They Call Me Crazy by Kelly Stone Gamble Page B

kitchen table and watch them, wishing that, just once, they would stop.
    The morning has been a blur, reminding me of the wings of the hummingbirds, yet colorless. Clay offered to take me home, but after Babe called me out, I thought it wise to get as far away from her as possible. She called me the devil, but she doesn’t know the half of it. We all have a bit of the devil in us, and if that’s all she saw, then she must be failing as the years go by. I didn’t want to stick around and give her a second shot at it, though.
    I was already soaked with sweat, so the tears didn’t matter. I told Clay to call me, and before he could answer, I turned and ran—away from Clay, from Babe, from Cass. From Roland. I ran past Central School, where I teach and where Cass and I first became friends. I ran by the public pool and remembered the many nights when Cass and I climbed the fence, the combination of fear and excitement overwhelming our simple desire to cool off on a hot summer night. I ran past the C&S Drive-In, my first job in high school, where Cass used to come and order Suzy Qs and a Coke and wait for me to get off work.
    I just ran.
    I couldn’t think too much about Roland. Not then. Not yet.
    When I got back to the house, exhausted, wet, and tired, I found a note from Shaylene. She had left early to meet a friend for church. The wooden mantel clock read eight thirty. I had just missed her. I thought about getting in my car and going to her, but I knew it was probably already too late.
    This little town churns out gossip faster than the National Enquirer . The Second Baptist Church spews it from the pews, and I’m sure the believers were going full bore.
    I showered, trying to wash off the rain, the dirt, the hurt, the years. I scrubbed and scrubbed but still felt dirty. Damn you, Roland. I told you something bad would eventually happen. I lay in my bed and cried, wanting to get it out before Shaylene got home, but knowing I would never get it all out.
    Shaylene left church early to come home to me. I was still wrapped in my towel, hair damp, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.
    She crawled in next to me and put her arms around me. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know he was your friend.”
    My friend. Yes, he was that. No more early-morning coffee. No more calling Roland when I need help with things around the house that are beyond my skill level. No more just having someone to talk to. No more. No more Roland.
    For the second time in my life, Cass has taken him away from me.
    Shaylene is a smart girl. I’m sure she knows about my side activities, and she seems to understand. She doesn’t say anything when I go out. As she gets older, she’s realizing that a woman needs a man sometimes. She also seems to understand my need to be independent and not have one around all the time. I think she’s okay with that. I think she actually likes that it’s just the two of us. If we need anything, we have Clay or Roland to call, but we don’t have to feed them or clean up after them.
    She also knows that I am not sleeping with Clay or Roland, which would complicate things. No, there are men to sleep with and men to talk to and men to marry. A smart woman doesn’t confuse them.
    “Have you talked to Dad?”
    I hadn’t even considered how Clay must be feeling right now. His baby brother is dead. Suddenly, I felt very selfish. “We should call him, make sure he’s okay. He may need us this time.”
    Shaylene went into the kitchen and grilled cheese sandwiches. I wasn’t hungry, but she made me eat then sent me back to bed. I could hear her singing “Home Sweet Home” while she cleaned the kitchen, the Justin Moore version. I prefer Mötley Crüe.
    I awoke to find her standing beside my bed, watching me sleep. I hadn’t realized I had dozed off.
    “I talked to Dad. He said he would come over this evening. He has to do a few things first.”
    I opened my arms for her. She crawled into the bed with me, and I hugged her. Clay