Monday, April 8th, 2013 -- mid-morning
The phone only rang twice before somebody picked up. "Hello?" The voice wasn't unlike Jackie's, full of twang, even in just the one word.
He wishes, for a second, that it had gone on ringing for longer, or maybe that no one had picked up and he'd have to call back later.
"Hi, Mrs. Daniels, it's Ben, Jackie's--"
"Ben!" He actually pulls the phone away from his ear for a second, flinching mildly. Jackie was her mother's daughter alright. "Ben, how many times do I have t' tell y', y' call me Lula, not Mrs. Daniels. My oh my, it's good t' hear yer voice. Jackie gave me yer regrets not makin' it here fer Easter. Y' work too hard!"
Ben finds himself smiling, in spite of everything. "Yes ma'am. Lula, sorry. I'll try to make it there soon. It--"
"An' you bring Adam when y' do. Jackie's shown me pictures and he's such a handsome boy but -- d'y'feed 'im?" Ben can't help it; he's laughing, silently. "I'll fix 'im up right. Spoil that child rotten, since my own children are takin' their sweet time givin' me grandbabies! I'm gonna be dead an' gone b'fore I got one'a my own, I know it." She sounds so mournful. Ben has to take a second or three to compose himself before he can say anything.
"I'll be sure to bring Adam along next time. Soon, alright? As soon as I can get away. Listen, Lula? It was nice to talk to you, but I was calling for Beau. Is he around?"
"Y'better. And I sure do hope it's soon, Ben. We really did miss y' on Easter. Alright, now here's Beau. Don't be a stranger, Ben. You call anytime."
There's a quiet rustle as the phone gets passed off, and then the gruff voice of Jackie's father. "Hello?"
He shouldn't be this nervous. "Hi, Beau. It's Ben." And he pauses, stupidly realizing that he had no idea how to say what he needed to.
Beau doesn't sound particularly patient when he prompts, "An' yer callin' because..."
Oh. He knows the answer to this. "Because I want to marry your daughter." It's silent on the other end of the line; Ben swears he can almost feel the daggers Jackie's father must be glaring at him, even through the phone. "I--"
It's only when Ben starts to explain that Beau cuts him off. "Ben, there ain't a damn thing you can say to convince me that you're right for my daughter. Y' come here from Canada, with a good job, a career. You're-- how old are y'? I don't even know. Jackie wouldn't never say."
"Forty-nine, sir--"
"Forty-nine? You know that's the same age as her mama?" It's a rhetorical question, apparently, because Ben doesn't even have time to answer. "Y'ain't from here, y'ain't like us, an' you're her mama's age. An' for some reason y' set your sights on her, an' somehow, y' manage to get my little girl's attention--"
Ben's about to hang up, because as rude as it was, it couldn't make this worse.
"--an' I ain't never seen her so happy. An' I mean... she's real, real happy. Like she glows. My li'l girl, she always glows, but the way she does around you, it's like comparin' a flashlight to a firefly. Y' done made 'er ten times brighter, somehow."
Ben can't form words right away to respond, but eventually, "And I want to keep doing that for her, making her glow. I promised her I would. I promise you that, too. I'm going to take good care of her."
"I know y'will, son," and Ben knows that's a more casual way to address men younger than you down South, but it's one Beau's never used with him before, and Ben doesn't think it's coincidence that he's using it now. "An' if y' don't, she'll finish y'off long b'fore I get t'y'. Raised 'er right."
Ben knows that isn?t a joke, not really. ?You did, sir. You really did. Thank you,? for raising Jackie right, for entrusting his daughter to Ben.
?No, Ben. Thank you. Fer makin? my baby girl glow.?
Neither would ever admit it, but they?re both just a tiny, tiny bit choked up when the silence lingers a little too long and they both hang up almost at the same time.
The phone only rang twice before somebody picked up. "Hello?" The voice wasn't unlike Jackie's, full of twang, even in just the one word.
He wishes, for a second, that it had gone on ringing for longer, or maybe that no one had picked up and he'd have to call back later.
"Hi, Mrs. Daniels, it's Ben, Jackie's--"
"Ben!" He actually pulls the phone away from his ear for a second, flinching mildly. Jackie was her mother's daughter alright. "Ben, how many times do I have t' tell y', y' call me Lula, not Mrs. Daniels. My oh my, it's good t' hear yer voice. Jackie gave me yer regrets not makin' it here fer Easter. Y' work too hard!"
Ben finds himself smiling, in spite of everything. "Yes ma'am. Lula, sorry. I'll try to make it there soon. It--"
"An' you bring Adam when y' do. Jackie's shown me pictures and he's such a handsome boy but -- d'y'feed 'im?" Ben can't help it; he's laughing, silently. "I'll fix 'im up right. Spoil that child rotten, since my own children are takin' their sweet time givin' me grandbabies! I'm gonna be dead an' gone b'fore I got one'a my own, I know it." She sounds so mournful. Ben has to take a second or three to compose himself before he can say anything.
"I'll be sure to bring Adam along next time. Soon, alright? As soon as I can get away. Listen, Lula? It was nice to talk to you, but I was calling for Beau. Is he around?"
"Y'better. And I sure do hope it's soon, Ben. We really did miss y' on Easter. Alright, now here's Beau. Don't be a stranger, Ben. You call anytime."
There's a quiet rustle as the phone gets passed off, and then the gruff voice of Jackie's father. "Hello?"
He shouldn't be this nervous. "Hi, Beau. It's Ben." And he pauses, stupidly realizing that he had no idea how to say what he needed to.
Beau doesn't sound particularly patient when he prompts, "An' yer callin' because..."
Oh. He knows the answer to this. "Because I want to marry your daughter." It's silent on the other end of the line; Ben swears he can almost feel the daggers Jackie's father must be glaring at him, even through the phone. "I--"
It's only when Ben starts to explain that Beau cuts him off. "Ben, there ain't a damn thing you can say to convince me that you're right for my daughter. Y' come here from Canada, with a good job, a career. You're-- how old are y'? I don't even know. Jackie wouldn't never say."
"Forty-nine, sir--"
"Forty-nine? You know that's the same age as her mama?" It's a rhetorical question, apparently, because Ben doesn't even have time to answer. "Y'ain't from here, y'ain't like us, an' you're her mama's age. An' for some reason y' set your sights on her, an' somehow, y' manage to get my little girl's attention--"
Ben's about to hang up, because as rude as it was, it couldn't make this worse.
"--an' I ain't never seen her so happy. An' I mean... she's real, real happy. Like she glows. My li'l girl, she always glows, but the way she does around you, it's like comparin' a flashlight to a firefly. Y' done made 'er ten times brighter, somehow."
Ben can't form words right away to respond, but eventually, "And I want to keep doing that for her, making her glow. I promised her I would. I promise you that, too. I'm going to take good care of her."
"I know y'will, son," and Ben knows that's a more casual way to address men younger than you down South, but it's one Beau's never used with him before, and Ben doesn't think it's coincidence that he's using it now. "An' if y' don't, she'll finish y'off long b'fore I get t'y'. Raised 'er right."
Ben knows that isn?t a joke, not really. ?You did, sir. You really did. Thank you,? for raising Jackie right, for entrusting his daughter to Ben.
?No, Ben. Thank you. Fer makin? my baby girl glow.?
Neither would ever admit it, but they?re both just a tiny, tiny bit choked up when the silence lingers a little too long and they both hang up almost at the same time.