then I didn’t have sense enough to come in outta the rain, so I surely wasn’t going to ask your momma out on a date. No, sirree,” he whistles. “Your daddy did, though, and truth to tell, I don’t know if I ever forgave him for taking my Libby away 58
ME & EMMA
from me.” He winks at me, which is a relief because I don’t know if I could stand hearing Mr. White say anything bad about Daddy.
“We were all real jealous of your daddy,” he says, nodding. “I s’pose I thought they’d light out of this town once they got married, but your momma wouldn’t have it. No, sirree…”
While he’s talking, I ease my rear down onto the seat real slow. Phee-you, it feels good to sit normal.
“…she dug her heels in and I reckon they grew roots so they stayed
on.”
I don’t quite know why, but all of a sudden a cloud comes over Mr. White’s face when he says this. So I keep my mouth shut. Nothing different from what I’ve been doing, really, but now it feels like I should be coming up with something to say.
“How’s school going?” Mr. White asks after we turn onto Route 5. We’re only about two minutes from my house, so luckily this won’t
be a long part of the conversation.
“Fine, thank you.”
“Yeah? Well, that’s good. That’s real good,” he says as he turns his big boat of a car onto our dirt road. His car looks so out of place driving where Richard’s truck does.
“Here we are,” he says, trying to sound cheerful, but the look on
his face doesn’t match his voice. So I hop out of the car fast. “Thanks again, Mr. White,” I call out to him.
“You betcha,” he calls back. “Now, you talk to your momma and have her call me once y’all work out when you want to come in again. You can come anytime you like, Caroline. Anytime at all.” He winks again and I shut the door and run up the front porch stairs to find Momma and Emma to tell them about my day at White’s.
Mr. White is just like everybody else here in Toast, North Car
60
ELIZABETH FLOCK
olina—it’s never occurred to him to leave. Imagine that. I mean, I can understand it when you’re my age, but when you’re old enough to get out of town, why wouldn’t you?
“Momma?” I holler before the porch door even slams shut. “Guess what?”
Momma’s in the kitchen smoking with one hand, stirring something in a pot on the stove with the other.
“Momma, Mr. White gave me a job! I cleared out all the boxes from the storeroom and he said he never saw it so neat and clean and he hired me right there on the spot. I can eat penny candy anytime I want. Momma, please say I can do it, please.”
“Slow down, Jesus H. Christmas, slow down,” Momma says, turning to the icebox and staring at what’s inside. “Go on and get me that molasses out of the pantry, will you?”
“Momma, can I work there after school? Can I?”
“Just get me that molasses can first of all,” she snaps at me. “We’ll have to talk about it.”
“Why cain’t I? It’d be great. I’d earn my own money and I get to have candy anytime I want. Please, Momma.”
Momma’s back stirring again, the wooden spoon turning slowly on account of whatever’s in there being too high up next to spilling over. I creep up closer to her ‘cause I can hear her mumbling something, but I know by now you cain’t push Momma too hard or she’ll
turn around and do just the opposite of what you’re hoping for. “Storeroom clerk…” she’s saying. I think. “Moving…”
See, all I get are snippets of words or phrases, so I know she’s working something in her head.
“Momma?”
61
ME & EMMA
“Goddamn son of a bitch.” The spoon picks up speed so it’s only a matter of time till something slops over the edge.
It’s like she’s reciting a grocery list in her sleep; her words don’t make any sense.
“Momma? Can I? Please?”
“What?” She whirls around like I startled her out of the conversation she was carrying on in her brain,
ME & EMMA
from me.” He winks at me, which is a relief because I don’t know if I could stand hearing Mr. White say anything bad about Daddy.
“We were all real jealous of your daddy,” he says, nodding. “I s’pose I thought they’d light out of this town once they got married, but your momma wouldn’t have it. No, sirree…”
While he’s talking, I ease my rear down onto the seat real slow. Phee-you, it feels good to sit normal.
“…she dug her heels in and I reckon they grew roots so they stayed
on.”
I don’t quite know why, but all of a sudden a cloud comes over Mr. White’s face when he says this. So I keep my mouth shut. Nothing different from what I’ve been doing, really, but now it feels like I should be coming up with something to say.
“How’s school going?” Mr. White asks after we turn onto Route 5. We’re only about two minutes from my house, so luckily this won’t
be a long part of the conversation.
“Fine, thank you.”
“Yeah? Well, that’s good. That’s real good,” he says as he turns his big boat of a car onto our dirt road. His car looks so out of place driving where Richard’s truck does.
“Here we are,” he says, trying to sound cheerful, but the look on
his face doesn’t match his voice. So I hop out of the car fast. “Thanks again, Mr. White,” I call out to him.
“You betcha,” he calls back. “Now, you talk to your momma and have her call me once y’all work out when you want to come in again. You can come anytime you like, Caroline. Anytime at all.” He winks again and I shut the door and run up the front porch stairs to find Momma and Emma to tell them about my day at White’s.
Mr. White is just like everybody else here in Toast, North Car
60
ELIZABETH FLOCK
olina—it’s never occurred to him to leave. Imagine that. I mean, I can understand it when you’re my age, but when you’re old enough to get out of town, why wouldn’t you?
“Momma?” I holler before the porch door even slams shut. “Guess what?”
Momma’s in the kitchen smoking with one hand, stirring something in a pot on the stove with the other.
“Momma, Mr. White gave me a job! I cleared out all the boxes from the storeroom and he said he never saw it so neat and clean and he hired me right there on the spot. I can eat penny candy anytime I want. Momma, please say I can do it, please.”
“Slow down, Jesus H. Christmas, slow down,” Momma says, turning to the icebox and staring at what’s inside. “Go on and get me that molasses out of the pantry, will you?”
“Momma, can I work there after school? Can I?”
“Just get me that molasses can first of all,” she snaps at me. “We’ll have to talk about it.”
“Why cain’t I? It’d be great. I’d earn my own money and I get to have candy anytime I want. Please, Momma.”
Momma’s back stirring again, the wooden spoon turning slowly on account of whatever’s in there being too high up next to spilling over. I creep up closer to her ‘cause I can hear her mumbling something, but I know by now you cain’t push Momma too hard or she’ll
turn around and do just the opposite of what you’re hoping for. “Storeroom clerk…” she’s saying. I think. “Moving…”
See, all I get are snippets of words or phrases, so I know she’s working something in her head.
“Momma?”
61
ME & EMMA
“Goddamn son of a bitch.” The spoon picks up speed so it’s only a matter of time till something slops over the edge.
It’s like she’s reciting a grocery list in her sleep; her words don’t make any sense.
“Momma? Can I? Please?”
“What?” She whirls around like I startled her out of the conversation she was carrying on in her brain,
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