Read Online Small Town Girl by Lavyrle Spencer - Free Book Online
Authors: Lavyrle Spencer
Tags: Fiction
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retreat while continuing to ogle her car.
She made a left turn onto Peach Street and her mother said, "You shouldn't be so rude to Kenny, Tess."
"He was rude to me! And nobody touches my car! Nobody!"
"Why, Tess, he was just being helpful."
"If he wants to help me, he can stay out of my way!"
"I don't see what harm it did for him to move your car such a tiny ways. He's a careful man."
"He didn't even ask me! He just…just
got in
as if it were somebody's old junker! Do you know how much that car is worth? Forty-two thousand dollars, that's how much! And he just couldn't wait to get in it, could he! Probably gonna run all over town telling people he drove it! Nobody but me has ever driven that car! Nobody! I don't even let valets park it!"
Mary was staring at her daughter in dumbstruck surprise.
"Why, Tess."
"Aw, hell, just forget it, Mom. He and I absolutely rub each other the wrong way."
"Why, you've barely spoken to each other. How can you rub each other the wrong way?"
"Mom, I said forget it! Will you?" Tess realized she was yelling but was unable to stop herself.
After a perplexed pause Mary mumbled, "Well, all right… I just…" Her voice trailed off as she turned her face to the side window.
I shouldn't have yelled at her
, Tess thought,
especially not today
. But sometimes she could be so dense! Prattling on about what a good boy Kenny was, totally ignoring the fact that he'd snubbed her for the second time, unaware of how unacceptable it was for him to touch a car worth that much money without permission. She could tell from the silence, and from the way Mary kept her face turned away, that she didn't believe she'd said anything wrong and was trying to figure out why she'd been snapped at.
"Momma?" Mary looked over with hurt in her eyes. Apologies had never come easy to Tess, and this one stayed locked in her mind. "Just forget it, okay?"
They drove on for a while but the silence remained heavy. Outside the sun sat smack in the middle of Highway 160, forcing Tess to slip on her sunglasses. Things here looked the same as always. This was a poor county, Ripley, its chief income generated by transfer payments—Social Security, survivors' benefits, unemployment and welfare checks. Seemed as if half the residents of Ripley County lived in trailer houses. But the land was pretty. Red clay earth, green grass, lots of creeks, a few dogwoods on the fringes of the woods, big patches of yellow buttercups in bloom, rolling Ozark foothills, horse farms and little country churches about every five miles. They passed fields where biscuit-colored cows grazed, and a farm where goats stood on the tin roof of their shelter and a great whiskey-brown turkey fanned its tail and watched them pass. Farther along, they rumbled over the Little Black River, which ran full and brilliant as it was struck by the morning sun.
While they rode, Tess let the beautiful morning do what her absent apology should have done—take the edge off the tension in the car.
Finally she asked, "Want to hear my new song, Momma?"
Mary turned from her absorption with the view, eager to be in Tess's good graces again. "Of course I do."
Tess snapped her tape into the deck and a musical intro came on.
Mary asked, "This the one with the bad note?"
"This is the one."
They rode toward the sunrise with Tess's voice singing about a marriage in jeopardy.
When the song ended Mary said, "Not a thing wrong that I could hear. That's very nice, honey. Will they be playing it on the radio soon?"
"Not till fall. There's another single—maybe twothey're going to release first before the album comes out."
"Has it got a title yet?"
"The album? No, we're still waffling on that. Jack wants me to call it
Water Under the Bridge
, which is the name of the first single, but the label executives say it makes me sound like
I'm
water under the bridge. So they don't want that. I kind of wanted to call it
Single Girl
, from an old Mary Travers song we revamped, but
She made a left turn onto Peach Street and her mother said, "You shouldn't be so rude to Kenny, Tess."
"He was rude to me! And nobody touches my car! Nobody!"
"Why, Tess, he was just being helpful."
"If he wants to help me, he can stay out of my way!"
"I don't see what harm it did for him to move your car such a tiny ways. He's a careful man."
"He didn't even ask me! He just…just
got in
as if it were somebody's old junker! Do you know how much that car is worth? Forty-two thousand dollars, that's how much! And he just couldn't wait to get in it, could he! Probably gonna run all over town telling people he drove it! Nobody but me has ever driven that car! Nobody! I don't even let valets park it!"
Mary was staring at her daughter in dumbstruck surprise.
"Why, Tess."
"Aw, hell, just forget it, Mom. He and I absolutely rub each other the wrong way."
"Why, you've barely spoken to each other. How can you rub each other the wrong way?"
"Mom, I said forget it! Will you?" Tess realized she was yelling but was unable to stop herself.
After a perplexed pause Mary mumbled, "Well, all right… I just…" Her voice trailed off as she turned her face to the side window.
I shouldn't have yelled at her
, Tess thought,
especially not today
. But sometimes she could be so dense! Prattling on about what a good boy Kenny was, totally ignoring the fact that he'd snubbed her for the second time, unaware of how unacceptable it was for him to touch a car worth that much money without permission. She could tell from the silence, and from the way Mary kept her face turned away, that she didn't believe she'd said anything wrong and was trying to figure out why she'd been snapped at.
"Momma?" Mary looked over with hurt in her eyes. Apologies had never come easy to Tess, and this one stayed locked in her mind. "Just forget it, okay?"
They drove on for a while but the silence remained heavy. Outside the sun sat smack in the middle of Highway 160, forcing Tess to slip on her sunglasses. Things here looked the same as always. This was a poor county, Ripley, its chief income generated by transfer payments—Social Security, survivors' benefits, unemployment and welfare checks. Seemed as if half the residents of Ripley County lived in trailer houses. But the land was pretty. Red clay earth, green grass, lots of creeks, a few dogwoods on the fringes of the woods, big patches of yellow buttercups in bloom, rolling Ozark foothills, horse farms and little country churches about every five miles. They passed fields where biscuit-colored cows grazed, and a farm where goats stood on the tin roof of their shelter and a great whiskey-brown turkey fanned its tail and watched them pass. Farther along, they rumbled over the Little Black River, which ran full and brilliant as it was struck by the morning sun.
While they rode, Tess let the beautiful morning do what her absent apology should have done—take the edge off the tension in the car.
Finally she asked, "Want to hear my new song, Momma?"
Mary turned from her absorption with the view, eager to be in Tess's good graces again. "Of course I do."
Tess snapped her tape into the deck and a musical intro came on.
Mary asked, "This the one with the bad note?"
"This is the one."
They rode toward the sunrise with Tess's voice singing about a marriage in jeopardy.
When the song ended Mary said, "Not a thing wrong that I could hear. That's very nice, honey. Will they be playing it on the radio soon?"
"Not till fall. There's another single—maybe twothey're going to release first before the album comes out."
"Has it got a title yet?"
"The album? No, we're still waffling on that. Jack wants me to call it
Water Under the Bridge
, which is the name of the first single, but the label executives say it makes me sound like
I'm
water under the bridge. So they don't want that. I kind of wanted to call it
Single Girl
, from an old Mary Travers song we revamped, but
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