Page 44
“Jail?”
“No.”
“The hospital?”
Smirking at her calm questioning, I explained, “My girlfriend was in an accident. I’m staying with her in Little Memphis for a few days. Maybe longer.”
“Girlfriend?” she said, sounding amused. “What’s Little Memphis?”
“Blairsville, Arkansas. It’s where she lives.”
“What’s this girlfriend’s name?”
“Goldie.”
“Is this girlfriend a drag queen?”
Chuckling, I replied, “No, she’s a woman. Born and raised female. Goldie is her real name.”
“I feel like you’re pulling my leg.”
“I’ve never said I was gay. I just let you believe that since the idea amused you.”
“Hmm, I would like a photo of this girlfriend. Is Goldie her nickname?”
“No, it’s her legal name.”
“That seems unfortunate.”
“You named me York.”
“It’s where you were conceived.”
“I know, but it’s not like you went with a common name for your only child.”
Silence lingered before Jessica asked, “Is this woman someone important? Should I even know about her?”
“I’m in love with her. I plan to propose marriage when she’s healed up.”
“What kind of accident was she involved with? Is it drugs? Have you fallen for a working girl?”
Despite Jessica likely being serious, I chuckled. My mom had watched too many TV dramas. For her, every question became a big mystery despite the answers usually being mundane.
“Goldie’s in a motorcycle club like me. An SUV hit her when she was riding one night. She had surgery on her Achilles tendon.”
Jessica didn’t respond immediately. “You’re fooling me. I can feel it.”
“I’ll send you a photo from when she wasn’t so bruised up.”
“Where are you really?”
After sending my mom a photo of the back of the Sorority House, I explained that many of the Crimson Guard’s female members lived here. I also sent her a picture I had taken of Goldie during one of the many parties the local people threw. I had been pretending to take a photo of the lake facing the back of the Reed brothers’ yards, but I wanted a picture of the woman who’d already wrapped me around her little finger.
“Why are you so far away from her in this picture? Is this woman someone you’re stalking?”
“No.”
“Is she a beard? Am I using that term correctly?”
