Tomorrow River

’til just a little while ago. He probably went into the kitchen to get closer to the food.

“So you still love him, huh,” I say, impressed as all get out that she has not taken the liberty that every artist can to make their subject look better than they really do. “When you were… I mean…” We don’t talk much about when she didn’t talk. “Did you miss those berry lips of Ed James, yum-yum?”

Woody says, “Shut up, Shenbone,” just the way she would’ve once upon a time, but it’s not as funny anymore. I can’t barely admit it to myself, but I have been told by Dr. Wilson that no matter how tragic it is, facing the truth is better than pretending even though it sure doesn’t feel like it. “You can’t mend a wound if you won’t admit that you’ve got one” is what the doctor told me the last time I saw him. So the fact… the truth is… Woody and I are not the same as we were. We aren’t as connected. I miss that feeling of oneness with her more than anything and can only pray our apartness is temporary. “Don’t you dare tease me about E. J.” Her voice is sort of slow and wobbly like your leg is when you get a cast off it. “I saw you lockin’ lips at the cemetery yesterday, don’t think I didn’t.”

Ivory and I went over there to say a final farewell to Clive Minnow. I pushed that Confederate button that I took from What Goes Around Comes Around deep into the soil of his grave. I was going to apologize on behalf of my grandmother for poisoning him, but I got distracted by bare-chested Bootie Young, who let me stick my finger in his cleft chin. All the way to the knuckle.

“C’mon,” I tell Woody. “The skeeters are comin’ out.”

Wedding veil clouds are drifting past the moon. It’s supposed to storm tonight, but not until late. When I was young, I used to think that the stars disappeared when there were showers. Like the rain extinguished them. When I told Papa that, he smiled and said, “They’re always there twinkling, honey. You just can’t see them for the clouds.”

I think of him often during the day when I try to write him a letter that never seems to go any further than Dear Papa… I miss you. But he is most on my mind when the constellations pop up early and are kissing close. Like tonight. I know it’s not a popular way to feel around here because of all the bad things that he’s done, but between you and me, this half of his little Gemini wishes with my whole heart and soul that my father was by my side on this historical evening the way we planned.

It’s July 20, 1969. The astronauts made it to the moon.

They fared much, much better than I thought they would.

Now all they got to do is get back home.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

LESLEY KAGEN is an actress, voice-over talent, and restaurateur, as well as the author of two previous novels. Her national bestselling Whistling in the Dark has been translated into five languages and was a Midwest Choice Award winner. The mother of two grown children, she lives with her husband near Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Visit her at www.lesleykagen.com.

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