Sassafras, Part 77

Joan


“So, you two were plotting behind my back?”

He squirmed in his seat. “You’re not mad at me, are you? It was all Rick’s idea.”

“No, I’m not mad at you, Bill. I’m mad at Rick. That little sneak.”

“Aw, Aunt Jo, don’t be mad at Rick. We just wanted you to stay. You’re not going to tell him I told, are you?”

“I don’t know. All I know is I’m going to get even with him somehow. I’ll think of something. He’s not the only one here that knows how to sneak.” I sat drumming my fingers on the table for a minute, then it came to me. “Do you have any suitcases?”

“Yeah, a couple. Why?”

“When Rick gets back we’ll start packing them. We’ll tell him I started talking about something in New York, and you decided you want to move there after all.”

“Rick would never fall for that.”

“Yeah he would. Just for a minute or two. That’s long enough for me. It’s not like I want to torture him or anything.”

“But what would we say made me want to move to New York?”

“I don’t know. It has to be something really wild.”

“I know! We could say there’s a magnet school in New York for circus performers. I’m going to go learn how to be a fire-eater. That would be the coolest job in the world. Don’t you think so, Aunt Jo?”

“That’s perfect! And I could be trying to talk you out of fire eating, trying to talk you into something safer, like being a clown, or juggling. Didn’t Rick say he knew how to juggle? We could be arguing with each other while we pack. In your face, Rick. This is going to be fun.”

“Yeah! We might fool him. For a little while at least.”

We both laughed. It felt good. “Hey, I was thinking about making cookies today. Do you know where Jenny kept her recipes?”

Billy walked to the cabinet on the end and grabbed a couple of cookbooks and a recipe box. He picked a recipe out of the box. “This one’s the best cookie in the world,” he said. “Maybe even the universe.”

I looked at the recipe, and had to agree with him. Chocolate Crinkles. A yummy chocolate cookie, rolled in powdered sugar. I hadn’t had that cookie in years. “The universe, definitely.” I nodded in agreement and started looking for ingredients. Pretty soon Billy was playing on the computer while I was measuring and mixing, and then there were cookies in the oven. You’re supposed to refrigerate the dough for a couple of hours, but I couldn’t wait. When they were done he came back over and we had cookies and milk and talked some more.

“I remember eating these cookies with your mom when we were little. Mom used to make them extra big, so one cookie was a real handful.”

“Mom used to make them big, too,” Billy said. “She used to love Christmas just because she got to bake cookies all month long.” We sat in silence for a while, dunking our cookies in milk and thinking about Jenny.

“Your mom always loved Christmas. Does she still shake her presents?” Billy looked at me and I realized what I said. “I’m sorry, Bill. I still can’t believe she’s gone. I don’t think I’ve made it through an entire day without crying. It must be worse for you.”

“I don’t know. I know she’s gone, but, I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel like it’s real, you know? I don’t think it will ever feel real. Not until I know what happened. Not knowing is what hurts.”

“I know. But it is real, Bill. If you ever want to talk, or anything, I’m here. You know you can talk to me, don’t you? I know I haven’t been around much since you were a little kid, but I’m here now. If you need to talk, or a shoulder to cry on, I’m here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. I’m not going to cry, Aunt Jo.” He said that like I had suggested he sprout wings and fly to the moon.

“Bill, there’s nothing wrong with crying. Everybody cries sometimes.”

“Yeah, right. I bet Rick never cries.”

“Yes he does. I saw him cry.”

He looked at me in shock. “No way!”

“Yes way. Not just a tear or two, he was really crying.”

“Why would Rick cry? He barely knew Mom.”

“No, it was something else. He was telling me about his ex-wife, and his kids. He has a boy about your age, and a girl a little older, or younger, I don’t remember which. He started crying when he was talking about his kids, because he misses them so much. He hasn’t seen them in almost ten years, not since before he got arrested.”

“Why didn’t he go see them when he got out of prison?”

“He can’t. His wife won’t let him see them. Besides, they moved to California, and he can’t leave Missouri until he’s off probation.”

“Why won’t she let him see them?”

“That’s personal, Bill. I don’t feel comfortable talking about it. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I won’t say anything to him. I just can’t believe he was crying. Not Rick.”

“Yes, Rick. It was so sad. He misses them a lot. I can’t even imagine how it must feel to have somebody do that to you. No matter what he did, how much he hurt her. He can’t even call them on the phone, or send them a birthday card or a Christmas present. He doesn’t even know what they look like.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, you said it. So don’t think you can’t cry, or you shouldn’t cry. Everybody does, even Rick. It doesn’t matter if you’ve got a broken arm or a broken heart. It’s okay to cry when you’re hurting, and I know you’re hurting. We might never find out what really happened to Jenny, but you can’t just stop living, stop feeling. If you’re not comfortable talking to me, I’m sure you could talk to Rick. And he wouldn’t mind if you cried. He has a good shoulder. Believe me, I’ve used it often enough since I met him. The first night we met I bawled my eyes out all over him, talking about your mom. He probably thought I was some kind of crazy person. I’m surprised he wanted to have anything to do with me.”

“Well, I know you’re some kind of crazy person and I still like you. I’m just not sure what kind of crazy person.”

“If you ever figure out what kind let me know,” I laughed.