Southern Belles, a Novel About Love, Purpose & Second Chances (9781310340970) (6 page)

“I’m ready whenever you girls are.” He
insisted.

I quickly marched up the stairs with CeCe. I
still had some packing to do but I could easily pull an all-nighter
if I needed to. Right now I wanted to get to the beach and get some
more rays as I knew it wouldn’t be until next summer before I got
back there. And Trixie’s was definitely a priority because I wanted
to say goodbye to Trudy and get my favorite chocolate milkshake and
cheese fries, a staple in this teenage girl’s diet.

Trixie’s, a small diner with big heart was
like a second home to CeCe, Richie, and I. For every celebratory
event, heartache, or rainy day, we plopped ourselves down in the
1950’s style booth in the corner right between the jukebox and the
Elvis Presley cutout. Trudy, a single mom and server at the diner,
for years, could have been a surrogate mother for CeCe and me. She
always knew what to say to us to turn our day around. She also knew
how to handle the men that would come in and try to get fresh with
her. That was entertaining to watch. At 5’2, Trudy’s not the
typical blonde bombshell that most people, at first glance presume.
Smart and funny, she keeps the regulars coming back not just for
the food but for the feeling they get of being known by name. A
native of St. Marys, Trudy has never stepped foot outside this
small town. I don’t know how but she always seems happy even as a
single mom, working at a diner for a living. Years ago she fell in
love with a handsome stranger who abandoned her while pregnant.
Still after that she kept a smile on her face more often than not.
She says that she could have chosen to be angry for the rest of her
life but that Charlie, her daughter, is the best gift that anyone
has ever given her. I just never understood how someone so young
and full of life could be happy in the constraints of a small,
old-fashion town but Trudy was.

Driving up to Trixie Rox, I spotted a few
familiar cars in the packed parking lot. A lot of other beach goers
must have had the same idea, an ice-cold milkshake and some cheesy
fries to fight off the heat and hunger that a long day at the beach
demands.

“Hey that looks like Veronica’s car,” Richie
said, smiling.

“Hey, that looks like Veronica’s car,” CeCe
echoed mockingly.

“I don’t even know why someone as awesome as
yourself Richie would ever like someone so shallow and fake as
Veronica,” said CeCe in a sarcastic voice.

Veronica was the only girl that drove CeCe
nuts and Richie knew it. Richie, who was liked by all, (especially
the girls) always, thought that Veronica was cute…and Veronica made
it a point to flirt with him. Veronica was 5’9 and 120 pounds of
perfect. Long, straight, blonde hair and legs a mile high, she was
the captain of the tennis team, co-cheerleading captain (CeCe was
the other co-captain of the cheerleading squad our senior year),
Miss Homecoming queen, President’s award recipient and CeCe’s arch
rival. Secretly, CeCe was always trying to out-do Veronica and
vice-versa Veronica did her best to make perfection look easy. I
think the competition started in fifth grade when CeCe was showing
Eric Sothersby off when Veronica Sweetly interrupted her parade by
walking by and smiling harmoniously at Eric. Feeling threatened by
the cute little blonde, with perfectly parted pigtails, whose
mother was also a powerhouse in the community, CeCe shot her a
laser-eyed look to shoo her away from her new prize possession.
Sweet, but not dense to her plan, Veronica shot her back an equally
menacing look when Eric turned his back, before she smiled at CeCe
and walked away, triumphantly. Since then CeCe and Veronica have
been competing against each other in everything from boyfriends to
cheerleading captain to fashion icon to president of the student
government body and then some. And when Veronica won Miss
Homecoming queen, CeCe was secretly devastated—even though she
smiled during the crowning on the football field to cover the pain
of defeat. CeCe didn’t quite feel as bold a competitor again until
she won Miss St. Marys a few months later. And then she was back
and as audacious as ever.

Pulling open the door to the diner, I
quickly scanned the room and felt like it was a mini-high school
reunion. Amongst all the recognizable faces including Veronica’s,
there were many more unfamiliar, youthful ones. Next, I spotted
Trudy who was busy running the show, pinning up orders for the
kitchen crew, and getting ready to stack her tray with scrumptious
diner food. Looking toward our usual spot I spied four guys that
looked to be college-aged sitting in our booth. As soon as CeCe
discovered Veronica looking towards our table, CeCe realized her
new assignment—make sure Veronica saw CeCe befriending the guys she
couldn’t take her eyes off and make her green with envy.

“Hey girls, I’m sure they won’t mind sharing
the booth,” Trudy yelled over the crowd, once she spotted us.

“Thanks Tru, it’s busy in here today.” I
said, yelling back over the noise.

“Yea, it’s the last rush before everyone
leaves for school tomorrow.” She said, as she came closer towards
us.

Walking to our table, CeCe had already
caught the gaze of at least two of the guys sitting in the
booth.

“We’re not really going to sit with all
those guys are we ladies?” Richie implored, frowning all the
way.

“Richie, are you intimidated by those hot
beefy guys?” CeCe said wincing back at Richie.

“Are you kidding Ce? Nah, I’m not
intimidated, I’m just going to go catch up with Veronica.” Richie
smirked as he quickly turned towards her table.

“Hey boys, you’re sitting at our table but I
guess I’ll let it slide if you scoot over,” CeCe said grinning.

One of the guys parked at our table who was
staring at CeCe, turned quickly towards the back of the booth,
pretending to be looking at something before flipping back around
and declaring to CeCe, “your name must be gorgeous”.

“How did you know?” CeCe said coyly,
flipping back to see the look on Veronica’s face.

Yes, another score for CeCe! She was always
looking at ways to keep the score at least even if not ahead of
Veronica’s accomplishments. CeCe scooted into our booth and I slid
in right after her. I sat there listening to the conversations
going on around me feeling like an outsider. CeCe loved being in
the spotlight and soaked up the attention of all the guys
surrounding us. The heat of the day and the salt from swimming in
the ocean all afternoon tired me out. I loved the beach and spent
most of my time there when I was not in school or at Trixie’s.
There was a picture I kept pinned to my mirror in my bedroom that I
imagined as me in a tropical beach paradise. I found it in a
magazine once, several years ago. It was of a young woman, dressed
only in a white, simple bikini, standing on a stretch of sandy
beach in between two small lush islands. One hand held a snorkeling
mask while the other lay gently at her side. Her relaxed smile
depicted the ethereal beauty around her. Although I didn’t know
where the photograph was taken, I could tell it was some foreign
country with great, raw beauty. It was a picture of inspiration
that made me work hard in everything I did so that one day I would
reach my dreams of traveling the world and discovering the
unadulterated and rare treasures of the globe, like this. Being at
the beach kept my dreams alive.

“Hey Char; do you want to go to the
party?”

Suddenly I was yanked back into some sort of
conversation that I had not heard a word of since I sat down. These
guys were cute but all the same. They were just hanging out in this
town for a novel time. Probably, most of them were from Savannah
and were here escaping all the ordinariness of the big city, like
most of the college guys and girls that were not full-time
residents of our community. None of them stuck around and usually
were condescending towards the locals, as if they were better than
us because they had second homes here. Anyway, it sounded like we
had just been invited to some sort of last summer bash. Since, I
had no plans other than dinner with the family and Aunt Juanita; I
figured a party might help to speed up the countdown to tomorrow. I
could finish the packing in the morning if I really needed to.

“Yeah, I think I could fit that in.” I said,
trying to look as if I’d been listening the entire time.

An hour later and two milkshakes down, we
were back in the car heading towards home. CeCe was going on and on
about one of the guys she had just met and how he was in his second
year at Georgia Tech, studying something she couldn’t quite
remember the name of. It wasn’t really important anyway. It was
only his good looks, flirtatiousness, and prestigious front that
caught her attention. It wouldn’t last long anyway. We were headed
to college, a different college, and CeCe liked to keep it fresh
and exciting. She never really dated anyone for more than a date or
two. The only relationship that lasted with anyone was with Father
John—to ask for forgiveness for her habitual promiscuous
behavior.

“There’s Aunt Juanita.” I said as we pulled
up in the driveway.

“Oh yeah, Grandma Rose is also bringing her
man friend.” Richie reminded us.

“Hey girls”, Aunt Juanita called out from
the porch, “how was the beach?”

Hugging Aunt Juanita I said, “It was great
but it’s even better to see you!”

“You’re such a sugar.” Aunt Juanita said to
me in her thick southern drawl. And pretty just like your momma.”
She added.

“So did you meet Grandma’s man friend yet?”
Richie asked jokingly.

“Yes I did and he seems very sweet.” Aunt
Juanita said eyeballing Richie.

“Well, did you guys have a good time?”
Grandma Rose said as she was walked out the front door to greet us
on the porch.

“It was great. More importantly—where is
this hottie we’ve been hearing about Rose?” CeCe asked as she
walked up to give her a hug.

“He’s in the bathroom…again.” She said
giggling, “It’s only been the fourth time since we got here. He’s
very nice, so you kids better behave.”

“Grams, we always behave,” Richie snickered
while giving her shoulders a quick rub.

“Hmm, like the time you scared away my sugar
daddy?” She quickly replied.

“Grams, I was like eight years old and he
smelled like sardines and bad cigars. And furthermore, how was I
supposed to know he was allergic to cats and didn’t like kids in
his face.” He said convincingly.

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t like fish
and you were a cute kid Richie.” Grandma Rose said as she now
squeezed her arm around Richie’s waist as they walked inside.

“Oh and you did know that he was allergic to
cats because I asked you to keep the cat in the laundry room before
he came because they cause him to breaks out in hives.” She
retorted back tightening her hold on him.

Richie is Grandma Rose’s favorite like I’m
Aunt Juanita’s. He could get away with just about anything with
her. Although, every once in a while when we were kids, she’d beat
his little butt like the time he put lawn fertilizer in the fuel
tank of the lawn mower (without telling anyone) to see what would
happen. That was during the time Richie pondered about being a
scientist when he grew up. It wasn’t until he was in high school
that he realized he was a natural entertainer for more than just
our family. He would take apart things—like dad’s brand new radio
and mix things together that created small explosions—like the one
time he singed the peach fuzz right off his forearms. This
particular time, though, Richie did know about Mr. Knipper’s
allergy to cats. He secretly despised him for monopolizing ‘his
grams’ and was curious how fast the hives would appear. He came up
with a daft little trick too. When mom invited Mr. Knipper and
grandma over for dinner, he jumped up in Mr. Knipper’s lap and
started hugging him. Mr. Knipper wasn’t sure what to do other than
try not to drop him in front of grandma. Mr. Knipper was not the
most kid-friendly man. Richie bouncing all over him, then started
rubbing his face between his two small hands, shaking his head back
and forth, repeating “hi Mr. Knipper” over and over again before my
mother could finally pull him off his lap. Of course, this was
after Richie spent a half hour in the laundry room petting and
brushing Mr. Winkles, our cat, until half his hair fell out.
Shortly after everyone sat down for dinner Mr. Knipper’s right
cheek started twitching. His eyes seemed all of a sudden smaller.
Trying to answer questions that my dad believed were thoughtful, he
began to have a small cough backing up his sentences. Richie sat
across from him, studying his face, while eating his peas. Not once
did he take his eyes off him. Richie was keeping track of the time.
The more Mr. Knipper talked the more he rubbed his neck and coughed
until it was obvious to everyone at the table that something was
truly wrong. Grandma and mom noticed first that he started having
red splotches all over his face and neck. His eyes and cheeks began
swelling up like he stuffed 50 marshmallows in his mouth. My mom
ran to the medicine cabinet for some Benadryl while my dad called
911 to get the ambulance.

Apparently, that’s what happens when someone
is allergic to cats…very allergic
to cats
. After all the
drama was over and Mr. Knipper was deemed stable at the ER, Richie
told me that it took approximately 12 minutes for the welts to take
over Mr. Knipper’s face. Although neither Richie nor I ever said
anything about that night to anyone, Grandma was onto Richie’s
stunt. That was the last time we saw Mr. Knipper. Dinner with my
family was always exciting.

At dinner that night my brothers joked
around telling tall tales and recounting silly stories from when we
were younger, on the farm. Grandma Evi, my mother’s mom, with
Alzheimer’s, sat still, smiling. She moved in with my parents after
Grandpa Wasis died. Even though she could no long speak in
sentences due to the advanced stage of her disease, she sat
comfortably, seeming entertained by the boy’s animated stories.
Every now and then CeCe interjected some of her fond memories of
our shenanigans with Richie—like sneaking out for cow rides at two
in the morning. My mother and Aunt Juanita caught up and Aunt
Juanita shared some stories about her latest trip to Haiti. Grandma
Rose’s man friend sat quietly, smiling the majority of the time,
when he was not excusing himself to the bathroom or straightening
his toupee. He seemed like a nice little man and was about a foot
shorter than Grandma. Dad was busy enjoying the delicious spread my
mother prepared, like she did for all our family dinners, when he
wasn’t talking about the farm with grandma. Sitting back with a
belly full of great food and even better company, I watched as our
dinner table, once again, lit up with laughter. I loved my family
and the dinners that easily lasted hours. I couldn’t wait to get to
Athens but dinners with my family where priceless.