Page 13 of Full Circle

Her faith in me was heavy, a burden I needed to take seriously. Life had already given her far too much disappointment for me to add to it. If she needed me to do better, then I would. That’s what best friends did for one another, right?

Except I was reminded again how much she didn’t feel like a best friend. Celeste felt like a soul mirrored to my own. Letting her down was therefore like letting myself down, and my dad already did enough of that. I wouldn’t do that to either of us.

“Fine, I’ll redo it.” Shrugging in defeat, I crossed over and sank down into my seat.

Celeste struggled to keep the smug look off her face. She resumed her seat across from me and pushed the worksheet towards me. “Why do you downplay how smart you are?”

I snorted. “I’m not smart.”

“Um…yeah, you are.”

I refused to answer her, keeping my eyes trained on the paper in front of me.

“Seriously, Wesley,” Celeste continued. “All of these problems were meant to be a placement sheet for math class next year. Some of them are pretty advanced, and you solved them perfectly. Why would you change the answer?”

As good as I’m sure her intentions were, I hated being called out. It felt like an attack, despite her having never made it one. “I just don’t care about any of this! I don’t want to be some nerd who gets perfect grades. It never makes any difference to my dad anyway.” Unwittingly, I flexed my hands into fists on top of the table as I tried to get a grip on my rising temper.

She shrugged. “I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Celeste said thoughtfully. “I just always wanted to know that no matter what I decide to do as an adult, I have plenty of options to get there.”

Her words confused me. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, think about it. If we get good grades in high school, we can probably get into any college we want. That means we could study pretty much anything we want, which leads to whatever job we want. Seems like an awful lot of freedom just for answering some questions on a worksheet.” Celeste flipped her long, bushy hair over one shoulder and began scribbling answers down on the assignment in front of her.

“I guess I never really thought of it like that,” I admitted. But dang, who would?

Celeste, that’s who. Why wouldn’t a girl who could make up a recipe from thin air also plan her future ten steps ahead?

“You can do what you want,” Celeste added. “I’m never gonna tell you what to do.”

Her idea of freedom as an adult was awfully attractive, though. What I wouldn’t give to someday tell my dad he could piss off, that I had a scholarship to a college I chose, not one he donated a million dollars to in order to get me in. Picturing his angry sputter of disbelief made me smile.

Correcting the answers gave me a lot more confidence than I thought it would.

CHAPTER 6

SUMMER NIGHTS

CELESTE

Wesley and I very quickly fell into a routine after that. Three days a week Ms. Shirley drove him out to my house so we could work on school stuff. We managed to only take short breaks most days, so even with me explaining things to Wesley, both of us were caught up in no time. Principal Roberts met with Daddy and Ms. Shirley and got the green light for the same work to count towards the missing credits on Wesley’s transcripts. Wes tried not to get teary eyed when I told him how Daddy had gone to bat for him, swearing to the principal that our family was going to do right by Wesley, but it was hard not to notice the moisture building up. I conveniently needed a pencil sharpener on the other side of the room when that happened.

On the days when we weren’t working on school stuff, I would join Daddy at The Comfy Cushion in the morning. Wesley would come with Ms. Shirley for lunch and we would all eat a meal together before Wes and I crossed over to the playground in the town square to spend the afternoon. Half the time was spent down at the creek, though. We both became bolder in our attempts to climb the tree, challenging each other to go higher and higher. When we encountered a wasp that Wes swore was big enough to saddle up and ride, we both agreed it was in our best interest not to climb too high anymore.

As the weather grew insufferably hot, we began to live in our bathing suits, dashing into the creek every so often to cool off. Wesley found a deck of cards on one of the shelves in the tower and started teaching me how to play poker. He said it was “scandalous” that I didn’t know how to play. In between dips in the creek, we would sprawl out under the branches of the old oak and play for hours. No matter how many times he explained the rules to me, I always got confused and had to fold. We only bet wood chips and pebbles anyway. I couldn’t exactly consider it a loss.

On rainy days we would hitch a ride from Daddy down to the only movie theater in the county, just a few streets over from The Comfy Cushion. It only had two different theaters and the movies were often out on DVD before the theater could get the film in, but at only $3 a ticket, it was a cheap way to spend the afternoon. The owner, Mr. Custer, was a regular down at The Comfy Cushion, so he often let us stay and watch the same movie twice. Wesley and I would mimic the characters the second time around to change their lines into something far more entertaining. We cracked up every time.

Wesley’s birthday was a special treat to both of us. Marla helped me bake a two tiered cake from scratch. I spent three long nights in our kitchen at home practicing with fondant so that I could decorate it all by myself. Nana commented that my flowers looked like they were wilting, but Wesley’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when we all surprised him at The Comfy Cushion with the cake and a few presents. Daddy and I had gone into Savannah the day before to buy Wes a real Polaroid camera since I always caught him staring at the photographs lining the walls of the tower. He laughed in delight as soon as he tore the wrapping paper off and immediately ripped it out of the box to take a photo of the two of us next to his cake. Wesley’s tan face was beaming down at me rather than looking at the camera, slightly blurring his face, but he swore it was his favorite picture ever.

Mr. Madden sent a check for $10,000 that Wesley shredded into a dozen pieces with a frown. Marla said he was going to bring Jesus down from Heaven with his attitude.

I found myself laughing most days like I used to before Mama’s death. The dark cloud that always circled around me felt lighter every day until one day towards the end of June I realized I hadn’t felt the sadness at all in a few days. Part of me felt guilty, like I was forgetting about Mama, but whenever I voiced my concern to Wesley, he asked me to tell him more stories about her. It helped keep her memory alive in a good way. I liked the way Wesley asked questions about the things she liked and the way she handled the restaurant because he always made it sound like she was still with us and he was just summoning up the courage to meet her. It helped ease the loss that hovered because I knew if she had still been here, Wesley would have made quite the impression on her.

Whether we were at my house or at the restaurant, I continued Wesley’s cooking lessons. He mastered basic things like pasta and casseroles so we started progressing to things that took more skill like homemade sauces, jambalaya, and handmade meatloaf. Wes preferred the meals where he could get his hands dirty and make a mess. I expected the novelty to wear off after he realized how much work went into cleaning it back up, but it never happened. He continued to spread debris all over the kitchen no matter where we were or what we were making.

Nana and Marla were both growing fonder of him by the day. His use of “sir” and “ma’am” increased exponentially in their presence, and he learned to hold open doors for others, to stop and pick something off the ground for someone when they dropped it, or simply to put something away because it needed to be done. Wesley admitted to me that he liked how appreciative Nana was when he placed an ice cold Coke bottle on her side table when she watched her shows, but he also thought it was hilarious to try to figure out the storyline on her soaps. Marla said we’d make a Southern gentleman out of him yet.

The fourth of July was around the corner before I knew it, and The Comfy Cushion was in a flurry of activity as we prepped for the annual county barbecue. Our restaurant had catered everything but the meat for the event since before I was born. Most of the people in town competed in the Grill Off to present the best meats for everyone in town to eat. Daddy was excluded from participating, but when Wesley saw the flyers posted, he insisted on entering the grilled chicken category. I had taught him a couple different marinades that the restaurant used for meals and he felt confident that he could make up a recipe on his own. He worked on it for days leading up to the fourth.

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