Summary

Eric comes back this summer, Joelene is on the glowing cusp of her youth.

1 summer sun

Summer came

like a skinny hot girl on sandy legs.

Pale skin with red pebbles

on two slender cheekbones.

I always did like summer, you see

but I loved it especially then.

When I was the most

attractive I’d ever been.

So, I was a woman now.

So Mamaw claimed.

But I still had to do the dishes,

still had to take the cows out

to get the sun.

And I most definitely loved the sun,

but that summer it came hot

and went quickly cold.

That summer,

it got hidden by a sandy cowboy hat,

a lopsided grin that aged like Papaw’s rice wine,

and eyes with lines of years-old lies.

But let’s not jump the gun, yes?

This is how it went:

So, I laid on my favorite board bench

with the failing feet,

and I kind of felt like Brooke Sheilds

or Anne Hathaway as I laid in the seat,

with the shades I’d bought

at the downtown tavern,

propped up like a pinup

on the bride of my nose.

And I wore my red bathing suit

with the flares at the edges.

Then the gate squeaked

like a mouse in a trap.

And the trap was back.

My heart, my tummy told me first, you see.

And I’d almost bolted to the house,

but I put my shades in my lap.

And Eric looked different

as he came through the gates,

and I swore I smell the man

before I saw him.

Weed. Cigarettes,

sweat and August breeze.

And if you could see him now,

you’d again see why,

I’d let him fool me all those while.

And he wore this time a cowboy hat,

big boots covering the hem of his khaki pants.

His eyes were squinted from the sunny glow,

And his nose was still an arrow,

And those lips, the reason for my before-sorrow,

were red like the cherries back in our meadow.

He tore through the blinding morning sun

like a merciless cataract.

Not a hurricane this time,

but a big, cloudy cataract.

Now do you see why I said,

the man came to hid the sun?

And he pulled off his hat,

pressed it against his chest,

like a man back from the army.

But Eric hadn’t left to do anything great.

He hadn’t left to save lives

but just to take mine.

Then now came all the forgotten times:

That merciless kiss

and then the first cruel blood-shed.

I’d had to throw those white sheets away

just after stripping them off my sinful bed.

And he did bomb up a whole soul, here.

Now he was back to ensure: no survivors, I fear.

My eyes squinted in the paling light,

summer’s premature departure,

and he leaned down to place his carry-on

on the pavement.

Eric couldn’t be standing here.

There was no way, no…

My mouth was ajar,

as he grinned wide from afar.

“Joelene.”

I sat upright slowly,

and I hadn’t forgotten

how he’d left me on that morning

just after for the tenth time

he’d taken my purity.

But wait…

Is that…

there was somebody else

Yes, ‘tis was, wasn’t it?

Right by his side…

2 old floorboards

Slipping from behind the man

I’d thought was mine…

was a girl as pretty as time.

She looked like autumn

with orange hair,

and freckles less than mine.

Did he bring his gal here?

Eric had lost his gaddang mind.

Then my heart went-pitter patter.

Pitter Patter.

And I swear to God, someone

was pounding the thing

like a beaten-up batter.

And Papaw and Mamaw

came through the screen door,

grinning and greeting the man

that had done a great crime.

“Joelene!” Mamaw called,

“Come greet Eric…”

And the victim which was me,

sat in the boiling sun,

heart bitter like a Cerasee plant.

Eric lifted a hand to me,

but I climbed off the broken-down bench,

bare feet against the burnt front lawn

and off I went.

In his direction.

His treacherous eyes.

Oh, those treacherous eyes

fell down to my bare legs.

He hadn’t changed.

Not. One. Bit.

But boy, or man, his features had.

He was older now,

looking like someone’s Dada.

But I didn’t look at him

for much too long,

because once I was close,

he opened his arms wide,

his smile reaching his eyes

and he said, “Jo, long time no—”

And without even so much as a glance at him,

I patted up the hot boiling steps, red hair flailing,

flinging open the screen door.

It slammed behind me with a whine.

Then a shamed laugh came from Mamaw,

and she said something about me getting too big for my underwear.

And I wanted to say,

why don’t you ask Eric about that,

he should know the size I wear.

If Eric thought

I cared about him,

he had a next guest coming,

another one—guest I mean,

less prettier than the ginger he brought here.

And in my room, I pulled up a pair of dark blue shorts.

I liked the wind rushing through the open window,

and the smell of Manure,

and Mamaw’s Sunday peas screeching from the kitchen,

but I didn’t like the smell of weed,

of hot leather seat,

of sun beating off the body of a man seasons away from my age.

And the door to my room opened,

a soft squeak, a snap.

It’s familiar, the sound I mean.

My legs go on for days,

I struggle to get the shorts up

and buttoned over my thighs.

I loved my legs, now.

Plus the boys down the bay loved them, too.

And I preferred now, the ones my age.

“Joelene.” A manly voice, “Jo-Jo? I told you I’d come back for you…”

And the floorboard squeaked

from rusty memories,

as two big feet

pressed violently against them.

And without turning around,

I darted my eyes to the window.

Watching the flower-patterned sheets on the line

blow in the breeze.

Hiding the sun as they thrashed back and forth,

allowing just a peek in

before being gone again.

Just like Eric, and did he come here to peek,

and then be gone again?

And two more steps,

and the floorboard screamed this time,

like the wailing of a mercilessly tortured dinner swine.

And I spin around, hair flashing like red lights

I was much confident now, but my failing heart

was still a flailing kite.

I study the man back after the ‘war.’

And I ask, with the sassiness

of a brooding teenage girl:

“Why are you back? I’m a bit confused.

I frankly don’t give a damn about you anymore…”

He watched me warily.

Looking like a pitiful dog.

He was a dog.

He’d bit me and left,

and I’d been sore.

For weeks on end.

I’d starved myself, only ate candies and pear.

Didn’t comb my hair.

Wore that one blue dress with the bears.

Oh, and that little journal I’d write his name in?

All the pages, I’d tear, and then I’d stare…

into space like a broken pin-up doll.

But of course Eric wouldn’t even care…

He didn’t send a letter, didn’t even call…

That ain’t the half of it, you hear.

I’d locked up in my room,

listening to Kenny Rogers

and The Bee Gees

on that old radio with the flattened keys,

and the Pastor told Mamaw

I was being haunted by the ghost of depression.

He said it was a disease.

So, he’d called me in for a session.

And I wanted to say it weren’t so,

I was being haunted by two veiny hands,

a lopsided smile,

and a cowboy hat atop a pair of sweet cruel eyes.

But not now, now I was healed.

I was fine.

But damn Eric,

he still looked fine.

He stepped up to me,

looking like a neat shot of whiskey,

hair pushed back like a 90’s bachelor.

Lines pulled at the corner of his eyes,

and he was broader.

And bigger. And older. And more handsome.

But damn him I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about ‘uncle’ Eric anymore.

“I know you don’t.

But I care about you.

That’s why I’m back.”

So what should I say to that?

Should I say I missed him?

That I was waiting for him?

Because I sure as hell wasn’t.

To hell with his cologne,

and that adult-glaze of a man on cigs.

Frankly, I couldn’t give one less of frigs.

And he came a bit closer, “You’ve changed.”

“I’m glad you see.”

“Did you cut your hair?”

And was he back to ‘cut’ me again?

If a glare could kill,

he’d be dead.

But youth was a weapon,

and I still had it.

Eric wanted it.

He always wanted it.

“That’s none your business,

is it now, Eric?”

Something flashed in his eyes.

He was still a man more than me in size.

And when I go to pass him,

he held onto my hand.

And it shoulda made me sick.

It didn’t. But it did make me tick.

“I’m sorry. Jo-Jo, you know,

don’t you?”

I know nothing. But wanna know something?

I was no longer that stupid lil teen.

“Joelene.”

And then the door pushed open,

and Eric stepped back fast.

And his face had that look of guilt

like it had in the past.

Mamaw looked between us,

and she raised an eyebrow,

apron stained with counter flower.

“Girl, fix that face, what’ve Eric done to you?”

Oh, you wouldn’t want to know,

would you?

“Come say hi to the girl.”

And Mamaw must have drank

too much rice wine,

’cause I was in no mood to fake being kind…

I’d share Papaw’s rice wine, but I won’t share

a man.

“Yeah. Yeah, some other time.” I said,

and Mamaw wanted to say something.

“Joelene.” She pointed a finger, “If you don’t fix–“

“I’m going to the river,” I said, “I’ll be back by six.”

And as I walked out, Mamaw said,

“Teenagers,

it’s hard to deal with them at this age.”

Eric laughed and said nothing,

because he knew darn well he quite like them at this stage.

3 river bay

The river was better,

though I got something waiting for me back home.

If it were times ago I would have wanted it.

But I don’t know, I must have outgrown it some time ago.

I leaned back on slim palms,

and Poppy splashed some water on me.

I scrunched my nose

and flashed him my teeth.

Poppy was a friend,

or something like a friend.

Never been one to kiss and tell.

But he was cute,

skinny, easy on the eyes, like Mamaw said.

He kinda looked like that kid in The Karate Kid,

but less of the kid and more of a man.

Half a man, but still a man, you know?

“You cool Jo-Jo?”

Of course I was.

More than cool.

The day was cool, yet warm

and green.

Poppy was one of the most

caring boys I’d ever seen…

So we played in the river

like the half-adult,

half-kids we were.

Poppy tried to corner me in the water,

but he touched too much

and I wasn’t in the mood.

Didn’t want to be snappy,

because pretty girls are ugly

when they are rude.

And I knew I was—

pretty, I mean.

And I deserved it,

because I’d felt like shit

when Eric had left.

But now, I was too pretty

to cry.

Why? When I could have

any guy?

I wasn’t short on suitors,

I could climb trees like a boy,

Though it didn’t even matter,

I could be a girl, could be pretty and coy.

So, when the day was over,

I walked home with my clothes in hand.

Legs wet and sloppy.

Poppy walked me to the gate,

and he tried to kiss me,

but I didn’t feel the vibe.

But when I looked to the yard,

I saw a familiar face.

Eric stood on the lawn,

like he’d been waiting for me to come.

On second thought.

I pushed my face forward,

and pressed a kiss on Poppy’s cheek.

He smiled big

and then turned to leave.

“See you tomorrow, Joelene.”

Toes between squishy mud,

I walked up to the shadows.

The shadows shaped like

the monster of a familiar man.

“This how late you come home,

it’s almost eight.”

And I crossed my arms. “Were you standing

all day at the gate?”

Because if he were,

that’d be damn embarrassing,

even for Eric.

Even for sick Eric.

And he said, “Just came out for some air.

It’s dinner time,

you should come inside.”

And I shot back,

“That’s what I’m doing,

are you deaf or blind?”

And he laughed, like we were friends,

but I just stared at his straight-faced.

Because he couldn’t take back the felony.

No matter how much he tried

to be funny.

The moon was high,

and the yard smelled of fabric softener.

And Eric smelled like cologne

and tobacco.

“So,”

He began and put both hands in his pockets.

“How have you been, really?”

“Hungry,” I said and walked past him with a yawn.

I pushed open the screen door,

wiped my foot on the mat and left him on the lawn.

Then he was right behind me quickly,

like he was planning on trying to stop me before I could go inside.

His hand reached out, but Mamaw broke the corner,

and it dropped by his side.

Silly man.

“You back, Joelene? You’re dripping

all over the damn floor, girl.

Go wipe your feet and change your clothes, it’s time to eat.”

4 mashed potatoes

So dinner was served

gravy over mashed potatoes

and Eric evidently

hadn’t gotten over his staring problem.

He was perhaps shocked to see,

that I’d grown so nice and carefree.

and he must have wanted me to roll over and die.

But I’d done all that before,

and on that late June evening,

some many months ago,

there was no tears left to cry.

Why cry?

When I had the river,

and my friends,

and the blooming age of my youth?

And it must have killed him,

just a bit inside

to see my growth.

I wasn’t his to have,

never ever again.

Legs coiled underneath me,

I couldn’t wait to eat my meal.

Mamaw prayed and spat her famous language,

and Papaw had his finger hovering over the fork.

And Eric?

God would he stop looking at me?

The gal he brought

couldn’t stop looking around the house.

And she must have been thinking:

Well gahdamn, do they basically not live anywhere?

We weren’t rich,

but no one in the valley was.

But at least we weren’t perverts,

or accomplices of perverts,

but I feel bad

because I’d wanted Eric back then.

Oh, so willingly.

But was it willingly

if my brain was half-small, half-grown?

Now, I was grown. I could think, know,

and feel.

so, I felt when Eric’s boot tapped the side

of my red-painted toes.

And when I looked up,

he acted like he’d done nothing.

What a piece of horse-ass,

right in front of his gal?

5 feelin’ up apples

Okay, she wasn’t really his gal. Yet.

But really, who cared?

Not like it mattered.

Not like Eric mattered.

Pamma was a girl he’d taken from his town.

They were getting to know each other,

the way you’d feel up apples at the market

and taste to buy,

or not to buy.

She was pretty yes,

he’d be a fool not to have her.

But maybe he liked them apples forbidden,

Or just a bit younger.

Adam, oh, Adam, you pig.

They were courting, Mamaw said.

He and the gal.

And Eric did need some good ‘courting.’

Do you know how wrong it is

to bed your best friend’s daughter, Eric?

How many years did he deserve?

Please someone lock him up in a room

for men who couldn’t keep their hands

off girls far too young for their time.

Girls too close to their prime.

In my world, and your world, he’d done

two of the same crime.

Did I lie?

And then Pamma asked,

“How old are you?”

And I jammed my fork in a slab of

potatoe, “Girls don’t tell their age.”

It was damn true.

But if she cared so much, she could ask

her boo.

Mamaw said, “What you being so coy for?”

She wouldn’t want to know,

I’m sure.

So dinner ended, and I prayed

I didn’t have to do the dishes.

Mamaw wanted to look prim for the new visitor,

so she told me she’d do them instead.

That got a bit to my head, and I gave out:

‘Should we watch a movie before bed?’

And the devil sprung up in my head,

the way he’d sprung up in Eve’s bed

and I twinkled my eyes and said,

“Eric, you remember that movie

we watched in Dan’s room the last time you were here?”

And he froze up,

while Mamaw just stared.

She was clearing the table,

and she asked. “Watched a movie where?”

Eric shifted,

pushed a hand through his wet, slicked hair,

and poor Papaw didn’t care

as he was already in the kitchen

nursing a bottle of hot beer.

And Pamma seemed distracted

as she ogled the old torn mat beneath her feet.

God, did she have to be so proper and neat?

Come on, Eric, don’t look so frozen.

A deer in white headlights.

Weren’t this the life you’d heartlessly chosen?

6 worm cans

I was just playing with Eric,

just wanted to see him squirm.

But Lord, did I just open a slimy can of worms?

Mamaw pushed her lip upwards,

just thinking.

And I stared at Eric

with the innocent face of his sins.

Eric smiled a little and muttered,

“Don’t really remember, Jo-Jo…

you, uh, sure that happened?”

Damn sure I was.

But enough playing,

it made me smirk to see him that nervous,

and that was enough for the night.

I didn’t care if it wasn’t right.

Eric deserved it for leaving in plain sight.

And now he looked at me, with eyes a bit wide,

Coded with a plea. Don’t say anything; don’t say

anything.

This was quite fun, woowee.

So Mamaw cleaned the plates,

and Papaw switched the Tv on.

Some old movie was on the air,

and the seating arrangements went as here:

Papaw with his second hot beer,

then Mamaw with her tie-headed hair,

then me,

then Eric,

and then his new play-ted

or something, who cared?

She sat on the left of him,

all eyes on the frying film.

But then Eric shifted, and subtly

pushed his thigh closer

to mine and pressed it on my skin.

One manly leg tight against mine.

A firm thigh pressed against

a slim line.

If he kept this up,

I wouldn’t be so kind.

I wanted to watch the movie,

I genuinely didn’t care for the man.

Why was he so addicted to

a sickening sin?

I moved my leg away,

took one big gulp,

and mentally vowed to knock him in his shin.

7 raisin cookies/warm ice

He must have thought I liked it!

Nah, nah I may have…not?

But I did feel those damn birds in

my gut.

Just a bit or a lot.

Stupid heart, stupid tummy,

stupid man,

Laughing at the movie

like something was funny.

The show went on,

and boy, it was a lil interesting,

and while I watched

I chewed on the cookies Mamaw baked.

Pamma was so extra,

claiming they were the best she ever had.

Calm down, miss, it’s just the mixer,

water and raisins, my lad.

But she wanted to look good,

so whatever.

But I wish I hadn’t looked next to me,

’cause Eric looked way too good.

His straight nose was an art,

his cheekbones were too high,

and though he’d ruin my innocence,

he still made my head light.

He was far too good-looking,

and still looked like Leonardo Decaprio.

Still made my heart beat

with the rhythm of young love.

And then he turned his head

and our eyes met.

Like the way Titanic

had met the ice.

But the ice wasn’t cold.

It was warm and green

and nice.

Jesus.

I looked away.

No. Jo.

No.

A man can’t have a sweet and cruel heart.

And he was cruel and evil, and didn’t deserve my heart.

8 wet grass

So hear what,

I needed to hurry and leave for college.

Sandy and I studied down by the bay.

Our teacher said

she could get us into a town college,

so we’d see the cars

and the tall buildings,

and boys who didn’t wear cowboy hats.

Laura said “eww’

’cause cowboy hats are the real truth.

Poor thing,

had she never watched movies with Tom Cruise?

And sorry, they’re my friends.

We’d been friends for years.

But I didn’t tell them about Eric,

and my never-ending tears.

Sensitive stuff.

“Poppy, you fool!” Laura yelped

as Poppy splashed us with river water.

I sighed with content

and lay back on the rocks.

And take in the smell of wet grass,

and trees,

and the birds chirping overhead.

And while Laura climbed up

and ran after a long-legged poppy,

Sandy scooted closer

in her orange bathing suit, and she muttered:

“You know Laura

is dating Mr. Tucker down the road?

That’s so weird, he’s thirty and a half…”

And I shut my mouth because I’ve walked that path,

it’s not something good

but who was I to laugh?

And I smiled a bit and said, “Well,

he has good money from them cows…”

And “he’s not so ugly for a big man.”

Laura laughed and bounced me, “What you know

about those big men, Joelene?”

All there was to know, I’d seen more

than she could have ever seen.

But again, I shut my mouth

‘Cause those words need not leave

the lips of a teen.

9 blue pan

Now night had come,

and I went back home to a laughing Eric.

He and Papaw were chatting in the kitchen.

And why the heck was he not wearing a shirt?

Did he not know

that I was still just a little bit smitten?

No matter how much I tried to act curt?

Oh, Lordy.

He still hadn’t gotten a pot belly,

and I heard he’d burst stones back home.

But he can’t have that body

just by doing that alone.

“Oh, you back? Go pin out them clothes.”

Papaw stopped chatting to say.

A peice of stick at the corner of his mouth.

He was holding an old piece of machinery,

showing Eric the iron clay.

And said man, Eric,

turned his head to look at me.

and he stared and stared and stared.

Green, green eyes.

Then he subtly winked,

and I think I pinked.

Shit. Don’t blush, Joelene.

It was out of my control,

but I still vowed to snatch his soul.

I would tell. Or hurt him back.

Or do something, you just watch.

I’d pretend all is well,

he wouldn’t wonder what’s the catch,

and then I’d strike,

like the match,

he’d lit to burn my heart.

It felt good, knowing I had a plan.

So, I skipped upstairs and grabbed my blue pan of clothes

and then skirted out my room

to go back down.

But in the aisle,

orange-lit and narrowed,

I bumped into Eric.

Still not wearing a shirt,

and I hugged the pan of clothes

close to my skirt,

and he slipped his hands

into his trouser’s pants.

He smelled just like the cherry pole

he had lodged at the corner of his light-pink lips. Cherry, cherry lips.

And the stubble above his nose was light,

and the bristles on his chin, too.

like a man his age,

now my mind went on a trip.

So, I’ve learned that Pamma

wasn’t the gal he’d gone home to be with.

Mamaw said as soon as he’d gotten back,

that old gal looked different.

Not literally, but in his mind.

And he was turned off.

She said whatever he had come to see

during the war,

had made things different

with his long-time gal.

He’d switched off like Papaw’s old car

and couldn’t work.

They wouldn’t work.

Her word’s not mine.

And I didn’t care about those lines.

“Do you spend everyday

at the river to avoid me?”

I heard him ask,

and I needed him to move

so I could go do my task.

10 sweet dreams

Eric thought the world revolved around him.

Damn fool, he was.

Things were different, now.

I’d spent my days swimming,

and reading old Sweet Dreams novels,

you know the ones with the girls

on the covers that look like Brooke Sheilds?

Those.

And I’d hung out Poppy and the girls,

and listen to music on the juntinge box,

and sun-bathe in shades

and wore toe separators

while I wiggled them under

the heated valley sun.

And I’d done crying

over him long ago.

“Avoid you? Dream on.”

And as I walked by him,

he gripped my arm.

And something shot up the length of it,

not pain-but something close to it.

Not physically, but emotionally,

somewhere in my chest.

Did he not bring here a guest?

One as pretty as old-school tales,

one close to his era.

She would be a solid ten,

if she wasn’t a stare-er.

She loved looking everywhere,

at anything and everything.

But she could never see

the way this man would look at me.

Come on, could no one see it?

How he’d watch me across the table

from where he’d sit?

He was, to me, pretty obvious.

“I missed you Joelene.

God knows, I did.”

“Too bad.” Pulling my arm away,

I said the last bit.

“‘Cause I’m no longer a kid.”