“Daddy!” I call in frustration as Todd scurries away. “Tell this overgrown lizard to drop it!”
“He’s playin’,” Daddy says. “Besides, it’s just a stick.”
“It’s actually a very dangerous Hell weapon,” Alder says, steppin’ up beside me.
Daddy scowls at him, but I have a feelin’ that it has more to do with the fact that Alder drove me here and dared to speak, rather than his actual words. “Did you do anythin’ untoward with my daughter?”
“Daddy!” I admonish.
“Medley Bell, you know how we feel about you lyin’,” Mama says from the porch, and I let out a long sigh.
“I am a grown-ass woman!” I holler at them, not even carin’ that we’re probably drawin’ every damn eye in the trailer park. They’re probably all in their trailers, peekin’ through the blinds right about now. It’s Sweetgreen. Everyone wants to be up in everyone else’s business.
“Medley, stop raisin’ a racket and come inside for some lemonade. It’s too hot out there for arguin’.”
I reach up and touch the smooth stones on my necklace, not because I feel a tribulation comin’ on, but because I am in serious need of some calm.
“Alright, but tell Daddy to make Todd drop that. It’s not a stick to play fetch with. It’s my demon Hell scythe.”
Mama bats away a mosquito. “Teddy Bell, you heard the girl.”
Daddy sighs like I’m bein’ dramatic, but he shoots a whistle through his front teeth, makin’ Todd shimmy over and drop the stick at his feet again. “Good boy, Todd,” he croons, pattin’ him on the head before he reaches behind him to a bucket and tosses him a dead jackrabbit. Flint watches in rapt fascination.
I snatch up the wooden stick, which thankfully isn’t covered in teeth marks. Apparently, it’s sturdier than it looks. I give my daddy a glare, but he just shrugs. “Don’t look at me. Your mama found it in your room when she was washin’ your sheets. I thought I’d put it to use. It’s the perfect size for Todd.”
I give a long sufferin’ sigh. “No more playin’ fetch with my Hell weapon, okay?”
“Fine,” he says, wavin’ me off as he gets to his feet. “I’m runnin’ to the corner store. You get rid of these boys by the time I get back.”
I roll my eyes, but Mama gets on his case this time. “Teddy Bell, don’t think I don’t know that you’re goin’ to the corner store for some chew! You’re supposed to quit!”
Daddy pretends not to hear her, and she shakes her head at his retreatin’ back before settlin’ her gaze on us. “Well, come in, you three. Don’t just stand there. I made pie.”
“Oh, I love pie,” Flint says as he claps his hands together and rubs them in anticipation.
I carry the stick with me while Alder follows behind. As soon as I get through the door, I hold it up. “You really just handed this over to Daddy? It’s all dirty now, Mama,” I say with irritation.
She takes it from me and pats my head. “Oh, stop gettin’ your panties in a knot. Nothin’ a good scrubbin’ can’t help.”
She turns and takes it to the kitchen, and I catch Alder and Flint shakin’ their heads with small smiles on their faces. “What?” I ask them.
“You and your parents,” Flint supplies. “Nothing much fazes ya, huh? Y’all just take it all in stride, no matter what it is.”
I blink at him, realizin’ he’s right. I do get that from my parents. Maybe that’s why I’ve reacted the way I have to everythin’. I’ve learned my whole life to just run with whatever comes my way, so why would this be any different?
“HB, you go get cleaned up before your daddy gets home and is reminded about what his little girl was up to last night,” Mama tells me as she raises a red eyebrow and looks over my club gear and melted makeup with a critical eye.
“I wasn’t up to anythin’, I’ll have you know,” I defend.
“From the looks of it, you got yourself all done up and then went and sat in the sun. You look like melted plastic run over.”
I sigh at the lovely visual she paints and hate that Ifeellike melted plastic run over. But she’s right. It’s nothin’ a dozen makeup wipes and a cool shower can’t fix. I catch Alder checkin’ out my ass as my mama fusses over them to get them comfortable and plied with drinks and food at the table.
Yeah, a very cold shower should do the trick.
“Fine, Mama, I’ll go clean up. But no baby pictures, or stories, or trying to marry me off behind my back, okay?” I warn.
“That happenedone time, and Marietta’s grandson looked like a lovely boy,” she defends.
