"Sure."
"Sure what?"
"Sure it will be pretty."
She patted his cheek, then leaned to kiss him.
"Now that we're away from yer ole man," intoned Kitty, her sharp chin again resting on her folded arms, "I kin be more honest. Knew yer ma, yer real ma. Not that Sarah woman. Now, yer real ma was some looker. Not jus pretty, but beautiful--an I hated her guts."
"Oh," I breathed, feeling sick, unreal. "Why did you hate her?"
"Thought she had a real catch in Luke Casteel. Thought Luke Casteel should have been mine when I was a kid an didn't know no betta. What a damned idiot I was then, thinkin a handsome face an a strong, beautiful body was all there was t'it. Now I hate him--hate his guts!"
This should make me feel good, yet it didn't. Why would Kitty want the daughter of the man she hated?
I'd been right, she had known Pa a long time. Her dialect was just as bad as his, and all the others in our area.
"Yeah," continued Kitty in a strange, soft voice like a cat's purr. "Saw yer real ma every time she came inta Winnerrow. Every hotshot man in town had t'hots fer Luke's angel. Nobody could understand how she would marry t'likes of Luke. Love made her blind, was my thinkin. Some women are like that."
"Shut up, Kitty." Cal's voice, full of warning.
Kitty ignored him. "An there I was with t'hots fer yer big, handsome pa. Oh, every girl in town wantin an waitin fer him t'get inta her pants."
"Kitty, you've said enough."
The warning in his voice was more intense. Kitty threw him an impatient look, jerked around, and switched on the car radio. She fiddled with the dial until she found country music. Loud, twangy guitar music filled the car.
Now we couldn't talk.
Miles and miles and miles slid by like a long ribbon picture postcard that had no end. Out of the hills, down into the flatlands.
Soon the mountains became distant shadows. Miles and miles later, afternoon light faded away. Sun going down, turning twilight time. Where had all the hours gone? Had I fallen asleep without knowing it? Farther away than I'd ever been before. Little farms, big farms, small villages, gasoline stations, long stretches of barren land with patches of red dirt.
Deep twilight came to smear the sky rosy with violet and orange, with bright gold edging all those heavenly colors. Same sky I'd seen in the hills, but the country look that I was accustomed to was left behind. Gasoline stations by the dozens rose up, and quickfood places with colorful neon lights, imitating the sky, or trying to and failing.
"Ain't it somethin," said Kitty, staring out her window, "t'way t'sky lights up? Like drivin when it's twilight time. Heard say it's t'most dangerous time of all, makes people feel unreal, caught up in dreams. . . always had me a dream of having lots of kids, all pretty."
"Please don't, Kitty," pleaded her husband.
She shut up, left me to my own thoughts. I'd seen twilight skies many a time, but I'd never seen a city at night. Fatigue forgotten, I stared at everything, feeling a true hillbilly for the first time in my life. This was no Winnerrow, but the biggest city I'd ever seen.
Then came the golden arches, and the car slowed, as if drawn there magnetically without discussion between husband and wife. Soon we were inside, seated at a tiny table. "What ya mean, ya ain't neva ate at McDonald's before?" asked Kitty, amused and disgusted at the same time. "Why, I bet ya ain't even had Kentucky Fried."
"What's that?"
"Cal, this girl is ignorant. Really ig-nor-ant. An her pa tole us she was smart."
Pa had said that? It made me feel funny to hear he had. But he'd say anything to gain another five hundred dollars.
"Eating in joints like this doesn't make anybody smart, Kitty. Just less hungry."
"Why, I bet ya ain't neva been t'a movingpicture show, have ya?"
"Yes I have," I answered quickly. "Once."
"Once! Did ya hear that, Cal? This smart girl has been t'a movie once. Now, that is somethin, really somethin. What else ya done that's smart?"
How to answer that when it was asked in such a mocking, sarcastic tone?