Page 133 of Nobody's Girl

“He’s dead too. Six years ago. That’s why Granny moved here.” Ethan got out of the car and held out his hand for Kel to take. “Don’t mention him, Kel. It makes her sad.”

The door swung open just as Kel got out of the car and an old woman shouted, “There he is! My big boy!”

Kel marveled at how old the woman looked.

She was ancient!

The old lady strode right up to Ethan with an odd hobbled gait and kissed Ethan smack on the lips. His eyes went wide as did Kel’s as the old woman even tried to slip him the tongue, a situation which he expertly handled, pulling her to one side as he introduced Kel, “Granny, this is my girl, Kel.”

Without so much as a glance, as the old woman’s eyes were glued to Ethan, she said, “Great. Hi, Kel. Come on inside, Ethan; your cousins are visiting me this weekend. I bet you’ve missed Herbert and Crenshaw.”

Kel laughed, as their names sounded like the title of a law firm. And she earned Ethan’s granny’s attention for that. A scowl moved over her wrinkly face, prompting Ethan to take her hand and lead her away from Kel. “I have missed the boys from my youth very much.”

“Crenshaw’s a girl, sweetheart,” Granny corrected him.

Ethan was stuck as to what to say. He should’ve known the sex of his own cousins, after all. But when the other two met them at the door, he found it easy to fix his little mistake. They both looked like men. Odd men. One wore a helmet like a bicycle racer would, in electric blue. He had on a tight little unitard in the same color. The other wore blue jean overalls and had a stick of some kind he was chewing on. The ragged cut of his hair, the shapeless clothing, and the fact that they both had manly features made it impossible to figure out which one was the female out of the two.

Looking at Kel over his shoulder, he whispered, “See why I called them both boys, now?”

She nodded and tried not to laugh at the weird-looking duo. “’Sup, Ethan?” the unitard-wearing man called out as they walked into the house.

“Not much.” Ethan looked at the old woman, who was clinging to him, for some help getting which guy that one was.

“Oh, Herbert, do you have to use such language?” she asked the helmet-wearing man playing the part of Ethan’s cousin.

“Sorry, Granny,” Herbert said then set his eyes on Kel. “Howdy, pretty lady.”

Kel smiled. “Hi, Herbert.” She extended her hand to the other she then realized was the woman named Crenshaw. “Hello, Crenshaw. How are you?”

Holding onto the straps that held up her overalls, she didn’t bother to shake Kel’s hand. Instead she turned around with a huff. “She ain’t so great.”

Ethan looked at Kel with a frown. “Don’t listen to her. You’re fantastic, love.”

Granny patted Ethan on his arm. “Never mind her. She’s had a crush on Mr. Tall and Handsome here since they were kids.”

“Not your blood cousins, huh, Ethan?” Kel asked, as they had no accents at all.

“Oh, yes, they are. My uncle moved here before they were born. He married a woman from the hills of Tennessee,” Ethan lied.

Kel was a little taken aback but shrugged it off as she leaned in to whisper, “I suppose their mother’s blood line was a bit muddled with incest.”

“Well, to be truthful, that runs on both sides.” Ethan stifled a grin as he followed the cousins to a large room with more red roses, filling vases around the room.

The expression that covered Kel’s face nearly made Ethan laugh, but he managed to hold it in. He’d told the little acting troupe to lay it on thick, and they were off to a remarkable start.

When Herbert shouted at the top of his lungs, “Shit fire and save the matches!” Kel froze as she watched the man’s arms fly into the air as if he was praising God or something.

Ethan leaned in close to whisper, “He has Tourette’s Syndrome. Please don’t be offended by anything he does or says. He can’t help it. Things just burst out of him.”

“Oh,” she whispered back as she watched Herbert walk in a circle three times then sit on the sofa. “And the circling behavior? What’s that called?”

Ethan had no idea, so he made something up. “Poor guy thinks he’s a puppy sometimes.”

“That’s awful. How’d that happen? Did he have an accident and damage his brain? Is that why he wears a helmet?” she asked.

“No, he wears a helmet because he thinks it looks cool, Kel. You should compliment him on it,” he told her as he held back the urge to laugh. “And the Tourette’s is genetic. We have 12 people in the family who have it.”

“So anyone could get it then?” she asked him as her head swam.