Chapter 7

Mark became more or less a nonperson in the community while I became more engaged. My circle of friends widened. It was six weeks before I saw Brian again. I sat on the steps of my front porch on a Saturday morning and watched him teach his niece how to ride a bike, a brand new shiny pink one. It only took him about ninety minutes before she was peddling around in front of her house, laughing with joy. The whole thing made me smile.

He’d glanced over and waved and I’m sure I made a fool of myself waving back. Mark came out and watched for a minute.

“Who is that?”

“That’s Brian Meadows, Amanda’s brother. He was at the party but I don’t think you met him.”

He flinched a little, not wanting to be reminded. He blamed the whole thing later on his friend and what he called ‘white liquor’. I asked Amanda about it and she laughed. “It’s moonshine, honey. Home made ‘corn likker’. It’s pretty potent stuff, especially if you’ve never encountered it before.” The conversation made forgiving Mark a little easier.

“You need to stay away from him.”

The vehement way he said it shocked me. “Mark, I only met him once and we only talked for a few minutes.” Well, unless you counted the later conversation where he talked me out of my clothes. I couldn’t make myself feel guilty and it was a secret that was going with me to my grave. I’d even dreamed about him a few times, vauge erotic images that seemed to flow without rhyme or reason. I invariably woke up to wet panties.

“I don’t care. Stay away. I don’t like his vibe.”

“His vibe? The man is half a football field away and you can feel his vibe? It must be a guy thing because I’m not getting it.”

He just grunted and stomped back into the house.

The next week I walked down to the corner market just to get out of the house. There was an ice cream parlor next door and I looked up when someone tapped the glass. It was Brian and he was motioning me in. Should I go? Why not? It was the middle of the day, broad daylight with tons of people around. Even if it had been the middle of the night and we had been alone, I would have still went.

He had his niece and nephew with him. He gave me a brief hug that made me tingle, then introduced us. “ Angel, this is Marcus and Tammy, but she goes by Little Angel. Please join us.”

The kids were polite and respectful and had a vocabulary well beyond their age. I asked Brian about it later. “Amanda and I have never talked down to them. We speak to them like we would every one else. If they don’t understand a word they make us stop and explain it. Marcus is in the second grade and his teacher says he reminds her of her college English professor.”

They made a guessing game over what I would order.

“Moose Tracks,” declared Marcus.

“Rocky Road,” said Tammy, with conviction.

“I think it’s something more basic. Vanilla. Why vanilla? Because it can be used as the base of so many delicious concoctions. What do you add? Nuts, sprinkles? No, I think more along the lines of some kind of fruit. Am I right?”

How does me get into my head like that? “You’re right. Vanilla, with pineapple and lots of juice.”

Brian got up to order for me. “Listen to these angelic children as they tell you what a wonderful uncle I am. Every word will be gospel truth.”

They giggled and chattered away while he brought me my treat. Tammy tasted it and declared it her new favorite, calling it ‘Angel cream’.