The Dry Grass of August(6)

Before I put the piggy bank back in its box, I stretched out on the floor and stared up into her skirts, all hemmed to fall exactly two inches below her knees.

Her diary was not in her closet, not in her dresser, her bedside table, or under her bed. I finally found it on a shelf in the sewing room, behind a box of patterns. She’d written on the front, Estelle Annette Watts. Her Diary. 1954. I noticed exactly how it was hidden before I took it so I could be sure to put it back the same way. Stell Ann had radar for things out of order.

A few minutes later I stood on the island of trees that divides Queens Road West, waiting for a car to pass. The tree house, in the middle of a stand of oaks on the last vacant lot from Selwyn Avenue to Kings Drive, was built by kids from several blocks around with lumber they swiped when our house was under construction. Carter was lying on his back, staring up through the leaves. His crew cut was thick and blond, curling back from his forehead like Tab Hunter’s. There was a line of fuzz on his cheek above where he shaved.

He sat up. “Hey, little squirt.”

“Call me that again, the deal’s off.”

“Right. There’s nothing little about you anymore.”

My cheeks burned.

“Did you bring it?”

I nodded and climbed through the doorway, sitting down with my legs folded on the rough boards so I wouldn’t touch him. I pulled the diary from under my shirt, where I’d stuck it inside the waistband of my shorts. “I’ll read you two pages for a dollar. You got the money?”

He jingled some coins in his pocket. “How’d you know which two pages?”

“Geee-e-e-e-ez, it was really tough.”

“So read it.”

A breeze carried the scent of aftershave. Maybe he was wearing it for me. I sat back against the tree trunk and opened the diary at a scrap of newspaper that marked the place. “Okay, here goes.” I thought about Stell.

“Well?” He reached into his pocket and brought out two quarters and a half-dollar.

I began reading.



“Friday, July 30, 1954. I went to the club dance tonight with Carter and we had a perfectly wonderful time. He brought me a corsage of blue carnations. How did he know the exactly right shade to go with my dress? Probably Mrs. Milton asked Mama. I wore my new silver sandals. My dress has these darling off-the-shoulder sleeves, and Carter didn’t know where to pin the corsage, but Mama did it. Daddy took five pictures and I thought I’d die, because Carter probably thinks I asked Daddy to take the snaps. He was drinking, but not drunk, and he was really nice.”





“Holy cow.” Carter sat up. “I hadn’t had a thing to drink.”

“Daddy. She means Daddy.”

“Oh.”



“Carter held my hand in the car all the way there. Chappie Barrett was green over my dress. She didn’t say so, but I could tell. Hers was all the way up to the neck with long tight sleeves and was putrid yellow. I think it’s the white one she wore to the prom, renewed with Rit.”





I turned a page.

“Is that a whole page already?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m paying for this?”



“I danced a lot with Carter, once with Reid Henderson, and Ross—”





“She has his name underlined, with no last name.”

“I know who she means. Go on.”



“—and Ross asked me three times but I only danced with him twice. I could tell Carter didn’t like it. We went to Papa’s Kitchen after with a bunch of kids, and Carter kissed me when we got home. I thought I would die of rapture.”





I snapped the book shut.

“That’s all?”

“Yep. Gimme the money.”

“There’s nothing else in there about me?”

“Not a word. I’ve read the whole thing.” He handed me the coins, warm from his hand. I wanted to touch the curly hair on his arms. He stood and grabbed a limb, swung away from the tree, and jumped to the ground. “Later, gator,” he hollered, taking off toward his house. I called back, “While, dile,” too low for him to hear, and stretched out in the tree house, holding Stell Ann’s diary and the coins.

She had mentioned Carter again, in a passage where she said sometimes she thought about dating other boys. In May she’d heard that he went out with another girl. Stell and Carter had a fight about that.

“I’m gonna tell.” A loud whisper startled me. Puddin climbed into the tree house. She kneeled next to me, hands on her hips, her lower lip stuck out. A shaft of sunlight turned her hair into a cap of gold.

“You’re gonna tell that I’m in the tree house?”

“About Stell’s diary.” She twisted her arm and picked at a scab on her elbow.

I shoved her. She fell over, howling. I jumped on top of her, straddling her waist. “I’ll smack you if you say that again.”

“You won’t.” Her face was red, but she wasn’t afraid.

I crumbled beside her. “Daddy’ll whip me.”

“Did Carter kiss you to make you read Stell’s diary?”

“He gave me a dollar.”