The Right Side of Memphis (11 page)

BANG, BANG, BANG!

I sprung up
from my history
homework, as my sister barged into my room and collapsed
onto my bed, scattering my homework all over the place. 

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask
ed
a bit too rudely when I hear
d
my sister’s sobbing. 

“I don’t want to talk about it!
” she replied
.  I move
d
my homework
out of the way, because I thought
her nose
was running and I definitely did
n’t need snot all over my report when I turn
ed
it in.  “You wouldn
’t even understand,” she continued
in between sobs. 

“How do you know what I’d understand?” I asked, defensively.

“Men!” she exclaimed.  Before I could figure out what she meant, she rambled on like I wasn’t even there.  “They will tell you they love you, and that you mean the world to them…but, don’t you believe them.  Oh no!  Don’t you believe them!” 

I don’t really expect to ever be in that position with a man, but okay…..

“They’re all the same and only after one thing.  Why can’t Andrew understand that I want to take it slower than that?  He tried to get me to hook-up last night, you know?” she asked
rhetorically
to no one in particular, as if I weren’t really even there.  “And, then, when I said I just wanted to kiss…he said he was fine with it.  But, today he gives me the silent treatment all day, and at lunch I see him flirting with Angela ‘the slut’ Morgan!”

“Should I be hearing this?” I ask
ed
, but she continue
d
as if not even hearing me.

“If he wants Angela ‘the slut’ Morgan, well, he can have her!  I’ve got lots of guys wanting t
o date me.  That’s what I’ll do!
I’ll go out with another guy tonight.  See how he likes it!”  Before she could ramble more, I stopped her and reminded her that we were all going to look at
Christmas
lights.  “Grow up, Jimmy!  How can you think of Christmas lights at a time like this???”  And, with that, she stormed out of my room, likely to go repeat the entire thing to Mom. 

Even if she decided she didn’t want to go look at the lights with me and Mom, I was still excited.  I
spent the next two
hours doing my report until I smelled dinner.  As I was packing my books back into my
book bag, Mom yelled
out, “Din
n
er time!”

I race
d to the dining room, and saw
we
we
re having a “taco night
.
”
  Not very Christmassy, but I loved
Mexican food.
  Laid out on the table we
re hard, corn tortillas as well as
soft, flour tortillas.  There was
ground, seasoned beef, refried beans, two kinds of shredded cheese, black olive slices, lettuce, onions, diced tomatoes, sa
lsa and sour cream.  My sister wa
s already
seated
at the table and seem
ed
to be in better spirits.  As always, I start
ed
loading up my plate first. 

“Hungry much?” my sister ask
ed
in a sarcastic tone. 

“You bet…” I repl
ied with my mouth full as I continued
shoving the first bi
te in my mouth.  The taco broke and all its fillings dropped
out onto my plate.  Mom and Sarah laugh
ed
contagiously.

After dinner, Sarah and I clean
ed the table and dishes.  She mad
e me wash because she sa
id
her hands
we
re too delicate for dish-water. 
Oh, brother!
  I d
idn’
t mind though
because
I never liked drying dishes anyways. 
I always thought
I
was
going to dr
op and break them because they we
re so slippery. 
Once the left-overs we
re put up and the kitchen
was
sparkling clean again
, Mom to
l
d
us to get
our coats and shoes on so we could
get on the road for some good ole Christmas light lookin’.

“You don’t have to tell me twice….” I holler
ed as I raced
to find my shoes. 

“Jimmy!  I’ve told you not to get snow all over the place when you come in from school,” Mom complain
ed when she saw the mess the snow from my shoes made.
“
G
o get a towel and mop up the puddles
, please.”  I hurried
and clean
ed
up the mess, and we all ho
p
p
ed
in the car. 

Brrrr, rrrr, rrrr, rrrrrr….cachuk!

Mom’s car wa
s
an
older
, powder-blue, Chrysler station-wagon that never
seem
ed
to want to start
when it was
cold out
side
.  Mom trie
d
again, and it finally crank
ed
.  “Oh my God…it’s sooooo c-c-coooollllddddd in here,” Sarah
complained
.  She always seem
ed
to be complaining about something.
  Mom turned
on the Christmas carols to take our minds off of the frigid car while it
slowly warmed
up.  Then
,
she
stepped
outside to scrape the ice from
the windshield.  Meanwhile, I
bundled up i
n the
blanket I kep
t
on the
back seat for long trips.  I go
t car sick
very
easily, so if we
we
re going to
be in the car long, I always had
to nap to prevent myself from getting too nauseous.
  There wa
s always a blanket and pillow waiting for me, just in case. 

“Jingle Bells!  Jingle Bells!
Jingle all the waaaayyyy…” I sa
ng as we back
ed
out of the driveway.  The car
began to heat up
and we
started out
to the first neighborhood. 
The first few houses did
n’t have any lights on, even though their yards
we
re decorated.  We
did manage to find enough houses that had
the
ir
lights on to make it worth it
, though
.  We s
a
ng along to the carols on the radio, in between our trio of “o
oohhhhs” and “aaahhhs” as we saw
bigger and bigger displays of lights.  One house even ha
d wooden cut out
s of cartoon characters, and ha
d
re-enacted a scene from my favorite Christmas special
, involving a lonely Christmas tree
. 

Once we left
a few of t
he smaller neighborhoods, we mad
e our way to the King of
N
eighborhoods
, as I nick-named the sub-division due to the enormous sizes of the houses
.  I don’t know if you’d call the houses in
Ashton Woods Estate
mansions, but they are certainly the biggest house
s I had ever seen.  Each house was covered in stone, and even had
a smaller attached home for their housekeepers or cooks.  We weren’t w
hat I would call poor, but we rented our home…and had
an older car.  Mom provide
d for my sister and I
alright
a
nd we haven’t
been on welfare.  Even so, money was
tight.  I could never imagine living in a house as large and luxurious
as the ones I was looking at
.  There must
have
be
en
at least seven or eight bedrooms in each main house…and probably just as many bathrooms. 
Imagine that….not having to share a bathroom with Sarah anymore.
  It brought
a smile to my face.   

The
lights and decorations on the
mansions look
ed so elegant.  It was
my absolute favorite stop every year.  My mom always worried that we
would
get arrest
ed, because of the looks of our car
.  “Surely, they’ll think we’re casing the joint,” she always joke
d
. 
One of the houses
ha
d
a huge tree in the middle of the spacious
,
front yard, and they always decorate
d
it to look like a Christmas tree, complete with the tree skirt and larger than life presents underneath.  It
was so big, it reminded
me of the tree at the end of the
How the Grinch Stole
Christmas
cartoon special. 
If I would ever becom
e rich, I’d want to give my Mom a Christmas tree like that…with just as many presents. 

We continued looking at more houses and more pretty lights,
but I must have fallen asleep because
I awoke to my Mom tucking me in to bed. 

“Sweet dreams, Jimmy
,
”
s
he said as she kissed my forehead. 

“Goodnight, Mom
,
” I lazily muttered back. 

BBBBBZZZZZ.  BBBBBZZZZZ.  BBBBBZZZZZ.  BBBBBZZZZZ.

I hated my alarm clock.  Connor had an iPod
d
ock that would wake him to his favorite music.  I didn’t have an iPod or cell phone…hell; we didn’t even have enough money
for a generic mp3 player
.  I toss
ed
my simple but effective alarm clock across the room and slowly got out of bed. 

I had to bang on the bathroom door, repeatedly.  “Hurry up!”  As usual, Sarah was in there doing her makeup.  “You can do that in your room,” I suggest
ed
for about the millionth time. 

“I have to look extra,
extra
hot today, you know
…
so I can m
ake Andrew jealous,” she explained
as she exit
ed
our only bathroom, “…so, chill out, dweeb.”

“Whatever…” I mumble
d
as I closed the door and start
ed
the shower.  I wasn’t really a vain guy.  I didn’t get haircuts every two weeks like Connor, or workout religiously like Mikey.  Most days I barely ran a comb th
rough my hair.  But, I thought I was an
attractive enough guy, in an average sort of way. 

After getting ready and grabbing my
book bag, I mad
e my way next door to Connor’s so
we could
hea
d to the bus stop.  We always ro
de the bus on cold mornings, because it
wa
s just too cold and early to make a hike to school in the snow
and ice.  Most of our friends go
t
rides
to school
from their parents
, b
ut Connor’s parents and my Mom we
re already at work by
the time school started
. 

As we pull
ed up to the school, Mikey wa
s there waiting.  “What took ya’ll so long?” he asked with a fake, southern drawl. 

“We’re here at the same time as always, Mikey,” I repl
ied
.  He just punche
d
my shoulder and start
ed
telling us about the cool
,
new tablet computer he got last
night for Hanukkah.  Mikey lived
on the wealthier side of town.  His parents
we
re both
d
octors
, so he tended
to always have the best of everything.  I like
d
living
vicariously
through him,
especially
when he
would tell us about all
the n
ew gadgets he got
as presents.  But, after 10 minutes of him rambling on about this new
$700 tablet computer, even I was
jealous and ready to change the subject.  “So….how did you guys think you did on yesterday’s English Lit test?” I offer
ed
to steer the subject in a different direction.