“Oh god, Bobby,” I declared dismissively. “Don’t be such a baby. I understand your plight. You just sit there and take what they throw at you. How can you be expected to choose just one when you can have any girl? None of it’s your fault.”
“Not any girl.” He murmured so quietly, I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to hear him or not. “Besides, why are you always giving me guff about the girls I date . . . jealous?” he asked snidely.
I tensed up, at a loss for words. I didn’t know why his trivial joke turned me into a blubbering fool, but I had no clever response. It had to be the reefer, I thought to myself.
Suddenly, I jumped up. “Crap. I’ve lost track of time. How long have we been out here?”
“I don’t know,” Bobby laughed, entertained by a high Lilly.
“This isn’t funny.” As I stood and tried to ambulate, I realized I was more than just a little high. Though details were made sharper, the world was draped in a haze that made focusing on any particular task extremely difficult. I couldn’t imagine facing my mother, older sister and the occasional passing family member in this state. “Oh lord. Can you tell?”
“Tell?”
“Bobby, I’m asking if you can tell how high I am.”
He laughed harder.
“Damn you! You are such a terrible influence. You are just bad news. Bad, bad news,” I declared gruffly, traipsing in a tight, panicked circle.
“Lil . . . Lil . . .” he called through laughter. “Just relax.”
Bobby stood in front of me and gripped my shoulders, affixing his honey-hued gaze to mine, pulling me out of my erratic orbit and grounding me to him.
“Lil,” he chuckled, brushing away a rogue lock of chestnut hair—the hair he ruined—with the tip of his finger, away from my face. “You’re fine,” he recited reassuringly. “You look like a million bucks. The only people who’ll know are you and me. Promise.”
There was something sweet about that moment. It was a rare glimpse into that space between silly childish rivalry and adult formality. It was genuine and caring. It was tender. It was comforting and disconcerting all at once.
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Alright,” he squeezed my shoulders. “You better find Julia before she finds you.”
Things were still again. Bobby made me feel at peace with his words, and the pleasant high returned. Bird songs, gentle breezes, the smell of moss, the warm large hands securing me to my place in that instant—the very hands that seemed to make a mission of poking, prodding and rifling—had made me feel more tranquil than as long as I could remember.
We trudged through dry leaves, over snapping twigs and uneven terrain until we made it to the drooping branches that separated the property from the forest.
“Brace yourself. It’s Mama Jules,” Bobby grimaced as he held up a branch for me to crawl under. Bobby seemed to have a nickname for nearly everyone, and this one was entirely apropos. Unlike Rory and Bobby who were a year apart, Julia was six years older than me and had been in boarding school since she was about fourteen. My parents didn’t do the same with me. Maybe they thought it was a mistake. But due to the age difference and time apart, Julia and I were never close. At least not in the way Bobby and Rory were. She always lacked interest in the things I enjoyed, always too mature for the silly games Bobby, Rory and I played. She always kind of treated me like a pest. When I was playing with dolls, she was reading. When I read, she found boys and dancing. When I had moved onto that, she was already in college. When I was in college, she was building her own life.
Most of Julia’s time spent with our little threesome of Lilly, Bobby and Rory was spent babysitting, and she saw our little gang as sheep in need of herding. Julia reigned with a firm hand, and so Mama Jules had been her moniker for years, though she had no idea.
I stood up too tall, and then remembered Bobby’s advice to relax, so I softened my stance.
“Lilly, where have you been? We have been looking all over for you!” Julia bounced my niece, Mary, on her hip. “I have never met a girl more disinterested in planning her wedding!” She sighed. “Will there ever be a time I don’t have to babysit you?”
Bobby snorted in an attempt to hide his marijuana-laced giggling fit.
“That goes for you, too. A fine job you did finding my sister,” she scolded. Her eyes roamed back and forth over us suspiciously. Her nose scrunched up like a bunny’s and then she leaned in and sniffed. I shot a glance over at Bobby and he gave me a terrified—but silly—look. I battled to keep myself from snorting as a result.
“You smell odd. What were you both doing out there?”
“Of course I smell odd. I was just climbing through the woods. I needed a break from the twins.”
“Oh,” she said. No further explanation was needed. “You hair is a mess.” She reached for a rogue tendril and tucked it back.
“Why do you think?” I tilted my head at Bobby.
Her lips formed a taut line. She had refereed endless battles between Bobby and I, many centering around this very issue. “Bobby, if you lay a finger on her hair tomorrow, I will throw you in that lake myself, so help me God.”
“Cross my heart.” He made a sign of the crucifix, holding back a smirk.
“Well, let’s go. Mom is driving me mad. I should be paid for the amount of work I have put into this while you idle and procrastinate,” my darling sister barked.
“I thought everything was done,” I protested.
“Nothing is done until you say I do.”
Mary cooed as if she agreed, already taking after her bossy mother. Julia spun around expecting me to follow without question.
“Well, I’ll be heading to the lake. I have a surprise for the fellas. Why don’t you tell Jules all about it?” Bobby saluted at me as he staggered away. “Or maybe I should go play croquet with the twins?” he winked mischievously.
I swept my hand under my chin towards Bobby, in a very unladylike gesture.
“See? You can’t fool me.” Bobby pointed at me. “Don’t ever change,” he called out sarcastically.
“What surprise?” Julia asked without turning or breaking her stride.
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I told Julia, gaining more confidence in my ability to hide my current state.
Despite my “sweeping” gesture, Bobby was fun. Even when he was a pain in my tush. Even when he drove me crazy. And as he left and I headed to the house to go through the humdrum tasks of discussing flowers and catering, he took the fun with him. And I was sad to see him go.
Summer 1957
First we stopped at Kopp’s for dinner, eating quickly so we could hit the road. Then we were in the truck heading towards a city that was relatively close, but I had only been to once since marrying Rory. Things always had to be planned, and there was always a reason to put it off, it seemed.
I had no idea why Bobby wanted me to meet this friend, and he wouldn't tell me why. He said it was a surprise. So instead of interrogating him, I noticed “All Shook Up” was playing on the radio. I turned up the volume and began to hum along.
“I bet you have a thing for Elvis,” Bobby proclaimed, biting down on a smile.
“What woman doesn’t?”
“Hey, I get it. The man can sing and those hips drive the girls crazy. And he just has those dreamy blue eyes.” He fluttered his eyelashes coquettishly.
I playfully shoved Bobby’s shoulder. He began to tap the steering wheel and sing along to the remainder of the song with an exaggerated Elvis-husk in his voice. He looked over to me expectantly without missing a word and I realized he wanted me join him. I loved the song and couldn’t resist.