A Ford in the River by Charles Rose

Author:Charles Rose [Rose, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Ford in the River, short stories, fiction, hospice, collections, compilations, Charles Rose, Alabama, Florida
ISBN: 9781603061131
Publisher: NewSouth Inc.
Published: 2011-07-17T16:00:00+00:00

A New Roof

What Samantha Hall did for Teejay Banks on the morning before her father drove up to visit her in his brown and beige Cadillac Deville, she did biscuits and gravy, cheese grits, three eggs over easy, whole wheat toast. Normally she saw to it he had granola for breakfast. She was worried about his cholesterol even though he was only twenty-five years old. She had to watch hers, for she was thirty-six.

She didn’t bring up her father right away. She waited. She spooned up granola and fat-free milk, set her spoon down and asked Teejay to spend the next two days in a Best Western motel.

“Daddy won’t understand how we feel about each other. He’ll think I’m using you for sex. Since that’s just what we don’t want him to think it might be better if you were somewhere else.”

“So I should care what your old man thinks.” Teejay swabbed egg yolk with a piece of toast. “We both know we’re not using each other for sex.”

“I know we do, but Daddy doesn’t. Will you do this for me, just this once, Teejay?”

He said he’d do it one time only. He’d move into a Best Western motel for two days. He saw relief in her pretty blue eyes. She ran her hands through her thick blond hair, her big breasts flattening out a little. “I won’t ask you to move out again, Teejay.” Then her soft white hands were warming his. “I’m going to tell Daddy I have a wonderful man in my life. You, Teejay, only you.”

He held the palm of her soft hand up to his lips. “What you tell your daddy is up to you. You do what you feel like doing.”

They made love right away in Samantha’s brass bed. Teejay honey! Oh Samantha. She made the bed with Teejay in it, pulling the sheet up past his chest, poking and pinching his arms and legs.

Samantha knew how to make him feel good in bed, but it wasn’t just sex they had going for them. There were things that made them feel close, hearing birds sing waking up at dawn, taking long walks, working crossword puzzles together. He would help her set up her still lifes, gladiolas and pussy willows in a long-necked vase, lemons and limes, a Florida orange, oodles, she’d say, of bougainvillea. Sitting quietly in her studio, he would watch her sketch and paint.

On his second day in a motel, a Best Western close to East Pensacola Heights, he got a telephone call from Samantha. He could come back any time, she said, her father had left a day early. Instead of going back to her house he asked her to come to him, get in the minivan her father had purchased for her while he was there and drive to the Best Western. That she did for him, came to his place. She brought an electric razor for him with her, a pair of Levi’s, a tank top, mousse for his hair.

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