Aunt Louise is smoking a cigarette over a large pot of boiling water when I get home. It's a strange sight to see my unruly and free-spirited aunt look so domesticated. She has her thick brown hair tied up into a bun on the top of her head and my mother's apron tied loosely around her waist. Aunt Louise is muttering to herself, stirring in some pasta into the water with a loud splash.
"Aunt Lou?" I call as I push my way into the kitchen, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Your mama had a headache," Aunt Louise explains as she stirs the water, "I told her I would make dinner."
"You know what you're doin?" I ask, leaning over the pot of simmering pasta sauce. It at least didn't smell bad, almost close to my grandmother's recipe.
"I've lived almost forty-five years," she says with a quick look in my direction, "and I haven't starved yet."
"That's a fair point," I say before taking my place at the kitchen counter to watch her. Unlike my very graceful mother, Aunt Louise is rough around the edges. Everything she does is a little harsher, a little more rigid, and unkind.
"Were there any messages for me?" I ask and my aunt shakes her head.
"Why, that boy never call you?" She asks and when I don't respond, she turns to look at me, her brows furrowed across her foreheads. "Did you ever call him?"
"Well – no," I say and my aunt sighs and shakes her head, "he's supposed to be calling me!"
"Says who?" My aunt asks and I throw her an incredulous look. "Listen, Nellie Girl, you want to talk to this boy?"
"Yes," I mutter, refusing to meet the intense glare of her eyes.
"Then call him," she laughs, "it ain't gotta be such a game all the time. You like him, you call him. He doesn't like you – well then, he's not a boy I would ever waste another second on."
Aunt Louise deeply studies me now and for a moment, I watch her face screw up in some pain, like suddenly she's thinking of something else entirely. She turns away from me and takes a few more seconds to herself and says, "Boys are clueless, men are even worse. You gotta filter out the ones who are worth the time."
I like to keep the small candle on my desk lit whenever I'm getting ready for bed. The warm glow felt better, especially when I was feeling especially tired – and tonight – confused. I wanted to ask my mama what she had done when a boy never called her, but I stopped myself. For some reason, she looked so tired and worn down at dinner. I knew that she needed to be left alone.
I listen carefully to my aunt puttering around on the porch below my bedroom window. Her and Two-Bit are outside smoking a cigarette, talking about the party Two-Bit was going to at Buck Merrill's. I can hear my aunt nagging him, asking when he would feel the need to grow-up.
"Shoot Aunt Louise," my brother drawls. I can picture him holding his hands over his heart like she's stabbed him, "the night's still young. Maybe I'll catch a need for it in the mornin."
"The night may be young," my aunt says with a sigh as my brother takes off down the steps of our porch, "but you ain't getting any younger."
I am unsure if my brother hears her before he slams his car door. I listen to his tires squeal across the pavement as he flies down the road. I used to think his reckless driving was funny – maybe even a little cool, but now it worried me because I knew how much it worried my mother. Two-Bit could kill himself or worse. I shudder, trying to shift the idea from my mind and focus on something else.
Ponyboy Curtis.
Maybe my aunt has a point. He did try to catch my attention at the ice cream parlor, but maybe it was for something else. Those same dark thoughts swirl my brain and I picture Ponyboy Curtis telling me how boring and uninteresting I am. How Mark and Bryon would probably laugh behind us when he told me. This makes my stomach fill with ick and I push away from my vanity, picking up the candle to place on my bedside table.
At some point today, my mother or maybe even Aunt Louise, changed the sheets on my bed. I can smell the clean linens when I pull the blankets back and I curl into the fabric, inhaling the faintest scent of lavender as I try to think of something happier. I picture my favorite moments of summer the dances at the community center and the county fair. Those were two things I always looked forward too, but now they seemed silly if I didn't have someone to share it with.
I hear the screen door slam as my aunt re-enters the house. She's been staying here more often, and I can't help but wonder if she's been evicted from her home again. It's happened before and my mother always begs for Aunt Louise to just live with us full-time, instead of running out to find a new place or a new man to help her. Aunt Louise says it's because her soul is meant to be exploring, but I think it's because she was always afraid of the three of us depending on her full time. My aunt has never done well with the responsibilities of others.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, watching the light from my candle dance across the walls. The cicadas are chirping loudly tonight, and I hope that their persistent tune can lull me off to sleep. The deeper we get into the Tulsa summer, the more difficult I find it to sleep comfortably. Even with my fan rotating the fresh air from my open window, the stickiness of the heat seemed to cling to my body and my lungs, making each deep breath feel heavy, and making the casualness of sleep feel like a chore. I never enjoy this part of the summer – the hot night made me wish for the grey slush of winter. Sure, it made Tulsa ugly, but at least I had a fair chance of sleep.
I lean over to blow out my candle when I hear the wheels of a car crunch on the gravel outside out house. There is no chance in hell that Two-Bit is already home and I roll over, trying to listen carefully for it to pull away. Instead, I hear a car door shut carefully and footsteps making their way up the gravel to our gate. I sit-up now, pulling my robe off the floor next to me and carefully step out of bed. Hopefully, whoever it is, is making their way towards the neighbors, but if they weren't I had no doubt that my Aunt Louise could scare whoever it is away.
Doing my best to pull the curtains back so that the intruder does not see me in the window, I peek down at the walkway and find, to my surprise and relief, that it is not an intruder – it's Ponyboy Curtis.
Pulling the curtains back all the way I lean carefully out the window and whisper down, "What the hell are you doing creeping around my house?"
From the yellow of the porch light, I watch as Ponyboy jumps and then looks up at me, a shameful and embarrassed grin forming on his face.
"I want to talk," he whispers back, and I bite my lip unsure. I wouldn't be able to sneak downstairs without Aunt Louise hearing the screen door creak open from the guest room and I sure as hell couldn't keep whisper-yelling down to him from my bedroom window.
"Tomorrow!" I whisper back and Ponyboy rolls his eyes.
"No way!" He states, a little louder than intended because I watch as he carefully looks at the front door, ready to make a run for it if needed, "You blew me off today at the ice cream parlor."
I snort and roll my eyes at him. There is no way he can be so dense. "Well, I can't come down. So, you'll have to wait."
He stares at me for a moment and shrugs his shoulder before walking farther up the pathway. I watch him as he studies the tree in the side yard. It's just big and tall enough to shimmy up or down. I only knew this because it was the tree Two-Bit has used to sneak out plenty of times and it looks like Ponyboy knew this too. Before I can tell him to stop, Ponyboy is climbing up the tree with ease. The branches creak a little under his weight and the cicadas stop their songs. For a moment, the world seems to have stopped spinning, but once he is sitting in front of me on my roof, the air no longer seems to heavy.
"What's your problem?" Ponyboy asks, not one to beat around the bush.
"I don't have one," I tell him, and he rolls his eyes.
"You wouldn't even look at me today," he says. "If you had a lousy time at the drive-ins just tell me."
"A lousy time?" I ask and I shake my head. "If anyone had a lousy time Ponyboy it, was you! You haven't even called me."
Ponyboy's brows furrow for a moment and then I watch as a small smile spreads across his face as some realization hits him. I have half a mind to close my window on him for laughing at me, but he seems to catch on and stops himself, fighting the smirk on his face.
"Nell," he says carefully, "are you mad at me because I didn't call?"
I feel myself frown, almost appalled by how stupid of a question he just asked, "Of course I am! It's been almost a week."
"Yeah, I know it has," he says with a shake of his head, "I was waiting for you to call me."
"Why would I call first?" I say and he laughs again, this time covering it up with a phony cough.
"Nellie, you wouldn't even let me pick you up from your own house because of Two-Bit," he says. "Why on Earth would I call? Besides, he's been hounding me, Mark, and Bryon since he found out you went on a date. He thinks its Mark, he's about ready to bash his head in whenever he sees him."
"What?" I ask, suddenly feeling as stupid and embarrassed.
"I couldn't call. If Two-Bit answered or saw that I left a message for you, it would be game over." He continues and once again the smile creeps across his face. "And I was going to come visit you at work on Tuesday, but …"
"Two-Bit was there," I say finishing his sentence with a groan. Harv had hired Two-Bit to help him fix a leak in the customer bathrooms. Two-Bit had been there all day and surprisingly didn't make our problem worse. Harv was going to make him his regular, unofficial, handy man. "Oh lord," I whisper, slapping my hand against my forehead. It was my fault that Ponyboy hadn't been able to come around.
"It ain't your fault," he says like he can read my mind, "just bad communication is all."
"I'm so sorry I ignored you today," I tell him, peeking through my fingers to look at him.
"It's alright, Nell." He says taking my hand and pulling it away from my face, "I knew something was up, because I thought we had a great time."
"We did," I agree, and I sigh, feeling dumber than anything. Of course, Ponyboy was being mindful of Two-Bit, especially after I had asked him too. "I'm sorry Ponyboy," I tell him, and he squeeze my hand a bit. I feel the same excitement rush through my skin as I had on Friday night.
"There ain't nothing to be sorry for," he tells me. "I just wish you had a little bit more faith in me," he adds before leaning a bit closer towards me through my window.
"I will now," I say with a laugh, and he smiles. My eyes quickly run over his face, and I am once again struck by how incredibly handsome he is.
"Call me tomorrow, will ya?" He asks and I nod, "We'll try to do something after work."
"Okay," I say and suddenly his lips are pressed against my cheek and the electricity shoots through my body. This is not the kiss I had been picturing, but it feels almost better. More tender and leaving me wanting so much more. I wonder if he can hear how heavily my heart pounds against my chest. I lean towards him desperately wanting more, but he is already getting ready to climb back down the tree, "Be safe." I tell him, noticing the heavy blush that his now filling his face.
