Red Clay Suzie by Jeffrey Dale Lofton

Author:Jeffrey Dale Lofton [Lofton, Jeffrey Dale]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781637585771
Publisher: Post Hill Press
Published: 2022-09-26T10:17:08+00:00

Chapter Thirty-two

Grow, Manicure, Repeat

Not knowing exactly what to do next, I got a ride over to the retirement community from Mama and just started walking and thinking. It was times like these that I missed Grandaddy the most. I mean, I missed seeing Grandaddy every day, but I really missed him when I was feeling like the world would never fall into place for me. I wanted to ride my little peddle car like I used to up the garden path to Grandaddy’s from the white-block house we moved from all those years ago. As I’d peddle by, I’d hold my non-steering hand out to brush the floppy green leaves covered in dancing beads of water and imagine the plants sprouting little lips to kiss the droplets in.

Before long, I found myself at the groundskeeper’s shop and just stood there, hoping someone would come out or walk up behind me and go inside so that I didn’t have to knock. I hadn’t thought much about what all went into maintaining the golf course, but my walking and thinking about Grandaddy’s garden made me wonder, so I knocked. A woman came to the door who had an orange scarf wrapped around the same color hair, so messy it looked like a bunch of spaghetti sauce and noodles bursting out at the corners. And the inside of the creases around her eyes were so white compared to her suntan that it looked like she had fake Halloween wax Dracula fangs taped to each side of her head.

“Hey there, little mister.”

“Hi.”

“Whatcha need?”

“Um, I don’t really need anything. I…I’ve played golf here a few times.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

And she laughed like I had told one of Uncle Kingston’s jokes about dog doo or something.

“The course looks perfect,” I almost whispered.

“Thank you.”

“Why does it have to be so perfect?”

“Huh?”

“It’s so perfect. It kind of doesn’t look real.”

She didn’t say anything. She kind of cocked her head like Radar did when you stood at his fence and told him dinner wasn’t for a few hours yet.

“I mean, it’s all real. It’s grass mostly, and a few trees.” I tried to be clearer.

“Yeah.” She smiled and cocked her head the other direction. “I don’t know what you’re askin’, son.”

“I don’t either. Sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m….” I stopped. I missed Wright already, but I didn’t want to say that.

“My Grandaddy said grass is a waste, and, I mean, I know you work real hard to get it so perfect….” I stopped again.

“Yeah…it’s hard work.”

“But you can’t eat it, and I think that’s what Grandaddy means.”

“No, you can’t eat it,” she replied.

“But it takes a lot of water.”

“You’re not one of those Earth-lover, airy-berry-nuts-and-fairy folks, are ya?”

“Um, I don’t think so.” I wasn’t sure what she meant.

“Did you want me to do something?”

She made me think of MawMaw, so sweet and patient trying to understand me, but totally not getting what I was saying. I didn’t know myself what I wanted. The question I hadn’t been able to form was a more difficult question than asking for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or green milkshake.

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