“Oh, I’m sorry, I just—”
I stammered for an excuse but there wasn’t one. My mild obsession for things being in their place caused me to be scolded by Momma on more than one occasion for touching things that didn’t belong to me.
“You can do my Tupperware cupboard next if you want,” Eleanor broke the silence with amusement. Leroy laughed and continued cutting up vegetables and potatoes beside his mother.
I admired how his biceps flexed with each stroke of the knife. How delicate he was with his large hands and how the tip of his tongue peeked from between his lips as he concentrated.
“Oh—ar—are you sure?” I turned my attention to Eleanor, rather than the drool-worthy boy beside her. I didn’t want to just start going through her cabinets in case she was kidding. But I wouldn’t mind stacking plastic instead of cooking.
“I’m dead serious,” she said, stirring what looked like breadcrumbs and eggs in a bowl. “That cupboard is a nightmare. It’s a sport to put things away now. We just open the door, throw things in, and attempt to close it before a Tupperware avalanche takes over the kitchen.”
I laughed with her childish giggle and moved around the countertop, heading toward the cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. I realized that perhaps I should have watched a couple of her news broadcasts to become more familiar with this woman. She wasn’t what I had been expecting at all, and it was refreshing to know that money didn’t equal snobbery.
“Ellie,” Eleanor said over her shoulder as I knelt in front of the cabinet. “What do you want to do now that you’ve graduated?”
“I want to—”
As I opened the door, just as she’d warned, dozens and dozens of containers, lids, cups, and every variety of plastic that you could imagine came loudly tumbling out of the cupboard.
At least we’d have plenty of time for conversation.
The meal was delicious. A stuffed roast chicken with all the extras. Vegetables, potatoes, gravies, and sauces. I had expected that the atmosphere might have been a bit tense with Noah but he didn’t talk a lot during the meal and Eleanor kept the conversation moving enough to expel any awkward lulls.
Leroy’s dad seemed nice. He didn’t talk a whole lot, either, but what he did add to the conversation was pleasant enough. As it was Saturday, and we had plans to go out for the evening, Leroy negotiated with his mom about pushing back the curfew until one in the morning. It seemed a waste of time to only go out until ten. She agreed that it was fine with her, but I would have to clear it with Momma over the phone.
I was offered a little bit of privacy in the dining area so that I could use the phone while Leroy went to get ready. The phone rang while I twirled the cord around my finger, hoping that Momma would be in a gracious mood. Maybe I could always lie if she says no?
“Hello, Sandra speaking?”
“Hi, Momma.”
“Ellie!” Momma all but shouted down the phone line. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you all afternoon. How was the flight? How’s Castle Rock and all that? Having a good time?”
“It’s great here.” I couldn’t help but smile when I thought about Leroy. “Listen, I called to ask something.” The phone crackled. “Could I perhaps extend the curfew this evening? Leroy and I are going to a little gathering with some of his high school friends. It’s a sort of farewell for one of them going off to school.”
There was a brief pause, silence came through the receiver, and I felt as though I was holding my breath in anticipation.
“Will there be alcohol?”
“No,” I lied. “His parents are going to be there. It’s a family-friendly event.”
“What time would y’all be in?”
“One in the morning.”
Again, there was a pregnant pause until she sighed, the telltale sign of a win. “All right. Be good though. Hear me? Don’t do something stupid.”
“I promise, Momma, thank you.”
“Is that it? You just wanted to call to get a curfew extension, not catch up with me?”
I had been gone for less than twenty-four hours. Did I really need to go into a detailed conversation about the brief afternoon?
“How about we recap at the end of one week, Momma?” I suggested, tapping my foot with impatience. “I need to get dressed. I love you.”
“All right, then. Love you.”
The phone base quietly clicked when I hung up. Jacob and Eleanor were in the living room talking over the television, gently arguing about what to watch. I tiptoed out of the kitchen and crept up the staircase.
The shower was running as I walked past the bathroom door upstairs. My steps faltered for a moment, listening to the sound of Leroy’s upbeat humming. My imagination built up the sight behind this door. His built torso dripping wet, his hair damp and unkempt. Heat filled my cheeks at the images and I forced my eyes to the floor to hide the shame, although there was no one to see it.
Fleeing to the spare bedroom and shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it and giggled, placing my flat palms on either side of my warm cheeks before fanning myself. I had never thought about sex this much before. Ever. But since we shared that night together, May 28, 1998—a night I would never forget—I hadn’t been able to rid myself of the constant hot flushes or the sinful thoughts that plagued me without mercy.
I shook it off and changed into a yellow spaghetti-strapped dress with a white T-shirt on underneath it. An old pair of black Docs that I’d found dumpster diving completed the look. Next came mascara, lip gloss, and a spritz of hairspray to tame my natural waves, and I felt as ready as I ever would. I hadn’t felt nervous about the night before us, but I did get a little onslaught of butterflies when I thought about the fact that I’d be meeting Leroy’s friends. Would I make a good impression? He said he was looking forward to showing me off and it excited me to know that he felt I was worth showing off.
Just as I finished folding the clothes up that I’d chosen and organized to wear tomorrow after a shower, there was a light tap on the door.
“Come in.” Leroy came in and paused at the threshold. “Ellie, you look—stunning,” he said, his stare lingering on my bare legs.
“You look great too,” I returned the compliment, because he did. His fitted faded-blue jeans flirted with the top of his black Chuck Taylors. The color of his shoes coordinated with the loose black T-shirt that was tucked at the belt of his jeans.
“I suppose we should head downstairs,” Leroy murmured as he gazed to the left. I couldn’t see whatever it was that held his attention in the corridor, but his attention moved between myself and the outside of the bedroom, repeatedly, in a matter of seconds. “Noah is coming with us. I’m driving.”