This week our assignment was to write a memory, the goal being to write as an older, perhaps wiser, narrator looking back. I'm not sure that I've captured Laverne's voice in the following. I think it will need some tweaking. I'm also not sure that this will be a part of whatever this becomes, if it becomes anything, but it was good to get to know Laverne a little bit better anyway.
That night Bernie and I crawled into to bed in the camper,
both of us high as kites. Never in my life did I dream I’d do anything like this with Bernie. Never really thought I’d do any drugs myself, matter of fact.
After we settled down I took a deep, calming breath and said
something to Bernie I shoulda said a long time ago, “You got a good kid, Bern.”
There was enough light coming through the slits in the
blinds that I could see her eyes. Bernie didn’t say anything but she looked straight back at me. It was like she
was scared to admit that she knew.
“I mean it, that son of yours is something special. You
should stop trying to make him someone different and start loving him for who
he is.”
Bernie rolled onto her back, away from me and stared up at
the ceiling. For a long time both of us were quiet.
“Do you remember the night I met George?” Bernie asked me,
breaking the silence.
Of course I did, only I don’t remember it as the night she
met George. I remember it as the night our cousin Tammie got me drunk on
bourbon. I remember it as the night Howie and I slept together for the first
time. It’s funny how the same night leaves different impressions on people.
Mother and Daddy were visiting our grandparents in Pittsburgh and left Tammie
in charge. Tammie was 19 and studying to be a stenographer at the local
college. Bernie was sweet and innocent at 17. I, on the other hand, was already
smoking regularly and drinking whisky sours after school at Tammie’s at 16. We were
different as night and day.
After our parent’s car disappeared behind a hill on the long
stretch of highway by our house Tammie turned to us, a glint in her eye that
could only mean one thing; she had a plan. A thrill went through me at the
sight of her expression. I lit two cigarettes and handed one to her. Bernie’s
breath came out in a disapproving huff. In that moment there was nothing that
irritated me more than Bernie’s huffs. Poor girl was always so good and always
trying to make me good too. Problem was, I just never quite felt like being
good. It’s like that part of my DNA was missing. At the time, I would have
blamed Tammie for corrupting me, but I know that’s not true. We just are who we
are, I can’t help it anymore than Bernie can, anymore than Simon and Spencer
can.
One thing Tammie could do better than anyone else was throw
a party together at the last minute. She rang into the operator and before long
half the people under 25 in our town knew to be at our farm that night. The
three of us spent the afternoon clearing out the barn. Tammie had it in her
head that if we had the party in the barn we would be less likely to get
caught. Reluctantly Bernie helped. What got into her that day, I’ll never know,
but by the time we were done and everything was ready she seemed almost
excited.
I stood in front of the vanity in my room, admiring my
reflection. I wore Howie’s letterman jacket over a blue and white polka-dot
dress of Tammie’s. She’d even curled my hair and put some of her dark red
lipstick on me. I hardly recognized myself. It was one of the only times in my
life I felt like a lady, and one of the only times I actually liked it. I
imagined the look on Howie’s face when he saw me and blushed a little.
The crowd gathered in the barn. Cars, bikes and motorcycles
lined the street and our yard. Music and laughter filtered into the night
through open barn windows. People stood in circles or sat on bales of hay. A
haze of smoke filled the air. It was warm and inviting. I couldn’t help but
grin as Bernie took her first sip of bourbon and spit it out, choking. A group
of boys walked into the barn at that moment, among them was George. I know only
because Bernie told me later. At the time I was distracted by Howie’s arm
around my waist and his breath on my ear as he whispered that we should go up
to the barn loft. The mixed smells of cigarettes and dry hay still take me back
in time to that night.
It felt dangerous and daring. Below us people were dancing
and talking, oblivious to the two of us sneaking the latter up so that no one
could follow. Howie led me to a bale of hay and we sat down next to each
other. Our nerves were electric between us. Even with the open windows and the
hole in the floor letting light and sound into the loft, when Howie leaned in
to kiss me he was all that existed for me. My heart beat fast and my breath
came shallow. I've seen movies with fireworks and cheering crowds. This wasn’t
anything like that. This was quiet and still, like the lake at night or wheat
in the breeze.
After, he held me in his arms and told me he loved me. He
gave me his class ring as a promise ring. We giggled at what we had done, at
our secret, at our boldness. When the barn had emptied of all but a few people
we snuck back down, concealing smiles, afraid we’d reveal to the whole world
our most intimate moment. Howie kissed me good night and left. I let Tammie
fill me with bourbon. I was probably irritating the hell out of her with my
giddy energy and the only way to shut me up was to make me drink more. So much more I got sick and swore the stuff off. To this day I won't touch it.
After getting sick I crawled into bed with Bernie. We curled up
facing each other much like that night in the trailer. I was only half awake as she murmured
she’d met a cute boy at the party. Too tired and drunk and distracted by my own
night to care much.
Of course I remember that night.
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