won’t. I get it. I see your limp and I got some friends.”
We nodded at each other and silently took care of our business without acknowledging one another again. Our relationship was more of an acquaintance. For very childish reasons of my own. But as far as my own shortcomings, I wasn’t exactly in a hurry to talk about it with him or anyone. Especially with Jamie just upstairs. But fuck me, if he could tell, who else wasn’t I fooling?
A half hour later found us walking up to my mother’s house. She and Mrs. Vic were waiting for us, so they could “love on” Jamie and spoil her. In southern mother speak that means fatten her up. If they can’t do it, no one can.
“What if they don’t like me? I’ve been called some awful things in my career.” She asked, nervous as hell.
“Sugar, relax. They already know you and they already love you. Every time you ever met Mrs. Vic she came home and told Ma all about you. Just take a deep breath. Oh, and jump around a little. You gotta make some room in your stomach.”
She started to ask me what I meant when the back door flung open and we were accosted by mother hens abound. Well, she was accosted; I was completely ignored minus the jab in my gut as they flanked her and swept her inside.
At least they left the door open so I could come in; that was something. Once inside, I hefted myself up on the counter and out of the way.
“So tell us, baby, what do you like to eat?” Ma asked her, pushing Jamie down into a bar stool on the opposite side of the island.
The kitchen was done in all oak cabinets and white appliances. The décor was “crafty”. Whatever ma fancied to make with whatever fabric or print or bead or whatever, it was in here. She loved the arts and was always keeping herself busy with a new project which really was remarkable considering how much time she spent cooking and cleaning and being with Mrs. Vic. Bless mama’s heart she wanted her artsy side to rub off on even just one of us, but instead she got 4 military men. All damn good ranchers to boot, like our pa.
“Uh…” Jamie was really nervous, but not scared like she normally was. Maybe that’s because there weren’t any strange men around?
“She already had a loaf of french-toast and some bacon.” I piped up, fiddling with some new project ma left on the counter.
“Put that down.” She admonished me before turning back to Jamie. “You like milk, baby? Son, get her a glass of milk, would you?”
They both sprang into action without waiting for a reply. Jamie nibbled her cheek and looked around.
“You have a lovely home.” Her eyes were opening more and more, in intrigue. She honestly liked what ma did with the place. It wasn’t shabby or cluttered, but artistic and bright, homely and warm. Growing up here was nothing short of the best and it once again hit me like I drank sour milk; I’d give anything for Jamie to have grown up somewhere like I did. I’d even give up my spot in this house, take her place in hell if I could meet her again in that life.
Jamie might not see it, but she’s a survivor and she is strong.
For two hours, ma and Mrs. Vic baked, told stories, shared pictures and recipes, fed Jamie and laughed. They laughed so much, they cried and they even brought Jamie out of her shell, if only temporarily. While they all kept each other company, I got off the counter and stepped out the back door to make a call.
“Luke-almighty.” He answered, a smile in his voice.
“You gotta come get my computer and do whatever hoodoo it is you do, do.” I cracked myself up.
“What a pun.” Luke sighed, pretending to be off-put.
He could shove it, I’m hilarious.
“What’s going on now? I told you to lay off the porn sites.”
“Funny you’d say that since I haven’t been the one in possession of my laptop in over a week. And that’s just sad, Luke. You’re a good lookin’ sumbitch, you get it from me, of course. Just get off the computer and walk into
We nodded at each other and silently took care of our business without acknowledging one another again. Our relationship was more of an acquaintance. For very childish reasons of my own. But as far as my own shortcomings, I wasn’t exactly in a hurry to talk about it with him or anyone. Especially with Jamie just upstairs. But fuck me, if he could tell, who else wasn’t I fooling?
A half hour later found us walking up to my mother’s house. She and Mrs. Vic were waiting for us, so they could “love on” Jamie and spoil her. In southern mother speak that means fatten her up. If they can’t do it, no one can.
“What if they don’t like me? I’ve been called some awful things in my career.” She asked, nervous as hell.
“Sugar, relax. They already know you and they already love you. Every time you ever met Mrs. Vic she came home and told Ma all about you. Just take a deep breath. Oh, and jump around a little. You gotta make some room in your stomach.”
She started to ask me what I meant when the back door flung open and we were accosted by mother hens abound. Well, she was accosted; I was completely ignored minus the jab in my gut as they flanked her and swept her inside.
At least they left the door open so I could come in; that was something. Once inside, I hefted myself up on the counter and out of the way.
“So tell us, baby, what do you like to eat?” Ma asked her, pushing Jamie down into a bar stool on the opposite side of the island.
The kitchen was done in all oak cabinets and white appliances. The décor was “crafty”. Whatever ma fancied to make with whatever fabric or print or bead or whatever, it was in here. She loved the arts and was always keeping herself busy with a new project which really was remarkable considering how much time she spent cooking and cleaning and being with Mrs. Vic. Bless mama’s heart she wanted her artsy side to rub off on even just one of us, but instead she got 4 military men. All damn good ranchers to boot, like our pa.
“Uh…” Jamie was really nervous, but not scared like she normally was. Maybe that’s because there weren’t any strange men around?
“She already had a loaf of french-toast and some bacon.” I piped up, fiddling with some new project ma left on the counter.
“Put that down.” She admonished me before turning back to Jamie. “You like milk, baby? Son, get her a glass of milk, would you?”
They both sprang into action without waiting for a reply. Jamie nibbled her cheek and looked around.
“You have a lovely home.” Her eyes were opening more and more, in intrigue. She honestly liked what ma did with the place. It wasn’t shabby or cluttered, but artistic and bright, homely and warm. Growing up here was nothing short of the best and it once again hit me like I drank sour milk; I’d give anything for Jamie to have grown up somewhere like I did. I’d even give up my spot in this house, take her place in hell if I could meet her again in that life.
Jamie might not see it, but she’s a survivor and she is strong.
For two hours, ma and Mrs. Vic baked, told stories, shared pictures and recipes, fed Jamie and laughed. They laughed so much, they cried and they even brought Jamie out of her shell, if only temporarily. While they all kept each other company, I got off the counter and stepped out the back door to make a call.
“Luke-almighty.” He answered, a smile in his voice.
“You gotta come get my computer and do whatever hoodoo it is you do, do.” I cracked myself up.
“What a pun.” Luke sighed, pretending to be off-put.
He could shove it, I’m hilarious.
“What’s going on now? I told you to lay off the porn sites.”
“Funny you’d say that since I haven’t been the one in possession of my laptop in over a week. And that’s just sad, Luke. You’re a good lookin’ sumbitch, you get it from me, of course. Just get off the computer and walk into
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