Free Court of the Myrtles by Lois Cahall Page A

was clear to Joy that Georgey’s various girlfriends only tolerated her, their eyes casting a quick once-over at her formless peasant blouse, or her hand-me-downs from the neighbor’s daughter, left tactfully in a bag at the back door, near Alice’s boxwood shrubs.
    But as much as she liked Georgey, Joy preferred the safety of her one true love, Andy Gibb. She hoped the other Bee Gees wouldn’t be offended. She knew her brothers would make fun of her—and him—so to spare them both from humiliation she hung Andy’s poster on the back of her closet door. He looked comfortable there, lying sideways propped up on one arm smiling only for her, the big chain medallion shining on his chest. Joy ran her fingers across the bulge in his white jeans, wondering what a man looked like naked. “I Just Want to be Your Everything” on repeat play, she dabbed her brother’s Jovan Musk on Andy’s neck and lips so that he’d smell like a man when shekissed him. Not that she knew what a
real
man tasted like, but as far as she was concerned, Andy Gibb was all the man she needed and the least likely to break her heart.
    Joy had contemplated running away from home a million times but this time she was determined to do it. Kneeling down to reach her stash of cash neatly hidden under her bed in an old wooden box that her father had kept his wristwatches in, she counted her savings from walking the neighbor’s dog and delivering newspapers on Sunday. Ten dollars. Twelve if you added the coins. She was loaded! Ten dollars could get her a train ticket all the way to California, couldn’t it?
    Joy dove up onto her mattress relieved, looking up at Andy on the door and wondering if he’d want to go with her. Problem was he might wrinkle. So she took two slightly melted Snickers’ worth of time to contemplate what to do. Luckily, Andy Gibb was so patient with all her bad habits.
    With the last bite chewed, she licked her chocolaty fingers, scrunched up the wrappers and decided it was time to make her exit. Cash box under her arm, she kissed Andy goodbye. Forever. He was the one person she could depend on to keep an eye on her room in her absence.
    But she instead she found herself wandering the garden center roaming between the rows of perennials, debating about whether it might be smarter to wait until summer vacation to start her new life. And besides, that term paper was due on Monday—the Shakespeare assignment that counted for thirty credits towards her final grade. And Andy might be getting lonely back home….
    Scanning the rows of pink begonias and purple pansies, Joy came upon a fat, prickly cactus sitting all alone in the corner, soaking up the sun. Just the kind of plant Joy could relate to. She was sure it would be perfect for her mother, since it was different from anything else she’d ever seen, so she had the store clerk tie a pink ribbon around it, and handed over her tin of cash, before returning home to where her mother was busy trimming back some hedges.
    When Alice finally looked up, she took one look at the prickly plant and said, “Oh Joy, you shouldn’t have!” And meant it. Twirling the pot critically in her left hand she explained, “Course we can’t
really
grow cactus in a northeast garden. Needs full hot sun. Like out west in Arizona.” Joy’s face hung low. In a moment of rare understanding, Alice stood up and removed her garden gloves. She drew her daughter’s head into her chest very tightly, and declared, “Oh Joy, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Problem was, Alice didn’t know what to
do
with her either.

Chapter Seven
R. I. P.
Anger
    With the threat of April frostbite passed, the town has finally turned on the cemetery’s water spigot. Twisting the knob, I drag the long green hose to Joy’s grave, barely noticing that it only trickles droplets onto the firm row of Astilbes that