Chap. 2

An Arrow Pointed Deep and Directly

One Saturday, her father gave Sweet Pea the keys to the old 1950 Crosley station wagon. It was to be a kind of holiday for her, and Sweet Pea suspected that it was her mother's idea. Sweet Pea was becoming increasingly laconic; and although her mother came from a family of farm-bred stoics, the old woman was concerned. To Sweet Pea's growing sullenness, her father announced one evening at supper that Davey Philmore would be getting out of the army soon. It was his rather blunt way of suggesting that she marry Davey. Her father was a thoroughly practical man who sincerely believed that moody girls needed husbands. Sweet Pea reminded her father that Davey had always had a soft spot for Delores Patton. He snorted - his way of saying that Davey could do better.

Having been gone, and now returned, Sweet Pea had a new understanding of why her sister had run away. Yes, Rocket had tried to explain; but for Sweet Pea the words had never held meaning. Now, Sweet Pea did not understand, she felt. She felt what Rocket had felt for years. Stifled. And she understood Baby Doll's yearning for freedom. The desire for liberation was growing in Sweet Pea's soul. Oh, to be free. Not to be bound by diurnal concerns. To break the chains of the flesh. To be an unfettered spirit!

The day was already very hot, and so Sweet Pea did not complain when her father offered the keys. She drove into town with the intention of seeing a matinée at the Bijou. It was showing some squirrelly film about a prehistoric monster awaken by a nuclear test. While the film might not even be good for a few laughs, the air conditioning would be welcomed. The change in the repressive routine would be welcomed, even if only for one afternoon. She parked the car a block from the theater, but never made it there because she saw Baby Doll. It could not be Baby Doll, of course; but the girl who stopped her obviously war-surplus Jeep at the red light of Main and Apple street certainly looked like Baby Doll - pint-sized and blonde, her hair almost blanched white from the summer sun. She shifted the Jeep like a driver at the Indianapolis 500, and Sweet Pea's eyes were drawn from her blonde hair, in a ponytail, to the small hand gripping the stick shift. The light turned green, the blonde girl shifted into gear and sped the Jeep around the corner, up-shifting again perfectly, heading north on Main. Sweet Pea did not know her, and she knew everyone in her small hometown. The theater was south on Main, but as it was around lunch time, Sweet Pea gambled that the stranger was heading to the Silver Arrow Diner. Sweet Pea set out northwards towards the diner. She had no plan, but was guided, like a migrating bird, by some cosmic instinct.

Sweet Pea was correct. As she neared the diner, she saw the Jeep parked out front. However, when she entered the diner, she did not see the blonde girl. The diner was one of those made from an old train car, and so was not very big; there was only a counter with stools. At the far end of the counter, an empty stool had a menu in front of it. The only other empty stool was next to that one; Sweet Pea sat down.

Stella, who had been a waitress at the diner as long as Sweet Pea could remember, came over to her.

"Well hello, hun," Stella said. "I heard you were back home!"

"Yes."

"What can I get ya?"

"Coffee, black," Sweet Pea answered.

Immediately, Stella set a cup in front of Sweet Pea and poured some steaming coffee into it. As she did this, the blonde girl appeared. Just as Sweet Pea had thought, the girl had been in the restroom out back. She smiled at Sweet Pea, and sat down. It was a slightly crooked smile, but the girl's little dimples were endearing. The freckles from the sunshine that were scattered on her nose, captivating.

The blonde girl pushed the menu away, and said:

"Grilled cheese and fries with a root beer please, Stella."

"Comin' right up, hun," Stella replied. And pulling out her tablet, she marked down the order, hung it on the lazy susie, after ringing the bell.

Sweet Pea glanced over at the stranger, who sensed the look and turned to Sweet Pea and smiled again!

"Do we know one another?" the blonde girl asked.

"No, I don't have the pleasure," Sweet Pea replied. Then she extended her hand. "I'm Abbey Browning."

"Sweet Pea!" the blonde cried as if she knew her intimately.

"Yes," Sweet Pea said, blushing beet red. Even after she had grown, everyone in town still called her by her childhood nickname. It was not surprising that this girl also knew her nickname. Somehow, she had become acquainted with it by just being in town for however long that was.

"Oh, I made you blush. They say angels can't blush, so you must be a real fiend - I had better be on my guard around you."

Sweet Pea laughed.

The girl took Sweet Pea's hand, and held it for a long time.

"I'm please to meet the prodigal daughter returned," she said. "I'm Colleen."

Sweet Pea blushed again. It was silly, she thought, after all I've been through, to blush like a demure schoolgirl.

Colleen laughed, a lilting musical chirrup. And this only caused Sweet Pea's face to get even hotter.

"I'm going to burst into flames."

"If only you would burn for me," Colleen said.

"Summer isn't over, yet," Sweet Pea said, trying to restrain the waxing elation in her heart. Maybe she had not heard the words correctly.

"It has been very hot lately," Colleen remarked, as she toyed with an old-fashioned skeleton key that hung from a chain around her neck.

There it was again. Heat. Sweet Pea was sure now that Colleen felt it too.

"Yes," she agreed. "Very hot."

Colleen was getting her post-graduate degree in agricultural science at Purdue University, and was working at the office of the County Agricultural Agent as an intern. She had been in town for six weeks. As she talked about herself, Colleen seemed nervous, Sweet Pea thought. She would rattle off a sentence and then nibble on some of the French fries or sandwich, while glancing at Sweet Pea. Then Colleen would twitter on another topic. It was a while before Sweet Pea realized that she should fill in the gaps. And she felt hot again.

Colleen took a breath, and then slid her plate toward Sweet Pea, half the grilled cheese sandwich remained.

"Have the rest," she said. "Like being in love, the heat robs me of my appetite."

Sweet Pea blushed again.

"Honestly," she stammered, "I can have a conversation like a normal person. Really."

"Tomorrow is Sunday," Colleen said. "I'll give you the chance to prove it. Let's go for a drive, and you can tell me all your misadventures."

"It'll have to be after church," Sweet Pea said.

"Then it's a date."

Colleen put her money on the counter and stood up. Sweet Pea watched her leave. Watched her shift the Jeep confidently and drive away. Sweet Pea felt strangely calm. Date. Colleen had said it as a boy would have said it to her. Should not Sweet Pea have felt excited? She sat looking at the empty parking space for too long. Paddy Burns, the village idiot, passed by. He was singing aloud to himself, as was his habit. Having seen Sweet Pea gazing out the window of the diner, he waved cheerfully to her. Paddy was the happiest person that Sweet Pea knew, and yet she felt suddenly sad. Even tearful, as he went on his way singing as if this day were God's gracious gift to himself alone. Singing like a drunken choirboy. The nameless sadness pulled at Sweet Pea's heart, nearly wringing tears from her eyes. Sadness like an infectious virus, always lurking...

[contd]