Read Online Lilac Mines by Cheryl Klein - Free Book Online Page B

good jobs are. Jody shakes her head and runs her fingers through her short, fuzzy hair. Jody says there are ghosts in the mines above town if you’re stupid enough to believe in that stuff. Jody smells vaguely like wood. Jody is intimate but guarded. Jody seems to be inviting Anna Lisa somewhere, but she’s not about to give away the directions.
    When Anna Lisa’s shake is half gone and there is only an inch of bitter-tasting beer left in the bottle, a Negro woman walks into the restaurant. She wears a red dress that matches her lipstick and clutches her purse with both hands. When she spots Jody, she lets her purse slide down her arm and swing on her elbow.
    â€œThat’s my girl,” Jody says to Anna Lisa without taking her eyes off the woman.
    Can a girl have a girl? Can a white girl have a black girl? The possibilities make Anna Lisa’s head throb. Could she have a girl?
    Jody makes introductions: Imogen, Anna Lisa. Anna Lisa, Imogen. There were three Negroes at Lincoln High School. Anna Lisa knew each of their names and never had occasion to talk to any of them. Imogen is standing so close Anna Lisa can see the clumps of mascara on her eyelashes. And she’s Jody’s girl. Anna Lisa feels slightly dizzy. Maybe it’s the beer.
    â€œWe’re going over to Lilac’s,” Jody says. “It’s the bar where I work, ’cept I’m off tonight. Wanna come?”
    Imogen looks at Jody, alarmed. “Is she cool?”
    Jody smiles. “I’ve got a hunch.”
    Imogen has not touched Jody, but from the way she rolls her eyes beneath her mascara and her night-blue eyeshadow, Anna Lisa knows they have been together a long time and that they are in love. “Your hunches are always getting us in trouble. But I’m not one to be rude. Anna Lisa, you said your name was? Come on with us.”
    They leave Main Street behind and begin climbing Calla Boulevard, a steep street with older buildings and shorter streetlights. Anna Lisa studies the figures in front of her on the narrow sidewalk. Jody’s love handles, her echoing work boots that hint at hollows beneath the pavement, her hair that might be called strawberry blonde if the title didn’t seem somehow undignified. Imogen clicks along next to her. Thin waist and unashamed breasts wrapped in rose print. Her black hair is curled in a controlled and intricate pattern. Her arm swings next to Jody’s, occasionally brushing it. As if this were all perfectly natural.
    Anna Lisa’s breath quickens as they climb. And we’re going to a bar, she thinks.
    Jody stops abruptly in front of a squat, wood-sided building. There’s no sign over the closed door, but a rectangular halo of light surrounds it. The night has turned chilly, and Anna Lisa imagines it’s warm inside. When Jody halts, Anna Lisa bumps into her.
    â€œOkay, here’s the rules,” Jody says. “No putting the moves on somebody else’s girl, but I don’t think you’re dumb enough to do that. No nursing one beer all night—you’re in a bar, you drink. And if Caleb flashes the light, it means stop dancing or switch to a guy, ’cause the cops are coming.”
    Imogen puts a hand on Anna Lisa’s shoulder. It’s warm and heavy. “We don’t have cops. We have one sheriff who bothers with us maybe once every two months. Just breathe, honey.”
    Anna Lisa doesn’t know what the insides of regular bars look like. She doesn’t know the names of beers. She thinks 90 cents sounds expensive, but she can’t be sure. She’s never danced with anyone besides her own relatives at weddings.
    The first beer has already rendered the night twirly, but she follows Jody’s lead and orders a Rheingold. Her voice is so quiet that Caleb, a thin man with dark, center-parted hair and a blue turtleneck sweater—what Anna Lisa imagines a poet might look like—makes her repeat it twice. She