Filed to story: Love on the Sidelines (Natalie & Karl)
“A church picnic is one thing, but your folks aren’t going to want me hanging around your house.”
“I told you, Mama said you’re welcome anytime you want to come.”
“She was being polite.”
“Mama is always polite, but she wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t mean it.” He didn’t start believing me until later that day, while we were eating. It was the Judge who convinced him.
Our picnics have a strict hierarchy when it comes to serving food. One of the men says grace, then the chaos begins. Children’s plates were fixed first, and when they were settled and busy eating, the men lined up, women fussing around them, making sure they found everything. The women went last, being careful to sample every dish on the tables so no one would have hurt feelings.
When the children were called, Karl followed me reluctantly. We were an island of two in a sea of kids as we made our way down the table, everyone giving us a wide berth. When it became clear to me that he wasn’t going to dig in, I did it for him, piling his plate high with everything I thought he might like. Heaps of potato salad, baked beans, corn on the cob, and deviled eggs were topped by slices of ham, fried chicken, and yeast rolls. Our paper plates threatened to fold and collapse as we carried them to our table.
I left Karl staring between the food and the books, an inscrutable expression on his face, and darted back into the fray to snag two sodas from a cooler of ice. By the time I made it back, the Judge had taken a seat across from Karl and was quizzing him about engines. One of the best things about the Judge was that he never talked to you like you were a kid.
“You like working on engines?” I heard as I plunked a soda in front of Karl.
“Yes, sir. Engines make sense, like a big jigsaw puzzle. Each part has one place where it fits and the motor won’t work unless that part is where it’s supposed to be.” The Judge nodded. “Problem is trying to figure out which parts are the bad ones.
I’m hoping the fuel pump I bought yesterday helps. I’ve been working on that Chevy for three years now and still haven’t managed to start it.”
“What does it do when you try?”
And just like that, Karl was lost. He and the Judge talked engines the rest of the afternoon. I don’t think he even realized that he’d cleaned his plate, one hand staying possessively on the books while they mulled over possible mechanical failures and how to rectify the trouble. Not even the presence of my mother and aunts slowed the discussion. I stayed with them, forgoing a chance to whip some butt in the softball game after dinner, happy to simply watch Karl. I’d never seen him so animated before, so enthusiastic, and it fascinated me. He was beautiful in a way I’d never considered.
His black hair shot blue-white highlights when he moved. His gray eyes sparkled with interest. And when he laughed, dimples appeared in his cheeks, giving him a mischievous look. Once I caught my mother and both aunts staring at him with a bemused expression before they gave each other meaningful glances.
In hindsight, I suspect that was the day my crush on Karl started. I was only eight and I didn’t understand love and desire, would have thought it was disgusting if anyone had told me about it, but watching him made me feel warm and content inside.
Somehow, my mission had gone from saving him to keeping him close enough that I could see him every day. My brain whirled with schemes and plans, but the Judge solved my dilemma before I could put any of them into action. By the time the picnic ended and everyone was packing to go home, Karl had agreed to help the Judge work on the Chevy whenever he had some free time.
School was due to start the Friday after the picnic, which gave me only a few more days to savor my freedom. On Wednesday, Jenna received permission from Droogin the Dragon, a neighbor her father paid to take care of her while he worked, to visit me for the day. We were starting fourth grade that year and we did an in-depth analysis of everything from the teacher, and the clothes we’d bought, to the other kids in our class.
Somehow, I managed to restrain myself from talking about Karl. He was mine, and I didn’t want to share him even with my best friend.
Jenna reminded me a lot of Little Orphan Annie. She didn’t have the funny eyes, but she sure had the hair. It was bright red, a tangled mass of fiery corkscrews that defied any attempt to tame it. Her personality went right along with her hair. She was a live wire, never still, always talking. Small doses of Jenna usually went a long way, but for me she was perfect. While I didn’t have a shy bone in my body, I enjoyed listening more than talking, which suited Jenna to a tee. There was nothing I liked better than curling up with a book for hours on end. Jenna thought books were a form of torture inflicted on us by sadistic teachers who wanted to make our lives miserable. I’d done my best to change her attitude, but truthfully, I think she couldn’t sit still long enough to read.
We were in the barn that day, playing with the newest batch of kittens to arrive.
They were three weeks old, tottering on weak legs as they explored us and their 19 surroundings. The mother, still half-wild, sat on the other side of the barn keeping a watchful eye on her babies.
“Hugh likes you,” Jenna stated.
“Yuck! He does not.” I ran a hand over the soft fur of a black kitten attached to my shirt like Velcro.
“That’s why he’s always teasing you.”
“He teases everyone. That’s just Hugh.”
“Well, I think he’s cute.”
“You think all boys are cute.” Jenna was light-years ahead of me when it came to the opposite sex. She had passed the point where all males were nuisances in the third grade.
I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and glanced toward the open barn doors. Karl’s gaze met mine and he smiled a little before vanishing in the direction of the shed. During the last few days, he seemed to have developed an uncanny knack for knowing when the Judge was going to be working on the Chevy. As soon as the Judge raised the hood, Karl would appear. They would huddle over the engine like doctors trying to save the life of a patient on the operating table, mumbling to each other as they poked this and prodded that. Usually I stood nearby, the nurse waiting to slap the appropriate tool into an outstretched hand.
“Wrench.” Whack.
“Screwdriver.” Whack.
But today, I had company. They would have to get along without me.
“What’s he doing here?” Jenna’s blue eyes narrowed as she watched me.
“Helping the Judge work on his car.”
She tugged a straw over the ground, letting one of the kittens make tentative swipes at it. “Piggy is telling everyone you’re in love with him because you brought him to the picnic Sunday. She calls him Nasty Karly.”
Instantly, I bristled. “He is not nasty. He’s a lot cleaner than Piggy. She sweats all the time.” Jenna and her father hadn’t been at the picnic. When they went at all, they attended the Methodist church near their house.
“I know.” Her turned-up nose wrinkled. “I had to sit next to her in art last year. So why did you take him to the picnic?”