“What are you gonna do, Kadee?”
“What am I gonna do?” I repeated incredulously. “I’m gonna shower, get dressed up, and go out for a well-deserved night on the town and leave you two monsters to your vittles . . . that’s what I’m gonna do!”
Mikey wrinkled his nose. “Is viddles wittle veg’tables?”
Andrew interrupted my explanation to say, “Who do ya think’s a better shooter? Me or Steph Curry?”
“Scoot!” I pushed Andrew away and patted Mikey on the backside. “Your tacos are gettin’ cold.” With a fading smile, I padded to the bathroom and hopped in the shower with a determination burning up inside me to protect my little brothers at all costs. It was my responsibility to pick up where Mama left off . . . and her last request before she died.
I would not let her down.
A few minutes later, I was out of the shower debating the most important question of the day: What to wear? Hmmm. That was a toughy. I desperately eyed the few new items I’d bought with my waitressing money. A pang reminded me of where most of that money had come from.
Usually, I just threw on one of my bell-skirts and button-downs and headed out the door, too preoccupied by other matters to worry much about my appearance. But tonight was a rare night off from my life; a night to head out to the hippest restaurant Clovis had to offer. It was also a night I would be scoped out by the “cool crowd” when I walked in with Queen-B Ashley-Leigh.
So I didn’t want to just blend into the background like I usually did. Not sure why. Vanity? Or maybe it was that hardest of deadly sins for me to overcome—pride? Nah. I chalked it up to the innate predisposition of a female to want to dress up and look pretty. Whatever. I was in the mood to look cute so I put on the butter-yellow tank top I’d bought at an end-of-summer sale, and slipped on the long brown prairie skirt I usually reserved for church. My classic cowboy boots (which were requisite on our snake-infested ranch) and one of Mama’s turquoise belts completed the outfit. I’d have to conceal my tank with a button-down while I was still home. No way Daddy would let me walk around in nothing but a tank top. Females are supposed to be modest, don’tja know. I mentally rolled my eyes.
After blowing out my hair and adding a dash of vanilla lip balm, I stepped to the closet door for a final look-see before heading out. I smiled my serene closed-mouth smile and twirled from side to side, liking the way the yellow complimented my warm skin tone. And even though my hair was still streaked with brass and lacked style, it was healthy and shiny. The best I can do. I quickly buttoned the overshirt up to my cross, grabbed one of Mama’s smaller woven bags, and stuffed my wallet, keys, hairbrush, and lip balm inside.
I took a deep breath. Ready. Set. Go . . .
Walking jauntily into the living room, my momentum was immediately squashed when I realized Daddy wasn’t home yet. The boys, still glued to the TV, clued me in.
“So . . . how do I look?” I fished.
Mikey looked up to inspect me critically. “You look pwetty, Kadee!”
“Why thank you, kind sir.”
Andrew spared a sidelong glance. “Look fine to me.”
“You damn me with faint praise, sir.”
“Shakespeare?” wondered Andrew, like he was constantly on a quiz show.
“Ommmbers! You said a bad word, Kadee!” Mikey scolded.
I sighed dramatically and slumped onto the couch to wait. Definitely needed a night off.Where is Daddy? Of course he would be late the one night I go out to celebrate my birthday. What could I do? I would just have to wait. Waity-Katie, that should be my nickname. I was always waiting on something: on tables, my brothers to hurry up, to turn eighteen, or just plain waiting for something good to happen in my life for a change.
Ugh! I punched a pillow. Twenty long minutes and a phone call later (to inform Ashley-Leigh I would be late), and Daddy finally arrived to relieve me.
“Be home at eleven,” he ordered, no apology attached.
After kissing the tops of the boys’ heads and reminding them to brush their teeth, I ran out the door. Finally, a free woman! I started up the car— put it and my mind in reverse—rolled down the window, and headed out, bumping along the dirt road enjoying the wind in my hair. I noted that the dust in my mouth didn’t taste quite so bad when it was mixed in with a little freedom.
Speeding down the highway, I admired the late summer sunset. The sun was just beginning to meld together its yellows, pinks, and oranges with the wide expanse of blue sky, creating a kaleidoscope of colors more breathtaking than any painting I’d seen. Eastern New Mexico truly had the most beautiful skies around, and it more than helped make up for any deficits in the landscape, I thought loyally.
I found myself really looking forward to tonight for the first time— especially to the company of Mrs. Montgomery. I missed having a mother figure in my life, no matter how shadowy in comparison. I turned on the radio to the local pop station and sang along heartily to Taylor Swift’s latest song. In no time, me and my Subaru pulled into Colonial Parkway, the homes that lined the country club.
After shutting off the sputtering engine, I hastily pulled off my over-shirt and re-brushed my tangled hair. Didn’t really have time to mentally prepare, because Mrs. M was already bustling down the sidewalk. So I rammed my shoulder against the door, exiting my car with about as much grace as an escaping convict busting out of jail.
“Hallooooo!” Mrs. M came at me, arms flapping and high-heels clacking, a broad smile showing off capped teeth. It was clearly evident where Ashley-Leigh received her bounty from I noted with good grace—Mrs. M was literally busting out of her summer top.
“Hello, Mrs. Montgomery. It’s nice to see—”
“Kate Connelly, as I live and breathe!” she gushed, enveloping me in a big, perfumed hug. “What in the wide world have you been doin’ with yourself?”
I shrugged my shoulders, managing to formally say, “Thank you so much for invitin’ me tonight.”
She swept me out before her to really get a good gander at me. “Oh, Katie! You’re so grown up all of a sudden . . . and even more beautiful than ever,” she declared, then clucked at me and squeezed my hand. “But you’re working too hard. I can tell. It’s a good thing we called an emergency intervention.”
I smiled at this before she was off again, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in her tiled foyer where an equally enthusiastic Ashley-Leigh came bounding down the mahogany staircase to greet me.
“Katie!”
“Hey, Ash,” I greeted, warming a little from being hit with such a warm welcome. Their mood was infectious as a sneeze, and I found myself wondering what exactly I’d been dreading about tonight. I was also struck with a weird sense of déjà vu, recalling when I was a little girl how much I coveted her two-story brick home with its long, sweeping staircase to bound down.
Some things never change.
“Katie Connelly, where have you been hidin’ all summer?” She almost repeated verbatim her mom’s declaration (though I suspected hers was said mostly for the benefit of the one standing in the doorway beaming at us).
“Oh, you know . . . loungin’ round the pool gettin’ my nails done in between sips of mai-tais . . . basically livin’ the dream,” I replied airily. No need to lay it all out for them and be the Debbie Downer.