Speak Easy

1.

MAY, 1964

THE EVENTS AFTER an evening storm are one of my favorite kinds of little enjoyments in life. The sky nearly always clears up some--just enough to turn the atmosphere different colors. Sometimes it would be pink, other times purple. Tonight, it's amber.

A breeze blows slightly through both mine and my grandma's hair as we sit together, barefoot, in our rocking chairs, drinking sweet tea. We both gaze out onto the pasture, the quiet that lingers between two after a deep conversation resting over us. The sound of spring peepers chirping down at the creek echoes on in the distance, and the scent of damp grass fills each breath. At my feet snoozes away our long-time family dog, Dane.

We had just been discussing my recent graduation from high school. It had been four long years, but Grandma was proud of me; I was the first one to have completed my courses in a while, and had even been accepted into a college by Mount Holyoke. For now, I have the whole summer ahead of me--ice creams in front of the Forty, bike rides through the lake trails, and maybe even a barbecue or two beside the church. But conversations with Grandma always serve as a reminder to keep my eyes on the prize. I am the success story that she wants the rights to brag about. That's her granddaughter.

The tips of my toes brush against the dusty planks of wood and find their way to Dane's scruffy chest, which I nudge affectionately. He opens one sleepy eye and peers up at me before squealing out a yawn and outstretching his big paws. My heart throbs just to think I'll have to part from him for a semester at college. I reach down and scratch behind a floppy ear.

Grandma sits her tea jar on a table that was reupholstered long ago by Grandpa. She takes one long look at me before finally picking up conversation once more.

"Tomorrow's breakfast with the Loughts," she reminds me, as if there hasn't been a sticky note up on the fridge all week. "Their son will be home from college, remember him? Little Sonny Lought, all grown up." She chuckles to herself, thinking of the gawky kid I used to fall over on bikes with. "Perhaps you should use it as an opportunity, yes?"

Here's a point in conversation I hadn't expected us to come upon; Grandma attempting to set me up.

Sonny Lought is two years older than me, suave, and so out of my league. I don't mean that in a bad way, no, it's just that I could never feel comfortable enough for him to even push against me, or take my hand. We knew each other from church, and all the other girls at school used to simultaneously fawn over him and envy me once we started growing into ourselves. Sonny had gone from playing the Easter bunny in church plays to dominating any room he walked in with the simple wink of an eye. I had just been the lucky girl to have seen him go through all his stages.

Sonny and I, though previously close in terms of having seen each other one extra hour a week and mutually agreeing that school was tough while socializing after the sermon, were in no way alike. I could predict as soon as the words left my grandma's mouth that Sonny wouldn't bat an eye at me tomorrow, nor would he attempt to call my house and convince Granny to let him escort me around town for a while.

Looking into her eyes tells me that Grandma is oblivious to this fact. To her, I am the most stunning human to walk this earth, her greatest secondhand creation. And to an extent, I would agree. I do have nice hair, which my friend Sylvia constantly reminds me of when she runs her fingers through it in jealousy. And my lips aren't too bad, either. They match my body--curvaceous in all the right spots.

But there are a few lingering doubts that plague my mirror sometimes. I do have rather mannish shoulders--wide, with strong arms built with muscle from years of working farm equipment. I've got sturdy calves, too, something that can't quite be hidden when wearing a formal dress or Sunday's best. These are the things that I sometimes feel ashamed about, in secret, when nobody else is around. Of course, nobody has commented on it, though I do feel a day is nearing where Grandma will inevitably point them out. Or, perhaps even, give me something new to loathe.