Fit to Be Tied

by Debby Mayne

  “I’m saving them for something special.”

  “Oh, honey, don’t save your cute clothes for something special. Life’s too short.”

  She has a point, but I need to stay on task. “Do y’all remember Mavis Gentry?”

  Shay nods. “She’s the one who inherited the kitchen store. Why?”

  “She’s looking to start some cooking classes, and I thought of you—” I don’t want to leave Puddin’ out. “Er . . . y’all.”

  Puddin’s eyebrows come together. “Do you think we need to take cooking classes?”

  “No, I’m thinking y’all should teach them.”

  I see a flicker of interest in Shay’s eyes, but Puddin’ shakes her head. “I don’t know, Sally. That’ll take a whole lot of preparation, and I don’t have much time on my hands, what with the business and the family.”

  “But I do,” Shay says. “I think it sounds like a blast. Tell her I’m interested.”

  Puddin’s chin juts out as she looks at Shay and then at me. “I might be able to teach something as long as it’s not too involved and doesn’t require a whole lot of planning.”

  One thing I know about Puddin’ is that she can’t stand to be outdone or left out of anything. I grin at both of them. “I’ll let Mavis know and get back with you.”

  Julius is coming over, and Mama says I have to be nice to him. After what he did to me back at Grandpa Jay and Granny Marge’s farm, he’s the last person I want to see. Somehow I’ve managed to avoid him until now, but there’s no way that would last.

  “Do I have to?” I clear my throat to get the whiny sound out of my voice. “Every single time I’m with him I get in trouble.”

  “It’s high time y’all worked through this,” Mama says. “I’m not sayin’ you have to hang out with him or anything. Just learn to be civil and stand your ground if he tries to lead you astray.”

  “But—”

  “Hey, Puddin’.” The sound of Daddy’s voice when he walks into the kitchen makes both Mama and me turn around. He grins at me. “So, how’d practice go?”

  I shrug. Actually, practice was awesome. Our first-string quarterback got injured at the last game, so the coach is going to let me start the next game. I shrug and pretend I’m not excited. “Okay, I guess.”

  “That’s nice, son.” He looks back at Mama. “One of the drivers said his wife needs somethin’ fancy to wear to their Fall Ball, and I told him you’d give her a real good deal.”

  Mama makes her growly sound, trying to make us think she’s not happy but really is. “Don’t go tellin’ everyone I’ll give ’em a discount, or you’ll put us out of business.”

  “I know, Puddin’, but this is different. She just got out of chemo for breast cancer, and I thought it might cheer her up to have a new dress that she doesn’t have to get at the thrift store.”

  Mama’s expression changes, and she nods. “Well, that’s different. Tell her to call me, and I’ll make sure I spend some extra time with her.” She twists her mouth like she always does when she’s thinking. “In fact, I might even surprise her with a free necklace to go with the dress.”

  Daddy grabs her and gives her a big ol’ hug and a kiss on the lips, and that embarrasses me. Mama says I’ll eventually grow out of that feeling, but I don’t think so. About a year ago when I told them to quit doing that, Daddy said if it weren’t for the way he’s willing to show how he feels about Mama, none of us young’uns would be here. And that embarrassed me even more. Maybe it’s because I’m already in high school, but I’ve never been kissed.

  “Digger, go change out of your uniform and help Brett with the leaves.” Mama tips her head in my direction. “Just because you’re some big-man-on-campus football player doesn’t mean you’re gettin’ out of doin’ chores.”

  Daddy nods. “And just because I’m your mama’s super-hunky UPS driver husband doesn’t mean I don’t have to help you.”

  Mama giggles, and Daddy winks at her. I turn away before they kiss again.

  I’m sure they think they make sense, but I don’t see it. Why can’t they just say, Brett, go rake the leaves? That would be a whole lot simpler. But they always complicate everything—something I’ve noticed that adults do . . . Well, except Grandpa Jay and Granny Marge.

  My daddy’s grandparents are the coolest great-grandparents ever. They know when to be adults and when to have fun. Even when Julius and I got in trouble after we blew up the old barn—and they didn’t hold back on the tongue-lashing—they were actually nice to us. After they let us know the trouble we caused, they joked around with us and told us they love us in spite of what we did. I’m not so sure Julius appreciates them, though. He later said some ugly things about Grandpa Jay that I’d never repeat. It makes me mad when people make fun of old people. Don’t they realize we’re all getting older? Maybe not Julius. I don’t think he thinks past his own little here and now.

  Daddy goes to his room to change out of his brown uniform, while Mama continues to give me orders. You’d think I was in the army or something, and she’s my drill sergeant.

  I’m actually happy to be in the backyard with a rake. The sound of Mama’s voice is starting to get on my nerves. Actually, everything’s starting to get on my nerves. I don’t know what’s going on with me, but ever since I started my junior year, I’ve been on edge at home and at school.

  Sometimes it seems like the world keeps getting crazier—at least it’s crazy in Pinewood, Mississippi. I know it’s not just me though, because even the teachers say this world isn’t the same as it used to be.

  I know I sound lame, but there are times when I wish things were simpler, like when Daddy was a teenager. They used to drive around with girls in their cars and go to movies and burger places and stuff. Now everyone just sits and punches buttons on their cell phones—something Mama and Daddy won’t let me have yet. Mama says she’ll get me one when I’m a senior, but Daddy says I shouldn’t have one until I can afford to pay for it. I gripe about it, but deep down, I’m fine without a cell phone. I have a hard enough time typing on the computer keyboard. Whoever decided to jumble the letters all out of order must have been on something strong. Why couldn’t they just put the letters in order so folks could find them without having to take classes?

  I don’t have much of a social life outside of my family and church. Some of the other guys on the football team tell me that my problem is I’m old school. Maybe so, but I don’t see that they’re doing all that well either. Besides, I like hanging out at home when I’m not playing football. A few annoyances aside, most of the time my parents are pretty cool—especially now that Mama has her shop and doesn’t harp on me as much as she used to.

  My sister and brothers are okay. My older brother, Trey, moves in and out, depending on what’s going on in his life. Mama says one of these days she’ll change the locks, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen. I think she just likes to talk tough.

  Hallie, my sister, is sort of moody, but she’s not terrible. I’ve figured out how to read her, so I know when to leave her alone and when I can get away with messing with her, which is fun when things get boring.

  The coolest kid in the house is my baby brother, Jeremy—the one Daddy slips up and calls their oops child, whatever that means. I like him because he keeps Mama and Daddy busy so they’re not always watching and waiting for me to make a mistake. He gives them plenty to worry about, like when he yanks the tablecloth off the table or throws his sippy cup across the kitchen when he’s mad. I can’t help laughing, even though Mama says all I’m doing is encouraging him to be a brat. But then she always turns around and talks all sweet and nice to him, so I think she’s as guilty as I am. Maybe even more so.

  Me and Jeremy have a special bond. He likes to follow me around the house and do what I do. When I play music, he likes to dance, and that makes me laugh, which only gets him excited, so he breaks out some really crazy dance moves. Hallie rolls her eyes when Jeremy is like this, and that makes us laug
h. I can’t wait until Jeremy is old enough to hang out. I’ve got a lot of stuff I want to teach him.

  Daddy finally joins me in the backyard. “Good job, son. We need to hurry and get these leaves into a pile so we can go in and clean up before the company gets here.”

  “Why did Mama have to invite them over?”

  “She did it so we can clear the air before the family gets together again.” Daddy gives me a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard on account of how he got you in trouble, but you might as well get it over with.” He shakes his head. “He’s family, and that means you have to love him, even when you can’t stand the sight of him.”

  “I know. It’s just that—” I’m not sure how to tell Daddy that when Julius is around I feel inferior.

  “Julius is a spoiled brat,” Daddy says. “We all know that. He never took responsibility for what y’all did, but you’re a better person, and you own up to your mistakes.”

  “It’s not fair.” I pull the rake so hard it hurts my shoulder.

  “I know, and I feel sorry for Julius.”

  I give Daddy a curious look. “Why do you feel sorry for Julius? He’s the one getting me in trouble.”

  “You just said it’s not fair. What I’m sayin’ is you’re the one with the advantage. You have a mama and daddy who know what’s goin’ on, and we’ll see to it that justice is served. When folks make mistakes, they eventually have to pay for them. I think you’re good.”

  The sound of car doors slamming gets our attention. We both stop raking, look at each other, and then walk over to the shed to put our rakes away without saying another word until we get to the back door.

  Daddy whispers, “Why don’t you go on upstairs and get cleaned up? I’ll chat with Julius and his daddy until you’re done.”

  I take advantage of the opportunity to avoid my cousin for a few more minutes, but I know better than to dillydally. After I take a quick shower and throw on a fresh pair of jeans and T-shirt, I ask Jesus to keep me out of trouble, and then I go downstairs.

  Julius has a smirk on his face that I want to punch the second I see him. I turn my back and ask Jesus to forgive me for my thoughts, but I can’t help thinking them. Mama glances back and forth between us before she walks up to me, puts her hands on her hips, and gives me one of her smiles with a look in her eyes letting me know she means business. “Why don’t you go show Julius the project you and your daddy have been workin’ on?”

  The last thing I want to do is show Julius the tree house Daddy and I have been building for Jeremy. I know he’ll make fun of it, and then I’ll for sure want to deck him.

  We’re barely out the back door when Julius leans over. “Hey, we’re gonna have some kind of fun at the next family party.”

  I frown at him. “What are you talking about?”

  His eyes spark with mischief. “What we’re gonna do will make the barn look like baby stuff.”

  I can’t help letting out a groan. The look on Julius’s face lets me know that all that work we did for Habitat didn’t do a single bit of good with him.

  I can’t remember ever being this excited. In the course of a day and a half, I’ve managed to line up three cooking classes for Mavis, and she’s over-the-moon happy, which delights me to no end. “I don’t know if you realize this, Sally, but if this works out, you might have just saved my business. We haven’t made a profit in months.”

  It’s a good thing I didn’t know that until now, or the pressure might have been too great. The main reason I went to all that trouble was to give myself something to do—something that interests me. In fact, I might even go to Puddin’s class on cooking nutritious foods for toddlers just to show support, even though I’m not having any kids any time soon.

  Mama calls. “Hey, honey. I’ve been feeling bad about turning you down for lunch. What are you doing today?”

  “I’m caught up with the bows, so now all I have to do is wait for Sara and Justin to get home.”

  “Want to go get a bite to eat?”

  The pitying tone of her voice sets my teeth on edge. “I’m fine.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I didn’t ask how you were doing. I just wanted to know if you’d like to go have some lunch with me.” Now she sounds annoyed.

  “Sure. Since I have to be downtown in a couple of hours, why don’t we meet at the Lettuce Leaf?”

  “The Lettuce Leaf? I was thinkin’ . . . Oh, never mind. When do you want to meet?”

  I tell her a time, and then we hang up. Now I have to figure out what to wear. Now that my closet is full of cute things, I find it’s harder than ever to decide.

  It’s a little cooler today, so I pick the brown leggings and the long ecru sweater that makes the perfect backdrop for the coral and brown paisley scarf Shay showed me. Then I slide on my knee-high brown boots. I take a long look at myself in the mirror, and I’m amazed by how grown-up I look. For the first time, I realize how immature my wardrobe was until now—until I took a leap to my zone of discomfort, simply because I was lonely and desperate. Sara could use an update too, but I’ll save that for after the baby comes. If she gets her figure back, maybe I can give her some of my things.

  The second I walk into the Lettuce Leaf, I spot Mama sitting at a small table by the corner window. She glances at me, blinks, and then her eyebrows shoot up as she smiles. “You look amazing.”

  I grin as I sit down in the empty chair across from her. “Thank you.”

  “I think this is the first time in ages I’ve seen you in anything besides jeans and those long skirts you wear to church.” She shakes her head. “You look so pulled together.”

  “Why, thank you.” Now I’m starting to grow uncomfortable under Mama’s scrutiny. “It’s just a little something I picked up from La Chic.”

  “Oh . . . yeah, I thought you might find something. They’re making quite a splash in town.” Mama picks up a menu and opens it. “Any idea what kind of salad you’re going to have?”

  I almost always get the spinach-pecan-mandarin salad, but I’m in the mood for something different. “I’m thinking maybe the one with quinoa and black beans.”

  Mama closes her menu. “I have no idea what quinoa is, but I think I’ll have that too.”

  I can’t help laughing. Mama has always been game for just about anything, and she used to fuss at Sara and me for staying in a rut. Now I get it. I was in a rut, but after dipping my big toe into the foreign waters of fashion, I think I like it.

  “So, why do you have to be downtown?” Mama asks.

  As I tell her about the cooking classes I’m lining up, I see her expression change. “So, what do you think?”

  She shrugs as she glances down at the table. “I reckon I’m disappointed.”

  “Disappointed?” I rack my brain trying to figure out what I said that might disappoint her. “Why?”

  She lifts her gaze to mine. “Because you didn’t ask me to teach a class. You’ve always said I was the best cook in Pinewood.”

  “But you’re too—” I cut myself off. “Do you want to teach a cooking class?”

  She frowns. “I’m not sure I have enough time with the club meetings, committee responsibilities, and church.” She pauses. “And there’s your father, who thinks I need to spend more time with him.”

  “That’s why I didn’t ask you. You’re too busy.”

  Her lips turn downward as she tips her head to the side. “At least you could have asked.”

  I make a mental note to go to Mama first next time Mavis wants to start a series of cooking classes. “I’m sorry.”

  A pensive look washes over her face. “But I might be able to find some time on Tuesdays.”

  “To teach?”

  She nods. “Isn’t that what we were talking about?” Before I have a chance to answer, she continues. “How about a class on quick and easy breakfast foods? We can keep it to a couple of nights. That way, I’m not committed for too many weeks. Do you think Mavis is game for a short, two
-lesson class?”

  That actually sounds good to me. The most difficult meal for me to come up with is breakfast, so I typically fall back on cold cereal, bacon and eggs, or frozen toaster waffles.

  “I’ll talk to Mavis and make sure she’s okay with one more class. Keep in mind that she’ll want you to use items she sells in her shop so people will buy what they need when the class is over.”

  Our salads arrive, so we change the subject to what’s on our plates. “What’s that grainy-looking stuff?” Mama asks.

  “That’s the quinoa.”

  She picks up a small amount on her fork, inspects it, smells it, and finally puts it in her mouth. I can’t help laughing at her reaction.

  “Well?” I’m still smiling. “What do you think?”

  She scoops up another bite and holds it up. “It’s not bad, but it could use more salt.” Then she shoves it into her mouth.

  After we finish our lunch, I reach for the check. “This is on me.”

  “You don’t need to pay for mine, sweetie. After all, you’re my daughter.” She reaches for it, but I yank it away.

  “That’s precisely why I’m paying. After all these years, don’t you think it’s my turn?”

  Mama frowns and then nods. “Okay, but it’s my turn next time.”

  “You’re on.”

  The sound of sirens rings through the air. Mama looks in the direction of where they’re going. “I wonder what that’s all about.”

  I shrug. “Could be anything.”

  Once we’re outside on the sidewalk, Mama looks me over again and sighs. “I can’t believe how grown-up and polished you look.”

  “That’s because I am a grown-up.” I glance at the time on my phone. “I really need to run. Thanks so much for suggesting lunch.”

  “Tell Sara I said hi and that I love her.”

  I start walking toward the Chef’s Skillet, which is around the corner on the next block. As soon as I make the turn, I see the fire truck with its swirly lights still on, but no siren, parked at the curb in front of the Chef’s Skillet. My pulse quickens.