Eat, Drink, and Be From Mississippi

by Nanci Kincaid

  “I make it my business,” he said. “I want to know what the man said.”

  Courtney laughed. “Arnold, good heavens.”

  “I know you want to tell us,” Arnold insisted.

  “No, I don’t,” she insisted.

  “Listen at that,” he said to Truely. “Don’t you hate it when a woman lie?”

  They left midway through the fourth quarter because the score was 33–6 and it appeared the Raiders had no chance of making a comeback. Besides Truely wanted to try to beat the traffic. He had what Courtney referred to as traffic issues. He would admit it too. As they exited through the raucous crowd Arnold commented, “Check this out, man. Raiders celebrate better when they lose a damn game than the whiners do when they win one!”

  “They’re not celebrating,” Truely said. “They’re trick-or-treating!”

  COURTNEY WAS QUIET, lost in her own thoughts. On the drive home she barely spoke a word. But the thing that surprised Truely most was her announcement when they got back to the loft that she was going to drive to Saratoga that night. She had never left for home on Sunday night.

  “What about our study time?” Arnold asked. “You skipping out on me?”

  “You said you finished Malcolm X,” she said. “Start a new book on tape.”

  “Never thought you’d be letting me off the hook,” Arnold said. “But I ain’t complaining.”

  “What’s the big hurry?” Truely asked. “What is there that can’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “I just need to check in with Myra. Lola is there for the weekend too. She goes back to school tomorrow. I want to see her before she goes.”

  “Naw,” Arnold said. “This got to do with that Hastings, don’t it?”

  “No,” she said. “I just need to go home and take care of some things.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about. You taking care of Hastings.”

  “Arnold, you have some wild imagination.” Courtney handed him her canvas bag. “Carry this down to the car for me, will you?”

  “You got something up your sleeve.” Arnold took the bag from her. “That’s what my grandmama like to say. You ain’t fooling us.”

  “Church.” Courtney’s voice sounded oddly emotional. “I haven’t been to church in a while. Hastings and Meghan have been going to church nearly every Sunday and taking the boys with them — to my church — our church — Hastings and my church — but they never see me there because I haven’t been going. I’ve been here instead — hanging out with the two of you.”

  “Why don’t you just say so then?”

  “Just for your information — both of you — there is more to Sundays than pro football or fishing,” Courtney said.

  “You can’t go to church until next Sunday, Court — that’s a week away. So how does your driving home tonight address any of this?” Truely asked.

  “Maybe it doesn’t.”

  “You’re feeling guilty because you’ve been missing church? Is that it?”

  “Among other things,” she said.

  Truely walked her down to her car. He wasn’t sure what was bothering Courtney really. He assumed she would talk about it when she was ready — and not before. So for the time being, he let it go.

  THAT NIGHT when Truely and Arnold were camped out as usual, the TV blaring precious little actual news of the war but lots of useless talk, talk, talk about it, Arnold spoke up, interrupting Truely’s train of thought. “Courtney got a lot of secrets,” he said.

  “You think so?” Truely was only half listening.

  “I know so, man. She got me in on a couple of her secrets.”

  “Is that right?”

  “When she told you she took me down to San Jose — remember, she said she had to pick up a chair she got reupholstered, right? She act like she needed me to load it into the car for her, right?”

  “I remember something about that.”

  “You know what else we done?”

  “What?”

  “We went out to Silver Creek golf course out there, right? She drove me by your wife’s house out there.”

  “Just call her Jesse, Arnold. She hasn’t been my wife in a long time.”

  “Right. Sorry. Okay, so we drive down to the clubhouse, where they were just winding up her kid’s birthday party. Jesse, your former wife, I guess she invited Courtney, because she had a present for the kid. She had one for the new baby too. So it wasn’t pure coincidence, us going by there.”

  This caught Truely off guard. So Jesse had had her baby. He’d lost track. And her oldest girl was over three now. That was easy enough to figure out. Courtney hadn’t mentioned to him having seen Jesse or her children. Why would she omit something like that? “Go on,” he said to Arnold.

  “Well, they chat it up, man. Two women, you know. I just say hello and Courtney tell her I’m staying here with you. Then, you know, your wife ask Courtney about her divorce from Hastings and they go off on that subject.”

  “I bet,” Truely said.

  “She got cute kids,” Arnold said. “The baby is happy for being so little. She never hardly cry.”

  Truely was more interested in this than he really wanted to be. “Jesse sends me a Christmas card,” he said. “Usually a picture of her daughter — now it’ll be both her daughters, I guess.”

  “She pretty nice seems like, your wife — I mean Jesse.”

  “How was she?” Why was Truely asking Arnold this? How would Arnold possibly know how Jesse was doing?

  “You mean how do she look? She look pretty good — in a plain kind of way. She sort of pretty I guess.”

  “She’s beautiful, Arnold,” Truely corrected. “I guess you’re too young to see that.”

  “I sort of see that, man,” Arnold said. “But you know, Shauna, she’s good-looking. Nothing plain about Shauna. She fix herself up a little more.”

  “Jesse doesn’t need to fix herself up,” Truely said.

  “Okay then. I didn’t know you still got a thing going on for your wife.”

  “What else?” It was pathetic, his sudden longing for information about Jesse and this life she was living without him.

  “She invited us back over to her house after the birthday party. She got a big house, man. You seen it?”

  “I bought it.” Truely spoke before he could stop himself. Why did he say that? It wasn’t true. Snoop.com bought it for her. Their division of common property bought it for her. She deserved it too. What was wrong with him?

  “What?” Arnold asked.

  “Nothing. Big house, you were saying.”

  “She got a pool. She got rooms everywhere you look. It’s nice.”

  “Not nicer than this place?” he joked. “I know that can’t be right.”

  “You want to hear this or not?” Arnold asked.

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “She asked Courtney lots of questions about you. How’s Truely doing? She know all about Shauna and Pablo. I guess Courtney already told her that story. She say Shauna is a fool — so it’s clear she don’t have a high opinion of Shauna. Then she also said somebody named Melissa — who’s Melissa? — tried to set you up with a new woman, but you didn’t like her.”

  “That’s not true. That’s ridiculous.”

  “I think Courtney and Jesse talk on the phone sometimes or something. It wasn’t like they’re two strangers. On the way home Courtney tells me, ‘No need to mention to Truely that we saw Jesse today. It would only upset him.’ ”

  “She said that?”

  “She said it.”

  “Do I look upset to you? I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “So now, see, she got me keeping one of her secrets.”

  “But you’re not keeping it, are you? Because you’re telling me right now.”

  “Seems like you should know. No secrets between friends, right? Besides you need to know I ain’t the only one around here who don’t tell everything I know. Courtney don’t either.”

  “What is my
sister up to now?” Truely wondered aloud.

  “She got a lot of secrets, man. That’s what I’m telling you.”

  “Women like secrets.” Truely sounded almost bitter. “But I don’t. Not mine. Not hers. Not anybody’s.”

  “Me neither, man. My mama put me to the test on keeping her secrets until I finally had to quit it. She get me arrested trying to keep her secrets. So don’t you tell me nothing you don’t want Courtney to know, because I tell her the truth same as I do you.”

  “Good enough,” Truely said.

  Twenty-three

  IT WOULD BE A LIE to say he was eagerly looking forward to it, but at least he wasn’t actively dreading it. He’d gone to the gym earlier that afternoon, and when he got home Arnold was back from work, hunched over a stack of worksheets Courtney had left him, eating a bowl of cereal, the TV blaring the six o’clock news loud enough for the hard of hearing. Truely showered and dressed in jeans and a clean shirt. He was meeting Lanie at a coffee shop a few blocks away. A cup of coffee seemed pretty harmless.

  On his way out the door he said, “Arnold, when you finish up there how about running the dishwasher, okay? And you got a load of wet towels in the washer. You need to run them though the washer again before you put them in the dryer — otherwise they’ll smell.”

  “I got it,” Arnold said. “Where you going?”

  “Going out for a cup of coffee. Won’t be too long.”

  “Oh,” Arnold said. “With that lady that been calling you?”

  “She called once. And yes. With her.”

  WHEN HE GOT TO THE COFFEE SHOP he found a couple of comfortable upholstered chairs by the front window. It occurred to him he might not remember what Lanie looked like, having only seen her that one time at Jaxon’s house and having been so annoyed at the time he had barely even made eye contact. He picked up a crumpled New York Times somebody had left on the next table and began to scan it. He was absorbed in an article about the opium trade in Afghanistan when he heard his name spoken. He looked up and Lanie was standing there looking at him quizzically. “Is that you?”

  “Afraid so.” He stood up and smiled. She was smaller than he remembered, with medium-length straight brown hair and great skin. She looked like an East Coast woman to him, Ivy League maybe, but he couldn’t say why for sure. Her energy maybe. She appeared to be a woman who managed to get a lot done every day — a quiet, go-getter type. Californians got things done too, but they just weren’t in the same hurry to do it. He imagined himself jotted down on Lanie’s to-do list. Have coffee with that guy, Truely Noonan. See if he has rehabbed himself at all.

  “I’m glad you could come,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “Not every day a guy gets a do-over.”

  They ordered coffee. She drank regular coffee, medium. For some reason he liked that. In the chic San Francisco coffee culture, which had established an entire pretentious language for ordering something as simple as a cup of coffee, she simply wanted a regular, medium. Right off the bat that seemed pretty promising to Truely.

  Lanie seemed relaxed which helped him relax too. She also seemed more devoted to being interested in him than in trying to be interesting herself. And yet, clearly she was interesting. She told him she had had a sister who died of a rare blood disease when she was a child. The death of her sister had left Lanie an only child — one who went to sleep every night with her dead sister’s empty bed beside her own. She had had fabulous parents, she said. Nobody in the world ever had better parents. They lived in Phoenix now, retired. She loved them like crazy, she said. She had chosen to work in the medical world because of her sister — but she had never wanted to be a doctor or a nurse, so she made her contribution to the world of children’s health with an MBA instead, raising big money for specific medical institutions and causes. It had evolved into a highly lucrative career — and yet, unlike so many people who had made good money, she said, she never felt she had sold out.

  While they talked Truely began to unwind in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He liked Lanie just enough to open up a little and answer the questions she asked. She wasn’t trying to probe. She was just being a pleasant, thoughtful conversationalist. He sensed this and so he trusted her with some of the shabby details of his personal story. She knew his professional story already, partly from Jaxon and Melissa, but also because she had Googled him — which she readily admitted. Why hadn’t he Googled her? It never even occurred to him. He wondered if she would be offended to know he hadn’t bothered to Google her. Was going un-Googled an insult these days? He guessed that was another aspect of the new world of singles he found himself awkwardly navigating — or not navigating. It ranked right up there with ordering a cup of coffee using a string of five or six prescribed adjectives. When he wasn’t looking, dating as he had once known it had become a far more elaborate game with a whole set of new rules — and he didn’t really know what those rules were anymore. The whole prospect just made him feel tired. Besides, for all he really knew Lanie might just be working him for a sizable donation to the medical foundation she represented. And if she was — he would be happy to make one too. He could use the clarification.

  The thing about Lanie that almost made him nervous was that she reminded him just slightly of Jesse. Not her looks, really. It was more that she had that same zeal to do good. That drive to leave her corner of the world a better place than she found it. He was attracted to people like that. Always had been.

  Almost two hours to the minute after arriving at the coffee shop, Lanie began to check her watch, put on her sweater, gather her keys and sunglasses. She fished her wallet out of her purse. “I’ll get this,” she insisted. “My treat.”

  Back in Mississippi his daddy had taught him that a man never let a lady pay — and he had started out sharing that sentiment. But this was California. Sometimes here, the woman who issued the invitation picked up the tab. So he didn’t argue.

  Before they parted ways, Lanie said, “Thanks for coming. You’re a nice guy, Truely. Nice guys — well.” She didn’t finish her sentence. “This was fun,” she said, “but I won’t be calling you again. The ball is in your court now — or not. But don’t worry. Either way, I’m fine with it.”

  What? Was she issuing him a disclaimer? Either you do or you don’t, she was saying — either way you don’t have the power to hurt or disappoint me. I won’t let you.

  “I understand.” He helped her with her jacket and kissed her cheek. He didn’t say I’ll call you — he had no idea whether or not he ever would. “You take care,” he said instead.

  She waved as she left to walk to her car. He didn’t see her to her car. It was clear she didn’t expect him to. Instead he walked to a nearby Subway and bought a couple of sandwiches for a late supper for Arnold and himself, then headed home. His plan was to Google Lanie Brokaw first chance he got.

  But when he arrived back at the loft he had a surprise waiting. Arnold had strung what Truely would later determine to be fishing line from several beams in the loft and he had pinned up, with old-fashioned wooden clothespins, white bedsheets which hung like a homemade tent apparatus in one center section of the loft. It took Truely a few seconds to comprehend what he was seeing.

  “What you think?” Arnold asked him. “You like it?”

  “What the hell is it?” Truely asked.

  “I made myself a little room. For privacy. I wanted to hang blankets, so you couldn’t see through so easy, but I didn’t have no heavy enough rope. But this is pretty good. Now you don’t have to be looking at me every minute. I can go in my room and sort of leave you alone.”

  “And vice versa, no doubt,” Truely said. He didn’t know whether to laugh or be irritated. “Good thing Shauna’s not here,” he found himself saying. “She would have a fit. She always says the space tells you what it needs — but I doubt she would believe it told you it needed sheets hanging everywhere.”

  “It like walls,” Arnold defended himself. “Only temporary.
”

  “I get it,” Truely said.

  “Look.” Arnold demonstrated. “You can pull this one over, like this” — he gave it a gentle yank — “and it will open for watching TV and whatnot. But when I sleep, then” — he yanked it back — “I can close it up. See?”

  “Genius,” Truely said sarcastically.

  “Courtney will hate it too, right?”

  “Definitely.”

  “But she don’t actually live here, right?”

  “Technically speaking — no.”

  “And I do.”

  Truely half laughed. “It does seem that way.”

  “So you don’t care then?”

  “I’ll reserve judgment,” Truely said. “Let’s go with it for tonight and see what we think in the morning. But I have to tell you right off the bat I’m not crazy about a circus tent in the middle of my house.”

  “Maybe you get used to it,” Arnold suggested.

  “You hungry?” Truely slung the Subway sack on the kitchen counter. “I brought some supper.”

  Arnold went to the kitchen to investigate. “So how was your coffee?”

  “Fine.”

  “You like that lady?”

  “She’s nice.”

  ARNOLD HAD FALLEN ASLEEP ensconced in his makeshift tent, listening to an audiobook. Truely was drifting off with the TV still blabbing away — a habit hard for him to break. It was his longing for the human voice coupled with his innate ability not to listen that made this such an excellent sleep-inducing technique. He was almost asleep when the phone rang. Not his cell — or Arnold’s. But the house telephone, which rarely ever rang. He untangled himself from the bedsheets and went to get the phone. “Truely Noonan,” he mumbled.

  “Truely? This Suleeta here.”

  “Suleeta?” The surprise in his voice appeared to wake Arnold. The sheet walls began to stir and shift.

  “You said call you with the news, yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “I tell Shauna to call you, but nobody can tell Shauna anything no more.”

  Truely would have to think about that remark later. “That’s okay, Suleeta. I’m glad you’re calling now.”