Sweet Memories by Lavyrle Spencer Read Free Book Online

his head.
    “About how you looked out for him when he was a kid. About your music. The violin and piano. How you used to sing duets for your family reunions and pass the hat for nickels afterward, then, as soon as you had enough, go to the store to buy your favorite forty-fives.” His lips lifted in a slow half smile, and his free hand moved the milk glass in circles against the tabletop.
    “Oh, is that all?” Her shoulders wilted with relief, but in the dimness she had crossed her elbows on the tabletop and took refuge behind them as best she could.
    “You always sounded as if you’d be someone I could get along with. And maybe I liked you even before I met you because he likes you so much, and you’re his sister and I also like him very much.”
    Theresa was unused to being told she was liked. In her lifetime a few of the opposite sex had overtly tried to demonstrate what they “liked” about her, in the groping, insulting way she’d come to despise. But Brian seemed to have come to admire something deeper, her little-exposed self, her musicality, her familial relations. All this before he had ever laid eyes on her.
    But those eyes were on her now, and though she could not make out their color in the veiling shadows, she caught the sparkle as he continued perusing her freely, the tip of his little finger now resting in the hollow beneath his full lower lip. She seemed unable to draw her eyes away from it as he went on quietly.
    “I’d love to go to that party with you on New Year’s Eve.”
    Their eyes met, hers wide with surprise, his carefully unflirtatious.
    “But you’re ... you’re two years younger than I am.” Once she’d said it, she wanted to eat the words.
    But he asked undauntedly, “Does that bother you?”
    “Yes. I ...” She blew out a huge breath of air and leaned her forehead on the heel of one hand. “I can’t believe this conversation.”
    “It doesn’t bother me in the least. And I sure as hell don’t want to go to that kind of a thing alone. Everybody’ll be paired off, and I won’t have anybody to dance with.”
    “I don’t dance.”  That  was the understatement of the night. Dancing was a pleasure she’d abandoned when her breasts grew too large to make fast dancing comfortable, their sway and bob not only hurting, but making Theresa feel sure they must appear obscene from the sidelines. And chest-to-chest dancing was even worse—being that close to men, she’d found, only gave them ideas.
    “A musical woman like you?”
    “Music and dancing are two different things. I’ve just never cared for—”
    “There’s time before New Year’s Eve to learn. Maybe we can change your mind.”
    “Let me think about it, okay?”
    “Sure.” He got to his feet, and the chair scraped back, then he carried their two plates across the room and set them in the sink with a soft chink.
    She opened the basement door and snapped on the light above the steps. “Well, I’m not sure if mother made your bed down here or not.”
    She heard his steps following her down the carpeted incline, and prayed she’d find his bed all decked out, ready for him, so she could simply wish him good-night and escape to her own room upstairs.
    Unfortunately, the davenport wasn’t either opened or made up, so Theresa had little choice but to cross the room and begin the chore. She tossed the cushions aside, conscious now that Brian had snapped on the lamp, and it flooded the area with mellow light that revealed her clearly while she tugged on the folded mattress and brought it springing out into the room.
    “I’ll get the bedding,” she explained, and hustled into the laundry room to find clean sheets and blankets on a shelf there. He had turned on the television set when she came back out to the family room, and a late movie was glimmering on the screen in black and white. The volume was only a murmur as she shook out a mattress pad, concentrating fully on it when Brian stepped to the opposite