Love Me Tender

Early Friday afternoon, Daddy left mad. He carried his guitar. The weather had turned so hot, the sweaty circles on his T-shirt looked like the wings of an insect against his back. I followed him, dragging his duffel and panting. "Daddy, this thing is too heavy. What all are you carrying in here?" What, besides his blue suede shoes and tight white jeans, did he need? "Stuff," he said, and kept on going. Okay, he needed a round brush and his diffuser and this tube of hair gunk he called "the genuine article." He'd dyed his honey-colored hair so black it made me think of fur, only I couldn't name an animal that would gleam navy blue in the sunlight, coated in Brylcreem. Daddy always walked with a swagger as soon as he combed his hair in this rolled-over way. But this time it was a fast ticked-off swagger; I had to move it to make the driveway with any time to spare for questions. I only had one: You're coming back, aren't you? Only I couldn't get up the nerve to ask. I let the duffel drop next to his feet. He'd hung his white Elvis jacket from a curtain rod installed in the cab of his pickup truck. I saw a yellow butterfly had been trapped inside, drawn to the little rainbows bouncing off the shiny sequins. That butterfly clamped itself to the back of Daddy's shoulder as he set his guitar case into the leg space of the passenger seat. He took no notice, saying, "I'm relying on you, Elvira." "Me?" I lost my breath a little bit. He threw the duffel into the back of the truck. He said, "Don't let things fall apart once I'm gone." "Like what?" Daddy looked like he shouldn't have to tell me. He went around and got into the truck. That yellow butterfly was blown off a ways as the truck started up, then came back to flutter around like it was lost. I watched Daddy till he turned the corner, taking the back road out to the airport. Now my breath came too fast. What did he expect me to do? I went back into the house. The minute Daddy started packing, Mel, my mother, took to the recliner like soap to a sponge. She hadn't moved. I said to her, "He would have taken you along if he could." "He could have taken me if he wanted me along," she said. Her straight dark hair had been twisted up off her neck while I was out there with Daddy, and the ends stuck up at the back of her head like the bristles of a broom. "Okay, but then we'd've of all had to go. By car. Lots more luggage, and about a million bathroom stops." She shot me a dirty look. "For Kerrie, of course," I added, but I'd been thinking about this. If this was Daddy's logic, it was, well, logical. "I took care of my little sister when I was thirteen," Mel said. "That was in the Dark Ages," I said. "There are laws against abandoning your children now." "My folks went out of state to a funeral," she said, her eyes on the TV screen. "They left me in charge." "That was more in the nature of an emergency, I guess." "Miss Nelda would look in on you." My eyes went wide. "She uses a walker. You can't expect her to jog over here every couple of hours." "Okay, then. You could report to her." "You don't mean that," I said, wondering how else to reply to a woman who had recently turned into a walking time bomb. "If you did, you'd have said it before Daddy left." There were gunshots on TV. Mel settled more deeply into the recliner. She's a movie junkie--that's what Daddy calls her, anyway, when she shells out for extra movie channels. Personally, I never thought this was a bad trait in a mother, just I had never seen the junkie part take such hold of her. "I hope I don't have to tell you not to mention this idea to Kerrie," I said. "She'll have to be peeled off you like a Band-AidCouloumbis, Audrey is the author of 'Love Me Tender' with ISBN 9780375938399 and ISBN 0375938397.