Southern Heat

The first time we’d met, I’d had no idea what my family was up to. My little sister Melissa seemed taken with him, as he sat at the dinner table, if all the snickering and blushing was anything to go by.

I noticed his looks and won’t deny a subtle interest on my part, but that all went out the window when I finally picked up on the thread of the conversation.

It seemed more and more like mama and daddy were trying to get me involved in conversation with our guest.

That’s when I decided to wise up. If I wasn’t careful, I’d find myself packed off to the woods somewhere, cooking coon and hunting squirrels.

He spoke well enough, but I suppose with television and the Internet, anyone could learn to be civilized.

Melissa was not too happy about that turn of events either, and as soon as he left the premises, I brought up the fact that she seemed more taken with him than I was.

Mama had nipped that in the bud right quick.

“It doesn’t matter what your sister wants, he chose you, you’re the one he wants.”

“How does he even know me? I’ve never laid eyes on that beast a day in my life.”

“Well he’s seen you, and unless you want your daddy to lose everything he’s worked for all these years, and for this family to live in shame, you’d do as you’re told.”

“I won’t do it.”

That was only after the first meeting, before any words had been exchanged between the two of us without an audience.

After that first night, he came to see me a few times. He was sweet and kind, with a great sense of humor and I found myself looking forward to his visits.

He was also quite the gentleman, opening doors for me, pulling out my chair at dinner. Then the night of the annual social, everything changed.

I’d gone to lots of trouble to look my best, not that I didn’t always, but that night I found myself putting a little extra effort into everything I did.

Chapter 3

I had Jean Paul blow out my curls, because I always looked more sophisticated when I wore it that way, and for some reason I wanted to impress Jet.

We’d come to the dance together, and I was getting over my prejudice against his background and actually seeing him for the man he was.

I felt proud to show up on his arm and see the envy and jealousy on the faces of all my friends, but something had gone wrong halfway through the evening.

He’d gone off to talk to some gentleman there, and I’d been surrounded by a group of my girlfriends like flies on a carcass, before he’d even cleared the door.

They were all teasing me about my swamp man and such, and instead of getting mad, which I was about to, I kinds sorta joined in the fun.

Even though I felt horrible afterward, because of everyone there, I was the one who had seen the refined side of him.

I knew that he was nothing like that, but how do you tell a roomful of your friends that had the same ideas you once had, that they were all wrong?

It would take time, and I set my mind to changing all their opinions in time. Besides, I liked the way it felt when he ran his finger down my arm, or at night after one of our dates when he would kiss me on the cheek and I would wish that he’d move a little to the right and get my lips.

He was certainly growing on me. But after that night, something changed, and I sensed it from the moment he took me home and didn’t even bother with the kiss on my cheek. Instead he’d just sped out of the circular driveway and was gone.

He hadn’t called or anything; just upped and left. I was more bothered than I wanted to admit, and I promised myself the next time I saw that good ole boy I was going to put him in his place.

The next time I saw him a week later, that’s when he made up my mind for me once and for all. Even if I had been considering it for my daddy’s sake, of course the things he had to say that night put paid to that little notion.

I threw myself across my bed, and prepared to wait her out. Hopefully she’d come to her senses soon, because there’s nothing I hate more than being idle.

I let my mind drift back to that last confrontation. I had nothing better to do, since mama had lost her cotton-picking mind, and locked me in my room like a misbehaved toddler.

The memory of his face always gives me pause for a second or two. Maybe that’s why I try not to think about him too much.