16
Surprise 2
I felt my eyes grow wide, but I tried to keep control of them.
Nanny missed Momma.
Who’da thunk it?{ 25 }
17
Nanny, Part Three
Nanny hasn’t cried one tear of my entire life. She doesn’t cry at our soaps—and doesn’t look at me when I do.
She didn’t shed a tear at Love Story when Ryan O’Neal’s most beloved Ali MacGraw succumbed to cancer and died in his very arms. I cried so hard that Thelma, who sat in the middle at the drive-in, howled when licking my tears away didn’t help. Nanny said, “Love means way more than saying sorry, Winston, and don’t you forget it.” Then she threw her cigarette out the window, gunned the motor, and drove away, almost tearing the speaker off the pole outside the car.
Nanny didn’t shed a tear when Neil Armstrong bounced out of the Apollo 11 capsule saying, “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” I got teary eyed at that, right there in the classroom.
She didn’t even cry when Cassius Clay won his fight against Sonny Liston years earlier. And she had five bucks on that one.
No, my grandmother is fierce as a bear and doesn’t have time for tears.{ 26 }
18
Nanny, Part Four
Here are things Nanny does have time for:
1. Me
2. Thelma
3. Her job as head cashier and front-end manager at Leon’s Seafood Restaurant
4. Denny and the rest of the chickens
5. Watching sports
6. Reading Harlequin romances by the stack from our downtown library
7. Soaps with her best and only granddaughter{ 27 }
19
Worries
I have to say, seeing my nana with her head down like that worried me.
“We can get there somehow,” I said. My fingers were sticky, though I used a fork to eat. “If you want. Nevada’s not so far from New Smyrna Beach.”
Nanny looked up at me. Outside I could hear the chickens waking, letting out soft clucks. They always make these noises that I’m pretty sure mean the day is fresh and new. They got going-to-bed sounds too. I wiped at my forehead, which had gone sweaty with Nanny’s glare.
“More’n two twenty-three hundred miles,” she said.
“Really?”
Nanny nodded. “I checked over with Mr. Wilson.”
Mr. Wilson runs the two gas pumps out on the road into town proper. He laughs at everything I say and gives me chunks of sugarcane when we stop to get gas. He doesn’t mind if we can only afford thirty-two cents worth of fuel. Maybe everybody in New Smyrna Beach, Florida, buys that much at a time.
Oh well. I shrugged. But I said the right thing. “It doesn’t look so far on the map in Mr. Redfoot’s class.”
“I know it,” Nanny said and set to eating.{ 28 }
20
Working
Nanny and I ate the rest of breakfast in silence, then I went to gather eggs.
“I got to go to work at eleven,” Nanny said. “Check the till and fold up silverware in napkins. You want to bus tables during rush for a bit of cash? Maudy called this morning to say she wouldn’t be in. Again.”
Maudy’s getting ready to marry some navy boy and misses a lot of work.
I’d wanted to stay home and read The Adventuress. Her tawny lover would tame her wild desires. Said so on the cover. I wanted to see how the green-eyed vixen got what was coming to her.
Nanny clucked her tongue at me, meaning Get on with it, girl, make a decision. She had changed into a pair of black nylon pants and white shirt. Her hair was held back in a silver clasp, and she wore red lipstick, the only makeup she ever puts on. She doesn’t need mascara, not the way her black eyelashes curl up on that tanned skin.
“Depends,” I said, gesturing at the T-shirt-no-bra-cutoff-jeans look that is my fashion statement. Quick, like a hummingbird, came this thought: What’s Momma wearing { 29 }
this morning? The consideration caused me to stumble a little.
“Hurry it up,” Nanny said. She’d gathered her pocketbook and now stashed a fresh pack of cigarettes in it. Her low heels clicked on the wooden floor.
“Sorry,” I said, gathering my wits. “Can I stay in this? The apron goes to my calves, you know, so I should be okay. People wouldn’t see what I’m wearing.”
This is what I say every morning before going to work.
Nanny shrugged. “If you contain your womanhood.”
That’s what Nanny always says too.
I rolled my eyes. Big bosoms run in the family. Nanny can hardly see over hers. At least, that’s what she says. She also says I am on my way to what God gave her, whether I like it or not. At this point, I don’t care one way or the other. Unless, of course, I can’t see what’s in front of me. Or these bosoms keep me from the Olympics. I bet it’s been known to happen.
“Let’s get then,” Nanny said, so I let Thelma in, fed her, kissed her three times on the forehead, put on a bra, brushed my teeth, waved good-bye to my Mark Spitz poster, and we got.{ 30 }
21
Nanny’s True Love
Leon’s is about the onliest place in several cities—including Orlando—with seafood so good that every US president has stopped in for a meal at least once. Richard Nixon came in with a whole bunch of people last December.
I don’t know how long ago, Nanny helped her best friend Leon Simmons start the place. A million years ago, maybe? Anyway, I think she hopes he might leave his wife, Janet Green Simmons, and partner up with Nanny for the business and for life.
“Last time I cried,” Nanny told me once, “was over Leon Simmons.”
It was a moment of weakness, the telling.
“I believe you,” I had said.
“But your granddaddy was a good man while he lasted, and he cared for me that little while and now, with him gone, I got all that I need. You and Thelma and Denny.” She’d looked off sort of thoughtful. Had she been thinking of my momma then? And I hadn’t known it?
Granddaddy took off right after he impregnated my grandmother. But not in his car. He rode away on a Greyhound bus. Denny and Thelma weren’t alive at the time.{ 31 }
With all that leaving going on in my young life (and before it too), you might think me bitter or gimpy or maybe a girl with a twitchy eye. That is not the case.
Here’s how I see it. There is such a thing as one true love.
Sometimes you marry the wrong man and have the wrong kids but the right granddaughter. And later you get a best dog and a pet rooster, too.
Some people are lucky.
Like Nanny and me.{ 32 }
22
Wishes
Sometimes . . .
Sometimes you wish the man you loved saw you past his long bangs and girlfriends and surfboard.
But that is the way life is.
Maybe some green-eyed vixens are not meant to be tamed. Even if they want taming.{ 33 }
23
My True Love
On our way out to Leon’s, the Blue Goose sputtering like he couldn’t make it another mile but somehow enduring, I thought about my true love. Steve Simmons the First. That’s right. Leon and Janet’s only son. (He is a very close second on the love meter to Mark Spitz.)
This early afternoon, the car windows were down, even though summer was already so hot I thought I’d melt into a puddle of grease. Dang this bra! I sweated extra every place that thing cinched me.
(Soon as I got the apron on, I would take this bra off, hide it in the walk-in freezer near the fresh-cut beef, and put it on before I left work, so the ride home would be cool and comfortable, at least for a mile or so.)
Here’s the scoop. Not about my bra. About Steve Simmons the First.
I have loved Steve since third grade, when I was sure I wouldn’t make it home from school and he towed me on his bike to the light at the big road. We separated there, and I walked the rest of the way, stopping only to pee in the ditch where the weeds w
ere high, and I was worried a snake might bite me in the privates.{ 34 }
Anyway.
Steve talked to me in those days. Said things like “hey” when I went to Leon’s and he was there.
He said hey to me all the way to sixth grade when all the sudden girls saw him to be the tall cute guy that he is.
But I’ve known how great Steve was all along.
Maybe he can’t see the real me past my bosoms.{ 35 }
24
Work, Part Two
As soon as I got to work with Nanny, she set to checking the restaurant out, and I set to making sure that the glasses on the tables were all clean, the silverware was folded in the linen napkins, and there wasn’t a fly in the place. I mean I did all that after I visited the Deepfreeze.
Leon’s is where I took my first step, and truth be told, there is something about owning a restaurant. Or at least working in one that your nanny’s friend owns and she sorta owns, though I am not sure how it works, seeing they are rich and we collect our eggs from the backyard and not the Piggly Wiggly.
I have another secret wish.
That I can sometime open my own restaurant and make a bundle of money, like the Simmonses have. That will be after my swimming career is over. If Shane Gould can do it this summer, well, why not me? I’ll hang my gold medals on the wall over the cash register. And when the place is a roaring success, I will hand the keys over to Nanny and say, “Here you go.”
“After lunch rush,” Nanny said now, tapping her nails on the countertop, “I need you to go check the plants at the { 36 }
Simmons place. Make sure they have enough water.”
See what I mean about rich? Leon and Janet and Steve the First Simmons have gone off on an adventure. To visit Europe. That’s what Leon’s hard work has done for them. At least that’s what Nanny says. And I believe her. She may be in her late forties, but my grandmother knows a lot of stuff. Like how to train a one-legged rooster to walk and how to balance the books of a successful restaurant and how to raise a daughter and then a granddaughter, all on her own.
“I’ll do it,” I said. And just like that I knew today would be different, sort of like yesterday’s was with that letter from Momma.
What would make it different? My heart thrummed like when I stand all illegal at the edge of the smooth-watered high school swimming pool.
Today I’d investigate Steve’s room.{ 37 }
25
Steve
Last time me and Nanny were in the Simmonses’ mansion (Nanny made me go with her so she wouldn’t have to talk to Janet Green Simmons all alone, which is exactly what ended up happening because that woman is the bossy type), I thought about it. You know, how I would go and take a peek at his door.
Then he barreled past in his swimming trunks with Angel Franklin attached to his hand (she was in a bikini), to his pool, and he was so tan, and his hair was so blond, and his momma was yelling at him to get his chores done and he was ignoring her and Angel was saying, “Is it cold? Is it cold?” so I never really had the chance to do more than think, then stare at him and wish that was me in that pink shimmery two-piece.
No one would have had to throw me in the pool. I would have dived right in—a perfect slice that wouldn’t even make a splash.{ 38 }
26
Anticipation
My blood felt warmer than normal all during lunch service. My cheeks stayed pink.
I have to say I hate having a crush on a guy.
I wish I could be like Angel. Maybe money makes you fit in better. Maybe it makes you think different.
Maybe that’s what Momma thought when she left me and Nanny. That money might somehow save her.{ 39 }
27
Plan
“The Simmonses are gone,” I whispered as I filled glasses with ice. I felt like someone from The Twilight Zone maybe. Or Victoria Winters from Dark Shadows.
They are all in Europe, I thought as I cleaned up a spill in the lobby where Nanny handed out icy glasses of tea and water and lemonade while people waited for their tables to come empty. I could swim. Eat something from their refrigerator.
I kept wondering what Steve’s room would look like. Would it be stylish and nautical like McCall’s magazine said was hip? Or all browns and tans the way some other magazines showed was cool. I imagined things so hard I overfilled one customer’s water glass and forgot to top off another person’s unsweetened tea.
“I’ll even look in his drawers,” I said as I took all the dishes from table eighteen, where a family had eaten more crab claws than should be allowed.
“Where’s your bra?” Nanny said as I passed close enough for her to get a good look.
“Cooling off,” I said and hurried away, the tub laden with dirty platters and bowls and silverware, and then to the freezer so I could be prepared when Nanny and I met up again.{ 40 }
28
Preparing for the Plan
The Simmons house was quiet and cool. And huge. Huge! It would take me an hour to check all the plants. I know because I’ve done this with Nanny before. Janet Green Simmons is too busy to water her own plants. She has things to do.
I set the key on the table after I let myself in the grand foyer and went out to the garage to get the watering can. I came back through the kitchen that I know they never cook in and that I know Nanny would love to get her hands dirty in. I would water plants in the dining room, first.
Here there are windows that look out at the pool, and past that the lawn and all the way down to the shoreline of the Atlantic Ocean. From where I stood, I could hear the crash of the waves. Thelma would love this house. So would Denny. And Nanny.
I sighed.
“Get to work,” I said to myself.
My hands already ached from carrying that tub full of dishes back and forth to Raul, who washed them fast as he could for the next rush of people, and I was dirty now even though I wore an apron all during service. Somehow I’d { 41 }
gotten chicken-fried-steak gravy in my hair. Busing is hard business.
“First things first,” I said, and took off my bra and stuck it in the freezer next to the Borden’s cherry vanilla ice cream. Then I started watering.
And watering.
And watering.{ 42 }
29
The Olympics
I looked at the Simmonses’ pool.
It seemed extra long. I bet our Olympic athletes could practice in that thing.
What did a three-person family need with a pool this size so close to the ocean? They could step into the surf from their front door. Well. Almost.
“Do it.” I whispered the words, fogging up the bit of glass. Running my fingers through my breath, I answered myself, “Are you crazy? No. Way.”
There’s no one here.
Good grief! I knew that! Wasn’t I watering and dusting and peeping in drawers to see what all was in this place? Didn’t I plan to look in Steve’s room today? This very day? I knew I was alone! I didn’t need to convince me of anything.
I rubbed at my arms. Why in the world had the Simmonses left the air conditioning on? Did their precious plants need to be cool? Disgusting.
I went back to the ferns and peace lilies and moth orchids, checking the dirt with my thumb, passing by the ones that shouldn’t be watered at all.
Even their plants bloomed while they were gone.{ 43 }
What would Janet Green Simmons do if I overwatered?
Underwatered?
Water.
The pool.
Go.
{ 44 }
30
Temptation
The plants on the main floor (which was as big as the Piggly Wiggly, if you ask me) were done.
I wandered to the fridge.
It was about empty. Beer. Bologna. Milk. That would go bad in almost three months.
So what? Let them come home to cheese. And bologna bricks.
“That’s it,” I said into the fridge, which was about as cold as the kitchen felt. Stinkin’ frid
ge was big enough to sleep in.
I closed my eyes and shut the door, then turned around and leaned on the counter. What was the matter with me? Why was I mad? I don’t ever get mad.
They had a pool.
Sure.
They were rich because of Leon’s.
Sure.
And me and Nanny weren’t.
Sure.
Steve could practice for the Olympics, but he played football instead.
Go.
“That’s it,” I said. “I’m gonna do it.”
{ 45 }
31
Doing It Once
I walked fast before I could change my mind.
Out the french doors.
Onto the back porch that was big enough to park cars on.
I slipped off my shorts.
Kicked off my flip-flops. Placed my T-shirt on top of everything as though I offered a gift to the swimming gods.
Were there swimming gods?
Did it matter?
My T-shirt had faded blue and got all stretched out around the neck like I like them. It looked like a jewel there on the white marble of the pool surround.
Should I go back in the house and get my bra? Should I swim in it?
I didn’t give myself a chance to answer, just dove into the pool, buck naked except my panties. And like that, I was home.{ 46 }