“Etta James,” Carla said. “Her voice can soothe the sharpest of inner turmoils.”
“You know Etta James?” Janice asked as she adjusted the volume.
“Of course.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You seem surprised again at my interest in music.”
“I didn’t think someone like you would be aware of artists like her.”
“Someone like me?”
“I mean—” She seemed to struggle for the right words, frantic-like, something Carla had noticed her doing a lot of recently. She seemed terrified of saying the wrong thing. Was it because of her? If so, why? Janice had never been hesitant to speak her mind before. It was one of the things Carla had always admired her for. “I meant, someone younger.”
Carla couldn’t help but smirk. “I’m only seven years younger than you. And besides, everyone, regardless of age, has varied tastes in music. I play Etta sometimes in my classroom when the kids are first arriving in the morning and they love her.”
Janice shook her head, as if she needed to hurry and explain, like she’d quite literally said the wrong thing. She opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped. And then, something came over her with the flash of her eyes. She visibly relaxed and the sense of worry that was always quick to surface, seemed to have vanished.
“But they weren’t aware of her before that, were they?”
The impish grin Carla had seen so much of growing up spread across her face. She hadn’t seen it in so long, she’d forgotten how much it affected her. But now the effect it was having surpassed anything she’d felt before. Maybe it was her sudden change in demeanor. The way she was sitting, all calm and confident, or the way she was looking at her, like she was the one who was now amused by Carla. Whatever the reason, it was sexy.
Janice was sexy.
And she was watching her with that damn grin still on her face. Waiting. Waiting for Carla to respond. She seemed prepared to wait a lifetime if need be. As if to prove it, she slowly crossed her legs. But it seemed to Carla to be a move made for more than just comfort. Carla could’ve sworn she’d done it for her, knowing she’d look, wanting her to look. Was this the tank top all over again? No, she’d seemed oblivious in the tank top. This was calculated. Intentional. It worked. Carla couldn’t resist trailing her eyes down the shapely form of her legs, helplessly lingering on the noticeable curves of muscle until she came to the painted red toenails on her elegant looking feet.
“That wasn’t my point,” Carla said, her body temperature rising.
“No, but you inadvertently proved mine.”
She scratched her cheek with fingernails that were red like her toes, and unexpectedly, Carla had an intruding thought as to what they would feel like grazing down her back in the throes of passion.
She could almost feel the fiery trails they’d create running down her skin.
“They liked her and looked her up,” she said, despite the direction her mind had turned. “Asked me to play more of her. Some downloaded her songs. That happens a lot when I play something they haven’t been exposed to. So, my point is, that regardless of age or anyone’s differences, people can have an array of tastes in music. All it takes sometimes is a little curiosity.”
There was a subtle wildness in her eyes now, an uninhibited energy, that seemed to brighten their color, which was further accentuated by the matching blue-green of her blouse.
“You’re saying I shouldn’t make assumptions.”
She closed the book in her lap and set it on the end table next to the record player. Carla saw the gilded letters along the spine.
The Poetical Works of Lord Byron.
“I was very surprised that you did. A woman of your intelligence.”
She laughed. “So intelligent people can’t make assumptions like that?”
“They can. And they sometimes do. But they know they shouldn’t. And you…you’re too open-minded for that. Too insightful. Or so I thought.”
“Perhaps it’s my small town mentality.”
“Perhaps.”
“Thank God for you then. You came to save me. You can crack open that mentality and fill it in with your big city insights.”
“I don’t know. You sound like you might be a lost cause.”
“Doomed to spend eternity stuck in the confounds of my mind?”
“And here. In this town.”
The impish grin faded, and she looked at her for a long while. Carla hadn’t meant to be insulting, but she knew she had been. She didn’t, however, understand why she’d pushed things with her.
Janice got up and turned off the lamp and came to stand before her. The lack of light didn’t seem to bother her, nor did their close proximity. She dug in her pocket and took Carla’s hand. She placed something cool in her palm.
“House key. So, you really can come and go as you please. And if you knock on that door again before you come in, I’m not going to reassure you with an answer. To me, your refusal to accept my well-stated welcome into my home is more insulting than your opinions about me and my mentality.” She started to walk away.
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” she said, following her.
She was headed for the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I didn’t think that was your intention. Not initially anyway.”
“I was half-kidding, honestly.”
She laughed a little as she switched off the oven. “Half.”
“I’m tired,” Carla said. “I’m not thinking clearly. Dealing with everyone and being back here…”
“I know you’re stressed.” She slid on oven mitts and pulled a casserole dish out of the oven.
“Yes.”
“And homesick.”
Carla sank her hands into her pockets. “A little, yes.”
Janice retrieved two plates and removed the tin foil from the top of the dish to spoon out the steaming contents. It was chicken casserole. One of Carla’s favorites from childhood. Janice had somehow remembered and made it for her.
She’s so generous and kind.
And I’m an ass.
“I’ve never been to Phoenix,” Janice said. “Or spent much time in any big city really, but I can understand, somehow, even with my limited mentality, how going from a place like that to here could be a big jolt. I guess it doesn’t matter if you’re from here and know what to expect or not.”
“You have no idea,” Carla said softly, getting the silverware from the drawer. “It’s like two different worlds.”
Janice carried the food to the table, then poured them both a glass of sweet tea. She joined Carla at the table.
Carla watched as she forked a bite of the casserole, blew on it, and then slid it into her mouth. A minute ago, she would’ve been captivated, stirred by the beauty in her every movement, no matter how subtle. A minute ago now felt like a lifetime ago.
“I heard your comment about your limited mentality,” Carla said, forking herself bite after bite only to dump it again and again. She couldn’t bring herself to eat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of the things I said. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I definitely do not think of you as small-minded or anything like that.”