Girl of Mine

Chapter 32 - I hate Elvis

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Elvis POV

«Vernon, come look over these numbers of orders..» One enthusiastic Colonel uttered, standing over my dad's dark, prominent wooden desk in his office. Seated, my eyes, both tired and awoken from having been knee-high in the Colonel's world, watched him walk up from the distance of the leather couch. The couch I occupied with my Mama's hand having a hold of my thigh, caringly. My knuckles felt the pressure of my chin, but as I lowered my hand and straightened out my back, the harshness got switched out with a squeeze of my Mama's gentle hand in mine.

It had been almost a week since the incident that brought on the decision to send me to the service. It was either that or jail. While one option had no benefits, the other could be seen as an opportunity. At least, that was what the Colonel tried convincing me.

While some might suggest Russwood brought in my biggest downfall, the performance stood strong with its 13,500 dollars collected for charities. Odd how the arrangement could do so much good for some and deliberately harm others—and, in the end, send the pair of legs on stage and his pelvis to the service.

«Now, I can't believe this.» My dad exclaimed—hand to forehead with big astonished eyes. From seeing the back of his grey-speckled hair, still holding faintly onto its memory of being fully brown, my usually rather enclosed dad turned and waved me to him excitedly. «Come quickly, Son. You gotta see this.»

The tense up of my Mama next to me as I let go of her to get up, caught my attention. «Good sales ain't gonna save my son.»

«Mama, it's gonna be okay,» I securely gave voice to my hope of calming her worries—meeting her cheek to gently stroke my thumb across her soft features.

«More than okay.» The Colonel said, capturing the room as he spun on his heel with a disturbing grin on his face and staple beige hat.

«What do you have, Colonel?» I asked, daring myself not to get my hopes up. With the let go of Ma's cheek, I found my way back to her hands resting in her lap—knowing she needed me and I needed to be there for her. It wasn't the first time, but I could tell she snuck sips of alcohol from hidden pocket larks. Some I knew she hid in her coats on the coat rack by the front door. But there were others in places I wasn't aware of. It had been like this for some time now, but I kept looking out for them to throw them out.

Looking back to last summer, she was so happy during the times we spent with June and her family out fishing and going on day trips. In many ways, June meant a lot to me because she made my mom happy. The first girl I'd been with she ever liked—except maybe some childhood sweethearts. It wasn't just her liking her, but the feeling of being normal with two families together out and about. It brought the whole Presley family peace.

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⌯ The Summer of 1956 ⌯
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«Now, you just look out for the big ones.» June's stepdad said, blinking at me, as my both overly eager and freaked out eyes met him. I had never before been out fishing for deep-sea fish. Knowing God knows what could get on my hook, I both saw myself proud with a big-ass swordfish hanging from my hands and getting dragged out by a shark—never to return. Very unlikely, but my mind liked to think big. Laughing at my face, he gave my bare back a good all smack, and my crippling fingers held on to the fishing rod as hard as I could, not to lose my grip. «Don't you worry, son.»

That day, we brought home 2000 kilos of different kinds of fish. I eventually got to see my swordfish, but I had nothing to do with that catch. My dad actually pulled in the big guy—and the fishing boat roared with astonished gasps.