her two boys, husband and English
bulldog.
by Debbie Ann Eis
Mary Louise stood at her teacher's bedroom door, holding her guitar by its
neck like a doll. Ned was jumping on his bed, strumming, screaming song
lyrics, his shaggy beard flopping up and down with each bounce. She
thought he looked ten feet tall and as sturdy and grounded as the oak tree
she climbed in her back yard.
"Mary Louise, you beautiful girl! Come here and hug Ned!" Ned jumped off
the bed, grabbed her, enveloping her body with his thick arms. He smelled
like sweat and something else, something sweet, like incense. "Did you write
your song for me?"
She looked down at a dirty sock dangling off the edge of his rocking chair.
Ned lived with his Daddy in a house so small he told her he had a hard time
moving from one room to the next, which was why his bedroom served a
dual purpose - music and sleep. But she didn't mind learning music in his
dirty bedroom. She would listen to Ned anywhere.
Mary Louise finally nodded yes, a lie.
"Yes! Mary Louise wrote me a song. God Almighty we're doing OK! Mary
Louise can't talk, but she is gonna sing to me. Alleluia!!" Ned picked up his
guitar and started strumming so hard it looked almost violent. He hopped
back on his bed and sang:
I got a girl she's barely ten
She's my little girlfriend
Can't wait for her to marry me
I gotta wait ten more years
Then I get to buy her beers.
The lyrics rambled on in a discordant melody, a chaotic rhythm. Mary
Louise smiled but didn't say anything. When he finally jumped back off the
bed, the navy blue wool blanket was a ball, and the fitted sheet had popped
off the corner, revealing a brown stained mattress.
Ned was out of breath. "Okay, enough love songs. How are you today,
Mary Louise?"
Mary Louise smiled and nodded.
"That does not answer my question. How are you?" Ned bent down and
looked at Mary Louise. "It's called an open ended question. You got to say
something besides yes."
Mary Louise felt a blush. She smiled and shifted her eyes away.
"Okay, fine. I'll wait and hear your voice when you sing. I'm already in love
with you, even though you don't talk. I know the song is gonna do it for me,
Mary Louise. You're gonna sing me into your heart, take me to heaven, fill
me with your music."
Mary Louise sat down with her guitar and felt her blush spread down her
neck, like a hot stream. Her breathing turned rapid; her heart jumped.
"Okay, Mary Louise, just start singing."
She started to softly strum G, then, C, then D. The strumming grew faster
and faster as if her hands had been wound tight and let go.
Ned put his hand on her forearm, and she stopped strumming. "Mary
Louise, ya gotta sing."
Mary Louise started strumming again, lightly. She tried to whisper words,
but they came out in a cough. She stopped playing.
"Mary Louise."
She nodded .
"Why is your Mama sending you here?"
Mary Louise shrugged.
"I mean why does she send her ten-year-old daughter who never talks to
some college drop out for guitar lessons?"
Mary Louise noticed the way Ned looked at her, his eyes narrowing, his
brows wrinkling. He wasn't being funny anymore, but she couldn't tell if he
was getting angry. Anger always came so fast and furious, and it always
hurt the most when she was caught off guard. She'd never seen Ned angry
so she couldn't tell what the signs were.
"Do you want to be here?"
Mary Louise nodded. She was sinking inside, thinking that he was going to
call it all off, end her lessons, and she would never see him again, never
hear his crazy songs.
"Well then, girl, sing your ass off!"
Mary Louise jumped up with her guitar, ran to the closet, pushed herself into
his clothes and slammed the door. She backed up into his shirts and let go
of her guitar. His voice was muffled outside the door. The knob turned.
"Mary Louise, come out of there. I'm just foolin. Come out of there."
She grabbed his shirts in a bundle, pushed her face into the cotton and
breathed.
Ned opened the door and stepped into the closet. "You don't have to sing
yet, Mary Louise," Ned whispered. Then he bent over, wrapped his arms
around her and started swaying back and forth. "I forgot the rocking. You
gotta rock first before you roll."
They rocked quietly among his shirts and coats, his arms holding her firm,
his breath blowing lightly upon her cheek. Mary Louise closed her eyes and
tried to imagine her song, but she only felt a melody, soft, soothing, like a
pinhole in the dark, allowing in more light than a lifetime could hold.
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