Authors: Magan Vernon
"Oh, well I guess you wouldn't know Brittany." Aunt Dee unlocked the door and slid into the stained, gray seat. I tossed my suitcase into the back and climbed in.
She started the car. "Brittany is my granddaughter."
"Why doesn't she live with her mom then?" I looked down at my chipped nail polish, as she pulled out of the parking lot. I wondered if there was any place that I could get a manicure in this small town.
"Well, it's not something we like to bring up, but my daughter, Joni decided to follow her own path. She was the prettiest girl in the whole parish and a real nice girl." Her voice got dreamy as she reminisced, but then her tone changed to have more of a bitter taste, as if she were forcing herself to purge the words. "But that was years ago. After she graduated high school she got pregnant with Brittany. I really thought a baby would change her and really make us bond." You could almost see the struggle in Aunt Dee's voice as she spoke; it was like her tongue was literally fighting to get the words out. "But, sadly, it just made things worse. After Brittany was born, it was like she wanted nothing to do with that baby unless she could be sold for crack." Aunt Dee said crack with the same tone that my mom had said not when she read my letter from the school.
"Joni smoked them out of house and home, so about seven years ago, when Brittany was eight, I adopted her. That was right before Joni lost her life to that drug." She spilled it all out like she told the story every day.
I gulped. I hadn't been expecting her to divulge so much, especially because we barely knew each other. But I suppose some people are just more trusting with their family members.
We zipped down the road. There were hardly any streetlights, so I couldn't see much of the town. From what I could make out in the darkness, there wasn't much to it. Before I knew it, we were pulling in to a long gravel driveway and into a weeping willow lined yard. Her house, which was about the size of my parents' garage, was definitely not what I expected someone who owned a business to have. Aunt Dee pulled into the carport on the side of the house and killed the engine.
"My late husband built this house for us over thirty years ago. It was his wedding present to me." A distant smiled spread across her face as she spoke.
I followed her down the cobblestone path and up to the small brick house. A big sign hung on front of the door.
And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock
.
It was scrolled across the big wooden sign, and I cocked my head trying to make out the meaning of it. Aunt Dee saw me looking at the sign and grabbed my hand. It was one of actual comfort that I hadn't felt from years for my own mother. Even when my mom tried to reach for me it was always like a chore, something that she struggled with since feelings weren't her strong suit. It was always that cold empathy that she commanded in the court room, not the warmth that Aunt Dee radiated from her. It made me realize how much I had longed for this sense of comfort for so long.
"The last hurricane took a lot from this town; St. Bernard Parish was probably hit the hardest next to New Orleans, but our house did not falter. We had some damage to the property, but this house stayed strong. With your Uncle Walter's bricklaying and my strength in God our house stayed intact. We were one of the lucky ones though, so many weren't so lucky." She patted my hand and unlocked the big, white door.
I followed her into the living room that was dimly lit by a small plastic lamp sitting on an end table.
"Brittany is sleeping, and I’m sure you're tired, so I'll show you to your bedroom and give you the tour in the morning," Aunt Dee whispered, her shoes clomping on the old wood floor.
I couldn't imagine there would be much to see. I had already seen the plaid furniture that cluttered the living room, and it looked like that opened up to the outdated yellow kitchen. I guessed bedrooms and bathrooms were all that we had left. I followed Aunt Dee down the short, narrow hallway, careful not to make too much noise.
"That's the bathroom," Aunt Dee whispered as she pointed at a closed door.
"There's only one bathroom?" I tried not to be too loud. Aunt Dee nodded, not losing her stride as she opened the door almost directly to the right of the bathroom. How could I live with one bathroom? I had a hard enough time in the dorms, sharing a bathroom with all the girls on my floor. Sharing a bathroom with two other women was not on my list of high priorities.
"And this is your room." Aunt Dee flipped on the lights. As my eyes adjusted, I wasn't pleased with what I saw. The room was barely bigger than my closet back home, and it looked stuffed with the twin bed, white wicker night stand, and a huge desk along one of the walls that was piled with what appeared to be craft supplies.
"Sorry, this has been my scrapbooking room for the past ten years, but I'm sure you can share with my supplies." She smiled as she patted me on the back. "This is Brittany's old bedding, but we can go to Wal-Mart later and see what we can find you for a comforter." I smiled weakly. I was so tired that I didn't have the energy to protest sleeping on the hideous bubblegum pink bedding.
Aunt Dee left me in the tiny room alone with my thoughts. I was lucky that I was so tired that there wasn't much time to think. I didn't even feel like exfoliating, washing my face, or even putting on my pajama pants. I turned off the lamp and collapsed into the cheap polyester comforter.
There was a window directly over the bed. Sheer, white curtains could barely keep out the moonlight that streamed in. There were more stars out than I could ever remember seeing anywhere. When I was younger I used to wish on stars all the time. Living near a big city, I couldn't see as many as there were here. My eyes slowly started to flutter and close as the grasshoppers chirped outside my window, and my last thoughts were of the stars, hoping that wishing on stars wasn't just a fairy tale, and maybe if I wished hard enough I could be back home.
Chapter 4
I could have slept all day long, but I awoke to the bright sunlight streaming in from the tiny window. I would have really been more upset if my nose didn't perk up to the smell of something amazing coming from the kitchen. The last time I had a home cooked meal was when I visited one of my sorority sisters over Christmas break. My mom didn't cook, and my dad definitely didn't get any of those southern cooking genes. I wiped my eyes and slid my feet out of the fluffy pink marshmallow cavern I had made for myself in the tiny bed. I squinted as I peered over at the pink alarm clock on the night stand. I was too tired to open my eyes all the way, but the sunlight was too harsh to keep them closed.
"Eight A.M.?" I sighed and stood up. If I was awake anyway, I might as well start off the rest of the first day of my new life in the south.
"Oh, it sounds like Libby is up!" I heard Aunt Dee yell over the sizzling sound of bacon.
I shuffled along the floor barely awake as the top of my sweatpants hung off of my hips. I made a point of double knotting the drawstring so they wouldn't fall. I wasn't sure how keen Aunt Dee would be to see my stomach, or anything else that could be seen for that matter.
It was hot out already, and even with Aunt Dee's fans blowing and the window air conditioning unit going, the cooking was just making it hotter. The house looked even more outdated in the daylight. The walls looked like they could use a few coats of paint and all the light fixtures looked like they were straight out of a museum. I wondered how Aunt Dee didn't notice all the work that needed to be done to the house, or if she even cared.
I rubbed my eyes to look and see where Brittany was. I thought since she was fifteen, she would be close enough to my age, maybe she could at least steer me in the direction of the closest mall. All I saw when I opened my eyes was what looked like a chubby, pasty boy with freckles and a bad black bowl cut.
"Where's Brittany?" I mumbled as I flopped down in the yellow plastic kitchen chair.
"I AM Brittany." An annoyed voice came from the other person at the table. Maybe I was wrong about it being a boy at the table, or that she would be able to point me in the direction of the mall. The girl was a hot mess!
She was chubby and short, probably around five feet tall. That would have been forgivable if she at least had some sense of style. Her black coarse hair was just styled in a bowl cut, and freckles took over her plump pale face. She slouched over the morning newspaper in her oversized LSU t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. It looked like I would have a summer project ahead of me with this girl.
"I hope you two are hungry!" Aunt Dee sang as she poured some grease into a frying pan. I could smell the biscuits in the oven and knew that I would definitely have to go for a long run after breakfast to make sure they wouldn't be sticking to my thighs.
"I'm Libby, your cousin by the way." I leaned in toward Brittany.
Brittany sighed, in an annoyed sort of way. "I know."
"Well, I mean, since I’m going to be living here at least for a little while, I figure maybe we could get to know each other. You know, you can like show me around." I twirled a loose strand of hair. I couldn't ruin the only chance with potentially the only person I had to talk to all summer.
Brittany looked up from the newspaper and then back at Aunt Dee who was busy stirring up some gravy with her back to us. Brittany then locked her green eyes on me.
"Alright, look, there's a party tonight at my friend's place. I mean, it's no society party or whatever, but it'll be something to get you out of the house." Her thick Louisiana accent poured out of her chapped lips. She sounded reluctant at first, like she was hoping that I might say no, but then a small smile crept across her face like she maybe had some fate in a future friendship.
"A party?" What kind of party could a fifteen-year-old girl be going to? I mean I guess there had been plenty of people in my high school that could throw some parties. Not that I was ever invited to any. But I remembered almost the entire football team getting suspended for a party that got a bit out of hand in another suburb. So it was entirely plausible that some high school kids in Louisiana might be able to throw something together.
"Shhh." She pursed a short, nubby finger to her lips. "We'll tell Grandma you're going with me to my friend Sarah's, which is half the truth, and she won't know half the difference."
I nodded as Aunt Dee turned toward us with a big pan of jumbo biscuits in her hand. "I am so glad to see you two getting along." She smiled. "Now, who wants breakfast?"
∞
"What to wear. What to wear," I mumbled as I tossed through my clothes, aimlessly throwing them on the floor as I went through my suitcase.
"You know this isn't one of your Chicago parties. It's just more of a t-shirt and jeans type of thing." Brittany chimed in as she leaned against the bed post.
"Yes, but I want to make a good first impression. What do you think all your friends would think if they saw me walk in with what I had on when I met you?" I questioned and looked over a halter top to meet Brittany's gaze.
I spent most of the day getting situated around the house. After I put away my things, I searched the internet for anything that could be remotely entertaining in Elsbury, Louisiana. Needless to say, when the population is only five thousand people there isn't much around for entertainment.
Aunt Dee had told me that she would take me over to the gift shop the next day so that I could start working. The pay would be very minimal, but like she had said, with free room and board I couldn't really complain. I wasn't sure what to expect because it really wasn't like I had ever had to work while I lived at home. Dad was the dentist to most of the professional athletes in Chicago, and sometimes I would help with the filing in his office. That was just about the extent of my work experience.
Mom had always thought that it was more important to concentrate on my school work than to have a job, and the fact that I never had to want for anything. Even while I was in college, my parents paid me an allowance. I found myself always using this money to foot the bill when I went out with my friends at the bar, but it didn't bother me. I was just thankful to have friends and people that at least pretended that they wanted to be around me.
To say that I was privileged was somewhat of an understatement, but I wouldn't exactly say that I had been spoiled growing up. I didn't especially take advantage of the fact that my parents were wealthy, or that I lived in one of the upper-class suburbs of Chicago. Before college I was a nobody.
It wasn't like the football team was knocking down my door to come have a party at my house. When I said I didn't have friends before college, I meant it. So every friend that I made in college mattered. And that's why I actually started to get excited about Brittany's company, which I didn't think would matter to me. I made it my secret mission to give her a full makeover by the end of the summer…even though she spent the whole day refusing to let me pluck her eyebrows.
"Well, they would have asked you to maybe not wear your pants so low that you can see your underwear." She giggled, so I threw the halter top at her.
"Hey! I had just woken up, give me a break!"
"It’s not like any of the boys are going to be able to stop gawking at you anyways. A pretty blonde girl from Chicago, you could probably walk in wearing a paper sack and they would be happy." Brittany looked down at her hands as she said that.
I could tell she had some self-esteem issues. She didn't grow up like I did with a mother who had used every wrinkle cream and makeup product ever made. She grew up with Aunt Dee, a woman whose idea of a facial was when she got mud on her face from working in the garden.
"Well, I mean, I’m sure you have to have a boyfriend." I picked up a pair of kitten heels and set them aside. "This town isn't big enough for you not to."