Eat, Drink, and Be From Mississippi

by Nanci Kincaid

  “One of the big days,” he corrected. “If things go well, there should be plenty of big days ahead.” He handed her a cup of coffee. “I got you a low-fat latte, no kick.”

  They sat outside at a rickety bistro table. Traffic was lazy. The air was cool and crisp. “How’s Arnold?” Courtney asked. Before he could respond she continued. “Have you noticed that about half the time Arnold wears your clothes, True? Your shirts and sweats. He even sleeps in your stuff.”

  “It’s no problem.” Truely had noticed, but had never minded.

  “I’m thinking I’d like to take him shopping. Get him some new things. What do you think?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Maybe I’ll tie it into his GED thing.” She sipped her coffee and made a face because it was too hot. “Arnold’s smart, True. Really. He has some sort of reading thing, I think. He’s a slow, deliberate reader. I’m no teacher, but I think he just hasn’t read enough to be confident in his ability, you know? But his listening skills are off the chart. You tell him once — and he remembers. He knows it.”

  “He’s no dummy,” Truely agreed. “Although from what I gather he’s done some pretty dumb shit in his past.”

  “Haven’t we all?” Courtney mumbled.

  “Looks like I’ll be taking him down to San Diego pretty soon. Suleeta called. They’re putting Gordo in a rehab hospital down there. And he’s asking to see Arnold.”

  “That’s great, isn’t it?” She removed the lid from her coffee so it could cool.

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But no.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shauna called too. She doesn’t want Arnold down there.”

  “You talked to Shauna?”

  “More like she talked to me, I’d say. She made it clear Arnold was not welcome down there as far as she and Jerry are concerned. And Pablo too, I guess.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve got a guy down in San Diego looking into that, checking out Arnold’s arrest history. There was some trouble a while back. It seems he robbed the Mackeys. Did some time in juvenile. From what I gather it was not his first run-in with the law.”

  “Good Lord.” Courtney blew into her coffee.

  “I think there’s more to the story. We’re supposed to talk later. We’ll see what Arnold has to say.”

  “Where is his mother, for heaven’s sake?”

  “That’s another story, I’m afraid.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “He wants to tell you himself. Next time you come up maybe.”

  “Lord, all this suspense and mystery.”

  “I know.”

  “So, little brother, how was talking to Shauna?”

  “Okay.”

  “You feel anything — longing, regret, fury or anything?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why do I bother asking?” she said. “You don’t really miss her, do you?”

  “How does a gentleman answer a question like that?” He was only half kidding. “I didn’t bring enough to Shauna’s party. I just never did. I can’t say why. Suleeta was right, Shauna deserved somebody more … invested.”

  “And that would be Pablo?”

  “Maybe. I hope so.”

  “Good grief, Truely.”

  “I know.”

  What Truely didn’t say was that he missed the way Shauna had peopled his life for him. Holidays with her family. Outings with her clients and artsy friends. Weekends lazing around the loft, walking the dogs, cooking, watching TV. He wasn’t sure what real contribution he had ever made to their relationship. The best he could figure it was as simple as willingness. He was willing. And for a while at least, she had seemed satisfied with that. Now that Shauna was gone, did he miss her? They had been more or less together for almost three years. He thought maybe what he really missed was the way she had kept him busy and not too bothered. Thanks to Shauna he’d been able to convince himself that he wasn’t really lonely.

  “Okay.” Courtney interrupted his thoughts. “Do you want to hear about my conversation with Hastings?”

  “Of course.”

  “In a nutshell, he’s bought two sizable wooded lots less than a quarter mile from our present house — which will soon be my house, I guess. Or so he tells me. He and Meghan are building a place there. So — we’ll all be neighbors. Nice, huh? He insists it’s fundamentally a spec house that they might live in — if Meghan wants to — if it turns out as well as they expect, if things continue to move along the way it seems they are now.”

  “That’s weird,” Truely said. “You do know that’s weird, right, Court? All the land in the Bay Area and he needs to be your neighbor — he and his girlfriend.”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s creepy and all that — but something is wrong with me, True, because I don’t hate the idea.”

  “You will in time,” he said. “You’ll have no choice. It’s twisted, that’s why. What the hell is wrong with Hastings?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question?” She smiled.

  “Okay, what else?”

  “Meghan and the boys have joined our church. I wasn’t there the Sunday they joined. He thought somebody would tell me, but nobody did.”

  “Thus your meltdown last Sunday over missing church?”

  “I guess. It’s bad enough that I have to share Hastings with Meghan — but damn, do I have to share Jesus too?” She laughed unconvincingly.

  “Hastings is a piece of work,” Truely said. “Arnold thinks you can do better, by the way. He told me so.”

  “Sweet Arnold.” Courtney smiled. “He’s very sweet for a boy with criminal tendencies — isn’t he?”

  “So that’s it for the Hastings report?” Truely checked his watch. He wanted to be at the Fairmont early, check to make sure everything was set up in the conference room and in good order. He was meeting Jaxon and Melissa early to go over last-minute details.

  “Well, there is one more thing, True. Bobby Gavin asked me out.”

  “What?”

  “Bob Gavin. You know, he’s been Hastings’ good friend — maybe one of his best friends — for years. His wife died of uterine cancer a couple of years ago and he endowed a chair at Santa Clara in her honor — you know, Lillian Gavin Chair in Literature. We went to the ceremony. You played golf with him all those times at Cypress. Remember?”

  “I know who Bobby Gavin is, for God’s sake. Everybody knows who Bobby is.”

  “Then what’s your question?”

  “What is Bobby doing asking you out? Last I heard he was supposed to be Hastings’ great buddy. Besides, as far as I know, you aren’t divorced yet.”

  “Oh please.” Courtney rolled her eyes.

  “Really, Court. What are the rules these days? Best I can remember I didn’t go out with any women until I had my official walking papers in my grubby little hands. What’s the big hurry here?”

  “You’re teasing, right?”

  “Not really.”

  “Lord, Truely. I’m not committing adultery. I’m going to dinner with an old friend. It’s more than legal.”

  Truely’s reaction had surprised him. He had spoken off the top of his head, without thinking. Courtney — Christian disciple, self-appointed spokeswoman for the moral police — did not need a lecture from the likes of him. That was for sure. You could count on Courtney to do the right thing. Even if she did the wrong thing, the style in which she did it made it seem like the right thing. “You’re right,” he said. “Of course.”

  “It’s no big deal, True. Really.”

  “Does Hastings know?” he asked.

  “If he doesn’t” — she smiled — “he will.”

  ON TRUELY’S DRIVE HOME from San Jose that evening he was happy. The day had gone even better than expected, the meeting naturally propelling itself into late-afternoon drinks with the Global Airlines people and from there on to a lively dinner full of translated storytelling and laughter. Everyone had seemed caught up in the impl
ications of a partnership. They were all high on the projections — even the numbers guys were signed on. It was stimulating and exciting. Melissa got teary at one point, so happy at the future prospects, so proud of Jaxon. It was a nearly perfect day.

  There had been a time when Jesse had dreamed of having her own charter school. She had spent hours fantasizing about it and telling Truely how it would be operated — explaining the underlying philosophy that would make it maybe the best school in the world — or at least in the Bay Area. If this deal went through as it looked like it would, Truely would be in a position to fully finance a charter school, make Jesse’s dream come true. But, of course, Jesse probably had a totally new dream by now. She was gone, after all. The charter school dream was gone with her. Truely was at peace with that. It just struck him that when it came to putting his money to good use she had always been the one with all the best ideas.

  WHEN TRUELY GOT HOME Arnold was in his sheet tent talking on the phone. When he heard Truely come in the door, he poked his head out and gestured frantically to him. “Hold on a minute,” he said, “Truely is just now coming in the door.” He covered the receiver with his hand. “Man, guess who I been talking to here. Mose Jones. He’s on the phone. For real.”

  Truely took the phone. “To what do I owe this honor?” he said.

  “Whenever I start to need a shot of aggravation, then I just go on and call you,” Mose said. But Mose was not one to call just for the sake of calling. He always had a reason for picking up the phone and Truely knew this. After covering the basics of civil discourse, catching up as is protocol, Mose got to the point — or in this case, points. “Three reasons for my call,” he began. “One, I’m doing the Charger-Raider game in San Diego in a few weeks. I was thinking that afterward I might swing up there and see you. Talk a little business, maybe.”

  “What kind of business?” Truely was immediately interested.

  “I’ll explain when I see you,” Mose said. “Got an idea I’d like to run by you.”

  “Come on then,” Truely said. “We can always sling up a few more sheets.”

  “What?”

  “We’ll all look forward to it.”

  “I talked to your man Arnold. Nice kid.”

  “He’s a fan for sure,” Truely said.

  “It’s done then,” he said, “which leads me to the second reason for my call. Looks like you’re going to be losing your renter down on the Hinds County place. Hinds County Organics hasn’t exactly taken off like they were hoping. They’ll be moving the farm to Baton Rouge at the end of the month — wanted to give you a heads-up.”

  “Good enough,” Truely said.

  “Which brings me to the real reason for my call,” Mose said. “I wanted to let you know that Tay-Ann lost her husband.”

  Truely was totally disoriented. “Lost?” He had not seen or spoken to Tay-Ann since his mother was buried. Over the years he had gotten an occasional Christmas card from her with a family photo, but most years he hadn’t.

  “Heart attack,” Mose said.

  “I hate hearing that,” Truely said.

  “So you’ll be in touch with Tay-Ann then?”

  “Of course. I’ll send something. You got funeral details?”

  “The funeral is over, man. I was thinking maybe you could just pick up the phone and call her.”

  “She doesn’t want to hear from me out of the blue,” Truely said. “I haven’t even seen her since my mother died.”

  “As I recall,” Mose said, “Tay-Ann showed up at your mother’s and your daddy’s services. She didn’t have to do that. I think you need to call her and offer your condolences. I think it’s the least you can do, man — but maybe that’s just me.”

  “Since when did you become Tay-Ann’s front man?” Truely asked.

  “Just because you stopped knowing her once you moved away doesn’t mean I did. I see her at the Gem all the time. She’s good people.”

  “I believe you,” Truely said. “I’ll call her if you think it will help. Not sure what I’ll say. I never knew her husband. Don’t even know his name.”

  “Raymond DeLease was his name. He was a good guy too. A hell of a good guy. He was only forty-four — and wham, out of nowhere, gone. Tay-Ann is struggling, True. She will be for a good while. Got two kids in high school. No warning. Ray was working late. Tay-Ann gets worried when Ray doesn’t come home from the office and doesn’t answer her calls. She’s getting in her car to drive over to his office when the police come to the house — she sees them come up the drive and she just knows. The janitor found him slumped over his desk. Dead.”

  “That’s bad,” Truely said. “I’ll call her. Give me her number.”

  “Just for old times’ sake,” Mose said.

  “For old times’ sake,” Truely agreed.

  “WHAT’S WRONG?” Arnold asked when Truely hung up the phone. “Somebody die?”

  “The husband of an old friend.”

  “He get shot?”

  “No, he didn’t get shot.”

  “Car wreck?”

  “No.”

  “Plane crash?”

  “Plane crash? What is this — twenty questions? The man had a heart attack.”

  “Sorry,” Arnold said.

  It was obvious to Truely that Arnold didn’t associate death with natural causes. He associated death with catastrophic events — something he knew a good bit more about.

  Twenty-four

  ON THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY, after church, Courtney drove into the city because her breast lift was scheduled for Tuesday morning. Despite his best efforts Truely had not been able to dissuade her. He wasn’t happy about it either. It would not work for Arnold to go with them to the surgery center. In matters of her breasts Courtney preferred a modicum of privacy. Truely planned to drive her, wait for her to have the procedure and then drive her home to Saratoga, where Myra would look after her the best she could — with the help of Lola. In time, when Courtney was well enough, she would pick up where she left off, driving over to San Francisco, riding herd on Arnold, prodding him toward his high school equivalency, cooking enough food for an army. Her secret would be safe.

  To be honest, Truely was worried about what she might decide to have done next. How many aging body parts did your average woman have? Even though Truely didn’t believe in cosmetic surgery, he was committed to seeing Courtney through this reckless act of impaired judgment — in hopes that it would be her last.

  COURTNEY WAS MAKING enchilada casserole while Truely and Arnold sat at the kitchen island and watched. Arnold had already told her about his in-person conversation with Mose Jones, which had led Truely to tell her about Tay-Ann’s husband’s untimely death. Truely had called Tay-Ann earlier, just as Mose thought he should, and she had seemed more than surprised to hear from him. When he expressed his condolences she became very emotional, actually sobbing into the phone. Truely had been at a loss then, not knowing what to say — and the conversation, however well meaning, quickly became unbearably awkward. He hardly remembered what he’d said to offer comfort except that he had found himself suggesting that she should think about bringing her kids and coming out to San Francisco for a little sightseeing — a healthy distraction. Maybe a change of scenery would help them all deal with their sorrow, he’d said — a break from seeing their husband/father everywhere they looked in Hinds County. None of them had ever been to California. He had just invited them because he was at a total loss to know what else to do.

  ARNOLD’S PHONE HAD BEEN RINGING on and off all evening. Often he checked the caller’s name and turned off the ringer, ignoring the call. “Who is that?” Courtney asked. “Vonnie?”

  “I’ll call her back later,” he said. “We already talked three times today. She have her way, we just talk all day long. I’d never get nothing done.”

  So when his phone interrupted the evening once again, Arnold glanced at it, mumbled, “Who’s this?” Truely could see him trying to decide whether or not to answer a
call from an unknown caller. Already Truely had learned that Arnold had a certain fear of the phone to start with. He watched him waver before finally answering. “Who is it?” he barked.

  The expression on his face totally changed. He stood up from the stool where he’d been seated and glanced at Truely and Courtney, then lowered his head the way he did when he was signaling them not to listen, knowing that they had no real choice but to listen after a signal like that. “I’ll take this in my office,” he said and hurried to the bathroom at the back of the loft.

  He was gone barely a minute or two before he came back with a startled, nervous expression. “You ain’t gon believe who that was,” he began, shaking his head. “That was Gordo, man. Said he borrowed a phone from somebody at the VA Hospital. He didn’t sound good. He sort of scare me the way he was talking. Said he needs to see me. Wants me to come down there to San Diego.”

  “When?” Truely asked.

  “Now,” Arnold said.

  TRUELY HAD STEELED himself for this moment. He methodically called his secretary to reschedule his appointments. He called Suleeta to alert her that they would be coming down. She cried when she heard his voice on the phone. “Gracias, True,” she said. “Gracias.”

  As they began to organize for the trip, Arnold raked through his pile of dirty clothes. “You think you can wash some of this stuff for me while I’m gone?” he asked Courtney.

  “I’m going with you guys,” she said.

  “It’s not necessary, Court,” Truely told her. “We don’t know what we’ll find when we get there or how long we’ll stay.”

  “I’m going,” Courtney said. “Don’t even try to talk me out of it.”

  Truely noticed when Courtney stepped out on the terrace and called her surgeon to postpone her procedure. She didn’t think twice. She spent the rest of the night doing laundry so Truely and Arnold would have clean clothes to pack.

  Arnold was totally distracted. “Gordo talking crazy,” he said to no one in particular. “Ain’t no telling what going on in his head.”