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  “Atta girl,” he said.

  “I’m older than you.”

  “Hardly,” he muttered. I thought I heard a hint of annoyance.

  I inhaled the smoke, but unlike the cigarette I smoked with Margaret, this one seared my lungs and I choked on the burning pain as my throat spasmed. I let out a hacking cough and wheezed as I tried to get some air.

  Bobby relieved me of the joint and gently slapped my back. As soon as I lifted my head, the world was soft and light. I could hear birds chirping I hadn’t noticed before, leaves rustling in the breeze, yet somehow things seemed quieter.

  “I think I’m high,” I sighed.

  Bobby laughed. I laughed.

  “Me too,” he grinned.

  And just as I hadn’t noticed the birds or the way the breeze tickled my ears before, I saw something in that smile, something familiar and new all at once. My heart raced and I snatched the joint away from him to distract myself.

  “We have to save some for the guys,” he insisted.

  “Rory’s smoking?” I asked in shock.

  “That’s why I got this. A little fun on the water.”

  “Well, I’ll say.” I nodded and frowned, impressed with the whole scheme. “If Mildred and Agnes were here . . .” I chuckled to myself.

  “I think they like me,” he offered with a devilish grin.

  It was unusually bold for Bobby. He usually downplayed the attention he got when I teased, but I guess marijuana weakens modesty. I choked on another inhale. “Well—aren’t—you—astute—” I cleared my throat. “Was it the drool, or that fact that they refuse to blink in your presence? Ugh, you and all your little girlfriends.”

  “I don’t have girlfriends.”

  “That’s my point. Women shouldn’t be things you trade around.”

  His shoulders stiffened. “I take offense to that. I don’t trade girls.” He was visibly upset.

  “Oh god, Bobby,” I declared dismissively. “Don’t be such a baby. I understand your plight. You just sit there and take what they throw at you. How can you be expected to choose just one when you can have any girl? None of it’s your fault.”

  “Not any girl.” He murmured so quietly, I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to hear him or not. “Besides, why are you always giving me guff about the girls I date . . . jealous?” he asked snidely.

  I tensed up, at a loss for words. I didn’t know why his trivial joke turned me into a blubbering fool, but I had no clever response. It had to be the reefer, I thought to myself.

  Suddenly, I jumped up. “Crap. I’ve lost track of time. How long have we been out here?”

  “I don’t know,” Bobby laughed, entertained by a high Lilly.

  “This isn’t funny.” As I stood and tried to ambulate, I realized I was more than just a little high. Though details were made sharper, the world was draped in a haze that made focusing on any particular task extremely difficult. I couldn’t imagine facing my mother, older sister and the occasional passing family member in this state. “Oh lord. Can you tell?”

  “Tell?”

  “Bobby, I’m asking if you can tell how high I am.”

  He laughed harder.

  “Damn you! You are such a terrible influence. You are just bad news. Bad, bad news,” I declared gruffly, traipsing in a tight, panicked circle.

  “Lil . . . Lil . . .” he called through laughter. “Just relax.”

  Bobby stood in front of me and gripped my shoulders, affixing his honey-hued gaze to mine, pulling me out of my erratic orbit and grounding me to him.

  “Lil,” he chuckled, brushing away a rogue lock of chestnut hair—the hair he ruined—with the tip of his finger, away from my face. “You’re fine,” he recited reassuringly. “You look like a million bucks. The only people who’ll know are you and me. Promise.”

  There was something sweet about that moment. It was a rare glimpse into that space between silly childish rivalry and adult formality. It was genuine and caring. It was tender. It was comforting and disconcerting all at once.

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  “Alright,” he squeezed my shoulders. “You better find Julia before she finds you.”

  Things were still again. Bobby made me feel at peace with his words, and the pleasant high returned. Bird songs, gentle breezes, the smell of moss, the warm large hands securing me to my place in that instant—the very hands that seemed to make a mission of poking, prodding and rifling—had made me feel more tranquil than as long as I could remember.

  We trudged through dry leaves, over snapping twigs and uneven terrain until we made it to the drooping branches that separated the property from the forest.

  “Brace yourself. It’s Mama Jules,” Bobby grimaced as he held up a branch for me to crawl under. Bobby seemed to have a nickname for nearly everyone, and this one was entirely apropos. Unlike Rory and Bobby who were a year apart, Julia was six years older than me and had been in boarding school since she was about fourteen. My parents didn’t do the same with me. Maybe they thought it was a mistake. But due to the age difference and time apart, Julia and I were never close. At least not in the way Bobby and Rory were. She always lacked interest in the things I enjoyed, always too mature for the silly games Bobby, Rory and I played. She always kind of treated me like a pest. When I was playing with dolls, she was reading. When I read, she found boys and dancing. When I had moved onto that, she was already in college. When I was in college, she was building her own life.

  Most of Julia’s time spent with our little threesome of Lilly, Bobby and Rory was spent babysitting, and she saw our little gang as sheep in need of herding. Julia reigned with a firm hand, and so Mama Jules had been her moniker for years, though she had no idea.

  I stood up too tall, and then remembered Bobby’s advice to relax, so I softened my stance.

  “Lilly, where have you been? We have been looking all over for you!” Julia bounced my niece, Mary, on her hip. “I have never met a girl more disinterested in planning her wedding!” She sighed. “Will there ever be a time I don’t have to babysit you?”

  Bobby snorted in an attempt to hide his marijuana-laced giggling fit.

  “That goes for you, too. A fine job you did finding my sister,” she scolded. Her eyes roamed back and forth over us suspiciously. Her nose scrunched up like a bunny’s and then she leaned in and sniffed. I shot a glance over at Bobby and he gave me a terrified—but silly—look. I battled to keep myself from snorting as a result.

  “You smell odd. What were you both doing out there?”

  “Of course I smell odd. I was just climbing through the woods. I needed a break from the twins.”

  “Oh,” she said. No further explanation was needed. “You hair is a mess.” She reached for a rogue tendril and tucked it back.

  “Why do you think?” I tilted my head at Bobby.

  Her lips formed a taut line. She had refereed endless battles between Bobby and I, many centering around this very issue. “Bobby, if you lay a finger on her hair tomorrow, I will throw you in that lake myself, so help me God.”

  “Cross my heart.” He made a sign of the crucifix, holding back a smirk.

  “Well, let’s go. Mom is driving me mad. I should be paid for the amount of work I have put into this while you idle and procrastinate,” my darling sister barked.

  “I thought everything was done,” I protested.

  “Nothing is done until you say I do.”

  Mary cooed as if she agreed, already taking after her bossy mother. Julia spun around expecting me to follow without question.

  “Well, I’ll be heading to the lake. I have a surprise for the fellas. Why don’t you tell Jules all about it?” Bobby saluted at me as he staggered away. “Or maybe I should go play croquet with the twins?” he winked mischievously.

  I swept my hand under my chin towards Bobby, in a very unladylike gesture.

  “See? You can’t fool me.” Bobby pointed at me. “Don’t ever change,” he called out sarcasticall
y.

  “What surprise?” Julia asked without turning or breaking her stride.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” I told Julia, gaining more confidence in my ability to hide my current state.

  Despite my “sweeping” gesture, Bobby was fun. Even when he was a pain in my tush. Even when he drove me crazy. And as he left and I headed to the house to go through the humdrum tasks of discussing flowers and catering, he took the fun with him. And I was sad to see him go.

  Summer 1957

  First we stopped at Kopp’s for dinner, eating quickly so we could hit the road. Then we were in the truck heading towards a city that was relatively close, but I had only been to once since marrying Rory. Things always had to be planned, and there was always a reason to put it off, it seemed.

  I had no idea why Bobby wanted me to meet this friend, and he wouldn't tell me why. He said it was a surprise. So instead of interrogating him, I noticed “All Shook Up” was playing on the radio. I turned up the volume and began to hum along.

  “I bet you have a thing for Elvis,” Bobby proclaimed, biting down on a smile.

  “What woman doesn’t?”

  “Hey, I get it. The man can sing and those hips drive the girls crazy. And he just has those dreamy blue eyes.” He fluttered his eyelashes coquettishly.

  I playfully shoved Bobby’s shoulder. He began to tap the steering wheel and sing along to the remainder of the song with an exaggerated Elvis-husk in his voice. He looked over to me expectantly without missing a word and I realized he wanted me join him. I loved the song and couldn’t resist.

  “Little Darlin’,” another one of my favorites, played next and naturally we continued singing. Bobby’s sang David Sommerville’s lead with a comical passion and though I tried not to be charmed by his silliness, I found myself singing the falsetto parts with equal frivolity. It’s hard to hold a grudge when you are singing shamelessly with the wind blowing against your cheeks.

  “Impressive,” Bobby tilted his chin towards me as the jockey spoke over the last few bars of the song.

  The next song, “Dark Moon,” wasn’t fun or up-tempo. The mood in the truck shifted instantly as we both stayed silent. Bonnie Guitar’s melancholy vocals and simple guitar melody flooded the vehicle. It was a song about love. About how we dream of its splendor, but instead, we are left helpless, realizing love often brings pain rather than joy. How when it comes to love, expectations so often fail to meet reality.

  I couldn’t tell if Bobby felt like the words to the song spoke to him too, or if my sudden shift in behavior alone made the truck seem tight and uncomfortable.

  “I’ll find something a little less sappy,” I declared, reaching for the dial.

  Bobby observed me from the corner of his eye.

  “I don’t mind it,” he suggested as if he understood the lyrics poked at something tender.

  “It’s not good driving music,” I insisted, reaching for the dial. I was relieved to find another station in the middle of a Coasters song that was far more innocuous.

  The ride went by quickly, and our surroundings changed from dark roads and freeways to tight streets and lights. Cars honking. Laughter. Sharply dressed couples on their way to whatever the city was offering on that night.

  Finally we seemed to arrive to our destination as Bobby circled the blocks of South Side Chicago looking for a spot. When we parked, Bobby helped me out of the passenger side. There had been a light rain and steam swirled up from the asphalt, scorched from earlier in the day.

  “Thank you,” I said as Bobby guided me over a puddle. Bobby looked fresh, his hair slicked back, a button-down chambray shirt tucked into a dark pair of jeans over black boots. He looked right out of the movies, like James Dean or Marlon Brando. I tried my best to keep up with a red and white polka dot sundress and the most comfortable heels I could find in my closet.

  “Lil, I'm really trying to be a good boy here, but wow. You look incredible,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I nodded coyly. “So do you.” It had been so long since I had gone out like this, and I couldn't fight the pleasant mood this adventure had put me in.

  “Alright, come on,” Bobby said, taking my hand. We walked maybe a block or so before coming to a marquee. At the top, it read Smokie's, and underneath the interchangeable letters read Hancock, Sun Ra, Jamal, Armstrong.

  I tugged on Bobby's grip so he would stop. “Is this a jazz club?” I asked.

  He winked. “Ever been?”

  “No,” I shrugged. “Well, not since college, and not in Chicago.”

  “You're gonna have a blast.”

  We came up to the ticket counter and he seemed to know the person who let us in without paying. Inside, the room was full of people smoking, drinking, and dancing as a small band played a set. And what I noticed instantly was most of the people in the club were black. Now, it was all the same to me, but where I grew up, there weren't many black people. My exposure was almost nil. And suddenly, I was thrust into a world where I was the outsider. I knew this was intentional on Bobby's part. He wanted to get me on my toes. And he was right, because this new experience excited me.

  Bobby waved at the stage as if he knew someone, but no one waved back, seeing as their hands were occupied with their instruments.

  “Drink?” he offered.

  “Water's fine,” I replied, wanting to keep my mind sharp.

  As Bobby headed for the bar, the band stopped and announced they would take a break before the next band started. A slight man, with skin the color of a cacao bean, hopped off the stage and made a beeline towards Bobby.

  “My brother!” he exclaimed, giving Bobby a big hug. I had never seen that in person, a black man and a white man embrace like brothers. “So good to see you!” he said, stepping back to take in Bobby with pure joy. His gaze drifted to me. “And who is this lovely lady? Someone finally get Bobby to settle down?”

  For a second Bobby's eyes looked uncertain. We were so many things. And yet, he would have to go for the most superficial of identities—his sister-in-law. Maybe it was all the beer earlier, or the heat, or the sense of adventure, but I thought maybe we could play make believe just in the walls of this club.

  “Yes, I did,” I said, gripping Bobby's forearm to play along. “This naughty boy is all mine.”

  At first I thought Bobby wouldn't play along, as his eyes widened, but then he smiled and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Yup. She's a handful though.”

  “Willis,” the jovial man said as he extended his hand for a shake. “Call me Will, though.”

  “Lilly,” I replied.

  Willis' brow shrugged as if maybe he knew the name, but couldn't place all the pieces together. And for a moment I thought I had put us in a trap. Because if Bobby told Willis about his sister-in-law, and I was also his girl, well there'd be some explaining to do. However, Willis seemed to move on, wanting to introduce me to his girlfriend, Sasha.

  Sasha was tall and lithe, with hair the texture of raw cotton twisted up into a flawless updo. She was regal, her long neck just like sculpted Egyptian busts I had studied in college.

  Sasha brought us to her table and we all sat.

  “So do you know Bobby from the service?” I asked.

  Willis looked over at Bobby, and his posture changed, like I had triggered something. “Actually, no. Well, sort of. My brother served with Bobby and they were real good friends, but he passed in the war,” he said solemnly.

  Bobby chimed in. “Curtis wanted me to meet his brother. He kept telling me how we would all get together once we got back home. So when I did, I found Will.”

  “I'm sorry for your loss,” I said to Willis.

  “Thanks,” he smiled. “He was a great person . . . that's how I knew Bobby was, too. Curtis was always mentioning him in letters.”

  I looked at Bobby and smiled. I knew exactly what Curtis saw in him.

  As we chatted, the new band began to play. Horns blazed signaling the start of an up-tempo piece an
d Willis extended his hand. “Come on, let's dance,” he offered as other couples fled to the dance floor.

  “I, uh, wow, it's been a while,” I said. “I think I might need a drink after all.”

  “Here,” Bobby said, passing me his glass. I took a sip and whatever it was it was pure and strong. I recoiled from the burn and he laughed.

  “Ass,” I hissed, before taking another gulp.

  He winked flirtatiously, and the burn down my throat was accompanied by a tingle down my arms.

  “You'll need to show me some moves. I'm rusty.” I stood up and looped my arm through Willis'.

  “If you're taking my girl, I'm taking yours,” Bobby declared, taking Sasha by the hand.

  We hit the dance floor. The loud horns and fast-paced music, along with Willis' lead actually made dancing quite easy. I glanced over at Bobby as he swung Sasha around, picking her up and spinning her.

  “Wow, Bobby!” I shouted over the commotion. “I didn't know you could dance like that!”

  “I've learned a lot of things over the years!” he shouted back before putting his attention back to Sasha.

  Will leaned in as we did a two-step for some respite. “I'm sorry, I didn't put two and two together when you first came in.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I didn't realize you were the Lilly.”

  “The Lilly?”

  “Well, when Curtis used to write me, and he mentioned Bobby, he would mention that Bobby had a girl named Lilly he wanted to get back to. And I had forgotten all about it until he introduced you, since it had been a while since Bobby came back and I hadn't met you yet. I thought maybe it didn’t pan out.”

  “Oh,” I nodded, trying to make sense of the revelation.

  “I'm so happy for you two. It was such a close call. A miracle really.”

  “Yeah.” I played along. Bobby downplayed the shoulder, saying it was a flesh wound. That's not what Willis was alluding to. “I'm so glad he made it home safe. I don't know how I'd have dealt with losing Curtis without that guy.”

  I nodded solemnly, trying to lend an ear to Will while processing the new information.