Making Faces

“Right.” Fern's voice sounded more awake, as if she found the subject matter highly interesting.

“So the guy marries the ugly girl. They have a wedding, a feast, and all the wedding night fun stuff.”

“This is a joke?”

Ambrose continued as if she hadn't interrupted him. “The next morning the guy rolls over and sees his new bride and he screams. His wife wakes up and asks him what's wrong. He covers his eyes and yells, 'Sing! For the love of God, Sing!'“

Fern groaned, indicating that the joke was lame. But then she started to laugh, and Ambrose laughed with her, bouncing beside her on the trampoline in Pastor Taylor's backyard like a couple of little kids. But in the back of his mind he wondered uneasily if there wouldn't come a point when Fern would look at him and beg him to sing.





Bailey had very little independence. But in his chair with his hand resting on the controls, he could motor down to Bob's gas station on the corner, to Jolley's to see Fern after work, or to the church in case he wanted to torment his Uncle Joshua with theological hypotheticals. Pastor Joshua was usually very patient and willing to talk, but Bailey was sure he groaned when he saw Bailey coming.

He knew he shouldn't be out as late as he was. But that was part of the thrill too. Twenty-one-year old men should not have curfews. The only thing he felt guilty about was that when he got home he would have to wake his mom or dad to help him to bed, which took some of the fun out of his late night excursions. Plus, he wanted to head to the store and see Fern and Ambrose. Those two needed a chaperone. It had started to steam whenever they were together, and Bailey was pretty sure it wouldn't be long before he was the third wheel on wheels. He laughed to himself. He loved puns. And he loved that Fern and Ambrose had found each other. He wouldn't be around forever. Now that Fern had Ambrose, he wouldn't worry about her so much.

He wasn't living dangerously tonight. He'd tried to sneak out without the headlamp, but his mom came running out behind him. Maybe he would just conveniently leave it at the store when he left. He hated the damn thing. He smirked, feeling like a rebel. He stayed on the sidewalk and streetlights guided his way; he really didn’t think he needed a spotlight shining from his forehead. Bob's Speedy Mart was on his way and Bailey decided to stop in, just because he could. He waited patiently until Bob himself came out from behind the register and opened the door for him.

“Hey, Bailey.” Bob blinked and tried not to look directly at the light blazing from Bailey's headlamp.

“You can turn that off, Bob. Just click the button on the top,” Bailey instructed. Bob tried, but when he clicked the button the light still blazed, as if there was something that had come loose on the inside. He pulled the elastic band around so the light shone from the back of Bailey's head and he could look at him without going blind.

“That'll have to do, Bailey. What can I help you with?” Bob made himself available as he always did, knowing Bailey's limitations.

“I need a twelve pack and some chew,” Bailey said seriously. Bob's mouth dropped open slightly, and he shifted his weight uncertainly.

“Um. Okay. Do you have your ID on ya?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Well . . . what kind would you like?”

“Starbursts come in packs of twelve don't they? And I prefer to chew Wrigley's. Mint, please.”

Bob chortled, his big belly shaking above his giant belt buckle. He shook his head. “You had me going for a minute, Sheen. I had this picture of you heading down the road with your lip full of tobacco and a case of Bud on your lap.”

Bob followed Bailey down the aisles, picking up his purchases. Bailey stopped in front of the condoms.

“I'll need some of those too, Bob. The biggest box you have.”

Bob raised one eyebrow, but this time he wasn't falling for it. Bailey snickered and rolled on.

Ten minutes later, Bailey was back on the road, his purchases tucked by his side, Bob laughing as he waved him off, having been thoroughly entertained. He realized belatedly that he hadn't righted Bailey's headlamp.

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