Late summer, 1973
Joey and Helen sat side-by-side on the couch, casually watching the TV across the room but mostly chatting about yesterday's pick-up game of baseball. Helen liked to give a play-by-play of each game, looking for ways to improve her skills. Joey was sharing some pointers he had picked up at Little League practice when Helen's older sister Casey wandered into the room.
"Why do you two –" she began in a light Texas drawl. Then she stopped abruptly, and Joey saw her clench her fists in frustration before she spoke again, this time with a carefully neutral tone. "Why do you two have the TV on if you're not even watching it?" She didn't even wait for an answer, passing through to the other side of the room and beyond to the kitchen. Helen and Joey looked at each other and grinned.
"She's tryin' so hard…" Helen's voice, unlike Casey's, had a thick southern twang.
"Why's she trying so hard to lose her accent anyway? I like your accent." Joey immediately regretted his words and wished he could inhale them back into his brain. He knew Helen was embarrassed by her Texas drawl. Why would he say such a thing?
He risked a look at his best friend's face. She was studying him, as if trying to decide if he was being sincere.
"My accent?" Helen echoed. "You like my accent?"
"Yeah, it – uh – it makes you sound friendly – like your mom." Joey tried to save face by deflecting.
"You think I sound like my momma?" Helen didn't sound upset, to Joey's relief.
"Yeah, well, no, I mean – you sound like you." Why was he fumbling around so much? "Just forget it. I didn't mean anything by it."
"No one here likes my accent. They always laugh at me. I wish I didn't sound so goofy when I talk." Helen's accent was stronger than ever as she shared her feelings of shame.
"You don't sound goofy; you sound nice. Like you're happy to be here. Like you want to make other people happy." Joey wanted to slap himself. Why couldn't he just shut up?
Helen's silence made him feel even worse. He couldn't even look at his friend and just stared at his hands, the hands that were so good at baseball but were useless at getting him out of this mess.
Then he saw her chubby hand reach for his calloused one. He turned his head to look at her, just as she asked, "You think I sound nice like my momma?"
Her face looked serious, and her question was serious too. Joey thought for a moment this time before speaking.
"Well, yeah, sure. She's nice to me. And you're nice to me too. But I don't think that's just because of your accent." He smiled to let her know that was a joke. He knew she was nice to him no matter how she talked. But he did like her accent.
"Well, Casey wants to dump her accent. Is she nice to you?"
Joey made a face before he could stop himself. Then he tried to cover for it by laughing. "She hardly says two words to me."
"She's pretty though, isn't she?" Helen wasn't smiling and was quite serious. Joey felt his cheeks grow warm as he pictured Casey in his mind and thought about her being right there in the house with them.
"Uh, yeah, sure, she's real pretty." Again he instantly regretted his words when Helen took her hand away from his. He hadn't meant to upset her. "B-but that's all she cares about – bein' pretty."
"So? What's wrong with bein' pretty?"
"Nuthin', I guess. But I bet she doesn't even know what a baseball is. She's not creative; she never wants to play with me and you and Brian. And can you imagine tryin' to climb a tree in one of those short dresses she wears?" Joey chuckled to cover his embarrassment; he liked thinking about those short dresses Casey wore. But he didn't want Helen to know that. He was relieved when Helen giggled too.
"Momma loves to take her shopping. They spend hours and hours looking at clothes and doing her hair and, well, lots of stuff."
"That's okay. It gives us more time to do fun stuff together. Who cares about dresses and bein' pretty? I'd much rather spend time with you. You actually listen to me." Joey clammed up again as his cheeks burned. Why couldn't he keep his big mouth shut?
"You talk about int'resting stuff. Like baseball. And flying. And all the places you want to visit." She moved her hand back on top of his and continued, "But you worry too much, Joe. 'Specially about Brian."
Joey knew that was true. Brian was a constant source of worry because he needed lots of care, and Joey didn't think his mom was up to it. So he did what he could to keep Brian out of trouble, usually by getting him to make up new adventures for the three of them.
"Speaking of Brian…" Joey let the statement hang there.
Helen gasped and looked over at the TV set. "Oh, the show's over! We should go get Brian out of the closet!"
Joey laughed for real, relieved at the change of subject. "Do you think he'll ever figure out what we're doing? He thinks he's such a good hider!"
Helen stood up, and Joey instantly missed the comfort of her hand on his. He stood up too and walked over to turn off the television, thinking about their conversation. He was bothered by it and wasn't sure why. He did think Casey was pretty – really pretty – but he didn't enjoy talking to her. Being with Helen made him feel really good, but no one would ever call her pretty. The first time he ever saw her, all he noticed was how fat she was. But she was so good at baseball, and she could climb trees higher than he could, and she always made Brian's adventures more fun…
And she was leaving. Joey trotted after her as she headed toward the door that faced his house across the street. She sure could move! Not like Casey moved, though. The way Casey moved made him feel – inadequate.
Helen never made him feel inadequate. She made him feel important, like he mattered to her. She always looked at him when he went on and on about something, her bright eyes showing genuine interest.
He caught up to his best friend, and together they headed across the street to tell Brian he had won their game of hide-and-seek.
