Making Waves (37 page)

“Oh, I'm sure he will. I can see now that going to school, studying art—that's exactly what Tim needs to do. I'll see that he takes it, don't worry.”

I looked down at the drawing that Taylor had in his lap now. The painted town around the border swam through my tears. I couldn't help it—this was going to be hard.

Taylor couldn't hide his pleasure.

“Oh, Donnette—that is just wonderful! I can't wait to tell Sarah. Do you mind if I tell her as soon as I leave here?”

I shook my head and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I was starting to feel calmer now, calmer by the minute.

“No, go ahead. You'll need to see her anyway when you leave here, say good-bye to her,” I told him.

Taylor turned the beer can up and drank about half of it in a long swallow. He then turned puzzled eyes to me.

“Good-bye? Sarah's not leaving until Sunday.”

“Not her, Taylor. You. Do you want another beer?”

He shook his head and smiled at me. “Oh—I don't guess Tim told you this part. I'm staying here, Donnette. Right here in good old Clarksville. I'm going to transfer to Alabama, stay with Aunt Della. I got enough money left for that.”

I frowned and shook my head. “We'll have to think up something to tell Tim about that. Anyone who could come up with the scholarship idea shouldn't have any trouble thinking up another good one to explain why you changed your mind about staying here.”

Taylor appeared to be completely puzzled now. And I'd always thought he was so smart. “But I haven't, Donnette! And Tim thought it was a good idea that I stay—we even talked about riding together. And—” Suddenly he stopped and frowned at me. “What's going on, Donnette?”

“Well, Taylor, think about it. Tim didn't tell me about you and him meeting last night. I didn't know what was going on, so I followed him. I was hiding, listening to y'all. I now know
everything
.”

Understanding began to replace the puzzlement in Taylor's eyes. He pulled back in his chair and stared at me, very carefully. “Oh,” was all he could say.

“There's no way for you and Tim to continue to be friends, Taylor. Surely you know that, don't you?”

Taylor didn't say anything for a while, then he said in a very low voice, not looking at me, “So. You mean for me to go away, don't you?”

“That's exactly what I mean. All the way back to Louisiana where you've been hiding these past two years,” I said.

I never thought anyone as dark as Taylor could turn so pale. “Oh, Donnette. No. You don't understand.”

Before he knew what'd hit him, I jumped up from my chair and got right in his face.

“You're so wrong, Taylor Dupree. You've never given me credit for having any sense at all. I tell you what I understand—I understand this: If you want to make up to Tim for what you did to him, you'll give him a chance to do this on his own—you'll take yourself out of the picture.”

“I can't do that, Donnette!” Taylor was so stunned he could barely speak. And he always thought of me as a dumb country hick, not good enough for Tim.

“It's your choice, Taylor. If you don't, I'll tell Tim the truth about the scholarship. What do you think that would do to him and his confidence in his talent?”

Taylor could only stare at me in shock, speechless for once. Neither of us said anything for what seemed like an eternity, then he tried another tactic on me, pulled the card I was afraid of, what had almost made me lose my resolve.

“There is something about this that you don't know, Donnette. It's my Aunt Della—she's counting on me. I promised her that I'd be here during the time that she's got left.” His voice broke and tears filled his eyes. “I promised her, Donnette.”

I shook my head. I couldn't look at him because I didn't want him to see any weakness in me, so I had to make my voice hard.

“I'm sure sorry about Miss Della, Taylor. And I really mean that. But then, I've always felt sorry for her, having nobody but you to love. She's gotten along without you these last two years—where was your concern then? Don't you know it almost killed her? I'll tell you where your concern was—with yourself!”

Taylor was still so stunned he just sat staring at me as I sank back down into my chair.

“Donnette—I love Tim, you know that,” he cried. “I'd do anything to make it up to him—anything. Except sacrifice Aunt Della.”

“I thought about that, Taylor. I've thought this whole thing through, I tell you. And I talked with Ellis. Glenda will stay with Miss Della. She'll be well taken care of, believe me. I know Glenda. She's different from Ellis. It's not the same as you being there, but you'll still see her occasionally. But living here, being here all the time—I can't let that happen.”

“Come on, Donnette. This is ridiculous! If you want me to beg you to forget this stupid idea, I will.”

“No, Taylor. I don't want you to beg. I just want you to leave. I want you to leave Tim alone and never see him again.”

“Okay, okay, goddammit! I'll leave him alone—I won't see him. We won't ride together, go to classes together, nothing. How about that?”

I shook my head. “Believe me, Taylor, I thought of that too. That was my first plan. But then I thought, no. No way I can live in constant fear that you'll get Tim in your clutches again. This is the only way. I hate it for Miss Della's sake. And also for Tim's, because crazy fool that he is, he loves you, too. But this is the only way it can be.”

“So you decided that you want me to get the hell out of Dodge, huh? Out of town by sunset?” Taylor sneered at me, his face now flushed in anger.

I smiled at him then. Oh, he thinks he's so smart. “No, Taylor. Far as I'm concerned, you can wait until tomorrow. Or whenever. Doesn't really matter to me, long as you leave.”

Give him credit, he tried to shame me like he had always done, with his big words and snooty voice.

“Dammit, Donnette—I was always the melodramatic one, not you! What the hell do you think I'm going to do to Tim, seduce him? I was a confused kid then, and so was he. We both confused a rare friendship with—with something else. Tim and I both understand that now.”

“Yeah, well, let me tell you something about Tim,” I said to him, a little louder than I intended. “He's not a thing like you and me, Taylor. He's
good
. He's a better person than me, and he's sure as hell a better person than you'll ever be!”

Now Taylor was the one to jump up from his chair. “Holy shit, Donnette—don't you think that I know that? Are you too ignorant to see that's exactly what I've always loved about him?”

“Yeah, Taylor. You are right as usual. I am ignorant, just like you've always said about me. Well, let me tell you one thing: I may be ignorant, but I ain't stupid. There's
no
way I'm going to give you another chance at Tim, not while I have this opportunity to get you out of his life once and for all.”

At that little speech, I stood up too and folded my arms. Taylor and I stood facing each other, as close as lovers. I didn't blink a single time. Finally it was Taylor who turned away from me. He shook his head, and I knew then that I had won.

“Goddamn you, Donnette. I swear, I never knew that you hated me so much.”

“Well, you know it now.”

Taylor smiled a crooked smile. “Yeah. I sure as hell do.”

“So? You'll do it—go on back to Louisiana, let Tim think the scholarship came from Miss Maudie?” Even as I asked him, though, I knew what the answer would be.

Taylor nodded and pushed his hair back with his hand wearily. “Guess I don't really have a choice, do I?”

I didn't say anything for a while. It had turned out to be easier than I thought. Finally I watched him push that hair back one more time.

“You know, Taylor, you really do have pretty hair. I'd love to cut it for you, fix it real stylish. Long hair is not in now, you know? It went out in the sixties.”

Like you, Taylor Dupree, I thought to myself. Out of step with everybody and everything around here—always have been. But now, out of here. Out the door. I walked past him as he stood slump-shouldered in front of his chair, and I walked to the kitchen door.

“Well. Guess you'd better be going now, Taylor.”

For one weak moment, I felt strong pity for him, he looked so sad and dejected standing there in the middle of my kitchen. Like he'd lost everything. But I thought of Tim, who because of Taylor really did lose everything once. Now, he had the chance to get some of it back.

“Donnette?” Taylor turned to me. I saw the same torment in his deep brown eyes that I saw last night, and there was also tears.

“Can I have the drawing?” he asked, his voice real soft.

We both looked down to where it had fallen to the floor, and my eyes filled with tears, too. I nodded because I couldn't speak. Taylor reached down and picked up the paper. He rolled it up carefully, tenderly even, and he looked around the kitchen one more time. With the back of his hand, he wiped his eyes like a little boy.

“Well. Guess you'll tell Tim good-bye for me. Tell him—whatever you need to, okay? Sarah can handle the scholarship arrangements.”

He didn't wait for me to answer but moved quickly to the door. Just as he started out, I grabbed his arm. He stopped and looked down at me, and I blinked back my tears, swallowing hard.

“Taylor. If you were in my place, you'd do the same thing.”

He looked at me—startled—then nodded. “Yeah. I probably would.” He tried to smile that old mocking smile of his, but he bit his lip instead.

“Well—don't guess I'll see you again,” he said. “Take good care of Tim, okay?” And he went out the door, slamming it behind him.

From the curtained window on the door, I watched him walk down the steps and start around front. I ran into the front parlor and looked out the window as he came around the house. When he got to the sign, he stopped a minute and looked up at it, but he quickly turned away and headed down the sidewalk. I watched his walk down Preacher Street, on down Magnolia Street to his Aunt Della's house, watching tearfully as he walked out of our lives for good. I wondered what would happen to his Aunt Della now, but I couldn't let myself dwell on that. At least she'd be well taken care of.

I left the front window and walked back into the kitchen. I sat down heavily at the kitchen table, as though I was old and tired. My eyes fell on the kitchen clock hanging over the stove.

It was only three o'clock—I could have called one of my customers back and gotten a permanent in before sundown. However, I didn't do it—I just sat there numbly, unable to move.

Three o'clock. The ballgame in a few hours. Tim would come in starving and raring to go to the game. Especially now that he thought Tommy was going to be a winner. Then, after the ballgame, we'd have to talk. Plan the future, talk about the scholarship, move fast, so he could start to the university next week. I'd have to think up something to tell him about Taylor. I'd tell him Taylor stopped by here to tell both of us he'd changed his mind, decided to go back to New Orleans. Tim would be disappointed, but not all that surprised.

I kept staring at the clock as the minute hand moved slowly. I hadn't even thought about supper yet. I had to get moving, get something cooking. We'd have to eat early in order to get to the game on time.

I decided to fry chicken for supper.

Tim loved fried chicken, better than anything. It'd be just what he'd want before the big ballgame. And I smiled to myself, thinking what a joy it would be to see how much Tim liked that chicken I would fry, just for him.

When did you start to write fiction?

When I was growing up, I loved to tell stories to my sisters. I'd make up plays and use my dolls to act out all the parts. Later, in elementary school, I took my stories to the playground and I would offer them in installments to my friends during recess, my very own schoolyard soap opera. I wrote them down for entertainment, but I suppose I wanted to be a playwright more than anything else. It was years before I took my writing seriously.

Tell me how the idea for
Making Waves
came to be
.

I actually lived in the little town that the story was based on. When I started to write
Making Waves
, I was probably in my mid-thirties. I started keeping a journal of my observations and then began writing the stories about Zion; it was like going back in time. I put it in the book just as it was—situated in Alabama, twenty-five miles west of Tuscaloosa. It was so isolated, so small a town, it was a ripe setting for a book and I began to think in terms of a collection of stories that grew from the characters. There was someone similar to Della; there was a young man who went to high school with my son who'd had a football injury; he already had a scholarship and he was going to be the big star, but he was injured in an auto accident.