Red Tulips
Excerpt from Red Tulips
When Josephine goes to sit on the porch, a slight breeze comes up, raising goose bumps on her arms. She loves this tiny sliver of time, and thinks of it as her own. She watches as day fades into darkness, and she imagines that it’s colors are saved someplace to make tomorrow’s dawn. Across the road, a stand of trees is silhouetted against the sky, and owls have taken up melancholy posts in the black pines. Kitty Tom claims his place in her lap, and as she clips sandspurs from his matted fur, she wonders where Buddy settled after leaving without her.
When Kitty Tom leaps from her lap and scrambles off the far end of the porch, she knows to listen for Henry’s steps on the gravel road that runs in front of their two houses.
“Good evening, Josephine. How’re you tonight?”
“Evening, Henry. I’m fine. How’s Estelle?”
“She’s feeling a little peaked right now.”
“What’d the new doctor say?”
“Nothing she’s not heard before.”
Josephine inquires as to whether or not Estelle heard from her only son. She knows Henry will take her question to mean he’s invited to sit.
“Yes, she did. And it’s not good,” Henry answers, taking a seat in the nearest rocker. He explains that something has come up and they can’t come and bring the new baby. Estelle said she’s afraid she’ll die before she sees her grandbaby.
Josephine thinks maybe there’s something wrong with a family when children don’t visit. But it’s hard to know what causes people to stay or leave the place where they grew up.
They sit for a while, neither talking, until she notices Henry’s breathing become a little labored, and then, shaky as a new bride, he says, “Josephine, let’s me and you – and Estelle – take one of those cruises you’re always thinking about.”
He hands her brochures. Rushing on, he tells her a boat leaves out of Tampa on the twenty-third, and they can drive to Tampa in six hours. But he’ll need to call the man in Tallahassee by day after tomorrow.
“It can’t be the money,” he declares. “Your daddy left you some and there’s your retirement and Social Security coming in.”
“Now, you just whoa, Henry Townsen. You’ve gone to meddle.”
“I know, Josephine, I’m sorry, but it’s just -”
“Stop. Think what you’re saying. And it ain’t true six hours is a little trip.”
“Josephine, it’s you who needs to stop and think. What if it’s the twenty-third or never?”
When she doesn’t respond, Henry stands to leave, then he says, “Josephine, sometimes I think you use your momma to keep you from – ”
“Henry,” she interrupts, “you’ve said entirely too much already.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll leave”
He walks to the road, turns and calls back, “Josephine, you can change your mind. The offer is good for as long as I am.”