Running Barefoot
Page 66
“And?” Samuel demanded.
“And Kasey died, and then my dad had a stroke.” I started listing things, my voice rising with irritation, frustrated that I had to defend myself. “Then Sonja was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and I was needed here! Okay?” I threw my hands up in frustration. “I was needed here, so I stayed.”
“I’ve seen you with your family, Josie. You kind of take care of everyone. You’re good at being needed, that’s for sure.”
“”What is that supposed to mean?” I was very angry now. How dare he?! “My dad had a major stroke a week before I was supposed to leave for school. I decided to defer my scholarship for a while to take care of him. Dad couldn’t work and someone had to. I did what I had to do. Dad started getting better, but the medical bills had piled up, and he still couldn’t work full time, so I decided to wait a little longer. Then Sonja was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and Doc Grimaldi passed away not long after we put her in a home, and I couldn’t just leave her. Nobody else cared, Samuel. And by then the scholarship was long gone anyway!” I was babbling and I forced myself to stop talking. My breathing was haggard, and my throat felt raw with pent up emotion. Samuel was staring out the window, listening, reminiscent of the boy I had once befriended.
There was nothing more to say. Samuel seemed at a loss, and I was drained. After a moment, he started the truck and we backed out, turning sharply onto the road, turning our backs on the grandeur of the gloaming.
When we pulled off onto the gravel outside my house, he slowed to a stop and came around to my door. I had opened it and put one bare foot down on the rocks, curling my toes under to protect my sensitive arch from the sharp gravel. Samuel gently swung me up in his arms again, cradling me like I was something precious. He walked easily to the grass and set me down carefully. His big hands came up and framed my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones in a brief caress. I shivered involuntarily. He searched my face for several heartbeats.
His voice was low as he spoke. “It’s not too late, Josie.” And with that, he withdrew his hands and left me. I remained standing, barefoot in the grass and buried in introspection, until the sky was cloaked in darkness and the stars blinked back to life.
16. Modulation
Tara blew into the shop like a hurricane one afternoon - pink hair, red lips, flashing smile, hugging everyone and squealing as if she’d been gone for a century instead of three months. She showed up now and then, got her ‘Mom’ fix, and was gone again in a whirl. She threw herself into my swivel chair and proceeded to tell me everything, down to the last detail, that had happened to her since she’d last seen me. All at once her eyes narrowed on my face and she pursed her crimson lips in speculation.
“I like your hair.” She said it with such surprise in her voice that I laughed out loud. “No! I do!” She insisted. “You’re letting it grow out and the curls are all soft and flow-y.” I had had Louise cut my hair boy short after starting work with her in the shop. It had been so tortured and teased after living through a year of experimentation by Tara that I had just told Louise to “take it off.” Louise had clucked her tongue the whole time she cut it. She kept asking me, “What were you thinkin’ girl, lettin’ Tara have her way with your hair?”
I touched the hair that hung past my shoulders self consciously. “I guess it’s just longer. I haven’t really styled it any special way.”
“Are you dating anybody?” She queried, and then she laughed like she had just told a hilarious joke. “Who would you date? Everybody’s either 16, married, or loooong gone!”
Louise spoke up from her station where she was cutting Penny Worwood’s hair. “Oh, I don’t know ‘bout that. A few days ago, Nettie Yates came in here with her grandson. Now that is one goodlookin’ man!”
“Nettie’s grandson? You mean Tabrina’s son? That man is as homely as a mud fence! You’re gettin’ desperate in your old age, Mom!”
“Not Tabrina’s son! You’re right, you couldn’t pick that boy out in a pen of pigs! No, I’m talking about Michael’s son!” She said triumphantly.
“Who is Michael?” Tara was completely bewildered.
“Tabrina’s older brother.”
“I didn’t even know Tabrina had an older brother!”
“Yep. He died when you were just a baby, which is why you probably never heard about him. Michael Yates was one tall drink of something yummy!” Louise sighed. “He was more religious than the rest of his family, and went on a two year mission for the church, though nobody else in his family had ever gone. He was kind of a quiet guy, but yum, yum, yum, he was something to look at! His poor little sister Tabrina got what was left over, bless her heart, and her kids ’er even uglier than she is!”
“Mom! Focus!” Tara laughed. “So this guy Michael? He had a son?”
“Yep. He lived here with his grandparents for a while when he was in high school. He’s part indian or something. I can’t believe you don’t remember him. What’s his name again, Josie?”
“Samuel.” I turned and made myself busy cleaning my worktable, not wanting to look at Tara, fearing I would give something away that I was not yet ready to discuss.
“Samuel....” Tara scrunched up her face trying to remember. “Oh yeah! Hey Josie, wasn’t he the kid you had to sit by all year long on the bus in seventh grade?” She shivered dramatically. “I thought for sure he was gonna kill his grandparents in their sleep!”
“And Kasey died, and then my dad had a stroke.” I started listing things, my voice rising with irritation, frustrated that I had to defend myself. “Then Sonja was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and I was needed here! Okay?” I threw my hands up in frustration. “I was needed here, so I stayed.”
“I’ve seen you with your family, Josie. You kind of take care of everyone. You’re good at being needed, that’s for sure.”
“”What is that supposed to mean?” I was very angry now. How dare he?! “My dad had a major stroke a week before I was supposed to leave for school. I decided to defer my scholarship for a while to take care of him. Dad couldn’t work and someone had to. I did what I had to do. Dad started getting better, but the medical bills had piled up, and he still couldn’t work full time, so I decided to wait a little longer. Then Sonja was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and Doc Grimaldi passed away not long after we put her in a home, and I couldn’t just leave her. Nobody else cared, Samuel. And by then the scholarship was long gone anyway!” I was babbling and I forced myself to stop talking. My breathing was haggard, and my throat felt raw with pent up emotion. Samuel was staring out the window, listening, reminiscent of the boy I had once befriended.
There was nothing more to say. Samuel seemed at a loss, and I was drained. After a moment, he started the truck and we backed out, turning sharply onto the road, turning our backs on the grandeur of the gloaming.
When we pulled off onto the gravel outside my house, he slowed to a stop and came around to my door. I had opened it and put one bare foot down on the rocks, curling my toes under to protect my sensitive arch from the sharp gravel. Samuel gently swung me up in his arms again, cradling me like I was something precious. He walked easily to the grass and set me down carefully. His big hands came up and framed my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones in a brief caress. I shivered involuntarily. He searched my face for several heartbeats.
His voice was low as he spoke. “It’s not too late, Josie.” And with that, he withdrew his hands and left me. I remained standing, barefoot in the grass and buried in introspection, until the sky was cloaked in darkness and the stars blinked back to life.
16. Modulation
Tara blew into the shop like a hurricane one afternoon - pink hair, red lips, flashing smile, hugging everyone and squealing as if she’d been gone for a century instead of three months. She showed up now and then, got her ‘Mom’ fix, and was gone again in a whirl. She threw herself into my swivel chair and proceeded to tell me everything, down to the last detail, that had happened to her since she’d last seen me. All at once her eyes narrowed on my face and she pursed her crimson lips in speculation.
“I like your hair.” She said it with such surprise in her voice that I laughed out loud. “No! I do!” She insisted. “You’re letting it grow out and the curls are all soft and flow-y.” I had had Louise cut my hair boy short after starting work with her in the shop. It had been so tortured and teased after living through a year of experimentation by Tara that I had just told Louise to “take it off.” Louise had clucked her tongue the whole time she cut it. She kept asking me, “What were you thinkin’ girl, lettin’ Tara have her way with your hair?”
I touched the hair that hung past my shoulders self consciously. “I guess it’s just longer. I haven’t really styled it any special way.”
“Are you dating anybody?” She queried, and then she laughed like she had just told a hilarious joke. “Who would you date? Everybody’s either 16, married, or loooong gone!”
Louise spoke up from her station where she was cutting Penny Worwood’s hair. “Oh, I don’t know ‘bout that. A few days ago, Nettie Yates came in here with her grandson. Now that is one goodlookin’ man!”
“Nettie’s grandson? You mean Tabrina’s son? That man is as homely as a mud fence! You’re gettin’ desperate in your old age, Mom!”
“Not Tabrina’s son! You’re right, you couldn’t pick that boy out in a pen of pigs! No, I’m talking about Michael’s son!” She said triumphantly.
“Who is Michael?” Tara was completely bewildered.
“Tabrina’s older brother.”
“I didn’t even know Tabrina had an older brother!”
“Yep. He died when you were just a baby, which is why you probably never heard about him. Michael Yates was one tall drink of something yummy!” Louise sighed. “He was more religious than the rest of his family, and went on a two year mission for the church, though nobody else in his family had ever gone. He was kind of a quiet guy, but yum, yum, yum, he was something to look at! His poor little sister Tabrina got what was left over, bless her heart, and her kids ’er even uglier than she is!”
“Mom! Focus!” Tara laughed. “So this guy Michael? He had a son?”
“Yep. He lived here with his grandparents for a while when he was in high school. He’s part indian or something. I can’t believe you don’t remember him. What’s his name again, Josie?”
“Samuel.” I turned and made myself busy cleaning my worktable, not wanting to look at Tara, fearing I would give something away that I was not yet ready to discuss.
“Samuel....” Tara scrunched up her face trying to remember. “Oh yeah! Hey Josie, wasn’t he the kid you had to sit by all year long on the bus in seventh grade?” She shivered dramatically. “I thought for sure he was gonna kill his grandparents in their sleep!”
