AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I stood and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Later, Dad. Love you.”
Walking out of the room,I took the backway down the stairsto see the milk right where I left it. Grabbing the jugs, I walked outsideand set them in the basket on the back of mymoped.I didn’t own a car. The city was small enough to where youdidn’tneed a car unless you worked in Fort Myers, the largest city about forty minutes away.If I needed to go to the next city, I borrowed one of my parents’ cars.
My watched buzzed. “Don’t forget your helmet,” my momsaid.
“I’mnottt,” I whispered like she was withinearshot, and I didn’t want her to hear.
After snapping on my helmet, I got on my scooter, kickedthe kickstand up while turning on theengine. I pulled out of the yard and into the street.When I stopped at the stop sign, Itooted my horn atthe older couple sitting on their porch.
“Heyyy, Quinci!How your daddy doing? I been praying for him!” Mrs. Steele shouted out.“And tell your grandma I saidhey!”
“Hedoinggood!I’ll lethim know you asked about him!Have a good day!” I shouted out before pulling away.
It was after eight in themorning,so I’dmore than likely be speaking to everyonewho wasn’t at work today,and the retirees,at every stop sign.
For me, growing up in Citrus Grove was always like a vacation.Our population was less than two thousandandhad an island feel.Our city was a place that you could travelto all year around, even during hurricane season because we hardly eversuffered any damage.According tothe travel column on CNN,our beach was one of the bestbeaches in the world. Granted, it was in the bottom nineties, but still, we made the list.Weeven got a small cameo on The Travel Channel once before, so I loved to brag about my little cityany chance I got. It was why I never had to leave this place.It was beautifuland had pretty much everything I needed.
About ten minutes later, I pulled in front of Tranquil Beach.A coupleguests were already sitting on the porch, enjoying the summer breeze.After kicking the kickstand down, I got off the moped while taking off my helmet.One of my grandmothers burst out of the door.
“Hey, Quinn! Thought I was going to have to send somebody after you.”
“Good morning, GrannyJo,” I spoke.
That was my mom’s mom. I grabbed the milk out of the basket and walked up the steps.
“Paul,Pat, y’all remember mygranddaughter,don’t you?”
I nodded my head. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Davis.”
They smiled and waved.This was their third or fourth year coming and staying for weeks at a time, and Granny Jo still introduced methat way. In the house, my other grandma was standing at the sink washing dishes.She was my dad’s mom.
“Good morning, GrannyAnne.” I leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Which fridge you want these in?”
“Put them in thedeep freezer.”
Doing as I was told, Iwalked across the kitchen to put them away.
“Bern called here and said that she’s gotten you a job all the way in New York.”
Granny Jo rounded the corner.“Saywhat now?That’s what Bern was calling here to talk about a few minutes ago?”
Granny Anne nodded her head.
Switching the subject,I said, “Mr. and Mrs. Steele told meto tell y’all hello.”
Granny Anne dropped the pan she was washing in the water and started slowly shaking her headwhile sighing. “You about to get her started, Quinn.”
“Damn right she is. You know that oldheffawas going around, telling people at the church that my baked chicken wasn’t cooked right and gave her the runs. Now how it was my baked chicken that gave her the runs when everybody else said that my baked chicken was the best thing on the plates?She just mad that everyone told her to stop bringing that mushy-in-the-middle cake that she been making.”
“Okay, I’m going to get out of here,” I said to Granny Annein the middle of Granny Jo going off.
I kissed her cheek before walking across the kitchen and kissing my fussing granny on her cheek too.
“Have a good day, baby,” she said before she started fussing again.“Andshe had the nerve to tell my grandbaby to tell me‘hey’. Hmph. Do you hear me, Anne?”
Outside,it felt like the sunhad warmed another ten degrees. Strapping on my helmet, I scooted to work.The long,slightly curvyroad to the grove wasnearly ten miles.You knew you were close when the smell of citrus filled the air. Coming into view were the several rows of orange and lemon trees. I tooted my little horn at some of the workers who were already out in the field working. When I pulled in the parking lot, Kemba, one of my closest friends,was stepping out of his carwith his phone pressed to his ear.
I killed the engine, kicked down the kickstand, and stepped off my moped. “You must be going somewhere when you leave here?” I asked him whileunsnapping my helmet.
