One Friday, Daddy had to stay longer at work, so I was in charge of taking Jet to get ice cream. He left a ten-dollar bill on the kitchen counter for us, with a note saying he had to work late and putting me in charge of ice cream duty. I sat on the brick steps by our front door and waited for Jet to get off the bus. I was pulling at the bubblegum in my mouth, stretching it out and twirling it around my finger, when the screeching bus brakes startled me. Jet ran out of the bus all the way to me, flopping onto my lap.
“Ready for some ice cream?” I asked him. I pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing him. He looked back up at me, the sun reflecting in his eyes. He smiled real big and nodded his head, the gap showing from his missing teeth. I grabbed his hand and we walked down the dirt road towards the convenience store.
Kacey’s was only an eight-minute walk from our house. Jet’s favorite part of the walk was stopping by the pig pen and the cows to say hello. He found comfort in our farm animals; he called them his friends. Our animals had always been with us growing up. The oldest one we had was a pig called Gus. We got him when I was four and Momma and Daddy let me name him. He was my friend, too, and the last memory I had left from Momma.
The closest grocery store to our house was a ten-minute drive. We only went to the grocery store if we needed fancier foods, like pasta or certain cheeses. We got the rest of our groceries at Kacey’s — the convenience store down the road that has the broken chicken by the door.
As we walked inside, Jet ran towards the back of the store, towards the ice cream counter by the rattling freezer. Kacey watched Jet speed past him at the register, soon chasing after him to greet him. The air conditioner under the front door greeted me with a gush of cold air as I walked in. No matter the weather or season, Kacey’s was always under seventy degrees.
“Well howdy Jet!” Kacey said, giving Jet a high five. “Is it Friday already?”
Jet giggled, his little laugh filled my ears.
“Well I’ll be darned,” Kacey said, “I knew it had to be if you were here. Let me guess, you’re looking for those yummy tomatoes we get delivered on the weekends.”
Jet laughed again. “Nooo,” he hummed.
“Some nails and screws?” Kacey asked.
“No!” Jet squealed. His little laugh made me laugh. I watched as Jet eagerly waited for Kacey to say–
“Ice cream…?” Jet nodded his head quickly, his laughter continuing.
“That’s right! How could I’ve forgotten?” Kacey looked at me and smiled as Jet jumped up and down, holding the counter tightly; his knuckles turning white.
Kacey has known us for most of our lives. After Momma and Daddy moved here, Kacey was one of the first people to give them a warm welcome. Daddy heard about the store from some work friends and visited to see what the talk was about. He and Kacey became friends quickly, which soon led to his store being where we got our groceries from.
“I’ll get that scoop of strawberry ice cream for you real quick, son,” he said. He opened the freezer, scooping out the ice cream from one of the cartons. He grabbed a sugar cone from the bag of messily placed cones next to the counter, plopping the fresh scoop on top.
As he handed the cone to Jet, he asked, “And peach for the lady?”
I nodded my head, thanking him as he turned back towards the freezer. Jet stood next to me with ice cream already dripping down his chin.
“Here you go,” Kacey said as he handed it to me. I thanked him, then pulled the ten out of my pocket and tried to give it to him, but he wouldn’t take it.
“On me today,” he said, patting his chest. “Save that money for something worth it.”
I looked around for Jet and found him looking up at the train posters hanging above the snack shelves. He had a train set spread across his floor in his bedroom that he added to every time he got a new train piece. Each time Jet couldn’t sleep, he would come into my room, asking me to lay with him until he fell asleep. Jet would get distracted by his set, and we would end up on the floor, playing with the colored trains until we both fell asleep.
As Jet was pointing out the different trains on the posters, the front door screeched open and a young guy walked in; his face was hidden by the tower of boxes he was carrying full of tomatoes. A tomato on the top box tumbled down the pile and rolled towards my feet. It stopped a few inches in front of my beat-up sneakers.
“Sorry I’m late Kacey,” the boy said. “The damn chickens got outta their pins again. I had to chase them back inside.”
I reached down and picked up the tomato. I held it in my hand for a moment, turning it with my fingers over my palm. I looked at the boy.
“No worries, Graham,” Kacey responded. “I know how annoyin’ those chicks can be.” Kacey walked over to him and grabbed some of the boxes. “Here, lemme help you out.”
The boy set the rest of the boxes down by the back door. He walked over to me and reached his hand out. His fingernails were bitten down to the beds and there was dirt underneath them.
“I can take that from you,” he said. I placed the tomato in his hand, my fingertips brushing the center of his palm. As he turned and walked away, I watched as his dark brown curls bounced with each step. His shirt had grease and dirt stains on it. His big boots echoed on the floor as he walked back to Kacey.
They talked for a few minutes before Kacey paid him for the tomatoes. As he walked towards the door, the boy looked at me and smiled. He walked out without saying a word, and I watched as he left. I watched as he let the door close behind him, his veins popping out of his skinny arms a little. I dug into my pocket and felt the money Daddy gave me for the ice cream. I walked quickly to the front counter where Kacey stood with the tomatoes. I broke the ten and bought four of the tomatoes the boy had brought in. I looked over at Jet, who was playing with the packs of peanuts on the shelf. I looked out the window and watched as the boy started to cross the road, the dirt clouds following behind him.
I ran out of the store to catch up to him. His hands were deep in the pockets of his cargo pants as he walked. As I got closer, his whistling got louder.
“Hey!” I called behind him. He turned around and looked at me, his smile appearing again. He had deep blue eyes that I’d never seen before on someone. They were really, really blue.
“You following me or something?” he teased. My cheeks flushed red.
“Not really,” I said. “I didn’t know those tomatoes were yours. My daddy loves them. He gets almost a bag full every week.”
He told me his mom had a garden and that she grew all kinds of vegetables, and some flowers. He said Kacey’s been buying their tomatoes and peppers for years, since before he was born. Momma had a garden, too.
“My momma has a garden,” I told him. He asked me what she grows and I told him she likes to plant different kinds of flowers everywhere. She had chrysanthemums, lilies, and she had planted two hydrangea shrubs beside our front door. Every spring, the shrubs would be covered in them, and our neighbors would knock on our door just to tell her how pretty they were. Daddy tried to keep the garden alive after she left, but he didn’t know much about gardening like Momma did. It slowly died as time passed.
“My momma loves flowers,” he said. “She’d probably buy some from your momma if she’s got any in a few months.” I told him his mom could come by when they bloom.
He told me his name was Graham and that he’s lived here his whole life. His parents were born here, too, and they met when they were kids. Then, I told him my name.
“Loretta?” he asked, repeating my name. “Like Loretta Lynn?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“My sisters like her,” he said.
Momma said I was special because I was her first child. She told me she had prayed and prayed for a little girl, and that God had answered her prayers once I was born. She wanted to name me Loretta because it was a beautiful name. I think it’s beautiful, too.
I didn’t say anything and we stood there in silence.
After a few seconds, he said, “That’s a cool name, though. My name is kinda boring. I guess I was named after a food.” That made me laugh. He laughed with me, then he asked me how come he’s never seen me before. I told him I don’t go to the local high school that everyone else goes to. Daddy enrolled me in the charter school that was a little further away, right outside of town. Graham told me I was “fancy” not going to public school. After that, he asked me if I had a lot of money.
“No,” I responded. “Daddy said I would have a better education if I went to the charter school.”
“He’s probably right,” he said. “But my momma said there was no way she would let me go to a private school. She said the rich, privileged kids go there, and that all I needed to know I could learn in public school.”
My momma would’ve probably hated the idea of her kids going to a charter school, too. She always made comments about the rich kids I went to elementary school with, saying they shouldn’t be acting so mature and wearing nice clothes to school if they were just gonna get dirty on the playground. Nana had told me stories about when Momma was a teenager; she said she was a “reckless” girl and got in trouble all the time. She said she was smart, though, and that she got good grades all throughout her life. Nana didn’t understand why Momma did the things she did if she was so smart. “She should’ve known better,” Nana had said.
“I wish I went to public school,” I said. Sometimes I did wish Daddy would’ve kept me in public school, but sometimes I’m glad he didn’t. I’ve learned a lot from that charter school. I would’ve known Graham before if I stayed in public school.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asked me.
“Nothing,” I replied. He told me to meet him later at the creek that lays behind Kacey’s. He said he wanted to talk to me some more. I got excited. He walked away, his boots slapping against the small rocks around him. I watched as he walked, and I watched his curls bounce again. Graham was the prettiest boy I had ever seen.
I went back to Kacey’s to get Jet; he was talking to Kacey about the trains on the walls. Kacey joked with me, asking if I was planning on leaving him there all night. We said bye to him and walked back to our house. I gave my dad the bag of tomatoes and he was really excited about them. He said he would use them for supper tonight.
After we ate, I told Daddy I was going to walk to Olivia’s house to watch a movie with her. She lived three doors down from us and she was my best friend. He told me to be back by nine. I grabbed my sneakers by the door and headed towards the store.
I saw Graham standing by the small creek near the back of Kacey’s. The sun was close to being set and the crickets were chirping loud. The freezer lights shown through the dark windows of the store, some of them highlighting the shelves inside. As I got closer, I saw Graham bending down by the edge of the creek, moving rocks around in the water with a stick.
“Hey,” I said to him. He turned around to look at me and flashed that smile.
“Hey Loretta,” he responded. I didn’t say anything and he only looked at me. I didn’t know what to say. The crickets were getting louder in my ears.
“What does your mom do?” I asked him. I bent down next to him and watched him move the rocks.
He titled his head a little and looked confused. It was a random thing to say, but I wanted to know all about her.
“She works outta her garden mostly, but sometimes she works at the nursing home down the road,” he said. “I don’t know why, though. She always comes home and complains about the mean old people she’s gotta deal with.” I smiled. I liked hearing about his mom. My momma would’ve hated working at a nursing home.
“Where does your momma work?” Graham asked, as he started pushing the rocks towards my shoes.
Momma mainly worked on our farm, but she had a flower-selling business, too. It wasn’t official or anything, but a lot of Nana’s friends loved the flowers she grew, so she started selling bouquets to them. That soon led to others finding out about her beautiful flowers, so she’d go to town on Saturday mornings to the farmers’ market and sell them. Everybody loved her bouquets.
When she wasn’t putting together flowers, she took care of our animals. I remember when she would take me on walks to visit them; she would say, “Just because they’re animals doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to be talked to.” I would talk to them like they knew what I was saying. I told them about my days at school, what I learned in church, and Momma encouraged me to tell them jokes. She would laugh and laugh, and would “oink” or “moo” in response, like the animals were listening to me. We went on these walks a lot as I grew up, the last time doing it with my momma was days before she disappeared.
“She sells flower bouquets at the farmers’ market,” I said.
Graham told me him and his dad go there almost every Saturday to sell their vegetables. “Mary Lou is the only person I’ve seen sell flowers at the market and she’s old. That’s not your momma, is it?”
“No,” I said. I didn’t want to look at him then.
“How come I’ve never seen her before?” he asked me. I stared at the sparkling water flowing over the rocks.
I told him she hasn’t been there in a couple weeks because the flowers haven’t been blooming good. He believed me.
We sat on the rocks and talked some more. We talked about Graham’s tomatoes and I talked about Jet. I told him how Kacey was one of Daddy’s close friends and how we’ve known him since Daddy moved here. Graham told me he’s known Kacey for a long time, too. Him and his dad grew up together and when his dad started growing vegetables, Kacey wanted to buy them from him to sell in his store. Graham turned to me with a smile.
“You got pretty eyes, you know that?” he said to me. “My daddy tells me they look like emeralds,” I said.
“They do.” Graham was the first boy to ever compliment me.
I looked back down at the creek, trying to hide my red cheeks. I heard him chuckle. Then, there was some silence again.
“Have you ever been kissed before?” he said, breaking the silence. I turned to look at him, my warm cheeks flashing underneath the streetlight. I shook my head.
He told me he couldn’t believe I’d never kissed anybody. He said he’s kissed girls before underneath the bleachers at school. I didn’t like that he was telling me that.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked me. I didn’t know what to say, but I wanted to kiss Graham.
I nodded my head and he leaned in real close to me. I was nervous and I wasn’t sure what to do with my face. I watched as he got closer and closed his eyes. I closed my eyes, too, and felt his chapped lips touch my lips. We kissed for a moment and his lips moved over mine. He kissed me like he’s kissed girls before.
I opened my eyes too early and watched as he pulled back. He smiled at me afterwards and I noticed his hand was holding mine. Goosebumps spread all over my arms and legs; I hoped he didn’t notice.
After the kiss, we sat and listened to the crickets sing, and he held my hand the whole time. It was dark now, and I told him I had to get home soon before Daddy got mad. He said he wanted to see me again before he told me goodnight. I got all giddy and my heart started beating fast. I ran the whole way home, too excited to catch my breath. I wanted to tell someone about the kiss. I wanted to tell Momma.
Daddy’s been the only parent in our life since my brother was born. My nana told me the day after Jet was born, Momma went manic and broke out of the hospital in the middle of the night. Daddy was there with her, but he was asleep; he woke up the next morning and she was gone. Nobody knows why she left or where she went, and sometimes I think Daddy blames himself for it. Nana said it was a shame she left us, blaming her own daughter for our troubled childhood.
I never got to talk to Momma about boys. I wasn’t sure what to do when I got home; I couldn’t tell Daddy about it. He’d get mad and say he was gonna find the boy and kill him. Momma would’ve been excited for me. She would ask so many questions about him, like if he was a kind boy and if he made good grades in school. I didn’t know if Graham made good grades, but I know he was kind. She’d tell me that if he wasn’t a good guy like Daddy, he wasn’t worth it.
I laid on my bed and counted the tiny cracks on my ceiling. I couldn’t fall asleep and all I could think about was Graham. I thought about how he said my name. I wanted to hear him say it again. I thought about his smile when he saw me. His only dimple on his left cheek appeared each time. I wanted to see my momma’s face when she found out I kissed a boy. I wanted to feel her tight hug when she told me how happy she was that her daughter had a crush on someone. I wanted to see her again.
By our front door, there is a side table with a mirror above it. Daddy puts his keys in the ceramic bowl that sits on top of it when he gets home from work. There’s a picture of Momma holding me while she was pregnant with Jet sitting next to it. She has the prettiest smile on her face and her green eyes are glowing in the sun. One time when Jet was younger, he asked me who the lady in the picture was. I was confused, wondering why he would ask me that.
“Don’t be silly,” I had said, “that’s our momma.” He looked up at me, his big eyes staring into mine. Then, I realized what I had said. Jet never knew what Momma looked like. He didn’t get to pick flowers with her like I did. He never got to celebrate Mother’s Day with us. He never got the chance to be loved by our momma like Daddy and I did. He didn’t get to grow up with a mom.
It makes me sad to think about Jet not knowing our mom. It makes me sad to think how she left us. We’re her family. Moms don’t leave in the middle of the night and never come back. She’s missed our birthdays. She won’t be at our graduations. Doesn’t she want to know her son?
When I look in the mirror, I see her. I see her green eyes staring back at me, the ones Daddy and Graham fell in love with. I see her frizzy curls lying over my shoulders. I see her smiling at me, telling me she loves me. It scares me sometimes, knowing how similar we are, and I wonder if I’ll do the same thing she did. In a way, it’s like she haunts me, in more ways than one.
Sometimes, I get angry when I think about it. It’s not fair. But I hate myself for being mad at her. I wish I could find her and ask her why she left; why she ran away from Daddy; why she abandoned Jet and me. I think about where she could be when I’m in class; where she is when I wake up in the morning, and when I go to bed every night. I wonder if she thinks about us as much as I think about her. I’m not sure what I would say to her if I ever saw her. Maybe I’d tell her Gus died the day before the start of my junior year. She’d be disappointed that her garden died, too.
