Page 70 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
“More like infecting me,” he grumbled. “But it’s kind of a handy contraction. Now,” he pointed. “Boxes.”
For the next hour, we divided the pile into one large section of boxes that clearly had no value and a smaller pile that might be worth something. It included the salt-and-pepper shakers. Bran shook his head in disbelief when I insisted he look them up on his phone, but I’d seen enoughAttic Cashepisodes to know that tacky often meant someone out there is desperate to collect it. Bran’s Google search turned up a whole online community of collectors. He photographed and posted them for sale while we sorted through more boxes.
Rhett showed up after a run to the hardware store for a replacement knob. It only took fifteen minutes of tinkering at the front door, and when he brought me out to see it, it boasted a shiny chrome handle that looked ridiculous against the dilapidated paint, but at least we could lock it. Another hour passed fruitlessly until a loud crash sounded, followed by a curse from Bran. He’d been clearing a path toward the closet and now he backed out of it with a shower of black and white speckles dusting his head and shoulders. I clambered over several bags to get to him.
“Dude, are you okay?” Rhett asked.
“No,” he said in disgust. “I grabbed a box off the shelf in there but apparently it was holding up the ceiling.”
Up close I could see that the speckles were chunks of plaster dotted with rodent droppings. I wanted to puke, but that was nothing compared to the look on his face. “I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Catch!” Livvie called, and I whirled in time to pluck the hideous caftan from the air. “I think it’s suited for toxic waste clean-up, don’t you?”
I nodded and scrambled closer to Bran, using the ugly dress to brush him off. The droppings were old and dry and bounced right off him, but the fine plaster dust proved way more stubborn. After a few minutes of me scrubbing at him and apologizing, he grabbed the caftan from my hand and climbed over the piles leading to the door.
“I have to shower,” he said, and I detected a faint shudder. “Sorry to bail, but I’m coming back next weekend. Sign me up.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, humiliated. “Y’all shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“Quit talking crazy,” he said, from the doorway. “I’ve had it for today, but after a chemical detox and a week to forget about it, I’ll be good to go next Saturday.” He waved and took off down the hall.
I turned to Rhett and Livvie. “That was so gross, y’all. I’m so sorry. You can go too if you want to.”
Rhett shrugged. “I’m cool to look some more.”
Livvie blinked a few times but nodded. “Me, too.”
We returned to our sections although Livvie shifted even further away from the closet. I prayed for a find that would make Bran’s turd-bombing worthwhile, some rare-ish antiques or maybe a tacky painting worth gobs of money. No luck. One ugly swampscape the size of a spiral notebook turned up, but the artist’s name returned no hits on the internet.
By lunch, I could see the search wearing on the other two. “Y’all go get some food,” I said. “You’ve done plenty today.”
Rhett glanced at the small pile of items we had found and listed for auction. “That’s not enough junk. I mean, inventory.”
“It’s more than any of you had to do,” I said. “It’s enough.”
“I’ll come back,” Livvie said. “Next Saturday, too. All day.”
“It’s too much,” I protested.
“Relax,” she said. “It’s not forever. Just until we find enough goodies to take care of Delphine’s pills for a while.”
“Delphine isn’t going to let me stay if they leave, is she?” Rhett asked.
I shook my head.
“All right. I’ll come back as often as you let me. I’ll definitely be here next weekend.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “I don’t deserve this from all of you.”
“You’re crazy,” Livvie said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go, boys. Quiet on the way out.”
I walked them to the door, hugging Livvie as she left. Rhett trailed behind her so he could linger with me at the door. I leaned into him for a surreptitious sniff and picked up the menthol of the Vicks.
“I’ll call you later,” he said, pressing a quick, hard kiss against my mouth.
“Bye,” I said, peeling myself away. He waved and climbed into his SUV. When I couldn’t see his taillights anymore, I went back in and up to my room. I missed Rhett already. It was crazy to be so smitten in such a short time. But every single thing I’d shown him to drive him away had only cemented this thing between us. Scholarship status? He didn’t care. Ditto the crappy schedule, the crazy aunt, and the hoarding house.
I picked upTale of Tear Girl.When I got older, I’d lost some of my faith in the romance of the story. Who falls in love at first sight? I didn’t buy it. I turned to the morning of the third ball where I had left off before. By now, Trista had gotten a sapphire dress from the bluegills, a gown woven from buttercups, and two nights with her prince. In this last section, Trista is heartbroken that she can’t see Sterling one last time, wishing she’d never met him because she now knows what she’s missing.
