Page 56 of And Still Her Voice
“Honey, you’re my soul sister. Of course, I love you,” he responded. “Now go to sleep.”
But sleeping was torturous with his warm body next to mine. Before long, he was snoring softly into the night and as I burrowed my head into his back, his shirt soaking up my tears, my breathing in concert with his, I was embarrassed at how I ached for his arms to reach around and hold me. But all I had to keep me company were my questions about love and a Grandma who seemed to hold the secrets.
***
Regrettably, my lust story wasn’t quite over. One night after a concert in Montrose, the Greenwich Village of Houston, River and I waited at the back exit for John. We’d planned to go to one of the many bohemian clubs in the area.
“Why did John make you fade into the background?” I asked.
Montrose, also known as “gayborhood,” would have eaten up the act with River in it if only John hadn’t made him stand back. In cow skin skirts and psychedelic fringe tops, cowboy hats and boots, Cindy and Cheryl had done their dancing thing around John as if he were a Jesus cowboy in a leather vest and chaps. Off to the side next to me, stood River, dressed down andsinging back-up. I caught John’s furtive, seductive looks directed back at River as he sang the song I’d written. I wondered how the words tasted in his mouth.Love me like youdo your amigo. Hold me closer or else let mego.
“He just wanted to try something out,” River said.
“Something like trying on your words for size and listening for the applause,” Grandma said out loud.
“I’m sorry he stole your song,” River said.
We stepped outside where a group of teenage fans shouted for John. “We want John!” Finally, he stepped out, flashing a smile as he waved a pair of pink panties over his head. “Someone missing these?” The crowd went wild, hooting, hollering, and whistling. Earlier during the concert as he sang, the underwear came flying up onto the stage, and as he now signed an autograph, he looked up, immediately catching River’s eyes. The way River looked back confused me. Hadn’t John just put him in his place on stage, a more submissive role? Or maybe the girls wouldn’t have gone as wild with the two men on stage who only had eyes for each other. Suddenly, I saw how they could practically rip each other’s clothes off with just their eyes. I just knew I’d be in the way. I didn’t want to be a witness to whatever this was, whether it was love or maybe they were horny for each other or just playing some sort of twisted game. I wanted to head back.
“See you later,” I said, dusting off my hurt feelings. I don’t even think they heard me as they cruised away.
Truth was, I knew it was normal for a boy, but I wondered if feeling horny was normal for a girl.
“Of course, it is, darling.”
“Grandma, what do you know about normal?”
Left standing amongst a throng of teenagers, most probably older than me, I soaked in the silly chatter. Thick with the syrupy Southern drawl, I found it even more difficult to understand what the big deal was, but the teen spirit was infectious.
“I’ll bet Lazarus is hung like a horse,” a tall girl said.
A blonde-headed boy added, “It’s the motion of the ocean, not the size of the boat.”
“And only someone with a small dinghy would say that,” said another button-down boy.
Small dinghy had a sense of humor. “Your mama doesn’t seem to mind,” said blond boy.
I hooted with everyone else.
“Must be how you got out of the draft, you know, like having flat feet,” button-down boy said.
“Not everyone has a daddy who plays golf with LBJ,” said tall girl.
“Vietnam is senseless anyway,” short girl said. “Why would anyone want to go? It’s so humid.”
The Houston night felt pretty humid.
“Say, my parents are spending the weekend down at the beach house in Galveston,” she added. “They said we could have some friends over. I can get Maria to whip up some nachos.”
They invited me to tag along.
“Anna, not a good idea,” Grandma said.
Why the hell not? Didn’t I need to be around kids my own age? Besides, I reckoned there’d be safety in numbers. They seemed nice and blond boy was sort of cute.
The next thing I remember was being in the back of a car yelling, “Take me home! I want Mamá!” Despite the breach in my memory, I did recall ending up back at the bus in the parking lot slumped down on the bottom step of the bus, feet planted on the curb as if I could stop the world from spinning.
A Blue Norther had blown in overnight plummeting the temperature to thirty degrees. At dawn, River returned to find me shivering and wet, my lashes tinged in frost. He carried me onto the bus where I woke up two days later in a new town. It’s a wonder I didn’t come down with pneumonia.
