Tinabeth Says No (from Deep in the Heart)

My first book, Deep in the Heart: A Memoir of Love and Longing, was published in 2007; in the sixteen years since its publication, I’ve been thrilled to reconnect with a number of Texas family and friends mentioned in the book. When Pretty and I had a home on Worsham Street in Montgomery, Texas from 2010 – 2014 we were only eighteen miles from Richards, the setting for Part 1 of Deep in the Heart. Two of my first visitors in our home were Tinabeth (ty-nuh-beth) and her mother Vivian, the main characters in the piece featured here today. They lived next door to each other “out in the country” from Richards with Tinabeth’s younger sister Sarah K. living nearby. What a fun visit we had as Vivian entertained us with stories of her friendship with my paternal grandmother Betha Morris! Tinabeth and Sarah K. were mothers, grandmothers and Vivian a/k/a Bibby to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren reigned supreme. I was fortunate to have several visits with Vivian before her passing in 2014. Tinabeth and I remain long distance friends to this day – she represents a bond to the place I called home when I was coming of age.

Hey, Sheila, where you headed? Butch Foster called. He was riding Prince, his Appaloosa pony, and came trotting up beside me on the hardened red dirt road that passed for a street in our little town of Richards, Texas.

I was riding my shiny blue Schwinn Flyer bike but pulled over to talk to him. I’m on my way to see Tinabeth. We’re going to play at the school, I said.

Yeah. You’re always in a hurry to see Tinabeth these days, Butch replied. Me and Rush had our secret club meeting today and voted you out. We got a rule, you know: No Girls Allowed. You’re starting to act pretty much like a girl. We don’t want you coming to the clubhouse until you get back to normal.

Well, I guess I don’t care, I said. I got rules, too. And one of them is to play with girls. They don’t have stupid secret clubs with no boys allowed.

Okay. Just don’t come around expecting any favors from me or Rush. Rush’s little brother Reed said he was coming to get you for seeing his girlfriend all the time. He likes Tinabeth and he’ll beat you up.

I’m not afraid of Reed Wood. He’s got a big mouth and a baby face. He’s such a whiner, too. Why would he care if I like to play with Tinabeth?

I don’t know, Butch said. Just don’t expect us to help you out of a mess.

Thanks for nothing, I shot back at him. I can handle any trouble myself.

With that I pushed off up the road to the McCune’s. Butch shook his head and rode off in the opposite direction. It was a cool autumn Saturday afternoon during my third-grade year at the Richards public school. I had on a pair of my best blue jeans with a red plaid flannel shirt and a cowboy hat and boots. I was riding my brand new bike wherever I wanted, and this day I wanted to see Tinabeth. I had discovered that girls were a lot more fun to play with than I had suspected. Actually, I was in love and on top of the world. Nobody could spoil my happiness on a day like this.

Hey, Tinabeth, I said. She was sitting on the front steps of her house waiting for me. She was wearing blue jeans and a frilly white blouse. Her long brunette curls were wadded up in some attempt at a ponytail but still sticking out in all directions. She must have fixed her hair by herself. Her mother Vivian was probably under the weather. She had quite a few spells and took to her bed on a regular basis.

Hey, Tinabeth said, smiling at me. She had the warmest smile and the softest voice. Mrs. Lee, our first- and second-grade teacher, had to ask her to speak up in class. Of course, Mrs. Lee was a little on the deaf side.

You interested in going to the school to play today? I asked. This was my attempt to get her to go somewhere away from her house and her little sister, Sarah Katherine.

Sure, she said. She got up and went to the front door and called to her mother. Mama, can I go to the school with Sheila Rae? Her mother’s muffled reply came from somewhere in the back of their house.

Take Sarah Katherine with you, and be back to help me fix lunch. At this, the screen door swung open, and the tornado that was her little sister came blowing past us and down the steps. Curses, I thought. Foiled again.

Hurry up, Sheila Rae. Let’s go, she said noisily and took off for the school.

I’ll leave my bike here so I can walk with you, I said to Tinabeth. She lived directly across from the school playground, so we spent a lot of time there. I noticed she didn’t bring anything with her. I figured we would ride the merry-go-round or swing. Sarah Katherine was already climbing the jungle gym. Excellent.

I saw you talking to Butch Foster, she said. I love Prince. He’s such a beautiful pony. Where’s your horse?

We already took her to the farm for the winter. Would you like to ride her with me? We could get my daddy to drive us out there some time. She needs to be ridden every once in a while.

The farm was three miles from town, and my favorite place. The thought of taking Tinabeth with me to that special place was an intoxicating fantasy. I could visualize it then and there: riding my horse with Tinabeth behind me and her arms wrapped tightly around me so that I could protect her from falling; she was whispering how strong I was and how she never would be afraid to ride as long as I held the reins.

Could Sarah Katherine come, too? Mama wouldn’t let me go without her, she said. The fantasy was rudely shattered, but I recovered gracefully. Of course, I said. We couldn’t think of leaving Sarah Katherine behind.

I told her to get on the merry-go-round and I would push it for her. She rode and laughed as I pulled and pushed. Then I jumped on next to her. We went faster and faster, spinning out of control. Her eyes were bright and excited. We kicked the ground together now and then to keep the momentum going, but suddenly my hat blew off. We started dragging our feet to slow down and gradually came to a stop. I was out of breath.

Sarah Katherine came running up with my hat. I rescued your hat, she said. I didn’t want you to lose it.

Thanks, I said. Would you like to wear it for a while? She nodded and appeared pleased. You can wear it if you go play on the swings. Deal?

She put on the hat and rushed to the other end of the playground. We heard her singing Happy Trails to You, like Dale Evans.

She likes you a lot, Tinabeth said. You’re always nice to her.

I couldn’t tell if this was good or bad. I chose to believe it was good. Do you like me, too? I asked. Where was I going with this? I couldn’t stop myself. I thought about her all the time. Every day at school I waited to see her at recess. Last year we had been in the same room, and I was miserable. One day Mrs. Lee had thrown an eraser at Daniel Moriarty, who sat in front of me. He hadn’t been paying attention, but he saw it coming. He ducked, and it hit me squarely in the head because I had been hiding behind him to stare at Tinabeth.

I like you. You’re funny, she replied. You make me laugh. We don’t laugh much at our house. Mama isn’t herself all the time.

I know, I said. We sat there in silence. Tinabeth wasn’t a big talker.

Well, I guess we need to get back to the house so I can help Mama with lunch, she said with an air of finality.

Wait, I said in a panic. Don’t go yet. There’s something I need to ask you. Something I’ve been thinking. It’s this important question.

She looked at me with mild curiosity. I froze. What is it? she said.

It was now or never, I thought. My heart was pounding. My mouth was dry. When we grow up, will you marry me? I asked.

She looked stunned. Not happy. Not unhappy. Not upset. Puzzled. We can’t do that, she said with a bewildered expression. Who’d be the daddy?

Without hesitation I answered, I would.

She stared at me then with an understanding and wisdom beyond her seven years and said simply, No. Then she called out to her sister, Come on, Sarah Katherine. We’ve got to go. Give Sheila Rae her hat. We have to help Mama with lunch. She turned away from me and began to walk back to her house. Sarah Katherine was jabbering to me while we walked, but I didn’t hear her.

When we got to their house, I mumbled goodbye and picked up my bike. It didn’t look nearly as shiny, and seemed heavier to push. Something fundamental changed in me that day. I wasn’t sure what had happened, but I knew I would never be the same. My heart had been broken, an innocence lost forever on a merry-go-round that would be my life with little girls who said no.

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Slava Ukraini. For the children.