Down and Out in Bugtussle (37 page)

“Spring break,” Lilly says. “We were always gone during spring break.”

Birdie shows us several more pictures, and we laugh and talk and have ourselves a big time looking at our grandparents having so much fun.

“Look at this!” Lilly exclaims. “They went everywhere together!”

“Hey, I have a picture of her here,” I say, holding up one of her with the Smoky Mountains in the background.

“I have one of Papaw there, too,” Lilly says. “They went together?”

We look at Birdie. “A bunch of us went together,” Birdie says. She flips over another picture. “Look here—this was my boyfriend at the time. We went up there and hiked and went white water rafting. It was great fun.”

“Where did y’all stay?” Lilly asks.

“We rented cabins,” Birdie says. “Oh, here’s another one of the cruise. They loved that.”

“So, did they, uh…,” Lilly asks, and I give her a don’t-go-there look.

“Have sex?” Birdie chirps. “Well, of course they did and lots of it.”

“Oh gross!” Lilly exclaims.

“Too much information,” I say.

“And y’all wonder why they didn’t tell you,” Birdie chides. “You young-uns, always thinking life ends at a certain age.” Birdie looks at the pictures. “I remember when I was eighteen, I thought thirty was old. Then at thirty, I thought forty-five was ancient. Then I turned fifty and realized that I was just getting started.” She looks back down at the picture of her and her boyfriend. “We’re all just kids. Kids with wrinkles.”

“What happened to your boyfriend?” Lilly asks.

“I married him,” she said proudly. “He was my fifth husband. Passed away five years ago.”

“Fifth?” Lilly asks.

“Oh, my romantic life is another story for another day,” she says, picking up the stack of cards.

“Well, I would love to hear all about it,” I say, and Lilly nods in agreement.

“Me, too!”

“We’ll put that on our list of things to do, but right now, let’s
talk about this.” She picks up a stack of cards and looks at me. “These are from Eddie to your grandmother. Some of them are from M.”

“Who’s M.?” Lilly asks, like she’s offended.

“M. kept Essie company after Eddie passed away,” Birdie says. “That was almost more than she could stand. M. was the only person who could make her laugh in the months after that.” She looks at me. “But they weren’t romantic for a long, long time.”

“So the tree in the yard was for Eddie?”

“What tree?” Lilly asks, and I explain that to her.

“Why didn’t you just ask me? I would’ve recognized the date.”

“I just, I don’t know, didn’t get around to it,” I say.

“It broke my heart when Essie passed, but a part of me thought, ‘Thank you, God, that she doesn’t have to lose anyone else.’” Birdie picks up another few cards and looks at Lilly. “And these are from Essie to your grandfather.” She looks back and forth between us. “Your mother gave them to me to keep with the rest. She knew about their romance, knew that y’all didn’t know, and wanted to keep everything together for a day like today.”

“The keeper,” I say, smiling at Birdie.

“The keeper,” she says. “Would y’all like to have these?”

Lilly is crying again and I’m tearing up and we both just sit there like knots on a log.

“Should we take them?” I ask. “It kind of feels like it might be too personal.”

“Might do you both some good,” Birdie says. “There was a reason you dug your grandmother’s old gardening book out of the attic,” she tells me. “That tells me you’re ready for these to be yours now.” She sighs. “You were so young when your grandmother lost
your grandfather. It took a long time for her to decide she could love another man. Unlike me. It only takes me a minute,” she says, and Lilly and I start giggling. “Essie was a nervous wreck when she realized she was falling for Eddie. I told her, ‘Essie, you don’t have to open your heart just yet, but you might want to open your mind to the possibility you could fall in love again.’” Birdie looks at me. “And do you know what she told me?”

“What?” I say, dabbing my eyes.

“She said, ‘Birdie, I’ll think about opening my mind a little more if you’ll think about opening your legs a little less.’” And Lilly and I get hysterical.

“So that’s where you get that sassy mouth from,” Lilly says with a laugh.

“Your gramma was a wise woman. A strong and wise woman.” She stands up. “Okay, girls, party’s over. I’ve got a poker game to get to.” She hands a few cards and pictures to Lilly and a few cards and pictures to me.

“Poker? Are you serious?”

“Yes, down at the nursing home. I go down there every Thursday night and flirt with all the men that play.” She shoos us toward the front door.

“Life don’t stop till they drop you in the dirt, girls.” She gives each of us a big hug. “I expect to see you both at the next garden club meeting,” she says. Lilly and I assure her that we will be there. We say our good-byes, take our stuff, and head out to the car. When we get on the road, Lilly and I gag and laugh about the fact that our grandparents had sex with each other. On a cruise ship, no less. I drop her off, happy to see her so happy, and hopeful the next twelve months pass by quickly for her.

Riding home, I think about my grandmother. I thought she was perfect, always so nice and so pleasant. She never looked depressed and she never complained about what she didn’t have. She never spoke ill of anyone; she was just a continuous fount of kindness and patience. She was a survivor. And she never gave up on love.

I think about her at my age, what her life was like. She started every morning with a hot cup of coffee and a smile. She had a wise saying for literally every situation. I think about the box in the attic. The box of photo albums. Photo albums that she always wanted to sit down and look at with me but never did because I was always too busy and never had time. Now I know I have to look at that box. And I’ll just have to guess what she would’ve told me about the pictures inside.

When I get home, I go up in the attic and pull down the box of photo albums. I look at the pictures of her and my grandpa when they were young, my daddy as a boy, her backyard when it was nothing but a few patches of grass and an old wooden fence.

Her garden was her story that she pampered and pruned and made beautiful. Her pictures are her past, people whom she loved and cherished. I look through the next album and see pictures from my parents’ wedding day, pictures of me as a baby. Pictures from Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays. I feel a wave of guilt for leaving these stories in the attic so long, collecting dust. I decide to stop letting it all hurt me and start embracing the love that I had and being thankful for the time that I had it. I take the pictures from the cruise and decide to go buy some frames because they should be on display, along with several others.

I decide to start living like Gramma. Being careful, pampering and pruning, caring deeply so my life can be beautiful like hers
was. I go back upstairs and bring down one more box—the one I packed all of her jewelry in. Scarves, pins, and long beaded necklaces. A pair of old sunglasses.

I walk into her bedroom and put the box on the dresser. I slip on a long set of pearls, then pick up a scarf. I wrap it around my head just like she always used to do when she was going out to buy groceries. I pick up her pins, looking at each one before placing it back in the box. I slip on her sunglasses and smile at myself in the mirror. I’m proud of how much I look like her. I think about her, my mom, and my dad, and say a little prayer for them to help me get to where I need to be in this life.

I
spend Saturday morning running around all over town picking up Chloe’s shower gifts from all the places she’s registered. I call Jalena to see how she’s doing, and she tells me that she had everything ready last night. I rush home, apologize to Buster Loo for not taking him on a walk, get ready as fast as I can and head over to Jalena’s. Lilly and Stacey are already there. Cameron pulls in behind me, and they help me get the presents from my car to the party room, which Jalena has made look like a wedding shower wonderland.

“This is amazing,” I say when I walk in.

“I know. I said the same thing,” Lilly says.

Soon, the place is packed and Chloe arrives looking like an angel in a flowing cream-colored dress. Jalena has to bring in extra chairs, but we eventually get everyone a seat. Chloe opens what seems like a thousand wonderful gifts and Jalena unveils the appetizer
buffet that is out of this world. I step over and help place spoons.

“Everything but hot wings,” I whisper to Jalena, and she giggles.

Jalena and I stay busy keeping the buffet stocked, and I see her run out of several things I wanted to try.

“Aw, man,” I tell her on one of our trips back to the kitchen. “I really wanted some of those pinwheels.”

“I’ve got a few samples saved for us,” she says with a smile. “Plus one of each of the petits fours.”

“Yee haw!” I say.

When the shower is over and people start drifting out, several folks want to see Jalena’s diner, so she takes them in there and shows them around, kitchen and everything. The flamingos turn out to be a hot topic of conversation, and several people tell me that they’d like for me to do a mural in their homes. A few take my number and tell me they’ll be in touch.

When we’re alone in the diner, Jalena narrows her eyes and says, “Did I not tell you that you were going to need some business cards? I have a diner to run here, and I won’t have time to be stopping everything I’m doing to say, ‘Well, that nut Ace Jones did that, but she won’t have a business card made, so here’s her telephone number.’”

“You know, I had actually decided to do just that. I was going to ask you which printer you use.”

“Good.”

“Can I just say that I think you’re going to have a very successful place here because you are one bossy boss woman.”

“I take that as a compliment,” she says and disappears into the kitchen.

“Hey, Chloe,” I say when I walk back into the party room, “would you like for us to start loading up your vehicle?”

“Oh no,” she says. “J.J.’s nieces are about to get started on that.”

We stand around and chitchat for a while longer and I go back three times to get some more of Jalena’s pineapple cheese dip. We pester Chloe about a bachelorette party until she snaps at us and we finally hush.

“Chloe, ever the party animal,” Lilly whispers, and I start giggling.

“Are y’all talking about me?” Chloe asks, coming up between us and putting an arm around each of our shoulders.

“Not us,” I say.

“Never,” Lilly says.

Later that afternoon, after everything has been cleaned up and put away, I sit down with Jalena and, while we’re snacking on the samples she saved for us, talk about how well everything went.

“I don’t like showers,” I tell her, “but this one was great.”

“It’s because it was for someone you care about.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

“People sure are nice around here,” she says. “You used to tell me all kinds of stories about people from Bugtussle, Mississippi, and I have yet to meet anyone like those you used to talk about.”

“Yeah, things have changed. They’re not so bad.”

“I don’t think the people have changed. I think you have.”

“Maybe so,” I say, getting depressed because all of this wisdom is making me feel old.

When I get home, Lilly is sitting in my driveway.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Will you go with me to the pet store?”

“For what? Are you buying a bird?”

“No,” she says. She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t.

“Okay, what’s up? What’s going on?”

“I have a kitten.”

“A what?”

“A kitten.”

“What in the world are you doing with a kitten? Where did you get it? And where is it right now?”

“Well, I was really missing Dax the other day and I had to get out of the house, so I went and got a cherry limeade and was just riding around on some back roads when I passed a sign that said, ‘Kittens in need of love. Free to a good home.’ And I thought, ‘I have a good home,’ so I stopped and got one. Okay, I’m lying. I got two. Because there were only two left and they were playing and stuff and I didn’t want to separate them. So, yeah, I have two kittens. One is solid gray and the other is black-and-white.”

“Have you fed them?”

“Oh yeah, the people were really nice. They packed up a little care package and gave me everything the kittens would need for the first few days.”

“Yeah, I bet they were really nice,” I say, and I’m being sarcastic. I can’t believe Lilly stopped at a stranger’s house and picked up two kittens.

“They were.” She starts digging around in her purse. “I have this list. Will you go with me?”

“Of course.” I poke her in the arm. “So can Uncle Buster Loo cat-sit sometime?”

“Well, I’ll have to have some references first. I can’t leave my sweet little kitties with just anyone.”

“Let me go inside and get him. He would be so upset if I went to the pet store without him.” I go in and get his leash and take my dog to the pet store and help Lilly stock up on supplies for her new cats, what’s-its-name and what’s-its name. When we get back to her house, I ease Buster Loo into the cat introduction. One paws at his wagging tail and the other rolls around near his front paws. Buster Loo just stands there, looking stressed out. Then he flops down on his side and starts playing with the kittens.