Leaving Serenity (2 page)

“Grandpa Zeke’s church?”

Beth answers, holding the front door open for me. “Uh-huh, the boys sit with Mama on the second row to the left. My Earl Junior works at the poultry plant with Jeff. Earl Junior and Jeff bought some land together, back off
Millhouse Road
. We have two doublewides side by side near the millpond. You know Jeff never did marry, so I cook and clean for
him, and
he helps out with the boys. It’s a real nice setup.”

I try to picture my sister’s home in my mind and compare it to my plush four-bedroom condo in Brentwood overlooking Radnor Lake and the soft, rolling Tennessee hills.

I feel sorry for her,
but
say, “That sounds nice.”

I detect sadness in my sister’s voice as she we enter our childhood bedroom. “You can stay in our old room. It hasn’t changed a bit since you left. The same old beds with the pink canopies are still there. Sometimes I think that Mama just quit living after we left home. ”

We plop my bags down on the fattened pink carpet. The small twin beds and white French Provencial dresser with a heart-shaped mirror look out of place in today’s world.

“We
ll, call if you need anything.”

Beth smiles weakly and closes the door, leaving me in front of a murky, full-length mirror. The image staring at me is my reward for the years of work I’ve put into becoming
Nikky.
Perfect ears pinned back and cropped by the knife. Silky cornflower hair colored with my hairstylist’s own special formula. Prominent cheekbones imbedded with silicone implants frame a perfect nose that took two breaks and two years to create. Slipping out of the s
ilk camisole
, I catch a glimpse of the ideally sized 36Cs. They are firm, full, and stay in place when I move
. Changing my image
gave
my self-confidence
a boost and elevated my
career
. No matter h
ow many times they call me Annette, I’ve come too far to go back now. I am
Nikky.

I collapse onto the small bed that was Annette’s to sleep off the long drive.
Dreams of my childhood in Serenity haunt me and hold me in a twilight state.

***

My eyes pop open at the
sound of Adam’s harsh voice. “
What the hell is she doing here?”

Jeff’s southern whine sings back, “I called her. I thought she might like to see Daddy before he goes. Besides
, Daddy a
sked for her.”

I hear the tinkling of ice cubes on glass. Adam replies, “She’s got no business here. Hell, Mother didn’t even recognize her. She’s a freak, is what she is.”

A female voice that I think is his wife,
Elise, calls
out, “Adam! That’s unnecessary!”

Glass clinks on the glass top of the wet bar I remember from my childhood.

He mumbles, “Whatever.”

Hearing my brother’s hateful comments remind me of why I left home. After all this time, nothing has changed. My mother and my brother still don’t want me here. The tiny room with its outdated, childish furniture starts to close in on me like a prison cell. I need to escape, just for a little while. I need time and space to build the strength I’ll need over the next few days.

I pull on a pair of black Capri running tights
,
a
form fitting tank with slashes of purple and yellow, a matching jacket, and a pair of purple Nike running shoes. The outfit screams Nikky. I glance in the mirror before I open the door and face Annette’s family
.

Seeing my siblings gathered in the family room is like stepping into a 1970s’ time machine. Jeff catches me looking from the doorway.
My brother’s hair is shoulder length, layered in a 1970s’ style that reminds me of the Bee Gees. He heaves himself off the other end of the couch and walks toward me with an extended hand.

“Welcome.” He speaks stiffly, like the
cowboys who
greeted the Indians on
old westerns.

I
hesitate and
then receive his hand to one side, avoiding his protruding belly. His calloused hand scratches my skin. “Thank you
for calling me
.”

Adam looks shabby chic in a blue and white seersucker jacket, as he pours another glass of Scotch at the wet bar.
He turns his back, sips the drink, and looks out the sliding glass
doors at
the outdated wrought iron patio furniture and brick barbeque pit next to the empty swimming pool.

Elise sits on the couch, looking bored, and flipping through a Southern Living magazine. She glances over and nods. I silently admire her deep tan and strong, dark features. Adam’s wife is a natural beauty who never had to work at looking good. Her dark, straight hair and petite features remind me of
the movie star, Ali MacGraw
.

Beth’s large body fills a recliner close by. She fans herself with a leaf of newspaper, even though the thermostat must be on sixty. Beth leans toward me and rolls her eyes upward and points her chin
down, the way Mama used to do.

“We’re real glad you came today, Annette. You are his favorite, you know.”

Feeling
tire
d and testy, I snap back
at her
. “I don’t know why you say that I’m his favorite
when w
e haven’t spoken to each other in years.”

Adam tosses a tumbler of scotch down his throat. “I don’t know why you say that, either, Elizabeth. Considering what a liar and a fake Annette –”

I notice the gray highlights that sprinkle through
Adam’s
hair as he bows in my direction.
Hate spews from his icy, cobalt eyes.
“Oh, excuse me
–
Nikky
is
.”

I
don’t have the strength to
match
his stare
. Instead, I
turn toward the front door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jeff whines.

“I’m going for a run.”

Jeff hovers, a step behind me, slurring his words together. “You can’t leave. We can’t leave, so you can’t leave.”

Jeff stands at the front door. I notice his red, puffy face and worn down teeth as he jabs his finger toward the ground, making a futile attempt at communication. “Look at her, always running away. No guts! No glory, little sister!”

I don’t look back, but I feel my older brother watching helplessly as I hit the street and run toward the town I’ve spent a lifetime running from.

The ’60s

I breathe in the warm spring air of my hometown. Serenity lives in the minds of those who can remember. I sprint up the thick stone steps of my old church, unable to resist the temptation to peek at my old hiding place.
From the top step, I have a bird’s eye view of the abandoned Main Street that was once alive with merchants and shoppers.
My body feels lithe and young as I
run past the red flagged parking meters reflected in the bare storefront windows.
After a twenty-five year absence, I remember what it was like growing up in Serenity.

Church

The cross atop the steeple of the Christian Church sparkles in the sunlight. The church at the corner of South and Main is the place where the citizens of Serenity flexed their spiritual muscles. Family names we
re
posted behind each wooden pew to make sure that everyone kept their place in the church and the community. Mama, the only child of the minister at the Christian Church for forty-two years, sat in the coveted second pew on the left reserved for the clergyman’s family. Daddy played golf on Sundays and didn’t go to church. He left his children’s spiritual guidance to Mama.

Grandpa Zeke didn’t yell or talk about going to Hell like some southern preachers did back then. He lectured about being a good person and showing kindness to others. When my brothers flicked a paper football across the wooden pew, Grandpa Zeke simply stared at them with a raised eyebrow. After being swooned to sleep by Grandpa Zeke’s sermon, my family walked to where Grandma Carrie waited with the best fried chicken in the whole world.

Thin stained glass windows along the side of the church sanctuary portrayed Jesus holding a lamb, Jesus standing on water, and Mary holding Baby Jesus. I hid in the cloakroom behind a small red-paned window. My heart raced as I watched my brothers dig through the shrubbery around the church.

“Did you find her yet?”  Adam called out to Jeff.

Jeff balled his fists and stomped his foot. “Nah, God-dang it!

Beth propped her
tiny hands
on her non-existent
hips. “I’m telling Mama you said that.”

Jeff made a face at Beth and shook his head. “It just gets my goat, that’s all! We spend every Sunday afternoon looking for her but can
never find her.”

Adam threw a baseball in the air and grabbed it with his mitt. “Ah, who cares about her? Forget her! She’ll show up when it’s time to eat. Let’s play some catch.”

Jeff tagged along behind Adam and snickered. “Yeah, maybe she won’t come back, and I can have her piece of chicken!”

Beth stuck her butt out, making the skirt of her dress look like a tent. “I’m telling Mama you said that.”

The Grocery

The diagonal parking spaces along Main Street were filled with huge, gas guzzling cars in the 1960s. Mama parked our Chevrolet station wagon in the alleyway behind Earl Sneed’s grocery. I hung on to Beth’s hand as we rushed to keep up with Mama and the boys. The boys hopped up on stacked apple crates in front of the grocery and snagged fresh apples from the open bins. Beth and I followed Mama into the dark, quiet store. Up high, big fans moved slowly in the breeze that drifted through the open back door. The fat, wooden floor echoed the tap of Mama’s high heeled pumps.

Mrs. Sneed greeted us from the other side of a big counter that held jars of candy next to a gold cash register where she kept the money. “Well, good morning there, little ladies! Mrs. Bevels, I hope you’re doing well this fine day.”

Mama’s face pinched into a tight-lipped smile when she met Mrs. Sneed. I looked at Mrs. Sneed’s big bosoms and puffy, red cheeks. She smiled at me. I could tell that Mama didn’t like talking to Mrs. Sneed, but I thought she was a nice lady.

“Thank you, Cora, just fine.”

Mama’s stiff cotton skirt brushed across my face as she swept around. “Now, girls, you stay here with Mrs. Sneed while I pick up my order at the meat counter.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beth answered as she watched Mama walk to the back of the store. When Mama was out of sight, she turned to Mrs. Sneed and flashed her brand-new teeth.

“Will you play a game with me?”

Mrs. Sneed rested her bosoms on the counter. “What kind of game would you like to play?”

Beth put a finger to her mouth and scrunched her face l
ike she was thinking real hard.

“Ahh, I know. How about I guess how many peppermint sticks are in that jar and then you tell me if I’m right?”

Mrs. Sneed’s cheeks jiggled. “Well, that sounds like a fine game. Who will go first?”

Beth wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “Oh, Annette can’t play.”

Mrs. Sneed’s mouth flew open. “Why not?”

I crossed my arms, scowled, and blew out a big breath of air. “Why can’t I play?”

Beth looked just like Mama when she pinched her lips together and said, “ ’Cause Mama said that you
ain’
t a bright little cookie like me.”

Mrs. Sneed teased Beth. “O
h,
is that right
?
”

Beth briskly bobbed her head.

“Well, that’s a real shame. Okay, you can play. And if you get the right answer, I’ll give both of you a peppermint stick. How’s that?”

Beth leaned into my shoulder and giggled. “Did you hear that, Annette? I’ll get one for you, too.”

My eyes stayed on the lady with big bosoms counting the peppermint sticks. Beth guessed that there were a hundred sticks in that little jar. Mrs. Sneed said she was right, but I counted only twelve. Beth grabbed her peppermint stick from Mrs. Sneed’s hand. I reached for mine just in time to hear Mama’s shoes tap up behind us.

“No, no. Annette, you give that right back.”

I jumped at the sound of her voice and let go of the candy stick. It fell and broke into tiny pieces on the big floor. I looked around at Beth’s red lips wrapped around her peppermint stick. Her brown eyes we
re
happy.

“Please excuse my daughter’s clumsiness, Cora. How much do I owe you for that?”

The red glow rose in Mrs. Sneed’s cheeks, but she wasn’t smiling when she answered Mama. “Not a thing. You have a good day, Mrs. Bevels.”

Mama snapped her beaded change purse closed. “And you too, Cora. Put the meat on our account, please.”