Merriton

“Where are you goin’ all dressed up?” The moment John Sebastian heard the sarcastic tone of his brother’s voice, he turned around and walked right back into his bedroom. He tore at his tie and removed it from his throat in one smooth movement. It was a movement that he performed every Sunday after church, but this time it was different.

James called from the other side of the bedroom door, “Now don’t go hidin’ away! I just wanted to know why you were all dressed up on a Wednesday night.” John looked at himself in the mirror attached to his dresser. The dresser had been part of his parent’s bedroom set. John had taken it and James had taken the bed frame.

“Just tell me what’s goin’ on in that head of yours. You been a zombie for a month now. The Harris girl says you didn’t say more than ten words to her the whole time she manned the maze.” John went to sit on his bed, thinking of what he should do. The high school art show was tonight and he had heard from Roscoe that Kit Kat was going to be there. All of Dora’s students were exhibiting their artwork and Kit Kat wanted to support her friend. It was finally his chance to see her and maybe even talk to her without showing up at her door like a stalker.

He tried to answer James, “She did a good job runnin’ the maze. Don’t need to talk to ‘er when she’s doin’ a good job.” John heard the handle of his door slowly turn. James was checking to see if he had locked it. Before it opened, his brother asked, “Can I come in?”

John held his tie in his hand, wondering what people wore to an art show. On TV, they would be all dressed up in fancy clothes, but this was just a high school art show. He turned the tie over and over in his hands. “No one’s stoppin’ ya from coming in.”

James opened the door and the scent of Bree’s cooking wafted in. John could identify the exact flavor of Hamburger Helper she was making: Beef Stroganoff. John’s mouth watered imagining his portion of the meal with a big dollop of sour cream melting over the noodles and ground beef.

He could just skip it. John imagined just staying at home and eating his dinner. He could watch that horrible X Factor show that Bree liked and then go to bed. He didn’t have to go to the art show. He could just skip it.

“What’s the matter?” James sat on his bed next to him. John was torn. He wanted to stay home and be safe, but at the same time, he was strangely drawn to the high school. If he didn’t leave soon, he might be too late to see her there. The scar on his brother’s lip was quivering, but John was reluctant to say anything.

The tie in his hand suddenly looked wrong. This was Merriton. Most of the people at the show were going to be parents, coming there directly from working at the woolen mill. They weren’t going to be wearing prom dresses and tuxedos. John stood up and started taking off his suit. He would wear his dress boots and a good golf shirt. The kind with a collar and a little insignia on the upper left chest.

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?” John dropped his Sunday slacks onto the bed next to his brother. “I’m just goin’ to an art show at the school. That’s all.” He pulled his best pair of jeans over his long, slim legs and started to button the five buttons of the fly. Should he tuck in the shirt? He cringed at the decision and froze at the third button. The tails of his white dress shirt hung around his waist as he tried to decide whether he should tuck in his shirt or not.

“Is this about Kit Kat? She gonna be at the high school?” It was enough to snap him out of indecision. No, he wasn’t going to tuck in his shirt. Only nerds tucked in their shirts. He finished buttoning his jeans and started unbuttoning his dress shirt enough to pull it over his head. “Heard from Roscoe that she might be there.”

He grabbed the mustard yellow golf shirt from the closet and inspected it for stains. There was a spot on the belly where he always dropped food, so he moved on to the olive green shirt, but it had a stain in the exact same spot. The dark color almost hid it, but not enough. James stood up, “I got a new shirt I haven’t worn yet. You can borrow it.”

Within seconds, James was back with a rust red golf shirt from Walmart. John remembered the day that the two of them had gone Up North for shopping. It was months ago, but his brother still hadn’t worn his new shirt. There were plastic clips holding the shirt onto its plastic hanger and the paper inside the shirt crinkled quietly. “Thanks, James.”

His brother removed the clips and dropped the hanger out of the bottom of the shirt. The paper and hanger bounced on the floor while James undid the top two buttons and handed the shirt to John. “You should wear your dress boots. They look way better than your Sunday shoes.” John nodded and pulled the shirt over his head.

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The drive to Emigration took longer than John expected. A light snowfall hit his windshield and made the highway black and slick. John practiced what he would say to Kit Kat when he saw her, but all of his words echoed into the car and sounded desperate and nervous. By the time he pulled into the high school parking lot, he decided that he wouldn’t say anything. It was always easier to say nothing.

When he pulled open the glass door, a rush of memories came to him. How many times had he opened that very door during his high school years? It was as if walking through that door stripped the years from him and he was a freshman again. He swallowed and patted down the shirt, trying not to slip on the wet linoleum. Dang dress boots. They’re never as good as work boots.

He followed the signs, urging parents to come to the art show as they lead toward the Humanities Hall. Nothing had changed. The photos of the cheerleaders and student body officers on the wall looked just as smug as they did almost twenty years ago. Only the hairstyles were different. John took in a breath and followed the sound of happy voices into the Art Lab.

He looked around and found Dora’s face, surrounded by happy parents and proud students. The next person he saw was Roscoe’s stoic and quiet face towering above everyone else. In his ranger’s uniform, he looked out of place and John suddenly compared his own outfit to those of the rest of the room. He sighed a breath of relief that he had not worn his Sunday clothes. No one was wearing suits or dresses, not even the kids.

He scanned the adults in the room and gave up on finding Kit Kat. She wasn’t there. He heaved a sigh and instantly felt uncomfortable. He was about to leave when Roscoe approached him. “You’re not gonna leave without talkin’ to ‘er. Are you?” Roscoe jutted his chin in Dora’s direction. “Oh no! You’re right. I should at least say hi to Dora.”

John approached Dora. “Your kids did a good job,” he said. Only then did he actually notice the art on the walls. Most of it was passable, but some of it was truly awful. He could not take his eyes off a pencil drawing of Justin Bieber. It made him look like a deformed monster with nostrils too wide and eyes lopsided. Was it a horrible drawing or had the student made him look purposefully bad? He couldn’t tell.

Dora replied, “Thank you! Oh, John! My old friend Kit Kat is here. You remember her, don’t you? She’s Mira’s older sister.” Her voice sounded as if she was lying with a singsong lilt, but her hand was on a woman’s arm. The woman held out her right hand for a handshake and John was taken aback.

She was fat.

Kit Kat had always been the fat sister, but her hips had expanded with age. Where was the girl of his fantasies? He shook her hand and said, “Yeah, I remember you.” The woman smiled knowingly and squinted her eyes in a lopsided grin. “I heard you called dibs on me.” She leaned in closely and whispered into his face, “I’m not the shotgun seat of a pickup, you know.” She was smiling at him and a glint in her eyes struck him with familiarity.

John struggled to find his voice, “I just…” He just what? Then it all fell out of his mouth. None of the words he had practiced came to him, just the unadulterated truth. “I just didn’t want Samson to get the jump on ya. He’s all heroic and stuff with savin’ Lobo from the avalanche.” He felt her soft and pudgy hand within his own. “Can’t compete with that.”

She released his hand and laughed. “Well, you’re safe there. I’ll be sure to avoid his heroics.” She was everything he wanted in a mate. She wrote religious books. She didn’t flirt with every guy she saw like A.S. used to. She’s self-sufficient and able to make her own way in the world. She was everything he wanted, but he felt no affection for her.

She was talking to him about the art, but he could barely listen to her. He made sure not to say anything negative about the worst pieces, especially that Justin Bieber monstrosity. “I never took art in high school. Spent all my time in the Horticulture Lab,” was all he could manage to say. She nodded and replied, “Literature Magazine room.” They both laughed.

“I went through your Haunted Corn Maze right before Halloween. It was fun!” John froze and just looked at her round face. Had he been there when she went through it? He had worked so many nights at the maze that it would be unlikely that he hadn’t been there. “I didn’t see you. Did you see me?” She smiled. “No.” John shrugged. “I probably was there, but I try to make sure everythin’ is runnin’ smooth. I’m sorry I didn’t notice ya.”

They walked slowly and pretended to look at the art. She answered, “It’s alright. I just wanted to see it. I would have loved it when I was a teenager. It was a great idea!” John nodded, “Yeah, Randy thought of that. We been doin’ it for goin’ on three years now. Makes us almost as much money as sellin’ the corn. Extra money this year because the snow held off so long.”

“I was going to say that this winter seemed later than when I was a child. I remember trick-or-treating in the snow almost every year.” He nodded and she continued, “We did have that one snow storm at the first of October, but it melted quickly and held off until after Halloween.” John nodded, “Yeah, after last year, I’m ready for a mild winter. We had snow from September to June last year.”

The two of them laughed and John noticed that cute glint in her eye again. She wasn’t THAT bad, he thought to himself, but she sure wasn’t the girl in the yearbook that he had thought of for so many years.