Goodbye Earl(15)

“Those are the pot ones; these are the boring ones,” Rosemarie said, pointing. The pot brownies were in purple glass, the regular ones in a metal tin. Caro had to be at the diner in a few hours, so she put a boring one on her plate; Ada did too. Rosemarie and Kasey dug in with their fingers, chomping fat chunks of chocolate they took from the purple glass.

Rosemarie picked up her guitar and played for a little bit as the girls hung out in the kitchen, talking and laughing and touching things. Rosemarie could sing anything; she had a soft, angelic voice like her mom. One of those light, wistful voices that could make you cry before your heart caught up to it, like Dolly Parton or Billie Holiday.

Rosemarie turned on Grateful Dead’s “Sugar Magnolia” as the girls walked through the beaded curtain separating the kitchen from the living room. The Kingston house was an explosion of color—the kitchen walls were psychedelic purple, the fridge was orange, the back door was Grecian blue. And so much green: hanging pothos in macrame holders that Rosemarie’s mom had made, aggressive unidentified vines wrapped around a trellis. The girls climbed into the conversation pit, where everything was tie-dyed pillows and marigold velvet. The Kingstons’ beloved mutt, Jerry Garcia, followed them and flopped down onto a triangle of sun on the floor.

“Y’all should paint stars on the ceiling,” Kasey said, and Caro knew she was feeling the brownie already because of how she said it, all dreamy-like.

“Yes! Like fractals repeating and repeating from this end all the way over there. Or like The Starry Night,” Rosemarie said, letting her arms go wide and keeping them that way.

“Wait. Is this Roy’s weed? Please don’t tell me your parents get their weed from Dumbass,” Kasey asked.

“Pshh, y’know Daddy grows his own. Organic. My daddy wouldn’t touch Roymont’s weed,” Rosemarie corrected her and rolled her eyes, giggled, and kept giggling. “By the way! Why is he named that?”

“His mother thought it was a great name. She made it up,” Kasey said.

“I hate this conversation,” Rosemarie said.

“I do too. Fuck you, Roymont! Why won’t you die?!” Kasey said as loud as she could. Rosemarie repeated it and belted the last part like it was the big finale of a musical. They kept saying it and singing it until they were both laughing so hard they had to stop. The two of them were off in their private purple haze.

Ada and Caro didn’t even mind being left out, because they were happily talking about boys—which ones were ramping up their cuteness as the school year drew to a close, which ones were slacking off.

“All the cute boys smell like wood, don’t they, Kasey? We’ve agreed on this point,” Caroline said.

“Yes! It’s true! It’s totally true! It’s a fact from God. Cute boys smell like wood, aaand boys love wearing socks, like, constantly. What’s up with that?” Kasey asked.

“Dude! Dudes love socks. I don’t know why, but they do. That’s a God-fact too, it is, so write it down somewhere,” Rosemarie said.

“Seriously, though, are you and Grayson getting married? Is that what you want? He’s never going away to college?” Caro asked Ada, as Rosemarie and Kasey slunk away to their weed-world again. Grayson had graduated last year and now he worked for his family’s construction company, and Mrs. Castelow owned and ran the adorable B and B off the town square. The power-merging of the Plum and Castelow families would be such a big deal their families probably would’ve wanted to arrange it if it hadn’t happened on its own.

Ada leaned her head on her hand. Rosemarie and Kasey were cracking up about something new that Caroline had missed. Rosemarie was literally rolling from one end of the couch to the other while Kasey did a poor job of catching her breath. The girls were making so much noise Ada and Caro could barely get through their conversation.

They always had the most fun at Rosemarie’s. Her place was cozy and enchanted, with the ever-constant music from the bamboo wind chimes mingling with the birdsong. There were hand-painted feeders on both the porch and the back deck, several birdbaths, and birdhouses in the yard.

“I think so. I think we really will get married. Someday,” Ada said. “Okay, my turn. Do you continue to have a lethal crush on Beau?”

“Wow, interesting, but the thing is, I don’t have a crush on Beau,” Caro said, squinting her eyes at Ada and playfully slapping her bare leg. The girls liked to tease her about Beau, and although it didn’t bother her, there was a part of her that was protective of him. She didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about their friendship. She didn’t want him getting into any trouble for it. He’d never been inappropriate with her, although yes, she thought about…stuff. He was cute and young and strong, and she liked how, even when the diner scent hung heavy on him, he still smelled a lot like the fresh wood shavings she used to put in her guinea pig’s cage. One of her favorite smells.

“Who do you want to go to prom with?” Ada asked.

“I don’t know,” Caro said.

“Hmm, let’s see! Who would it be? Who do you have a megacrush on? Hmm, maybe Beau?” Ada said.

“Shut up!” Caro laughed.

Rosemarie gasped and stood; Jerry Garcia’s ears perked up. The girls turned sharply to look at her. “Should we invite everyone to our graduation party? Like, the entire town?”