A Love Song for Bobby Long Page #4

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Always in a whisper.

I'd go through the fields

saying it to myself: "P*ssy."

One day, we was all...

playing ball out in a broom sage field.

And up rode Leroy Tuberville.

Now, Leroy was

an upstanding delinquent. Twelve.

And his shoulders were already broad,

and his fingers were stained with tobacco.

And Leroy, he parked himself casually

by third base, and he went in his pocket...

and he pulled out something. He started

throwing it high in the air like that.

And I watched him play it cool...

his mysterious jewel going up and down.

I couldn't take it any longer. I had to ask.

"What's that you got there, Leroy?"

And everyone fell silent.

And Leroy looked at me

with that nasty sideways grin...

and he said,

"It's a piece of p*ssy, Long. My very own."

My face got hot, my breath quickened.

There he was, with this perfect piece of girl,

tossing her up in the air.

And I watched, knowing that I had seen God

for the first time.

And I wanted her for my very own.

But old Leroy popped his treasure

between his teeth...

jumped on his bike grinning at me,

and rode off...

leaving us in a cloud of dust and desire.

And it was in that tormented haze,

at the age of 10...

when I dedicated the rest of my life...

to finding my very own tiny piece

of love and wonder...

that I could carry with me for eternity.

All right, that's it. I'm going home.

To Florida?

Now, look, be careful.

"We cannot tear out

a single page of our lives...

"but we can throw

the whole book in the fire."

George Sand.

I thought that would be a hard one.

I don't feel right about lying to her.

What would a teenage hussy want

with this place, anyway?

Said herself it was a shithole.

She's better off.

Besides, when you sell that book,

everything will change...

Change?

We'll go to Paris, drink '61 Latour...

write bad poetry.

Yes, everything will be just perfect.

"We die only once,

and for such a long time."

Molire.

She's here, honey.

I'll take better care of her this time.

See you tomorrow, darling.

Your mama used to come here a lot.

Why do you talk about her so much?

Because I miss her, I guess.

Were you in love with her or something?

We all loved her.

- She knew how to reach people, you know?

- No, not really.

The night before my grandma died...

she warned me that

Lorraine would always be selfish.

She finally told me about my father.

She did, did she?

Some sax player in Memphis.

Pretty much a one-night stand.

I think Gran wanted me to know that when

she was gone, I'd be totally on my own.

She was right.

After she died,

I hardly ever heard from Lorraine.

Never even got a chance to hear her sing.

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