*The Best Part Is Jumping In*

They say it's gonna be a scorcher today.  Wanna go swimming?  I know the perfect place.  The water is so beautiful, it looks toxic.  Like a cocktail of Midori and Blue Curacao.  Sort of like if you mixed a blue raspberry and a lime Slush Puppy. 

            The water temperature's always just right.  Not so cold your heart stops when you get in, but not warm as a summer puddle either.

            The best part is jumping in, but first you have to climb the rocky, dry path.  Watch out for the pull tabs though.  They'll slice your foot right open.  Make you bleed like nuts.  Take turns watching where you're going and glancing down.  A tetanus shot might be a good idea too.  In case you get cut.  Or bit.

For starters, you gotta know the way.  Keep your eye out for a big ole farmhouse, white with dark green shutters, on the left. The property looks like a farm. Has a split rail fence around the front yard and a barn in the back. 

            My girlfriends and I always stopped to see the guys who hung out there.  They were wild.  Cute too.  In that I'm-bad-and-I-might-just-ask-you-to-be-bad kinda way.  They lived life more outdoors than in.  Up at the swimming hole.  Out in the woods.  Down on the river bank.
            They took us in the barn once and I saw one of the scariest things ever.  Saddest too.  They had a pit bull in there.  Back before it was cool.  Before Michael Vick got caught.  They couldn't let it out 'cause it was crazy vicious.  It'd kill anything with four legs. 
            It was the guys' fault.  They made the dog that way.  Taught it to hate all animals.  They'd take a rag and use it to pick up something dead.  Then they'd beat the tar out of the dog with it.  They started small and worked their way up.  Squirrels to possums to groundhogs.
            The dog got out once.  Took down a goat.  After that, they put one of those super mean collars on him with big spikes that dug into his neck if he made a wrong move.  Chained him inside the barn.  I never understood why the dog hated the animals the boys beat him with.  Why didn't the dog hate them?  Heck, why didn't we?

The wild boys were the ones who showed us the swimming hole.  We'd heard about it but we weren't sure where it was.  All we knew was to cross the bridge from West Virginia to Ohio and turn right.  After that, the gravel road up the mountain would be somewhere near a gas station. 
            We passed the Esso station and that's when we spotted the boys.  Sitting at a picnic table out in the yard, in the shade.  Suzy pulled her car into the driveway.  We sent Laura Jane over to ask for directions.  Boys'll tell her anything.             

            Laura ducked between the top and middle split rail and sashayed over to the boys in her white bikini and blue jean short shorts. 

            The biggest guy whistled.  "Well, well, well," he said. "What have we here?  I seen that same sorta swing on a back porch once."
            From the car, we watched Laura flash her Ultra-Brite smile.  The windows were down so we could hear her too. She flipped her almost black, bra strap-length hair and said, "You boys know where the secret swimming hole is?"
            "You mean the filled-up strip mine?" the youngest one said.  I thought he was good looking.  Kinda reminded me of John Denver, only smaller.
            The other boys seemed to tense up.  Their eyes got all squinty.  Like they were miffed.  Little John Denver ignored them.  He grinned up at Laura Jane, stretched out his arm, and pointed.
            "Go back the way you came but drive real slow," he said.  "In between here and the Esso,  you'll see a rusty oil drum.  When y'all get to it, keep your eyes peeled 'cause the turn's right beyond it."
            The biggest boy shoved Little John.  "Aw, man!  Why'd you do that?  We don't want no girls up there."

            "Says who?" Little John said.  He turned back to Laura.  "I can take y'all up, if you want."

Our new friend's name was actually Danny.
            "Why's it called the strip mine?" I said from the back seat.
            "'Cause that's what it used to be," Danny said.  "When there was no more coal, they flooded it."
            He turned to look at me.  "Wait 'til you see it.  The water's the coolest color ever."
            He led us up the steep, granola-looking trail.  Held back brambly branches so we wouldn't scratch our shaved that morning legs.  All of a sudden, the path ended.  We stood at the edge of a sandstone cliff, twenty or more feet over the opaque and aqua water.  The Mountain Dew in my stomach simmered.
            I peeked over the edge.  "How do you get down to the water?" 
            I can't believe I asked that.  I slapped my hands over my ears 'cause I didn't wanna know the answer. Heard him anyway.
           "You jump, silly."
            I pursed my lips and swallowed the jawbreaker-feeling lump in my throat. Danny took a step toward me.  I blinked.  Before I knew it, I was hurtling through the air.  Beside Danny.  I backstroked, over and over.  Trying to . . . I don't know.  Save myself?  Make it back to the cliff's edge?
            When I hit the water, my eyes and mouth slammed shut.  I felt my hair float over my head as I sank.  I opened my eyes and saw the light through the teal murk above me.  I pushed water down to get up.  To the light.  To the air.
            I broke through the water's surface like a baby being born.  Whipped my head around. Tried to locate Suzy and Laura Jane.  They waved from way up there.  My legs fluttered beneath me like beaters on a mixer.  I cupped my hand and circled it over and over, toward me.
            "Come on!  Jump in!  The water's awesome!"
            I spotted Danny.  He was floating on his back about ten feet away.  Eyes squeezed shut, mouth in a goofy grin.  I stretched out and did the same.  Pulled little puffs of air into my lungs so I could stay on top of the water.
            "I love this place, Danny," I said, even though I wasn't sure he could hear me. "It's perfect."
           

Crushed--Part III

“’That you are, Missy.  That you are.’”

            I clasped my hands and rested them on the notebook in my lap.  “The end,” I said.  
            Jake chuckled.  “That was good. Funny.  Now read another one.  Please.”

            I fanned through my stories. “What’re you in the mood for?   Animals? Memories of childhood? Spiritual? Poetry?”

            His eyebrows raised.  “Poetry?”

            “There’s not much, and I’m not sure how good it is, but occasionally one issues forth.”

            Jake looked at the rusted Alfa Romeo, almost consumed with weeds, across the street.  At least, he seemed to.

            “Sad,” he said. “Read me something sad.”
            I wrinkled my nose. “Really?”

            “Yeah.  The saddest thing you’ve got.  I haven’t cried since I don’t know when.”

            My breath wheezed.  Oh, Lord.  Anything but this.  I spread my fingers over my heart.  The place that is so tender toward a man who will weep.  Not loud with nose blowing.  Just a crystalline tear or two bound to commit suicide off a chin.

            “The saddest thing I have is—" I bent toward him. Spoke softly. “Come closer.”

            He leaned. I felt the warmth of him. I imagined it was pulsing so I pulled back a little.

            “Killing Her Softly,” I said. “It’s about Millie’s sister.  When she . . . “

            Jake’s hand swept the area near his feet.  Found Millie’s hind end.  He circled her tail with his thumb and middle finger.  Followed it to its end.

            “Will she be okay?”

            “Millie?  I think so. She’s crashed and besides, she’s—“

“Deaf. Not completely, but almost.”

            “Right,” I said. “Do you have tissues in your bag?”

            “Are you serious?”

            “Oh, yeah,” I said.  “Very.  Plus, I’ve never read this one out loud to anyone.  I might—“

            He fished a little plastic package of Kleenex out of his bag and tucked it under his leg.

            “Okay.  I’m ready.”

            Jake ended up needing three tissues. More for shredding than mopping.  I just kept smoothing and refolding the same one.

            “I can’t believe you read that,” he said.

            I huffed. “You’re the one who asked for it.  Said you wanted to cry.”

            “Well, that should certainly do me for a while,” he said.  He tilted over the side of his chair and groped.  Found a dog leg.  Held it captive until she pulled it away. 
            “Poor Millie.”

            I snorted. “Poor Millie?  She wasn’t there.  It’s more like, poor me.  And poor Joel.”

            I relocated to the grass.  Stretched out.  Put my hat over my face.  Let the sun soak the rest of me. Low humidity.  What a gift.  A rare one in this town in summertime.  Or maybe in any town, in a valley, with a river.

            Jake extended his legs and his foot brushed my side.  I scootched an inch to the right.

“Are you afraid?” Jake said.

            I sat up. My hat fell to the side.  I propped myself on my elbows.

            “What do you mean?” I said. “Am I afraid.  Afraid of what?” How do you know? How can you tell?

            “That you’ll have to do it all over again. With M-i-l-l-i-e.”

            My elbows gave out and I hit the grass. Shoulders then head. I squeezed my eyes shut.  Felt my heart flinch.  When I answered, I could barely hear myself.

            “Yes,” I said. “Very.  For me.  For all of us.  But mostly for Silas.  They sleep together every night now.  Share his pillow. Sometimes they spoon.   It’s so . . . “

            Salt hit my sinuses. I sucked air into my nose.  Spoke in a whisper on the exhale.

            “Terrified.  That's what I am.” I haven’t told anyone that.

            I could tell he, or some part of him, was near.  I peeked through my lashes.  Watched his hand hover.  Felt it land on my shoulder. Shut my eyes again.  Noticed my breath wait,waiting, behind my breastbone. It’s so . . . warm.  Just shy of hot.  Pat, pat, pat. I hesitated, then put mine over his.  Just for a second.  Then I got scared.  Snatched mine back.  Don’t. 

            I scrambled to my feet.  “We should go,” I said. I faced the house.  Cupped my hands around my mouth. “Silas!  Come on.” 

           Jake stood, unsteady then firm.  His eyes, no, probably his ears, searched for me.  His brow furrowed. Are you mad? Hurt?  Probably have no idea what’s wrong with me.  It was hard to watch him peer intently at a car instead of me so I slid my foot in and out of my flipflop, to help him echolocate. 

He adjusted his position. “You don’t have to—“

            Behind him, the screen door slapped.  He startled. 

            I bent to pick up my notebook. “Actually, I do.  I have to start supper.  He has karate tonight.”

            “Tomorrow then?” he said.

            I shook my head slowly.  Like he can see.  “I—We can’t, Jake.” I said. “It’s the weekend.  We do family stuff.” I recognized guilt in my tone.

            Silas came up behind me.  Scooped up Millie’s leash and flicked his wrist.

            “Wake up, girl.  Time to go.” Millie blinked up at us from her camp chair cave.  Her tail struck the ground but made no noise.

            Jake turned in the direction of our voices.  “Okay.  How about Monday then?”

            “We’ll see,” I said.  “I’ll try but . . .”  Be unpredictable. Don’t guarantee anything. Here’s your chance, a brick, for you to build a wall with.

            “Bye, Jake,” I said.  Silas waved.  I caught his forearm.  Pressed it to his side.

            “Thanks,” Jake said. “For coming.  For the stories.”

            Silas and I headed for the street.  “You’re welcome, Jake,” I said. “Have a great weekend.”

            I don’t think he heard.  When I glanced back he was halfway to the house.

My Summer as a Streetwalker

I remember the summer I was a street walker. Just about every night, I took a super long walk. On the chance you might drive by. I always went the same way. To make myself easy to find.

My heart would do a do-si-do the second I heard your car. I knew its sound. Could hear it a block away. Sometimes two. I’d count the seconds ‘til you pulled alongside me. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.

“Wanna ride?”

I always made it a point to look surprised. “Well, hello. What are you doing over this way?”

“Just out driving around.” Liar. You were looking for me.

You leaned over and opened the door. I slid in. Rubbed the maroon, velour upholstery with my cheek. I’d shake the yellow, Christmas tree-looking air freshener that hung from the mirror. Eventually the pine scent wafted its way to me. Over by the door.

I thought you’d never kiss me. You'd take me on a tour all around my neighborhood and into the surrounding ones. I just sat there, leaning against my door, the arm rest poking into my kidney. I wondered what it would be like. When you finally did. Kiss me.

Then came that storm. It’d been threatening all day. Dark clouds came and went. The air felt still, yet crackly. I could smell the rain before the first drop kerplopped on your windshield. The downpour came hard and fast. Sounded like someone dropped a box of marbles on your car roof. I cowered in my corner.

You parked the car and patted the middle of the seat. “Why don’t you scoot over?”

I did. I half sat, half reclined. Rested my head on your shoulder. It was awkward though. I’m gonna have a crick in my neck in the morning. I didn’t care. You smelled clean. Like Irish Spring and Prell. I wanted to lick your arm, the part that supported my left ear. Just to see . . .

Thunder cracked. I jumped. Lightning lit the inside of your car. I hid my face in your t-shirt. And then you did it. You kissed me. And I didn’t like it.

After a moment, I pulled back. “Kissing you’s like kissing a Tang jar,” I said. “Don’t you ever shut your mouth?”

I put my hand over my lips. Tried to stuff the words back in. You flinched, like I’d smacked you. Then you started the car. I went back to my place. Over by the door.


I kept on street walking. Went out every other night ‘til school started up again. I thought, maybe . . . But you were a football player, and I was a nobody. I take that back. I wasn’t a nobody. I was a ‘tweener—in between the popular kids and the grits. I liked everyone, and everyone seemed to like me. Then we all graduated, and that was behind us.


You found me at Myrtle Beach. I was beach walking, not street walking. Me and my girlfriends asked you to join us. We were on our way to whatever hotel it was that had that James Taylor sound-alike. In the bar on the top floor, you made sure I always had a cold beer in my hand and a warm arm around my waist. You smiled at my girlfriends and me as we sang harmony to “Carolina on My Mind” and “How Sweet It Is to Be Loved by You.”

The next night, you went with us again. After the guitar guy sang, “You’ve Got a Friend in Me,” you leaned over and blew in my ear. I wriggled. And giggled.

You spoke into my hair. “Let’s go see if it’s high tide.”

The log we sat on felt like it’d been under the sea for a decade. I knew my butt was getting damp, but I didn’t mind. You played with the fringe on my jean cut-offs.

“Those your car wash shorts?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

I’d told you how me and my shorts had caused a car wreck at a four-way intersection the month before. It was for a good cause. The car wash.

I dug my toes into the beach. Down to where it was cold and smooth. You started piling sand up in great handfuls ‘til all that showed was my knees. I tried to move my feet, but they were stuck tight. I pulled so hard I fell backward, off the log. You joined me.

I shivered as a breeze came off the ocean. The warmth of too much sun undulated off my chest. You balanced on your elbow beside me. The light from a nearby walkway made your hair look blue black. Your teeth flashed as you smiled at something I didn’t know.

Then it was like my mouth was rainbow sherbet and you wanted to taste all the flavors—right, left, center. I reached up and touched your curls. To see if they were soft from the South Carolina water, or crisp from the salt air. Your neck was warm. Hot even.

I nibbled my bottom lip. “Oh my.”

You squinted down at me. “What?”

“The Tang jar’s gone.”

One corner of your mouth went up. “Yeah?”

Sand found my scalp. It itched, but I didn’t scratch. I closed my eyes so you couldn’t see them.

“Um . . . maybe I should doublecheck.”

The Best Part Is Jumping In

They say it's gonna be a scorcher today.    Wanna go swimmin'?  I know the perfect place.  The water is so beautiful, it looks toxic.  Like a cocktail of Midori and Blue Curacao.  Sort of like if you mixed a blue raspberry and a lime Slush Puppy.  And the water temperature's just right.  Not so cold that your heart stops when you jump in, but not so hot that it's not refreshing.

The best part is jumping in but first, you have to climb the rocky, dry path that looks like peanut butter fudge.  Be careful though.  Watch out for the pull tabs.  They'll slice your foot right open.  Make you bleed like a stuck pig.  Just take turns--lookin' where you're goin' and lookin' down.  A tetanus shot might be a good idea too.  In case you get cut.  Or bit.


See, there's this place at the bottom of the hill, before you take the secret turn up to the swimmin' hole.  The property looks like a farm 'cause there's a split rail fence and a barn.  My girlfriends and I always stop to see the guys who live there.  They're wild.  Cute too.  In that I'm-bad-and-I-might-just-ask-you-to-be-bad kinda way.  They live life more outdoors than in.  Up at the swimming hole.  Camping out in the woods.  Hunting. 

They took us in that barn once and I saw one of the scariest things ever.  Saddest too.  They had a pit bull in there.  Back before it was cool.  Before Michael Vick got caught.  They couldn't let it out 'cause it was crazy vicious.  It'd kill anything with four legs. 

It was the guys' fault.  They made the dog that way.  Made it hate all animals.  They'd take a rag and use it to pick up something dead.  Then they'd beat the tar outta the dog with it.  They started small and worked their way up.  Squirrels to possums to groundhogs.

The dog got out once.  Killed a goat.  After that, they had to chain the dog inside the barn.  They put one of those super mean collars on him with big spikes that dug into his neck if he made a wrong move. 

I never did understand why the dog hated the animals the boys beat him with.  Why didn't the dog hate them?  Heck, why didn't we?


The wild boys were the ones who showed us the swimming hole.  We'd heard about it but didn't know where exactly it was.  All we knew is you cross the bridge from West Virginia to Ohio.  After that, you go right and the turn up the mountain was somewhere near an Esso station. 

We passed the Esso station and that's when we saw the boys.  Sittin' at a picnic table out in their yard, in the shade.  Suzy pulled her car into their driveway.  We sent Laura Jane out to ask for directions.  Boys'll tell her anything.  She was in a white bikini and blue jean short shorts.  The car windows were down so Suze and I could hear everything.

Laura Jane ducked between the top and middle split rail and then sashayed over to the boys.  The biggest one said, "Well, well, well.  What have we here?  I seen that same sorta swing on a back porch once."

From the car, we could see Laura flash her Ultra-Brite smile.  She flipped her almost black, bra strap-length hair and said, "You boys know where the secret swimming hole is?"

"You mean the filled-up strip mine?" the youngest one said.  I thought he was good lookin.'  Kinda reminded me of John Denver, only smaller.

It seemed to me like the rest of the boys got tense.  Their eyes were all squinty.  Like they were miffed.  Little John Denver ignored them.  He smiled up at Laura Jane, then stretched out his arm and pointed towards the woods.

"See that rusty oil drum over yonder?  When y'all get to it, keep your eyes  peeled 'cause the turn's right beyond that."

The biggest boy shoved Little John.  "Ah man!  Why'd you do that?  We don't want no girls up there."

"Says who?" Little John said.  He turned back to Laura.  "I can take y'all up there, if you want."


John Denver's name was actually Danny.

"Why's it called the strip mine?" I said from the back seat.

"'Cause that's what it used to be,"  Danny said.  "When there was no more coal, they flooded it."

He turned back to look at me.  "Wait 'til you see it.  The water's the coolest color ever."

Danny led us up the peanut butter fudge path.  Held back brambly branches so we wouldn't scratch our shaved that morning legs. 

All of a sudden, the trail ended.  We stood at the edge of a sandstone cliff, twenty or more feet over the opaque and aqua water.  The Mountain Dew in my stomach simmered.

I peeked over the edge.  "How do you get down to the water?" 

I can't believe I asked that.  I slapped my hands over my ears 'cause I didn't wanna know the answer.

Danny snorted.  "You jump, silly."

I pursed my lips and swallowed the jawbreaker-feeling lump in my throat.

Danny took a step towards me.  I blinked.  And then, before I knew it, I was hurtling through the air.  Beside Danny.  I backstroked, over and over.  Trying to . . . I don't know . . . save myself?  Make it back to the cliff's edge?

Then I hit the water.  My eyes and mouth slammed shut.  I felt my hair float above me as I sank.  I opened my eyes and looked up and saw the light through the teal murk.  I pushed water down to get up.  To the light.  To the air.

I broke through the water's surface like a baby being born.  I whipped my head around, trying to locate Suzy and Laura Jane.  They waved from way up there.  My legs fluttered under me like beaters on a handmixer.  I cupped my hand and circled it over and over, towards me.

"Come on!  Jump in!  The water's awesome!"

I looked around for Danny.  He was floatin' on his back.  Grinnin' up at the blue, clean slate of a sky.  I stretched out and did the same.  Filled my lungs with little puffs of air so I could stay on top of the water.

This place is so great!  Everyone should know about it.  Well . . . maybe just the people I like a whole lot. 


So, wanna go swimmin'?  I know the perfect place.

Tastes like summer . . .

Maybe you've made this ; maybe you haven't. To me it epitomizes summer flavors. Scoot down to your local farmer's market and get the ingredients. Better yet, pluck them from your own backyard:)

Taste of Summer Salad

1 large tomato, diced
1 medium cucumber, diced (peeled or not, your call)
1/2 bell pepper, seeded and diced
1 large garlic clove, smashed (or minced, your call)
1 T. extra virgin olive oil
2 T. vinegar (your call--I like Dr. Bragg's apple cider vinegar)
s&p to taste

Combine all ingredients in a pretty bowl and stir gently. Serve at room temperature.
(You can keep adding tomato, cucumber and bell pepper to the juice and garlic clove if you've managed to not eat or drink them, You can also add slivers of fresh basil if you like.)

Mangia!