Page 11 of The Summer of ’98

She smiled and gave out directions on what he could do for her. But I lost focus on her words as I spotted the pile of Post-its, scattered pens, and stacked books that were underneath the wall phone at the end of the countertop. I moved over to the clutter and started organizing it.

I stacked the books from biggest to smallest and set them against the wall. The Post-it notes were soon placed in a small pile, and the pens were dropped into the cup where a lone permanent marker was housed. It looked so much tidier in a matter of moments and when I glanced up with a satisfied sigh, I was met with two pairs of eyes, watching me with curious fascination.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just—”

I stammered for an excuse but there wasn’t one. My mild obsession for things being in their place caused me to be scolded by Momma on more than one occasion for touching things that didn’t belong to me.

“You can do my Tupperware cupboard next if you want,” Eleanor broke the silence with amusement. Leroy laughed and continued cutting up vegetables and potatoes beside his mother.

I admired how his biceps flexed with each stroke of the knife. How delicate he was with his large hands and how the tip of his tongue peeked from between his lips as he concentrated.

“Oh—ar—are you sure?” I turned my attention to Eleanor, rather than the drool-worthy boy beside her. I didn’t want to just start going through her cabinets in case she was kidding. But I wouldn’t mind stacking plastic instead of cooking.

“I’m dead serious,” she said, stirring what looked like breadcrumbs and eggs in a bowl. “That cupboard is a nightmare. It’s a sport to put things away now. We just open the door, throw things in, and attempt to close it before a Tupperware avalanche takes over the kitchen.”

I laughed with her childish giggle and moved around the countertop, heading toward the cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. I realized that perhaps I should have watched a couple of her news broadcasts to become more familiar with this woman. She wasn’t what I had been expecting at all, and it was refreshing to know that money didn’t equal snobbery.

“Ellie,” Eleanor said over her shoulder as I knelt in front of the cabinet. “What do you want to do now that you’ve graduated?”

“I want to—”

As I opened the door, just as she’d warned, dozens and dozens of containers, lids, cups, and every variety of plastic that you could imagine came loudly tumbling out of the cupboard.

At least we’d have plenty of time for conversation.

The meal was delicious. A stuffed roast chicken with all the extras. Vegetables, potatoes, gravies, and sauces. I had expected that the atmosphere might have been a bit tense with Noah but he didn’t talk a lot during the meal and Eleanor kept the conversation moving enough to expel any awkward lulls.

Leroy’s dad seemed nice. He didn’t talk a whole lot, either, but what he did add to the conversation was pleasant enough. As it was Saturday, and we had plans to go out for the evening, Leroy negotiated with his mom about pushing back the curfew until one in the morning. It seemed a waste of time to only go out until ten. She agreed that it was fine with her, but I would have to clear it with Momma over the phone.

I was offered a little bit of privacy in the dining area so that I could use the phone while Leroy went to get ready. The phone rang while I twirled the cord around my finger, hoping that Momma would be in a gracious mood. Maybe I could always lie if she says no?

“Hello, Sandra speaking?”

“Hi, Momma.”

“Ellie!” Momma all but shouted down the phone line. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you all afternoon. How was the flight? How’s Castle Rock and all that? Having a good time?”

“It’s great here.” I couldn’t help but smile when I thought about Leroy. “Listen, I called to ask something.” The phone crackled. “Could I perhaps extend the curfew this evening? Leroy and I are going to a little gathering with some of his high school friends. It’s a sort of farewell for one of them going off to school.”

There was a brief pause, silence came through the receiver, and I felt as though I was holding my breath in anticipation.

“Will there be alcohol?”

“No,” I lied. “His parents are going to be there. It’s a family-friendly event.”

“What time would y’all be in?”

“One in the morning.”

Again, there was a pregnant pause until she sighed, the telltale sign of a win. “All right. Be good though. Hear me? Don’t do something stupid.”

“I promise, Momma, thank you.”

“Is that it? You just wanted to call to get a curfew extension, not catch up with me?”

I had been gone for less than twenty-four hours. Did I really need to go into a detailed conversation about the brief afternoon?

“How about we recap at the end of one week, Momma?” I suggested, tapping my foot with impatience. “I need to get dressed. I love you.”

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