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Authors: Michael Lee West
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wolfing down second helpings of chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, red rice, and peach pie, though he later confessed that his favorite food in the world was egg salad sandwiches made with Duke’s Mayonnaise and lettuce, with a grind of pepper.
I wore garage-sale sundresses and dime-store panties that stayed on my body, despite long, intense necking sessions that steamed up the Mustang’s windows. Every night, on the oldies station, Elvis sang “That’s When Your Heartaches Begin.”
I thought mine were ending. Night after night, Coop’s hands squeezed my breasts, but never once slipped under my clothing. Then we’d come up for air and he’d draw his fingers across the fogged window. I ♥ Teeny.
Coop’s birthday, August ninth, fell on a Sunday. I asked Aunt Bluette if we could fix Coop a special supper. I didn’t want to be forward, so I waited for him to call. I didn’t expect to wait long, as he’d been calling every night. I baked a chocolate layer cake from scratch and decorated it with yellow icing sunflowers. I couldn’t decide if HAPPY BIRTHDAY COOP was proper or too ordinary, so I decided to just write COOP .
Aunt Bluette drove me to Walgreens, and I squatted by the cologne counter. I dithered between Brut Revolution, Hugo Boss, and Drakkar Noir. Finally I settled on Euphoria. I came home, set the gift-wrapped box on the counter, and waited.
Coop didn’t call. That Sunday I looked for him everywhere at church. I saw Dr. and Mrs. O’Malley sitting in the fifth row with Mrs. O’Malley’s parents. Aaron Fisher sat in front of me and tried to flirt, but I brushed him off. After the service, Aunt Bluette saw me staring holes at the O’Malleys. She offered to sneakily ask about Coop.
“Lord, no!” I whispered.
“Better to know than to wonder,” she said and started toward the O’Malleys.
I grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door. “I’d rather stick pins in my eyes,” I said.
The next morning, I was helping Aunt Bluette make squash pickles, when I glanced out the kitchen window. Coop’s Mustang drove down our long driveway, stirring up gravel dust. I yanked off my apron and ran to the bathroom, ignoring Aunt Bluette’s questions. I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair. It was too late to change—I was wearing one of Mama’s old t-shirts that featured Elvis on the front and back.
I heard a knock and ran into the hall. Aunt Bluette beat me to it. She held open the door and smiled at Coop. “Come on in,” she said. “Just come on in. Teeny’ll be here directly.”
The minute I saw the pinched look on his face, I knew this wasn’t a social call. Still, I shut my eyes and made a quick bargain with Jesus. If He’d let everything be all right between me and Coop, I wouldn’t miss another choir practice.
I led Coop into the parlor and moved a heap of old newspapers. “Have a seat,” I said. “Would you like some iced tea?”
“Teeny, we need to talk.” He stood by the sofa but didn’t sit down. “I don’t know how to explain, but I can’t see you anymore.”
“Why not?” I sat down and tried to catch my breath. I could feel an attack coming on and couldn’t remember where I’d put my inhaler.
“Me and Barb got back together.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded. Then I started wheezing.
“Teeny, you okay?” Coop asked.
I shook my head. No, I wasn’t okay. I’d never be okay. How could I have let myself care so much when he’d cared so little? I stretched out on the sofa, trying not to gasp. Aunt Bluette came running with my inhaler. She stuck it between my lips. “Breathe, Teeny,” she said and pushed the button.
I still couldn’t get air. She made me take another puff, then she turned back to Coop.
“Would you help me get her to the car?” she said to him.
I ended up spending the night at Bonaventure General Hospital, hooked to oxygen and an IV. While I slept, she made phone calls to get the dirt on Coop and Barb. My aunt’s
I wore garage-sale sundresses and dime-store panties that stayed on my body, despite long, intense necking sessions that steamed up the Mustang’s windows. Every night, on the oldies station, Elvis sang “That’s When Your Heartaches Begin.”
I thought mine were ending. Night after night, Coop’s hands squeezed my breasts, but never once slipped under my clothing. Then we’d come up for air and he’d draw his fingers across the fogged window. I ♥ Teeny.
Coop’s birthday, August ninth, fell on a Sunday. I asked Aunt Bluette if we could fix Coop a special supper. I didn’t want to be forward, so I waited for him to call. I didn’t expect to wait long, as he’d been calling every night. I baked a chocolate layer cake from scratch and decorated it with yellow icing sunflowers. I couldn’t decide if HAPPY BIRTHDAY COOP was proper or too ordinary, so I decided to just write COOP .
Aunt Bluette drove me to Walgreens, and I squatted by the cologne counter. I dithered between Brut Revolution, Hugo Boss, and Drakkar Noir. Finally I settled on Euphoria. I came home, set the gift-wrapped box on the counter, and waited.
Coop didn’t call. That Sunday I looked for him everywhere at church. I saw Dr. and Mrs. O’Malley sitting in the fifth row with Mrs. O’Malley’s parents. Aaron Fisher sat in front of me and tried to flirt, but I brushed him off. After the service, Aunt Bluette saw me staring holes at the O’Malleys. She offered to sneakily ask about Coop.
“Lord, no!” I whispered.
“Better to know than to wonder,” she said and started toward the O’Malleys.
I grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door. “I’d rather stick pins in my eyes,” I said.
The next morning, I was helping Aunt Bluette make squash pickles, when I glanced out the kitchen window. Coop’s Mustang drove down our long driveway, stirring up gravel dust. I yanked off my apron and ran to the bathroom, ignoring Aunt Bluette’s questions. I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair. It was too late to change—I was wearing one of Mama’s old t-shirts that featured Elvis on the front and back.
I heard a knock and ran into the hall. Aunt Bluette beat me to it. She held open the door and smiled at Coop. “Come on in,” she said. “Just come on in. Teeny’ll be here directly.”
The minute I saw the pinched look on his face, I knew this wasn’t a social call. Still, I shut my eyes and made a quick bargain with Jesus. If He’d let everything be all right between me and Coop, I wouldn’t miss another choir practice.
I led Coop into the parlor and moved a heap of old newspapers. “Have a seat,” I said. “Would you like some iced tea?”
“Teeny, we need to talk.” He stood by the sofa but didn’t sit down. “I don’t know how to explain, but I can’t see you anymore.”
“Why not?” I sat down and tried to catch my breath. I could feel an attack coming on and couldn’t remember where I’d put my inhaler.
“Me and Barb got back together.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded. Then I started wheezing.
“Teeny, you okay?” Coop asked.
I shook my head. No, I wasn’t okay. I’d never be okay. How could I have let myself care so much when he’d cared so little? I stretched out on the sofa, trying not to gasp. Aunt Bluette came running with my inhaler. She stuck it between my lips. “Breathe, Teeny,” she said and pushed the button.
I still couldn’t get air. She made me take another puff, then she turned back to Coop.
“Would you help me get her to the car?” she said to him.
I ended up spending the night at Bonaventure General Hospital, hooked to oxygen and an IV. While I slept, she made phone calls to get the dirt on Coop and Barb. My aunt’s
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