I'm Your Girl

by J. J. Murray

  You’re babbling.

  Just making a list.

  You didn’t say “sexy.”

  Just making a careful list.

  “Was she your first love?”

  I smile. “Yes. She swept me off my feet.”

  Why tell her that?

  If she hadn’t, my feet would have walked out of Roanoke a long time ago.

  “Tell me about your son.”

  She’s asking questions Diane hasn’t asked.

  Maybe she’s asking on Diane’s behalf.

  “Stevie took after his mother mostly. He was happy, quiet, curious like me, loved to draw…I miss him.” I stop walking. “And I miss her, too.”

  Mrs. Anderson nods.

  “I don’t miss her as much because of your daughter, but…I thought Noël was my soul mate, you know?”

  You’re revealing too much.

  I’m being honest.

  “And to lose her and Stevie in the same day…” I sigh. “I thought my whole world had ended.”

  We continue walking a little farther past some ranch houses, their yards full of pansies and daffodils.

  “What attracted you to Diane?”

  Try not to be too honest here.

  I will.

  “First, it was her hands.”

  “Her hands?”

  It does sound kind of kinky.

  “Her fingers, actually.”

  Now that’s kinky.

  “Diane touched the palm of my hand when she gave me some change at the library. No one had touched me like that since the funeral, and I took it as a sign from God.”

  You didn’t then.

  I do now.

  Mrs. Anderson stops walking and drops her hand from my arm. “She gave you change at the library?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but…”

  She blinks several times. “She…touched you while giving you change?”

  “Yes.”

  She closes her eyes. “Go on. What else do you like about Diane?”

  She thinks you’re crazy.

  “I’m glad Diane is so patient. I’m kind of spacey.”

  You’re telling me.

  Shh.

  Mrs. Anderson opens her eyes. “So far, we have fingers and patience. What else?”

  I smile. “I like her smile, her eyes…”

  The way she moans.

  Shh.

  “Her honesty…and her faith.”

  Yes! Great point!

  “I, uh, I hadn’t been on good terms with God since the accident, and Diane helped me to talk to Him again and return to church. That’s where we went on New Year’s Eve.”

  She blinks again. “You took Dee-Dee to church on New Year’s Eve?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Anderson laughs. “Cheap date.”

  She laughed!

  And it was genuine.

  Was it?

  I hope so.

  It could be one of those crazy people laughs.

  It sounded genuine to me.

  “Yeah, I guess it was a cheap date, but it was an important date, Mrs. Anderson. Diane has helped me to live again, and I’d like to share the rest of my life with her.”

  That was good.

  That’s how I really feel.

  “So, you’re not just using her to help you write your next book?”

  She’s shrewd.

  “She’s helping me to write it, yes, but, no, I’m not using her.”

  “Hmm.” She takes my arm again. “You wanted her to go on this tour of yours, though.”

  “At first, yes. I miss her when we’re apart.”

  “And now?”

  “I miss her now, too.”

  That wasn’t what she was asking!

  Oh!

  “No,” Mrs. Anderson says, “I meant, do you want her to go with you now?”

  I sigh. “It doesn’t matter whether I want her to go or not. She has already decided not to go.”

  “And you’re not going to try to change her mind?”

  I shake my head. “I wouldn’t even know how to start.”

  Mrs. Anderson laughs. “That’s true.”

  Another laugh! And is that a smile?

  Her eyes aren’t…killing me anymore.

  She might just be setting you up, Jack. Be careful.

  We walk a long, silent distance, circling the neighborhood once and not doing anything more than commenting on flowers, landscaping, why people use tacky lawn ornaments, and which shutters need to be painted.

  This is going well.

  Yeah.

  I’ll bet Diane is going crazy.

  Yeah.

  “And you really want an August wedding, huh?” she says as we get to Diane’s driveway.

  “I’d marry her tomorrow if I could,” I say, “but I can wait until August.”

  Mrs. Anderson turns and waves at Diane, who looks at us from the living room window.

  Diane doesn’t look too happy. Wave or something.

  I wave and smile.

  She’s not waving back. Check out her eyes!

  Are her eyes killing me…or her mother?

  Mrs. Anderson turns to me. “I don’t think Diane can wait, Jack.”

  Hmm?

  My thoughts exactly.

  “I think she thinks she has waited long enough,” she says. “What do you think?”

  I’m still stuck on “Hmm?” How about you?

  I’m stuck on all the “thinks.”

  “I think…that I’ll, uh, I’ll have to ask her.”

  Mrs. Anderson smiles. “I know my daughter. At least I think I do. She’s changed a lot since she came down here. But something tells me that there won’t be an August wedding. In fact, something tells me there won’t be a wedding at all.”

  How does she know this?

  I’ll ask her.

  “How do you know all this?”

  Mrs. Anderson looks around the yard. “You two need to put up a bench out here somewhere so us old folks can sit down.”

  “We could sit on the steps.”

  Mrs. Anderson frowns. “I might not get up again. Those are some low steps.” She looks up at Diane in the window. “And I don’t want to be overheard.”

  She’s sneaky.

  “I could bring out some chairs from the kitchen.”

  Mrs. Anderson nods. “Do that.” She smiles. “I’ll be waiting under that oak tree over there.”

  As I walk into the house, Diane stops me. “Is everything all right?”

  I smile, then kiss her on the cheek. “Yes.” I step around her, go to the kitchen, and take two chairs.

  “What are you doing?” Diane asks.

  I hold up the chairs. “Um, getting some chairs. Your mom must be tired. She says we need to put a bench outside, and I think it’s a good idea.”

  “She could come inside,” Diane says forcefully.

  I shrug. “Um, we’re not through talking.”

  “You’re not?”

  I shake my head.

  “Well, what are you talking about?”

  I kiss her lips. “You.” I move around her, holding one chair in front of me, one chair behind. When I get to the door, I turn to Diane. “Could you open the door, please?”

  She rushes around me and holds the door as I move outside. “Um, how long do you think you’ll be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She shoots a look at her mother. “Should I worry?”

  I shake my head. “No. But…”

  “But what?”

  I put down the chairs and take her in my arms. “August is far too hot for a wedding, don’t you agree?”

  She blinks. “What are you saying?”

  I turn and smile at Mrs. Anderson. “I’m not saying it. She is.”

  More blinking.

  Maybe she has something in her eye.

  “I had better not keep her waiting.”

  Diane only nods. “Kiss me first.”

  I kiss her.

  “I’ll, u
h, I’ll be inside waiting,” she says. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

  I shrug. “It’s not up to me.”

  “Just…hurry, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I pick up the chairs and return to Mrs. Anderson, setting hers on a level space and mine on a somewhat level space under the tree.

  Try not to rock.

  I’ll try.

  “I’ve flustered her, haven’t I?” Mrs. Anderson asks.

  I nod. “She seems worried.”

  “She should worry after worrying me to death for the past few days.” She leans forward. “I’ve always liked you, Jack. I want you to know that.”

  Hmm?

  “The way she talked about you since December, just the way her voice sounded so happy. It had…music in it, you know? It made me like you. It made me happy that she had finally found someone who cared about her almost as much as I did.”

  Hmm. She’s using past tense.

  I hear it.

  She leans back. “But…when I saw your face for the first time on that book, well, things changed.”

  Is it getting darker out here or what?

  Shh. The sun is just going down.

  Mrs. Anderson shakes her head slightly. “But things only changed for me,” she says softly.

  What do I say?

  Saying nothing seems to be working.

  She looks up, her eyes soft like Diane’s. “I wanted to hate you, Jack, but it was too late, and not just for Diane. She has already made her choice. I had…accepted you for four months before I knew you were…”

  Should I say it for her?

  Silence is golden.

  “So I should keep on accepting you.” She shrugs. “I mean, I liked you then, so why shouldn’t I like you now, right?”

  Do I answer?

  Just nod.

  I nod.

  She looks around us. “You could put a nice flower box around this tree, you know, put some tulip bulbs down this fall, and they’d be blazing red come spring.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Ooh, smart. Always agree with your future mother-in-law.

  “And that third bedroom in there needs a lot of work,” she says.

  Hmm?

  “I’d put carpet down in there and paint the wall a nice pastel color. It’s far too wooden and white for a nursery.”

  Hmm. Does this mean—

  Shh. She’s not finished.

  She looks at her hands. “And maybe this time next year, I’ll have a grandbaby to hold on an evening like this. We’ll just sit out here—on a bench, don’t forget the bench. We’ll just sit here and admire the tulips.”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  She nods. “Not as much as the woman in there. She reminds me of me when Bill and I first started out. We, um, we eloped, but don’t tell Diane. She doesn’t know.”

  You’re going to tell Diane, aren’t you?

  I don’t know if I should.

  Mrs. Anderson laughs. “I’m feeling so old these days. My baby is in love.” She reaches out and grabs my knee. “An August wedding is out of the question, Jack. I don’t know how or where, but you two have to get married as soon as possible.”

  Are you catching all these hints?

  Like a can of corn bloop to center field.

  “If I were to elope today, I might go to…Jamaica.” She drops her eyes. “Bill and I honeymooned in Kentucky, not that I saw much of Kentucky during that time, but Kentucky is not Jamaica. I’ve always wanted to go there. It’s not too hot this time of year, not too cool, just quiet, beautiful, isolated, natural. I’m trying to get Bill to consider going there on our fortieth anniversary, but…”

  That wasn’t a hint.

  That was a line drive.

  “It wouldn’t bother you,” I say, “if we didn’t get married in your church?”

  She sighs. “No. And I suppose it wouldn’t bother me if you did get married there. It’s just”—she scrunches up her lips—“I would feel uncomfortable.”

  “I understand.”

  “Not because you’re…white.”

  She said the word!

  I heard.

  “But because most of the fools in my church would see you only as white.” She smiles. “They don’t know you like I do.”

  I lean forward. “Um, how does one elope?”

  She smiles. “You want her badly, don’t you?”

  I nod, blushing.

  “Maybe you could get married on your tour.”

  “But she’s not going.”

  “Jack, Jack, Jack,” she says, her eyes dancing, “she’ll go.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know. You’ll get a phone call later this evening, I promise.”

  How can she be so sure? Ask her!

  “How…how can you be so sure?”

  “I’m her mother. I can convince her of anything, but you have to do your part. Let me tell you how we’re going to do it….”

  57

  Diane

  I hate my mama.

  Okay, I don’t hate my mama—much—but she’s keeping Jack away from me for far too long, and the more I check on them at the window, the longer it seems to get!

  “A watched pot never boils,” Daddy says as he leafs through the newspaper on the sofa.

  “She’s doing this on purpose.” I sit next to him in a huff.

  Daddy folds the newspaper in half and sets it on the table. “I’d be more concerned if it was a short conversation. They’ve been at it for almost an hour. Maybe she’s liking what she’s hearing.”

  “But Jack isn’t doing any of the talking! His lips aren’t moving! All he’s doing is nodding and rocking in that chair. Why does she have to be so…” Is there even a word?

  Daddy puts his arm around my shoulders. “Your mama has been so…ever since I met her. It will all work out. You’ll see.”

  I lay my head on Daddy’s arm. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “He’s a fine man, Dee-Dee.”

  “But, if you like him, and Mama loves you, why doesn’t Mama like Jack?”

  He squeezes my shoulder. “I think she does. You should have heard her singing his praises everywhere she went back home.”

  I cross my arms in front of me. “Until she saw his picture.”

  “Well, he is a bit white.”

  I smile. “He doesn’t glow or anything.”

  “Girl, you’ll never need a night-light.”

  I punch him playfully in the chest. “He’s not that white.” He has some dark patches…in special places.

  The door crashes open, a chair preceding Jack, who drags the other chair behind him down the hall to the kitchen. Mama comes in looking…solemn? Oh no! Did it end badly? She, too, goes down the hall.

  Daddy removes his arm from around me. “Something’s up,” he whispers.

  Oh, God!

  Jack comes into the living room, his hands in his pockets. “I, uh, I have to go pack.”

  I stand. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  He shakes his head, and he won’t even look at me. “That’s okay. Um, your mother wants to talk to you.”

  I sigh. “She can wait.”

  Jack’s eyes flit up to mine. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” He nods at Daddy. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Anderson.”

  “Likewise,” Daddy says.

  “Um, bye,” Jack says, and I watch him go out the front door! And I don’t move a single inch!

  “Your mama’s waiting,” Daddy says.

  I set my jaw, clench my fist, turn, and march down the hall into my kitchen. Mama sits at the table, her hands folded in front of her, her lips tight.

  I don’t sit. “Mama, what just happened?”

  “You might want to sit down,” she says.

  “I’ll stand because I’ve been sitting too long today,” I say, with attitude.

  She looks up. “Suit yourself.” She blinks. “Your daddy and I will be leaving tomorrow.”


  Huh? “What?”

  She smiles that self-assured smile of hers. “My work here is done.”

  I fall into a seat across from her. “What do you mean?”

  “Just that…my work here is done. I’ve met Jack, and”—she shrugs—“I can go home now.”

  “What do you mean, you can go home now?”

  “Dee-Dee, oh, I’m sorry, I know you prefer to be called Diane now. Diane, I am speaking English, am I not?”

  There she goes calling me Diane again! “Yes, Mama, you are, but you’re not making sense.”

  She furrows her eyebrows. “To anyone but you, I am. Let me spell it out for you. I’ve met Jack. Are you with me?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “So I’ve met him, and now I can go home. What’s so hard to understand about that?”

  I’m so confused I can’t even blink!

  “Mama, what did you two talk about all that time?”

  She smiles. “A little bit of everything, but it doesn’t concern you anymore.”

  I don’t like the sound of that! “What do you mean it doesn’t concern me?”

  “Bill!” Mama calls, and Daddy steps into the room. “Get us a flight back home for tomorrow.”

  Daddy looks at me. “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” Mama says.

  “What’s going on?” Daddy mouths to me.

  I can only shake my head.

  “Go on, now,” Mama says. “And try to get us window seats this time.”

  Daddy leaves.

  “You’re…seriously leaving tomorrow.”

  Mama nods. “We are.”

  “But…but you just got here.” I can’t believe I’m saying this. “Four days tops” has turned into two days in a matter of minutes. “You couldn’t have had time to…to…”

  She smiles. “To what?”

  I jump up. “To…to properly assess Jack.”

  “Assess? I thought I was only meeting him.”

  I slap my right hand on the table. I will never slap my left hand on any table. I may even stop using my left hand completely. “You know what I mean, Mama.”

  She pushes back her chair and crosses her legs. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  I hold up both hands. “Enough of these games.”

  “What games?”

  I sigh so hard I think her hair moves. “Do you accept Jack or not?”

  “Accept? What do you mean by ‘accept’?”

  I want to curse her so bad! “Mama, I am engaged to be married to him in August. Now, do you accept—”

  “You’re not getting married to him in August, Diane.”