Chapter 2
July 29, 1959
Christi bought a half-dozen postcards as soon as she and her mother got to Savannah. She forced herself to write one to her father. She didn't really know what to say and wondered if she would ever be able to look at him again. Finally settling on sending everyone the same message, she wrote:
"Hi! Having fun! Miss you already! Love, Christi."
Duty done, Christi sat staring out the upstairs guest room window. Her heart was heavy and she would have given anything to talk to Kelly. She opened the fancy leather box on the dresser and rubbed her fingers across a soft white envelope with its beautifully engraved script pronouncing the return address of "Dr. and Mrs. Claude R. Demarest III, Willow Creek Plantation, Old Willow Creek Road, Savannah, Georgia." The heavy matching letterhead had a fancy crest at the top and repeated the engraved return address. Christi realized that she was in really high cotton. If only her spirits could be. She picked up a pen and began to write:
Dear Kelly ,
I wish we had more time to talk before I left. Something really terrible happened and I didn't know how to tell you. Don't worry. I don't mean something really terrible like somebody dying, but in a way it's that bad. And it's not about you and me. I know this sounds really stupid.
Anyway, it's about my father. He is doing something bad and I don't know if I should tell my mother or if she would even believe me if I told her. It's not something terrible like he could get arrested or anything, but it is terrible, I think. Actually, I don't know what to think and I don't know what to do, but most of the time you and I can figure things out if we work on it together and I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I was at home. I can't wait to see you.
Love,
Christi
She put down her pen and re-read the letter. She was correct in what she had written in the first paragraph. It did sound really stupid. She tore the letter into tiny pieces and carried them into the bathroom. As she flushed the fluttering scraps of paper down the commode, she began to cry quietly. Then she went back to the bedroom, chose another piece of the elegant stationery and began again:
Dear Kelly,
I wish you could have come with us. Savannah is beautiful -- big trees like Vicksburg and a blue-water river. Mama's friend lives out in the country in a house bigger than ours (plus they have two guest houses and quarters) and we're staying in an upstairs bedroom in the main house. (You can see from the stationery, they call it Willow Creek and there's a giant willow tree outside my window that's creepy at night.) There's a ton of people and lots of parties because this is a big deal! The best news is about the reason for the wedding, but it's so juicy I'm going to save it until I get back, cause you probably wouldn't even believe it unless I was there to cross my heart and swear to die. Can you guess?
I'm riding horses and swimming every day. There's lots of people here to fix the horses and everything. I wish you could be here. I'd like to stay forever, but we'll be back next Wednesday night, so see if you can come over. I miss you.
Love,
Christi
Christi re-read the second attempt and decided that it would do. She also decided then and there that it would be best to forget what she had seen in her father's office and never, ever, mention it to anyone. Probably no one would believe her anyway and she would just get in trouble. She convinced herself that the incident between her father and Mrs. Jander was a once-in-a-lifetime terrible event that occurred on the 25th of July in the year 1959, and would never, ever, happen again. Feeling guilty and not knowing why, she addressed an envelope to Kelly, stuffed the revised letter in it, and quickly sealed it shut before she could change her mind.
By the evening of her arrival back home in Vicksburg, Christi had managed to relegate "the July 25th incident" to a distant place in the back of her brain. It surprised her by jumping out clearly in front of her eyes as they pulled into the driveway. She was even more surprised to be embarrassed when she saw Kelly sitting on her front porch, playing jacks, waiting excitedly to see her as if nothing had ever happened.
Kelly came running out to the car. "Christi! It's about time! Hi, Miz Boudreaux. Mama sent a casserole. She says I may stay if that's all right with you, or Christi may come spend the night with me."
"Why, thank you, Kelly. Of course, you're welcome to stay. I'll call your mother. You girls give me about an hour to get settled and reheat the casserole. Then we'll eat. Now don't go off and get lost."
On cue, the girls ran to their hideout above the garage. From there, they could keep an eye on most of the neighborhood, and in the winter, when the trees were bare, they had a good view all the way to the river. Now, all Christi could think about was "the July 25th incident," so she immediately sought another topic to distract herself.
"It was a shotgun wedding!" she proclaimed boldly.
"I don't get it," Kelly frowned. "What's a shotgun wedding?"
"I didn't know either," Christi confessed, "but I found out." Her blue, blue eyes opened wider, "It's when you have to get married because you're pregnant!"
"But, I thought only married women could get pregnant and have babies."
"Don't feel stupid. So did I, but Michelle Demarest, she's the bride's cousin, told me all about it," Christi nodded, dark curls bobbing. "She's thirteen and she knows."
"So what happens?" Kelly wanted to know too.
For a second, Christi thought about her father and Mrs. Jander, and wondered if Mrs. Jander could be pregnant now. She blushed, and started into the story she had heard.
"Well, when a boy and girl are going steady, they do a lot of kissing and stuff."
"I know that," Kelly remarked impatiently. Christi was very flushed now, but Kelly didn't seem to notice.
The older girl took a deep breath and continued authoritatively, "Eventually, they go to the drive-in, and they get in the back seat of the car under a blanket and then, you might not believe this, but Michelle swears it's true and I believe her, then the boy puts his wiener up inside the girl and she gets pregnant."
"He puts his wiener where?"
"Up inside the girl."
"I know, but where? Exactly where?"
"In the hole you pee out of."
"You're kidding. "
"No. I swear."
"Yuk."
"I know."
Silence followed. Christi blushed again, thankful that Kelly seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. She pulled a splinter of wood from the floor and cleaned under her clean fingernails with it as Kelly stared out toward the unseen river.
Finally Kelly asked, "What do they call it?"
"Call what?"
"'It.' What do they call it when a boy does that to a girl?"
"There's lots of words for it."
"Name some."
"Making love. Doing it. Screwing."
"Are they all the same thing?"
"I think so."
"Name some more."
"I can't think of any. There's a big one, though. It's the technical name for it. Actually it's two words, but I can't remember. "
"Is it sexual intercourse?"
"Yeah! That's it. How did you know?"
"Lucky guess."
"Come on. How'd you know that?" Christi really wanted to know. She felt scared.
"Ran across it in the dictionary."
That was enough to satisfy Christi, although she never would understand her friend's habit of reading the dictionary just for fun. She wondered if there were any way that Kelly could know about "the July 25th incident," and so she asked, "Then you know all about it, huh?"
"No more than you do," Kelly confessed. "Just what I read in the dictionary. And another word."
"What?"
"Fuck!"
"Yeah. I heard Billy DeVito say that one. I wondered what it was. He got in trouble for it," Christi recalled.
"It's a trouble word, that's for sure," Kelly agreed, and Christi wondered again.
Christi watched a squirrel dangling upside down from the tip of a limb, carelessly clinging with his back toes to the pencil thin branch, his tail looped over the neighboring twigs. With his front paws, the squirrel was grabbing tiny berries and thrusting them in his mouth. Another squirrel approached, and the first one scrambled upright, chattering. They chased each other around and around the tree, up and down, leaping onto other trees and then back again. Around and around. Scared.
Christi cleaned her clean fingernails with the splinter, waiting and hoping that Kelly would change the subject, but Kelly obviously wasn't finished with it because in a few minutes she volunteered, "Mary Margaret McCafferty told me to go fuck myself."
"Mary Margaret McCafferty said that?"
"Yeah. Sunday."
"What did you do to her?"
"Nothing."
"I can't believe it. Mary Margaret McCafferty? She's so prissy. Wonder why she said that. You sure you didn't do something to her?" Christi insisted, knowing Kelly.
"Sure. She's just weird."
"Yeah, she's weird, all right."
Finally, Kelly changed the subject with her favorite line, "I'm hungry." Christi felt enormous relief as Kelly added, "Let's go help your mom set the table."
* * *
"This is a delicious dinner, Kelly. You be sure to thank your mother for it."
"Yes, sir, I will," Kelly mumbled at her plate.
Christi noticed that Kelly didn't look at her father when she replied and then Christi noticed that she wasn't looking at him either.
"I'm afraid it would have been another night of sardines and crackers for me. I wouldn't expect Miz B to fix dinner after such a long, tiring trip. No, siree, I wouldn't."
Christi wondered why her father couldn't fix a better dinner for himself than sardines and crackers. And why couldn't he have fixed a nice dinner for our homecoming? Kelly's father can cook, although he doesn't do it more than once or twice a year, except breakfast. Why doesn't my father? And how did Kelly's mother know that he didn't cook? How well does Kelly's mother know my father anyway? For a second, she imagined Mrs. McCain in her father's office instead of Mrs. Jander.
Christi blushed and glanced around furtively to see if anyone noticed. They were all eating and talking about the trip. Everyone seemed normal. Or did they? Christi couldn't remember how it felt before.
Nothing had changed, but everything was different. Were they all pretending? Did they all know about "the July 25th incident," as she did?
Her beautiful mother was smiling. Christi heard herself tell a funny story about the trip and they all laughed, even her father. How could he laugh? How could they all laugh and act like nothing had happened? But, of course, Kelly couldn't know and her mother couldn't know. Christi realized that she was the only one who could know, besides her father, and he was laughing. How could he keep laughing?
Christi heard herself laughing. This is crazy, her mind raced. The world is upside down and everyone is laughing. Kelly was laughing so hard that she started choking, but Christi just stared at her as through a fog. She wondered if Kelly would sit there and laugh and choke until she died and would never know about "the July 25th incident" because Christi was afraid to tell her. She wondered how she could be so afraid. After all, she was still laughing.
"Honey, are you okay?" Mr. Boudreaux patted Kelly on the back.
"Yes, sir, I am," Kelly mumbled at her plate. She still wasn't looking at Christi's father, and Christi wasn't looking at him either.
* * *
Christi was afraid to go to sleep too early. She was afraid that she would wake up again in the middle of the night and think about her father and Mrs. Jander, or even her father and Mrs. McCain. She was afraid that if she thought about it too much, she would accidentally say something to Kelly, so she changed the subject by talking on and on with endless details about Willow Creek Plantation, the parties, the magnificent church, the wedding itself with twelve bridesmaids and groomsmen, and the extravagant reception at Willow Creek with two bands and dancing until three in the morning.
"I don't get it," Kelly finally confessed. Christi panicked, afraid that her brilliant friend had seen through her subterfuge. Her stomach tightened. She was relieved when Kelly went on with her question.
"If they had to get married," Kelly frowned, "wouldn't they want to keep it a secret? It sounds like everybody in Georgia was invited to their wedding."
"I asked Michelle about that. She said that Mrs. Demarest always wanted a big wedding for her daughter because she didn't have one. And Dr. Demarest said, 'Why not? The bigger the lie, the more people believe it.'"
