Mean Season. Heather Cochran
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I swear I’d seen that same look in every one of his movies. His eyes were wide open and sad, and his chin was tilted down, so that he was looking up at Momma through his lashes. After he spoke, his lips stayed slightly open, and the effect was a much younger, more innocent Joshua Reed. I couldn’t look away. It was a complete transformation. I don’t know whether Momma bought it, but she shook her head and left the room. Once she was gone, Joshua’s face returned to normal—or to the sour version of normal he’d worn from the moment he’d walked into our house. He took a bite of pancakes and turned back to the paper.
“I want to ask you,” Joshua said. Breakfast was over. Beau Ray had gone to take a shower, and Momma had left for work. “What’s the deal with the TV?”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Is there something wrong?”
“Well, I couldn’t figure it out. Where’s the cable box? How does it work?”
I cringed. I’d forgotten to mention it, because it had never been a big deal before. But I had a feeling that it was about to become one.
“We don’t have cable,” I told him. “It hasn’t come up the road yet.”
Joshua blinked at me. “You’re kidding,” he finally said. “You’re not kidding?”
I shook my head. “There’s cable in Charles Town—but that doesn’t help you,” I said.
“You can’t get cable? Who can’t get cable?” Joshua seemed confused. “Then what about satellite? You could get a dish. Satellite.”
I shrugged. Sandy’s parents’ new house in Charles Town had cable, so I’d always gone there if I wanted to watch something that didn’t come in on one of our five stations.
“Maybe,” I told him. “Momma has this thing about TV. You’ll have to ask her.” I left it at that.
“Jesus. You live in the absolute sticks,” Joshua said. He sounded amazed, but not in a good way.
“You act like someone told you Pinecob was a big city,” I said. “No one told you that. I know I didn’t tell you that. Besides, you know what a small town is like. You grew up in Rackett, Texas. Population three thousand.” I knew this from his fan club biography.
“Don’t talk to me about Rackett. I left that rat hole as soon as I could,” Joshua said.
I swallowed hard. “Some of us haven’t had that luxury,” I said. I hated that I felt so shaky.
Joshua looked around the empty room, then calmly back at me. He didn’t look at all ruffled.
“Apparently everyone else had the good sense to leave,” he said. “I’m going to call about getting satellite TV.” He left the room. Me, I left the house and didn’t come back again until after dinner, if only because I could.
When I came back—I would have caught hell from Momma had I stayed out any later—Joshua was up in Vince’s room, reading one of the ten scripts Lars had left with him. I walked down the hallway and saw Joshua glance at me before he kicked his door closed. Momma was in her bedroom, lining up square after square of calico cotton.
“We’re not getting no satellite TV,” she told me, before I could say a thing.
“Okay,” I said.
“Joshua asked, but I just…” She paused. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Even if he pays, you know television is addictive. I don’t want Beau Ray watching more than he already does.”
“Okay,” I said. “It wasn’t my idea. I don’t care.”
“Okay, then,” Momma said. “Beau Ray said you were out all day. You told me you’d already cleaned things up at work.”
“I just had a few more things to do there,” I told her. It was a lie. I’d gone and watched the same movie twice at the Charles Town Cinema.
Momma nodded. “I’m going out Thursday night, so I’ll be wanting you around here then,” she told me.
“You’re going out? Who with?” I asked. Momma almost never went out. I tried to think of the last time she’d socialized and who it had been with. “The Williamses?” I guessed.
“No.”
“Church potluck?”
“I’m going out to dinner with Bill Weintraub,” she said. I didn’t recognize the name at first, and then it hit me.
“Judge Weintraub?”
“He seems like a very nice man,” Momma said.
“You have a date with Judge Weintraub?” I asked. “Or is it some sort of meeting about Joshua?”
“I’m going out to dinner with him,” Momma said. “That’s all.” And I could tell that she wasn’t going to say anything more.
On Wednesday, day three of the ninety, there was a knock at our front door. I was doing dishes in the kitchen, so I pulled off my gloves and went to answer. A tall, skinny woman was waiting outside. She wore sunglasses even though our porch was shady and it looked like a storm was about to blow in. Behind her, in the driveway, a big black car sat idling.
“Is Joshua here?” she asked. She took off her sunglasses then and blinked. “I mean,” she continued, “I know he’s here. Can I see him?”
I stepped aside and let her into the house. “I think he’s sleeping,” I told her. “Come on up. You’re his girlfriend, right?” I asked.
I knew who she was. She was the model for All-American Cosmetics, among other things. I’d seen her in magazines. Her name was Elise.
“And you are?” Elise asked, following me up the stairs.
“I’m Leanne,” I said. “I live here.”
Elise nodded. “Oh right. I heard about you,” she said. “The fan.”
“Fan club,” I said. “Here’s his room.” I knocked lightly. Elise stood beside me and knocked hard.
“What?” Joshua snapped from behind the door. He opened it then, looked at me, then at Elise. He smiled when he saw Elise. “Hey, baby!” he said.
Elise stepped into Vince’s old room, and Joshua closed the door. I stood in the hallway for a moment, feeling even more stupid when I realized I still had a dish sponge in my hand. Then I walked back downstairs and sat at the kitchen table.
They were in his room for about an hour. After that, I heard the door open and the stairs creak as they came back down.
“You want some lemonade?” I heard him ask. She must have nodded because he called out, “Leanne, bring us some lemonade, would you? We’ll be on the front porch.”
I went to the refrigerator, then stopped. I didn’t open it. Instead, I walked to the kitchen window and listened. Joshua hadn’t been in our house long enough to realize that where I stood was perfect for overhearing any porch conversation. I’d discovered that in high school—my mother would listen to all my dates as they were ending, so I’d learned to give kisses in the car, beforehand.
“Are you kidding me?” I heard Joshua say. “You’re just telling me this now?”
“Sorry,” Elise said. But she didn’t sound sorry. I heard her sigh.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this, Leesie,” Joshua said. “I thought you of all people would stick around. We talked about this!”
“It’s clear that you have some work to do on yourself right now,” Elise said. “And I need to focus on my career. I’m the All-American spokesmodel. I’ve got a responsibility there.”
“You’re not even American,” Joshua said.
“That’s not the point,”