Chapter 5

“She’s Presbyterian,” he said, as if this explained. “Mama’s cool. It’s been me and her since I was six years old and Daddy went to New Orleans for the Mardi Gras and never came back. She just wants me to be happy.”

“She sounds pretty cool.”

“She is.”

“See you in the morning?”

He nodded.2

I hurried to my room, stripped naked, crawled into bed.

I was freaked out. And excited. Excited in a childish sort of way. Excited like a little boy on Christmas Eve. My mind raced with the possibilities and the most adolescent thoughts. Did he like me? Did he really likeme? But wasn’t he too young? How could he possibly like some old dinosaur like me? But what if he didlike me? Would we be compatible? Would we be a thing? A couple? What would my friends say?

And what, I thought with dawning horror, would Mama say? How would she explain it to her friends at the First Baptist Church? If word got around, would the funeral home business suffer?

I wanted to sleep, could not.