Old palmetto drive, p.8
Old Palmetto Drive, page 8
Sam coughs and Travis turns around like he’s hiding something and starts whistling.
“Uh, no no no. Just wait a second. What's that all about?” I sit up. “You seem up to something… Or wait, did I misread you both? Should I be asking when you’re bringing your swamp boyfriends over to meet me?”
Sam splashes water at me this time from his seat on the front of the boat. Travis stops whistling and finally casts his line out into the water.
“Watch the hair!” I put my arms over my head.
“Neither of us is gay if that’s what you’re asking. Which is cool and all, but we are straight. It’s just that Travis and his girlfriend broke up and he’s still crying about it.” Sam grabs his pole off the holder and starts reeling it in to check the line. “And I dunno, there ain’t no one in town that I got my eye on right now.” That disgusting southern charm. I’m sure he’s broken a few hearts, maybe there’s no one left to date in town…
But Travis? Crying about a girl. This oughta be good.
“Awe, poor Travie Wavie. Did a widdle southern belle break your heart?” I mock.
“Yeah and she was pregnant,” Sam blurts out.
“Shut the fuck up man,” Travis lunges forward at his brother. Like holy shit is he going to punch him?
“WHOA! STOP!” I put my hands out to stop them from fighting. My legs are slippery and when I leap up I slide forward. Travis grabs me around the waist and spins me back down into the seat.
Sam’s face is priceless. “Jesus Rian, you’ve got to stop trying to fly off this boat.”
“Yeah well you two country bumpkins better sit your asses down and dish the gossip. Travis, so you got a girl pregnant and dumped her? Or she dumped you?”
This is getting juicy! Travis looks like he still might knock out Sam. And Sam looks smug as hell. But, they are both sitting now and the noises of the swamp, the bugs and the water sloshing against the boat, are the perfect background for this southern fried drama.
“She,” Sam starts again and Travis reaches forward with a fist. I’m half-up, half-down on the seat and realize this is actually serious. Travis is seriously pissed off and doesn’t want me to know what happened. Or just really doesn’t want to talk about it.
I better do something.
“Jesus Christ Travis. We are family! I just told you that I like guys AND girls. This is the Bible-Thumping-South! I could be stoned or some shit for admitting that. But, guess what, I AM WHO I AM. I WON’T APOLOGIZE for being ME. So, whatever happened between you and backwoods Barbie doesn’t fucking matter. And it’s not worth punching Sam over it.”
“Well, damn Rian,” Sam says and rubs his hand over his hair a few times.
“Yeah, damn,” Travis adds. Then he takes a deep breath, sinks into his seat, grabs his fishing pole, and tells me all about Backwoods Barbie. He doesn’t look at me when he talks, instead he stares out over the swamp water, gently reeling in his line and moving his fishing his pole up and down.
“Her name’s Keri Lynn Casey.”
Never trust anyone with three names. That’s something Dad taught me.
According to Travis, Keri Lynn Casey and her family moved to town a few years ago, and she immediately weaseled her way into Travis’ big ol’ country heart. From his explanation, I immediately know the type. She’s like the girls from Jersey. The ones who dress up and pretend to be New Yorkers, they come over in hoards across the George Washington Bridge. Me and Ava could spot them a mile away, the wannabees, the gold diggers, the fakes. Keri Lynn Casey is exactly like that.
“I mean, I knew she had issues, like all her lyin about stupid shit,” Travis says. “But, I just figured she was tryin to impress me.”
“She was a loser bro, remember that time after football practice and we saw her smokin weed with Levi and when you asked her she straight up lied and said she’d been out on the boat with her dad fishing all afternoon,” Sam says. “She was always stoned or doing shady shit.”
“Yeah I know man, she was a liar, but damn. You don’t know what I’m going through, I thought I loved her. She made me feel special. And then she told me she was pregnant with my baby.” He’s quiet for a while and I look over when I hear him sniffle. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his nose. “I told her I’d marry her, but she fucking dumped me and her parents filed a lawsuit.”
“Wait, what?” I gasp.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. He reels in his line and adjusts the hook on the end of the lure.
“She said she was having your baby and then dumped you and her parents tried to cash in on the deal. Whoa… That is such a Jersey thing to do.” I shake my head.
“I had to tell my parents. And Daddy, he about lost his mind. He wanted to settle it and pay her family off before anyone in town found out. Mama, she was all sentimental and wanted me to try and work it out with her.” He casts the line back out and it plunks in the water. “But, I called Aunt Tori, cause I know she’s a lawyer and all that. She helped me fill out the paperwork for something called an in-utero paternity test. And I signed some papers saying I wanted full-custody if the baby was mine. Cause I wasn’t about to let a stoner raise my baby.” Travis is sniffling again, this time I see tears on his cheeks. I bite my lip as hard as I can without it bleeding to keep myself from blurting out more profanities. If I ever meet Keri Lynn Casey, I’ll smack her.
And mom. My mom. He called MY MOM for help, and she helped him.
“The test came back and the baby wasn’t mine. She really was cheating on me. She really was just using me to get money. Do you know how shitty that feels,” he moans. His head is in his hands. The tough guy Travis is nothing but a big ball of goo.
“What happened to Keri Lynn Casey?” I demand.
“Word got out in town, bout what she did. Everybody hated them after they found out and her family moved back home to Louisanna,” Sam finishes the story. “And she was no Backwoods Barbie. That implies she might be hot. Keri Lynn Casey was woof, woof.”
“Shut up bro,” Travis yells. He’s shaking. I don’t blame him–
“It’s been a long afternoon. How about we go home and have some sweet tea on the porch,” I suggest. I’m sure Travis wants to hide somewhere for a while and go over in his head another thousand times what he did to deserve the break-up and fake-baby from Keri Lynn Casey. Well, not fake-baby. I suppose she has someone’s baby out in Louisiana, it’s just not Travis’s baby.
The boat engine roars back to life and we cruise through the swamp marshes with wind in our hair, watching the black glimmer of gator eyes dunk down under the water as we fly by.
Home. I said, how about we go home.
And I’m actually starting to feel it… the connection to this place, these people. Their lives. Their stories.
14
Rusted Ford Truck
I’m in the bathroom getting ready for another day of riding around in the swamp or going to the barn. Or maybe today we will start in the garage and work on the cars before the sweltering summer sun beats down on the tin roof, making it unbearable. I learned pretty quickly that wearing all my make-up and perfume is not necessary out here. I’m not trying to impress my cousins and all it does is attract the bugs anyway. So getting ready goes a lot faster.
The door to my room opens and closes.
“Hello?” I ask and peek out of the bathroom. My mom comes bouncing in like she has every right to be here with me.
“Rian, how about we spend some time together today?” She asks. My eyes roll hard. I’ve hardly seen her, except at meals. Everyone who works at Cullier Manor House has a seat at the dinner table. Which means there’s like twenty people and lots of talking and laughing. I’ve been sitting as far away from Mom as possible and sneaking out after dinner before she can corner me.
I’m still mad at her.
I know I should be over it!
But, for some reason, clinging to my anger is the only thing I have with Mom. If I let her off the hook, I’ll be admitting that maybe she was right. Maybe I needed a change. Maybe I was ready to shed the whole New York Princess thing.
“No, I have plans,” I tell her. I’m pulling my hair back into a bun, it feels nice off my neck, and keeps the back of me cool in my gray spaghetti strapped tank top paired with a pair of holey jean shorts. I’m calling my new style, country sheik.
“Your hair looks lovely, pulled up, like that” she says and reaches to touch, but I jerk my head away from her.
“Travis drives the ATV like an animal. My hair gets in my eyes if I don’t pull it back,” I tell her.
“Rian, have I done something? You’ve hardly spoken to me since we got here. I thought maybe we’d have some time together, you know, before Darcy gets back from New York.” She seems sad. I’m annoyed. I grab my mascara and start putting it on. I know I’ll regret it later when I get splashed on the boat or no-see-ums get stuck in my lashes. That’s what Travis calls the little invisible bugs that you can feel crawling on your face, but you can’t see them.
“Well, you moved me away from my home. You brought me to a place that I didn’t even know existed. And you’ve gone from uptight New York divorce lawyer to a country Queen! You’re what? Taking over the fishing lure business that gramps started and Aunt Kris turned into some empire. I’m not really sure, since you lied to me my entire life. I mean, do you even know what the hell you’re doing?” I turn to look at her. She looks tired.
“Rian.”
“You look like shit Mom.” I push past her and walk out of the room. I know that last comment cut her. Her image has always been so important to her. But, then she just let it fall away when we left New York. She wanted this life here right? To swoop in and rescue my cousins and this house and this place. But, it seems to me it was doing just fine before we showed up.
Except of course for Uncle Chuck murdering Aunt Kris.
Which, by the way, why doesn’t anyone want to talk about what happened? It’s almost like the entire murder-suicide never happened at all…
“No. You just stop right there,” Mom is shouting at me as I’m running down the stairs, past all the old southern belles. “Rian, STOP!”
“I have places to go and people to see,” I shout one of Mom’s famous lines over my shoulder and keep running until I reach the kitchen.
“Miss Rian, there you are! Whoa, slow down,” Mrs. Day scolds when I come charging through the doors at full speed, nearly taking out the cook Mrs. Paula. “Sam said he wanted the big basket. The boys have something special planned for you today.” Mrs. Day hands me a huge wooden basket. What on earth would Sam want this for?
“Uh, okay.” I take the basket from her and grab a banana from the bowl on the counter. I was kind of hoping to stay for biscuits or some smothered grits. I’m actually kind of loving the food here. But, I’d never tell Ava or anyone else back home.
“Yuck, you’re so gross. Grits?” I can almost hear Ava now.
“Out you go, the boys are waiting,” Mrs. Day shoos me out of the side door that leads to the sun porch just as Mom is coming into the kitchen.
“Rian, wait,” Mom puts her hand up, but I run out, feeling an awful lot like little red riding hood running away from the wolf in grandma’s clothing.
When I reach the front of the house, Sam is standing there, leaning oh-so-casually against the stone stairs, with a stupid grin on his face.
“Why do you look like that?” I hold out the basket that Mrs. Day sent with me.
“Cause me and Travis have a real treat for you Rian. A city girl like you ain’t never seen nothin like this.” He takes the basket and then starts running.
“Wait for me!” I yell and chase after him. But dang, Sam is fast.
“Come on Rian! Hurry up!” He shouts. On the edge of the driveway, where the gravel part meets the asphalt is an old Ford pick-up truck. One I’ve not seen yet during our exploration on the property. It’s rusted red and covered in mud. Sam jumps over the tailgate and into the back with one quick movement. Travis is in the driver’s seat and makes a crowing sound and blasts the horn. It startles me. He’s wearing his tattered tan cowboy hat, which only means one thing– they are totally up to something crazy.
“What in the hell are you two up to?” I slow down. The truck is so loud. There’s music blasting and I swear it is way too early in the day for this. But, what do I know about country boys? After this week with Sam and Travis, I’ve realized they do things their own way, that’s for sure.
“Get in!” Sam reaches over the tail of the truck bed and helps pull me up into the back. I awkwardly climb in. “Betcha never did that in New York!” He shouts as Travis guns it the moment I sit down. I scream as we go flying down the driveway. I hold on for dear life and Sam is all grins. His blond hair whipping in the wind.
“Where are we going?” I yell. Robert must have heard us coming, because when I look around the next corner, I see he has the gate open and he’s waving at us as Travis speeds through.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says.
“Oh sure, that’s easy for you to say!”
“Eat your banana and enjoy the ride,” Sam points. I look down. I forgot I still had it in my hand. I’ve squished it. Gross. Instead of eating it, I throw it over my shoulder and it hits the road where it will blister until some hungry animal comes along and licks it up.
My stomach protests.
Sam is singing along to the music, his voice loud and twangy, full of life, while Travis continues to drive around like a maniac. We are on back roads and sometimes he cuts through a grass field then through high spots in swampy marshes. I have no idea where we are going. I smile thinking about how the NYP’s would react if I told them I was riding in the back of an old red truck listening to country music and driving in the swamp.
The truck slows down as we approach a huge bridge over a salt marsh. There are wild orange trees on either side. It’s like something from a vintage postcard saying, Welcome to Florida.
15
Pond Apples
Finally, Travis pulls up to an old house and turns off his truck. Hardly a house. More like a shack. The wide wooden planks that make up the siding are falling off. The tin roof is rusted and tender green shoots from swamp weeds are growing out of the janky gutters. A hot gust of wind whips by, smelling like rotted muck and oranges.
“What is this place?” I ask, cautiously looking around. It’s like something from a horror movie– this is where the car breaks down and someone with a chainsaw is out back hacking up bloody bodies. The hair on my neck stands up.
“This is the old settler’s cabin,” Sam says as he jumps out of the truck and opens the tail gate so I can crawl down. I’ve never been more thankful to have my feet on solid ground.
“And what, exactly, are we doing here?” I ask. Then I remember all their begging and pleading to take me on some hunt for pirate treasure and Native American ruins. If they tricked me into a mud quest, I’m going to have some words with them.
“Come on, it’s behind the cabin.” Travis walks up and puts his hand on my shoulder. I jump a foot. “Why so jumpy, cous?”
“Uh, what’s behind the cabin Travis?” I take a few steps back towards the truck. A crow caws and flaps from a tree near us, sending leaves raining on my head. I scream and crouch down, throwing my hands over my head for protection.
“I don’t want to die.” I start hyperventilating as intrusive thoughts race through my mind. The wind licks my face again and I swear I hear a woman scream in the distance.
Sam laughs. “Rian.” He crouches down next to me and pats my back. “It was just a bird. Don’t go all New York priss on us now– Come on! Let’s go pick apples.”
“Apples?” I look over my shoulder.
Sam stands and extends a hand to me. I clasp his strong fingers and stand up, gently brushing myself off.
“Not just any apples,” Sam says. The sun shines brightly across the bridge of his nose and he has a big grin on his face. I know for damn sure there’s a scowl still spread across mine.
“Oh yeah, are there other kinds of apples?” My hands rest on my hips. All this for some stupid apples?
“Pond apples!” Sam and Travis shout at the same time.
Okay, so I’m not about to die. I’m about to pick fruit. My skin tightens and my lips purse. I want to say something cruel, like who the hell do you think I am? But Sam picks up the basket and runs at full speed around the house. Travis is hot on his heels.
“Ugh. Wait!” But they don’t stop. “Hello! Wait for me!” I shout and I chase after them. A burst of energy surges through my legs and I run at full speed, completely forgetting that I was scared only moments ago.
When I turn the corner, around the edge of the Old Settlers Cabin, I finally see what all the fuss was about. As far as the eye can see are rows of old trees with twisted, knobby branches, heavy with leaves and covered in green speckled fruit. Apples. My breath hitches in my throat. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen in my life.
I’m frozen, gazing out at the old orchard.
It’s not been groomed, or trimmed, or taken care of in a very long time… It’s wild, just like everything else in the Everglades.
“Watch out for gators, Rian!” Sam laughs as he runs and jumps and grabs a pond apple off the closest tree. He looks like he does when we play basketball in the barn, but except for rushing for a layup, he’s rushing the tree and leaping up to pluck down the fruit. I’m slack-jawed.
“You okay?” Travis trots back over to where I’m standing and drops his cowboy hat. Then he plops in a handful of the strange new fruit into it.
“I, uh,” the words escape me. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” I just stand and stare at the wondrous, expansive orchard.
“Pretty sweet, huh?” Travis runs back out to collect more fruit.
My feet are planted like roots, and I watch as my cousins run and jump and hop from tree to tree and grab the fruit like they’ve done this a thousand times before. They throw the apples and they land in the basket or near the basket. After a few minutes, I snap to my senses and rush over and pick up the fruit that misses the basket, and put them in.
