Cemetery Street

Because of my blushing problem, Diane tormented me. I would have died if she ever learned why I blushed in her presence.

Unlike me, Shannie was nearly impossible to embarrass - she got flustered when anyone paid her a compliment. This would be a valuable tool for me.

My mother interpreted Shannie's confidence as brazenness and disliked Shannie. Around Shannie my mother was pleasant but wary, on guard that the daughter of that wanton women would corrupt her son. She disliked Shannie; she despised Diane Ortolan.

My father adored Shannie - that they held conversations drove my mother bat shit. It infuriated her that a thirteen-year-old could hold my father's attention, especially since she couldn't.

My mother's feelings manifested themselves when she tried her hand at gardening. Her idea was to plant a seed, water it once, and expect the hanging gardens of Babylon. She didn't realize the work involved and became good at raising weeds. Diane, possessed a green thumb; she had won numerous local gardening events. Her yard was so colorful it made the rest of Cemetery Street seem black and white. She boasted having over a hundred varieties of flowers in her beds. "Something is always blooming, "she crowed. My mother said Diane was trying to lure a hundred varieties of men into her bed.

One evening I was walking through the kitchen when I heard my mother groan. "Look at that. I guess all it takes is a little skin." She was spying Diane pruning her flower beds. Diane was forever in a pair of cutoffs and a skimpy top.

"Mom, where do babies come from?" I asked.

"A woman's body," she answered her attention still upon Diane.

"How does it get there?

The color drained from her face. "A pill," she stammered.

"How come when I asked you for a little brother you never took a pill?"

"Because your father and I didn't want to have another baby."

"But you do now?"

"Yes, we do."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because we've changed our minds."

"Why?" I repeated.

"We're ready for one now."

"How come?"

"Because we are."

"Because why?"

"Jesus James," my mother snapped. "Because we want this one."

"Oh, like I guess you didn't want me."

"Of course we wanted you."

"Really. Because I know you had to get married because of me."

"Yes. This is true. But if I had to take a pill to get pregnant wouldn't I have had to want you?" she asked.