Vein River

by Kellie Honaker

  “Did your mother ever believe Alice?”

  “Yes, she returned the next day to watch the sandwich appear. Before Alice even mentioned the sandwiches, my mother already knew. Somewhere inside of her, she knew—she just didn’t want to admit it.”

  Angelina returned me to my body, to the diary that I have no choice but to finish.

  Angelina’s Diary

  August 4, 1944

  Abigail lives further down the mountain from me, so I find it very sweet that she hikes up here to visit with me. I enjoy her gentleness and good humor. She rapped my gate with her bony little knuckle just as I was finishing the gardening. She roughly comes at the same time of day because she has chores of her own to complete.

  “Hey Angie, let’s go take a dip and wash this heat from our skin. We’ve earned our little swimming spot in the shade.”

  Abby has called me Angie ever since we were little kids. Dare I say, I’m closer to her than I am to my own little sister, and they’re the same age!

  She didn’t have to ask me twice. We hurried down that dirt road as if we hadn’t just worked all day; talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

  Mr. Crockett is a beloved blind widower that delights in the company of children. The surrounding neighbors look out for him. That’s how we do things in Vein River. My family brings him vegetables throughout the year and Abigail’s folks supplies him with venison. We make sure that he never goes hungry and Mr. Jakes stocks the firewood for winter. It’s a group effort taking care of the old man, but we take a lot of pride in taking care of our own. Mr. Crockett has allowed the Vein River kids to swim in his enormous pond for the past forty years. No one bothers asking his permission anymore because everyone knows that he doesn’t care. My own parents swam in his pond when they were children. So, today, as we ran from the heat of the day, we ended up at Crockett’s pond.

  Today was no different than any other, and yet it was. I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve swam with Abigail hundreds of times, from when we were barely out of diapers until now. But when she removed her dress to reveal the bathing suit beneath, I couldn’t help but stare. It’s a plain black suit, nothing remarkable, a hand-me-down from her older sister. That’s how it works with multiple siblings. When the eldest child outgrows a garment, it goes to the next in line. By the time a dress is considered a rag, it’s already on the shoulders of the youngest sibling. I’ve seen this suit many times. For years, actually. Worn first by Abigail’s older sister, Regina, and then Mary Elizabeth. Abigail wears the suit much better than either of them ever could. It accentuated her breasts and hugged her thighs into the most perfect hourglass figure. I didn’t mean to stare, honest I didn’t, but it was such a startling contrast to how she looked in it last year. The suit was practically falling off of her then. That’s far from the case now. Abby was always a late bloomer. Always the shortest, always the last to win a race, always the last to understand a joke—and until recently, the last to develop breasts. What she lacked in other areas, she made up for in kindness. That alone made her beautiful. But now, I daresay if she’s not the loveliest of us all.

  She caught me staring and I felt myself blush.

  “Suit looks good on you, Abby,” I said, sliding into the water.

  “Thanks,” she said, smirking with a self-assuredness she usually doesn’t possess.

  We swam and splashed as easily as we’ve always done, until our toes turned into prunes. The breeze under the shade of the maple caused me to chill, so I climbed up onto the bank.

  “You okay, Angie?” she asked, blinking the water from her eyes.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just taking a rest.”

  Even when she’s dripping wet, her hair falls down in ringlets. I’ve always envied her hair. People have always envied me. No matter how beautiful you are, women will always covet another woman’s looks. I have no idea why we’re like this. It’s ridiculous.

  Abigail emerged from the water and laid down beside me. We laid there awhile, and let the sun dry our skin. The breeze caused the trees to sway, and the shade danced behind my eyelids. I breathed deeply and let the smell of hay and dandelions seep into my pores. I felt Abigail move beside me, her body heat close to mine. She laid her chin against my shoulder and sighed deeply against my cheek. I turned my head to return the gesture, my ear brushing the bridge of her nose.

  I wanted to never move from this spot. I wanted to be frozen in time as the world moved on. I wanted to wake up from this paradise after the war was over. I wanted to bask in the beauty of the day and the beauty of my friend. I wanted to forget about golden stars and grieving women. At Crockett’s pond, these things didn’t exist. The birds still sang and the bees still buzzed. The baby deer still nuzzled their mothers in the meadow. Nature did not know that we were at war. The cows in the field didn’t know that they were being killed with more grace than my fellow man. I wanted to stay here with the creatures of God who were lucky to remain oblivious.

  Abigail nuzzled closer, one of her scarlet ringlets falling across my chest. It tickled, so I gathered it between my fingers. Her hair was so long that I brought it to my face without it tugging at her scalp.

  “Your hair is the most beautiful shade,” I said, almost to myself. “It’s like the breast of a hummingbird.”

  “Pfft!” she said, not bothering to open her eyes. “I look like a hag next to you. You’re the beautiful one.”

  She draped an arm across my belly. “I like being with you, Angie.”

  The mood shifted ever so slightly, and I suddenly felt self-conscious. I rubbed her forearm with my hand, hoping that would be a sufficient return of affection. I didn’t want to voice just how much I enjoyed being with her.

  She raised up on her elbow and smoothed the hair away from my face. I had never seen this look on her face before. It made me nervous, but I also didn’t want her to stop. And then, ever so softly, she leaned down and pressed her lips against mine. My entire body tingled. I stopped breathing. I pushed deeper into her kiss and felt like I was melting.

  Then the fear set in.

  Why was she doing this? And why did I like this so much when I knew I wasn’t supposed to?

  I scrambled from beneath her.

  I grabbed my clothes and said, “I have to go check on Mr. Crockett.”

  Abby grabbed her towel in a panic. “Angie, wait! Please!”

  I took off in my bare feet as fast as I could go. I knew I would outrun her. I always could. I didn’t check on Mr. Crockett. That was a lie. I didn’t want to visit with the old man when I had all these emotions clanging around inside of me. Instead of turning right at his house, I turned left towards home.

  I went to bed without eating supper and Mama was scared that I was sick. She put her hand on my forehead, but I had no fever. She said I was pale as a ghost. I assured her that I wasn’t sick, that I was tired and had too much sun. I guess she accepted that well enough, because she finally left me alone. I really wish I had someone to talk to, someone who wouldn’t judge me. But all I have is this diary. All I have are these words and this paper, and the hope that somehow if I write it down, I can purge every bit of this out of me.

  Angelina’s Diary

  August 6, 1944

  Mrs. Brooks’ nephew, Randy, came around today. It’s been a few months since his uncle’s death, so I don’t know why he all of a sudden feels inclined to help his aunt. But lo and behold, when I looked up from weeding, there he was with a brown sack and gardening supplies.

  “Hey, Angelina! Need some help?”

  I typically like working alone, but I also like the idea of finishing early.

  “Sure,” I said, and then I put him to work picking beans. I was mostly done with weeding by the time he showed up, so when I was done with that, I started on the back row of beans while he worked on the first. I noticed that he checked on my progress more than he did his own, his small fingers plucking so hard that you’d think he was playing a banjo instead of picking beans. It wa
s the same with other vegetables. No matter what we did, he had to get finished first. I don’t know if he’s just that scared of being outdone by a girl, or if he’s simply scared in general.

  “What’s your hurry?” I asked him with a smirk.

  He stared blankly with his doe-black eyes and said he was in no hurry at all.

  I don’t know what he’s trying to prove, but his desperation to be first is unattractive. I can usually tell when someone’s trying to impress me, how they blush and stumble all over themselves. It’s not the same with Randy. He’s not trying to impress me as much as he’s trying to impress the world.

  “So how are things in Cripple Cove?” Cripple Cove is about five miles west of Vein River. It’s a decent jaunt for a scrawny boy like Randy.

  He shrugs. “Same dirty coal camp that it’s always been.”

  I nod. Folks from Cripple Cove are grittier and meaner than any other in the county, simply because they have to be. If you live in Vein River, you’re either a fisherman, a coal miner, or a farmer. None of us are particularly rolling in wealth, but the Cripple Cove folks have it harder than most.

  “I’m going to be leaving here soon,” he said.

  “Where ya going?” I asked, not bothering to look up from the carrot I was tugging at.

  “I’m joining the army.”

  I stopped and looked at him. “You’re not old enough.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll lie about my age. They need all the bodies they can get; they won’t give me no trouble about it.”

  “Randy, you can’t be serious. You’re sixteen trying to pull yourself off as twenty-one. With that baby face, you could pass for twelve. They’re gonna laugh at you and tell you to go home to your mama.”

  Easy going for the most part, despite being horribly insecure, he scowled at me.

  “That’s why I’m growing some facial hair,” he said indignantly.

  I snort. “Randy, I’ve seen better whiskers on a cat.”

  He brushed off his pants and walked down the road in a huff, leaving me alone with the carrots. It’s just as well. I enjoy my own company better, anyway.

  I sat back on my heels and giggled until he was out of sight.

  “I thought he would never leave.”

  I knew the soft voice of Abigail without even turning around.

  “What do you want, Abby?”

  “I just want to talk to you.”

  I stood to face her.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  She looked at me pleadingly. “There’s nothing wrong with what we did.”

  “You’re right. A friend can kiss another friend without it having any sort of meaning.”

  She looked at me as if I’d slapped her.

  “You felt it,” she said softly. “I know you did.”

  “What do you want from me, Abby?” I asked hotly.

  “I just like being with you, Angie.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and bowed my head. It felt like my heart was on fire. “We can be friends Abby, but you can’t ever touch me like that again. It’s a sin for you to touch me like that.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “What I hold in my heart for you is the purest thing I’ve ever felt. It doesn’t feel dirty to me. It doesn’t feel sinful. It just…it felt right kissing you. If it had felt dirty to you, you wouldn’t have kissed me back, you would have pushed me away, instantly.”

  She looked at me adamantly. She knew what she felt, and she knew what she knew, there was no way I could talk my way out of it.

  “Do you honestly expect a happily ever after for people like us?” I asked, suddenly angry without knowing why.

  “No,” she whispered sadly. “I suspect you’ll break my heart no matter how this plays out.”

  I take a deep breath and pick up my bucket of carrots. “This is not what people do. If you can’t accept that fact, then I suggest you stay away from me.”

  I glanced at her only briefly as I turned and walked away from her. Tears spilled from her eyes and her lower lip quivered. I wanted nothing more than to cover that lip with my own. But I willed myself to keep walking.

  That bucket of carrots is the heaviest thing I’ve ever carried.

  Angelina’s Diary

  August 10, 1944

  Sidney Grace is the biggest brute of a boy I’ve ever seen. He’s a year younger than me, and he’s nearly the size of my father—and my father is no small man. It’s a shame that Randy isn’t built like Sidney. If Sid wanted to lie his way into the army, all they’d do is give him a glance and thank him for his willingness to serve. I avoid Sid at every opportunity. He scares me. He’s like a dog behind a neighbor’s fence. One day he’ll be friendly and wag his tail, the next day he’s attacking you. A boy that volatile shouldn’t be that big, it’s just unfair to everyone that has to put up with him. I wish he shared Randy’s desires. The army would be good for him. In some cases, I believe people need the army just as much as the army needs them. Instead, he channels his hot temper into pulling nets on his uncle’s fishing boat during the summer. Vein River gets a reprieve from him until school starts back in the fall. Every few weeks, Sid’s uncle docks his boat at the mouth of the bay several miles downstream from where we live, so the boy can check in with his folks.

  Randy and I were picking apples in the orchard, when we saw him strolling up the lane.

  “That’s just wonderful,” I say, glancing up at Randy in the tree.

  He peers through the branches and scowls. “What does he want? He lives in Cripple Cove just as I do—there’s no reason for him to be in this neck of the woods.”

  I roll my eyes. Neither of these boys belong in this neck of the woods, but what do I know?

  “Hey, Sid! How’s fishing life?” I call to him.

  He smirks and lights a cigarette. “It’s paradise. I’m going to buy my own boat after I graduate.”

  “Good for you,” I say, dumping my apron full of apples into a bucket.

  Sid kicks a small apple and it skids across my shoe. “It’s a better life than the one you’ve got, picking these god-forsaken, wormy apples.”

  I glare at him. “My life is happy, thank you.”

  He snorts. “There’s no possible way. A girl as pretty as you deserves a better life than this. If you’re lucky, I might just marry you and take you away from here. Hell, we don’t even have to wait to graduate if you don’t want to. We could leave as soon as I get the money.”

  The vein above my eye starts to throb.

  “I’d marry my grandmother’s mule before I’d marry you, Sidney Grace.”

  Something in his pea-sized brain explodes, and he takes a giant step towards me.

  “Why, you little bitch…”

  An apple cracks him in the head and falls to pieces around his shoulders.

  “Helluva arm you have there, Randy!” I cackle.

  Sid rubs his head and looks up the tree.

  “You little shit! Wait till I get my hands on you!”

  I take advantage of the distraction and shimmy up a tree myself.

  Sid grabs a limb and hefts his weight upon it. The limb bends and breaks with a crack! causing Sid to land hard on his back.

  “You’re as heavy and as graceful as an ox, you idiot! You’re never going to make it up these apple trees!” I laugh, pelting Sid with apples of my own. “Fire in the hole, Randy!”

  Randy hurls apples with impressive precision, hitting Sid square in the head. The only time he misses is when Sid blocks them with his forearms.

  “I’ll get you!” Sid screams, running from the orchard. “When the time is right, you’ll pay for this! You mark my words!”

  Randy and I throw apples until he’s out of range, and then we laugh until our sides hurt. I used to think that Randy was a sniveling snot of boy, but today he’s earned my respect.

  Angelina’s Diary

  August 22, 1944

  I went and found Abigail today. The truth of the matter is that I really miss he
r. It’s not that I want anything from her, it’s just that when she’s not around, things feel off. I miss the familiarity of her, the easygoingness of her company. Why’d she have to make everything so complicated? Now, I feel guarded. Now, I have to face emotions I didn’t even know I had. Now, I have to be mindful not to touch her, when before, we could hug and joke with ease. Now, I have to worry if I’ve gone too far, if people can see through my veneer of feelings.

  It’s all her fault for changing things this way, but to be quite frank, I don’t want her missing from my life. I’ve always imagined myself getting married and having children—that’s just what you do. That’s what everyone does. It has never been a dream of mine, it just always seemed like a fact. I never once imagined being attracted to a girl, or having a girl being attracted to me. I’m not going down this path with Abigail, but I also don’t want to lose her as a friend. It would devastate me.

  So, today I swallowed my pride and walked down the hill to the little yellow house. I tapped on the door.

  Lucky me, it was Mary Elizabeth that opened the door.

  She snorts. “What do you want?”

  “I’m here to see your sister.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Yeah, I bet.”

  I glare at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  She rolls her eyes and calls over her shoulder. “Abigail! Your friend is at the door.”

  She thundered down the steps. She looked past her sister from the stairwell and seemed surprised to see me.

  “Hi, Angie!” she said brightly.

  “Hey,” I said, giving Mary Elizabeth one last hateful look. “I was wondering if you’d want to go to a matinee?”

  More surprise flashed across those pretty green eyes, but she ducked her head and hurried to the coat closet. “Sure, Angie, that’d be great. Just let me get my purse.”