Chapter 4: Shown Up
1052 Words
“What in the name of all that’s holy and good?” I demanded after we had dropped Jackson’s parents at the Hilton Garden Inn on East Main in Tupelo and returned to the Jeep. “Oh. My. God. Do you really think I’m going to keep my mouth shut for an entire frikkin’ month listening to that? Are you out of your mind? Why couldn’t they just visit for a week or something? Why a whole month? Why, Jack? Why? Jesus H. Christ in a jumped-up Batmobile!”
I buckled myself in and turned an angry glare on him.
“They have strong beliefs,” he said. “Remind you of anyone?”
“No,” I said.
He chuckled.
“I’m failing to find the humor here, Jackie.”
“They’re a little kooky,” he admitted. “And don’t call me Jackie.”
“A little kooky, Jackie?”
“They’re a bit much.”
“A bit much, Jackie?”
“But they’re passionate about what they believe in.”
“Passionate, Jackie?”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
“Right now you ought to consider yourself lucky if that’s all I do, because I want to kill you. And I mean that in the nicest way. You expect me to listen to that nonsense for a month? You could have warned me!”
“Didn’t it occur to you there’s a reason why I moved so far away from home?”
“Because your father is the Antichrist?”
“He’s not that bad.”
“He’s a nightmare,” I said. “He’s a birther! In my house! He doesn’t believe the president of the United States is an American citizen. What an i***t!”
“He watches Fox News a lot,” he admitted.
“And your mother…what the hell?”
“She gave you a run for your money, didn’t she?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, Wiley, don’t let me be the one to say it, but you can come across really strong too. Just waltz right over people and you don’t even know it.”
“You’re saying I’m like your mother?”
“Kind of, yeah,” he said.
“I am not at all like your mother,” I said crossly.
“But you are,” he said, smiling.
“I don’t insult people the first time I meet them.”
“Really? I believe you called me a moron when you found out that I didn’t vote. That was one of the first words out of your mouth. You’re the reason we’re drowning in these ideologically inebriated mad dog Tea Party types! Remember?”
“I said it because it’s true. That’s not the same as insulting somebody.”
“My mom didn’t insult you.”
“She thought Noah was a girl!”
“She was just playing with you.”
“Playing?”
“That’s how she is. She’s going to get on really well with your grandfather.”
“We’re not taking her to Mama’s house. They will kill her. They will get shotguns out of the safe and gun her down. They will tie her to the back of a four-wheeler and drag her sad, bony carcass all over Union County. They will put her in the bathtub and drown her.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I can’t imagine what she’d say about my family,” I said, horrified at the thought. “Your mom is a snob.”
“She has a very particular sense of humor, that’s all. She’s actually a very nice person.”
“They say that about most serial killers.”
“She’s never killed anyone, I can assure you.”
“She just crushes their soul and destroys their spirit.”
“I think you’re overreacting.”
“I am not overreacting!” Since I practically shouted this, I was perhaps not being very truthful.
Jackson laughed.
“You think it’s funny, Jackie?”
“I think you’re mad because she’s funnier than you are. And that’s your thing, isn’t it? You’re the funny one. You’re always the center of attention, always getting a laugh. And she stole your thunder right out from under you. Yeah, I’d say that was pretty funny. Priceless, actually.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing!”
“How does it feel?” Jackson asked with a wicked grin.
“How does what feel?”
“She totally showed you up!”
“Showed me up?”
“When you start repeating what I say, it’s because you can’t think of some smart remark. For once you weren’t the center of attention, and you hate that, don’t you? You really, really hate that.”
I eased myself back in the seat and looked out the window.
“Baby’s mad now,” Jackson observed as he pulled into traffic.
I wasn’t mad. I was seething. I hadn’t felt such bright, hot hatred in a coon’s age.
“Don’t start none, won’t be none,” Jackson said, using a Southernism that sounded foreign on his lips.
I turned to glare at him, but he merely smiled his devil-may-care smile, reminding me that he was just about the most handsome man I’d ever met, that we were engaged to be married, that he was Noah’s “Papa” while I was Noah’s daddy, that he had my heart and soul in his back pocket and always would.
And worse, he knew it.
“I hate you,” I said quietly. “Jackie.”
“It’s all good. And if you call me Jackie one more time, I’m going to start calling you Clarence. That is your middle name, isn’t it, Wiley Clarence Cantrell? How’s it hanging, Clarence?”
“Who told you my middle name?”
“For me to know and you to find out.”
“Fine. It doesn’t bother me.”
“That’s not what your mom said…Clarence.”
“You are so childish!”
“At least my middle name isn’t Clarence.”
“I hate you.”
“Don’t start none, won’t be none…Clarence.”
In the backseat, Noah starting singing again: “Hoo hoo awk! Hoo hoo awk! Hoo hoo awk!”
- Writer
