have had. Veronica came by and said that the girls at her table agreed he was cute, but thought he had no ass. Odette replied, “Who cares what he looks like walking away when he looks that good coming at you.” And the night went on that way.
Later in the evening, Barbara Jean watched Ray Carlson as he cleared the table next to hers. As he worked, small white feathers began to fly through the air around him. Every time he moved his arm, another feather flew. She wasn’t sure what was going on at first, but finally she saw that the feathers were coming from him. Hundreds of tiny white chicken feathers were stuck to his shirt and pants. Did he sleep with those chickens he raised?
Ray shed so much as he wiped the table that Richmond Baker made his entrance through a cloud of white. Richmond reached out with one of his big hands and snatched a floating feather out of the air, then another. In addition to being a college football star, Richmond was a twenty-four-hour smartass. He took a look at the molting boy and cracked, “Hey, Big Earl, I see you went and hired yourself a chicken.” From that day forward, Ray was Chick.
All evening long, Barbara Jean watched Chick work. He was a sight to see. He moved quickly and gracefully, gliding between the tables and maneuvering around the whirling couples as they spun in front of the jukebox in the corner where Big Earl had rearranged the tables to make room for dancing.
The only time Chick and Barbara Jean acknowledged each other directly after their introduction at the table came just before the girls went home that night. Clarice wanted to have one more dance with Richmond before leaving, so Barbara Jean was sent up to the jukebox to choose a song. She had just picked a tune and turned around to go back to her table when she found herself staring right into Chick’s face.
Both of his arms were loaded with dirty dishes as he headed toward the kitchen door just a few feet away. The strain of lifting the plates made the muscles of his skinny arms stand out. Barbara Jean noticed for the first time that he had a dimple in his chin. She had to clasp her hands behind her back to keep from reaching out and pressing that delicate indentation with her forefinger.
Neither of them said anything for a few seconds. Then he said, “Hi,” and smiled at her. She said hi back and took in that face of his again.
That was the end of their conversation. Just then, a dancer bumped him from behind and the stacks of dirty plates, silverware, and cups that he had balanced on his arms tilted forward and headed straight for the floor. Barbara Jean had to jump back to keep from being hit by the bits of food and shards of broken ceramics that went flying. The noise was tremendous, and when they saw what had happened, several boys cackled and pointed as if it were the funniest thing they had ever seen.
Big Earl came rushing over then. And that was when Barbara Jean saw something. It was just the briefest exchange, but it taught her lessons about both Big Earl and Chick, the first men she would love. Chick was already on his knees piling up the plates and garbage when Big Earl got to him, all six and a half feet of him still moving fast. Chick’s reaction was to bring his forearm up defensively over his face and say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Barbara Jean recognized that posture and that reflexive apology and the feeling of waiting to be hit that went along with it. She understood then at least one part of Chick’s story.
Big Earl knelt down beside him and used his great paw of a hand to pull Chick’s arm away from his face. He wrapped an arm around the King of the Pretty White Boys and gave him a quick squeeze. Though the music was loud, Barbara Jean heard him clearly say, “It’s all right. You’re all right here. Ain’t nobody here gonna hurt you.” Then he helped Chick pick up the dishes.
The entire scene took less time to play out than it took Aretha to spell out “R-E-S-P-E-C-T” and Barbara Jean stood a few feet away watching it all. As Big Earl and Chick cleaned up the mess and then headed into the kitchen together,