Sweet Dream Baby by Sterling Watson Page B

least you used to be. I care about what happens to both of you.”
    â€œDon’t worry about me,” Griner says. He taps his book with his greasy finger. He lifts the finger to his forehead and touches it there. “I’m getting an education. Worry about Sifford if you want to worry. He’d like it if you did that.”
    My Aunt Delia says, “If I worried about Bick, he’d just take it as a compliment. It’s you I’m worried about.”
    â€œLike I told you,” Griner says, “don’t worry about me. School ain’t the only way to be a success in life.”
    My Aunt Delia shakes her head once, slow, then turns to Mr. Tolbert behind the counter. She says, “Thank you, Mr. Tolbert. We’ll be in again real soon.”
    Mr. Tolbert smiles at my Aunt Delia and says, “Say hello to your daddy for me.” At that, Griner grunts and then laughs. “Me too,” he says.
    My Aunt Delia looks at Griner one more time, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking. She lifts her chin a little, and we walk out together.

Ten
    We drive through town, and it’s quiet, and the heat wiggles over the asphalt, and all the people we pass wave to my Aunt Delia. She waves back, and sometimes she calls, “Hey there!” through the open window. We drive to a park, and there’s a white church with a tall steeple at one end, and across the road from the church there’s a statue of a sol-dier leaning on a long rifle. At the other end of the park there’s a tennis court made of red clay with white chalk lines and a net that’s kind of droopy. There are oak trees on both sides of the court and green benches under the oaks so you can rest after you play. Two girls are playing tennis when we drive up and stop in the red dirt parking lot. My Aunt Delia turns off the engine, but she leaves the radio on. It’s Dion and the Belmonts again: “Why must I be a teenager in love?” One of the girls hits the ball into the net, and they both laugh. Then they turn and wave at my Aunt Delia.
    â€œHey, Delia!”
    My Aunt Delia leans out the window and calls out, “Hey, Caroline! Hey, Beulah!” She pulls her head back in and says, “Aren’t they a couple of toads, Killer?”
    I can’t help it. I laugh real hard.
    We watch the two girls play for a while, and we listen to the radio. I’m waiting for Jerry Lee to come on, but he doesn’t. Finally, the two girls finish. I can’t tell who wins. I don’t think they care. They walk over to Delia’s window and lean in, and the blonde one says, “Hey, who’s the good-looking guy?”
    My Aunt Delia says, “This is my nephew, Travis, from Omaha. He’s spending the summer with us so he can learn how the gracious life is lived.”
    The two girls giggle. The brown-haired one leans in and says, “Don’t let old Delia here get you in any trouble, Travis. She’s known for that around here.” The two girls giggle again and they look at Delia, and she looks back at them, and it’s like they all know something they’re not telling. I don’t know what to say, so I just smile. I’m glad my Aunt Delia doesn’t giggle.
    It’s hot, and the two girls have sweat on their faces and dark wet patches on their white blouses. When they lean into the car, I can smell perfume and girl sweat mixed together, and it’s better than either one by itself, and it goes with the song on the radio: “Tell Laura I love her. Tell Laura not to cry. My love for her will never die.”
    Delia and the two girls talk for a while, and I listen to the radio and hold my new tennis racket on my lap and run my fingers over the strings and wonder what it’s gonna be like when I hit a ball. Finally, the two girls push away from Delia’s window and walk over to a brown Ford and drive away. Delia looks over at me and flutters her eyelashes in a