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Authors: Chris Woodworth

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BOOK: When Ratboy Lived Next Door
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“No, ma'am! I promise it's the truth! And there was this boy, he owns the coon, I guess. He was so mad at me that he pushed me. Mad at
me
when his raccoon started all the trouble!”

“A boy! Why didn't you say so? Sounds to me like you have a beau, Lydia Carson,” she said as she packed up her first aid kit.

“Beau? Oh, no, Miz Green,” I said, standing up. “You've got it all wrong! I've never seen this boy before in my entire life!”

But Mrs. Green was finished with me. “Hello! How are you this fine day?” she said to a tiny old lady standing at the desk clutching some books. I started to leave.

“Oh, Lydia, don't run off yet! I need you to give your mother something. It will save me a trip to the newspaper,” Mrs. Green said, looking through the papers on her desk.

“I have the titles of movies that will be shown next month. Your mother is going to print them in the paper. If I can just find them, that is.”

She turned to the lady and said, “Isn't this exciting? Our little town will be showing its own movies! The first one is tonight, you know.”

And she was off and running, telling the lady about the new Friday-night Free Shows. Mrs. Green's husband, Sam, had come up with the idea of having Maywood's merchants chip in to rent the movies. Sam's plan was to project them out of the library window onto the Laundromat wall next door. There was a nice, grassy lot in between where people would sit.

Folks would be drawn to the movies and then would shop in Maywood rather than drive the thirty miles to the bigger town of Aylesville. Sam owned Green's Appliance Store. Daddy told me it “like to killed” Sam every time he saw a delivery van from out of town bring new appliances to Maywood.

“Yessir, my Sam just walked right into that city council meeting and told them that Maywood was dying on the vine.”

Clearly, the days of checking out a book without a twenty-minute conversation had vanished when Mrs. Green took the job. I wondered if the old woman had caught on.

“Sam told them, time was when all he had to do to draw a crowd on a Friday night was have a television set running in the window of his appliance store. Of course, these days most folks own a television. That's why he came up with the movie idea to keep Maywood's money in Maywood. Just like the good Lord intended. Ah, here's the list!”

“I'll give it to Mother, Miz Green.”

“Thank you, Lydia! And you be careful out there. A person never knows what strange animal might attack!” she said in that hearty voice of hers.

“Yes, ma'am. I will.” And, purely out of habit, I said goodbye very quietly to Mrs. Green.

My knees didn't want to bend too much with the big bandages she'd put on them, so I was grateful the road slanted enough to allow me to coast the rest of the way to Daddy's Sinclair filling station. The big green dinosaur on the sign was tall enough that you could see it over the top of the trains that ran on the tracks along the other side.

Daddy said the Sinclair people put up such a tall sign because they were afraid some traveler, impatient from waiting on a train to pass, would hurry through Maywood without knowing the Sinclair was there, and they'd miss a gas sale. If they missed every strange car traveling through Maywood in a year, that'd probably figure out to be about eight cars. Still and all, it made me feel mighty good to know the first thing anyone saw coming into town was the sign of my daddy's filling station.

Grabbing my books out of the basket, I limped inside and eased my sore rear into the black plastic chair that sat in the corner of the office. It was there for whoever stopped in to toss a few words back and forth with Daddy during the day. It was also there for anyone waiting on him to fix a flat. I always felt it was there just for me.

Daddy was singing “I Fall to Pieces” along with Patsy Cline on the radio and hadn't heard me come in, which was just as well. I wasn't sure I wanted to tell him about the boy and the raccoon. Daddy liked to give people “the benefit of the doubt,” a saying I'd heard so much it made me want to scream. Just once I wished he'd say, “Come on. I'm going to give that boy a talking-to for hurting my daughter like that!” But no, Daddy would more than likely say, “Well, I'm sure he feels bad about it now, Lydia. That's punishment enough.”

I decided to pull my skirt down over my bandaged knees and keep my mouth shut.

Daddy had a blue Buick on the hoist in the south bay. He was under it, letting oil drip from its pan, when he heard the buzzer that signaled a car had run over the snakelike plastic hose out by the pumps. He wiped his hands on a grease rag and tucked it into his back pocket. There's a grease rag stuck in the picture of every memory I have of Daddy at work.

He hurried out to help his new customer because he never wanted a person to have to wait for service. You would have thought there was another place to get gas in Maywood.

When he came in, he acted surprised to find me sitting there. “Why, Ladybug! I was just wondering why the day suddenly seemed brighter. I should have known you were here.”

Daddy always said things like that to me. It made me think he felt that he barely existed until I showed up. It was a nice change from Mother. However much space I took up around her seemed to be space she needed for something else.

Daddy walked over to the pop cooler and lifted the lid. He said the same thing he said every time I came: “Seems to me the Choc-ola isn't selling like it should. I need to get rid of a bottle. Think you could help me out?”

“I might.” It was the same thing I said every time, too.

“How much homework you got today?”

“Too much! Same as usual.”

Daddy chuckled. “That's too bad. I hoped you'd have time to run home and meet the new neighbors and their kids before supper.”

I nearly choked on my drink. I'd been praying folks with kids would move in next door.

“Daddy! Really? How old are their kids? Do they have girls? Tell me they have girls, Daddy!”

“Why, Lydia, my head's about to explode with all these questions. I don't think I can answer so many. I guess I'd just better go back and finish Fritz's oil change until I can think clearer.”

“Daddy!” I grabbed his arm before he could escape.

“Okay, okay. I'll tell you what I know.” He laughed. “They stopped in here for gas on their way to the house, which is how I found out. Their last name's Merrill and they have a girl, oh, about four years old, I'd say. They have a son a couple of years older than you and another son your age.”

He looked proud as Punch. “Daddy, you're kidding, right? Tell me you're teasing.”

The way his smile faded told me he wasn't. “Teasing about what?”

“Oh, Daddy, you mean to tell me the only girl is a little kid and the one my age is a
boy?

“Well, yeah, that's what I said.” He looked confused and a little hurt that his big news wasn't so big after all.

I wasn't good at praying on a one-to-one basis. But ever since Rae Anne's grandma, Mrs. Ogle, had moved, I'd had plenty to pray about. On Sunday mornings, squashed in the pew between Daddy and Nanna, I had prayed hard and steady that a new girl my age would move into the neighborhood. I had been very specific about that.

I didn't care so much about the older boy. I'd stay out of his hair and I figured he'd stay outa mine. But to have a new neighbor my age who was a boy—and for the only girl to be a little kid! Well, I wouldn't be caught dead playing with either one.

I picked up my arithmetic book and sat back down. I didn't say it out loud, but I couldn't help thinking that for someone with a reputation for being almighty, God surely could make a mess of a good prayer.

Just when I thought things were as bad as they could get, Daddy said, “Hey, I know something that might cheer you. The neighbor boy who's your age? Well, you're not going to believe this, but he has a pet raccoon!”

2

I ran into the house, stopped, and out of habit poked my rear end out to catch the screen door before it slammed—a purely dumb move considering how tender my backside was. Then I headed straight for my bedroom to change clothes. Tonight was the first Free Show,
Saginaw Trail,
starring Gene Autry, and I couldn't wait.

Rae Anne had been trying to talk her folks into coming since we first heard about the shows. But a free movie didn't have the draw for them that it did for most folks. Living so far away, it was easier for them to do their shopping in Aylesville. Rae Anne said her mom and dad felt it was a pure waste of gas to drive into Maywood, but she was determined. The last time I saw Rae Anne determined was when she wanted to get her waist-length hair cut into a pixie. Her mama said, “Absolutely not.” Rae Anne was too much of a good girl to take a whack at her own hair, as I might have. She just never combed it from that day on, and when her mama tried to brush it, Rae Anne would cry marble-sized tears. Finally her mother took her to Kathleen's Klip and Kurl in Aylesville and got her a pixie cut.

Since Rae Anne was determined again, I had every reason to believe she would be at the Free Show.

I carefully put the list of movies Mrs. Green had given me into my pants pocket. I hurried back down the stairs, swung wide on the newel post, and jumped. I kept hoping I'd make it past the linen closet door. As usual, I landed a couple of inches short.

Just then, Mother and Daddy walked up to the front door. With downtown Maywood being only four blocks long, Daddy never drove to work. He always stopped by the newspaper and walked Mother home.

I made sure my shirt was tucked in, then took the movie list out of my pocket and smoothed it. Mother came in the door first.

“Hi, Mother! How are you today?”

“Tired.”

“Oh, well, maybe you'll feel better when we get to the Free Show.”

“Yes, the Free Show. Interviewing people, taking pictures—it sounds very restful,” she said drily.

This wasn't going at all the way I'd planned. I tried again. “Um, Miz Green at the library asked me to give you this. It's the list of movies for the paper.” I held it out to her.

She gave a big sigh, as if it were too much to think about. “Thank you, Lydia,” she said and, without looking at it or me, laid it on the hall stand.

That feeling stole over me, the one that made me feel like a magnet turned the wrong way. The more I tried to get close to Mother, the stronger the force was that pushed me away.

Daddy came in behind her. My feelings must have shown. I could tell he wanted to cheer me up by the way he smiled.

“What's this?” He stuck his finger in my ear, pretending to look for something. “There's something in your ear, Ladybug.”

I swatted his hand away.

“No, really, I'm serious,” he said.

I laughed a little, even though it wasn't funny anymore. Daddy used to say “There's something in your ear” when I was little. I'd ask what it was, and he would say, “Oh, it's my finger!” Daddy needed to catch on that what was funny to me at age four wasn't so funny at twelve.

I walked into the kitchen to see Nanna. My stomach growled from the good smells.

My grandma had up and died the day Mother was born, and Grandpa had called Nanna, his younger sister, to come help with the baby. So Nanna never got married or had kids of her own. This all happened a long time ago, in Michigan, so I never met my grandpa before he died and hardly ever saw anyone else in Mother's family. Nanna'd just raised Mother, and now she was raising me.

“Hello, Lydia,” Nanna said. Steam from the stove had caused a few long, white tendrils of hair to come loose from the braid she always coiled and pinned to the top of her head. Her round, flushed face looked happy to see me, but only for a second. Then she asked, “Did you finish your homework?”

“Yes, Nanna. My homework's all done.” I gave her a kiss hello.

Her face smoothed back into a smile. “Well! That's fine. You'd best set the table. We don't want to be late for the…” Then she really looked at me. “Lydia Carson, what is that you're wearing?”

I looked down at my pants. Nanna hated pants on any girl. I'd have worn them tonight anyway, but I especially wanted to hide my bandaged knees.

“Nanna, you can't tell me the other girls will be wearing dresses to an outdoor movie!”

“I don't care what the other girls are wearing—” she began, but Mother walked into the kitchen and cut her off.

“Those dungarees are fine, Lydia. It might cool down and you'll be glad your legs are covered. Just change into a nicer blouse and you'll look as good as anyone in a dress.”

“I don't know why I bother,” Nanna said, pouring water into an ice-cube tray. “I tell you, one of these days I'm going to visit Louise and just not come back.” Nanna visited her sister in Michigan for one week every summer and she threatened to move back there at least once a week.

“That's your choice,” Mother said.

Nanna turned from setting the tray inside the freezer. She and Mother had a staring contest. Nanna was the first to look away. Sometimes I thought their bickering had more to do with what went on when Nanna was raising Mother than with me. I didn't care much, as long as whoever was on my side won.

I grabbed a stack of plates and silverware and headed into the dining room. I heard Mother say, “Glen tells me we have new neighbors. Have you met them?”

“Not yet,” Nanna said. “They spent the afternoon unloading their belongings from their pickup truck. I thought I'd take a cake over tomorrow.” Then her voice got louder so I'd hear, “Since tomorrow's Saturday, you can go with me, Lydia.”

I almost dropped the plate I was holding. I started to argue, but with Nanna I'd learned that it was sometimes better to hold your tongue. She never forgot something if we argued about it.

BOOK: When Ratboy Lived Next Door
9.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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