wouldn’t surprise him if they slept in the bed with her at night and she took to hand-feeding them from her own plate.
Truely showered and dressed and threw their overnight bags in the backseat of the car. Suleeta still had not dressed. Instead she’d made toast and sat feeding small bites to the dogs as they circled the island. Truely thought she seemed unusually distracted. He wondered if it was sadness overtaking her — or fear of being alone in the house again, just the dogs to keep her safe and distracted from her dark thoughts. He and Courtney hugged her good-bye and they were in the car and on the road while dew was still on the grass.
They wove their way through the sparse early traffic over to the San Diego Freeway. Without the dog crates and the nervous dogs in the backseat the car seemed empty. Courtney was unnaturally quiet. He noticed, but thought maybe the late hour the night before had left her wordless and tired.
At one point he did aim to make a little harmless conversation. “What did you and Suleeta talk about so long last night?” he asked. He hoped he didn’t sound curious. He wanted to sound casual.
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Well, no wonder it took so long then.”
Courtney smiled and waved her hand dismissively. She left the music selection to Truely and curled down in her seat as if she were going to sleep. Only she didn’t sleep. Truely saw that her eyes were open where her head rested against the passenger window. She was watching the world go by as he drove along.
He didn’t recognize this mood. He didn’t question it either.
They stopped near La Costa for a late breakfast. Courtney had been to the spa there and knew a home cooking place nearby, where the spa-goers sometimes escaped to eat themselves into a rebellious stupor. The food was good. Courtney was absentmindedly nibbling at her egg white omelet when she asked, “True, how do you feel about the truth?”
“W
hat truth?”
“I mean do you think you’re better off knowing the truth or not having to know it?”
“That depends, I guess.”
“So does that mean you only want to know the truth if it’s good, but not if it’s bad?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Okay, look. There are two ways to look at this. Either a person loves you so much they are compelled to tell you the truth, always. They honor you that way, you know. It’s a show of respect and high regard, right? Or else they love you so much they would go to great lengths to spare you the truth. They want to protect you from having to know anything that might cause you any hurt or pain. That’s love too, right? So, to respect you with the truth or to protect you from the truth — which is it? Which do you think is best?”
“What is this, philosophy 101?”
“Can you just answer the question?”
“I don’t know, Court. I don’t like to go looking for trouble — or causing it either. But do I think people are better off living a lie? Who knows? The thing about lies, you know, is that they don’t last forever. Eventually they wear out. Like a set of retreads — eventually, with enough wear, they just unravel and fly all over the place.”
“That’s downright poetic, True,” Courtney teased.
Truely thought of the lengths he had gone to to hide the truth of Mrs. Seacrest from his mother — and from Courtney too. If they had asked him about it point-blank, he thought, he probably would have looked them in the eye and lied about it. At the time he was sure he would have. Now, he didn’t know. At this point in his life it seemed that lies were of a fragile nature. The ones he told, the ones told to him. Lies had expiration dates — he believed that. It was just a matter of time before they betrayed you. So maybe it would spare everybody a lot of wear and tear just to speak the truth from the beginning and deal with the backlash at the front end. Because the best he could tell, you would deal with it in the end — no matter what.
While Courtney made a run to the ladies’ room, Truely got a paper cup of hot coffee for the road, a couple of newspapers, and paid their bill. They got back in the car where again Courtney half pretended to sleep, with her eyes wide open. Truely ignored her and kept the music going. He played it loud the same as he would do if he were alone and Courtney wasn’t even in the car. Sometimes he sang along too, snapped his fingers, played drums on the steering wheel.
Eat, Drink, and Be From Mississippi Page 18
