Detours

Listen. I’m a modern man, so when my wife told me she wanted us to make a detour during our family vacation so that she could return a ring to her deceased ex-fiancé’s mother in Biloxi, I said sure thing. Why not? It’s on the way back from Pensacola. I can’t say that I knew she still held on to his ring, but I understand why she would do such a thing. I kept a shoebox full of photos and keepsakes from old girlfriends up in my closet that I don’t think she’d object to if she knew about it. What’s the use? I said we’re the modern sort, and we understand that we each had lives before the other.

Haley and Cedric’s wedding was only six months away when he died. They were snorkeling in the Bahamas when this little bull shark came up and nipped his leg. The bite wasn’t the thing that got him, but he panicked and drowned right in six feet of water. It’s something she hasn’t spoken about much, and only when she’s had too many Red Stripes, her beverage of choice that she no doubt started on while they’d been down there.

I navigated the streets of Biloxi as Haley read the directions that Cedric’s mother had sent her on Facebook. She’d been quiet the whole time in Pensacola, and I knew she was anxious about seeing his family. I tried to ease her nerves by suggesting we hit Ship Island after the visit. I also announced that I would buy some fresh shrimp right from the boats, and we would have ourselves a little boil when we got home. Our son, Josh, kicked his feet in response to all my good ideas, but his momma just stared out her window.

Haley seemed confused as we turned down one dusty shell road after another until we sat looking at an old house with knee-high grass set a good hundred yards from the road. Tiles were missing from the roof and it looked like a checkerboard. One more hurricane, I thought, and it would blow clean off. There were no neighbors on either side.

“This can’t be it,” said Haley, glancing at the directions and then back up at the house.

“You tell me,” I said. But she didn’t have to because a little old lady came out of the front door and waved to us. Haley was breathing fast. “It’s ok, sweetheart,” I said and patted her leg. I went ahead and pulled into the driveway and that lady was at the car before we could get out.

“Oh, Haley, baby. Baby, baby,” she squeezed my wife, clawing at her and crying. Haley started crying too. Cedric’s mother appeared older than what I’d expected. She had on a white tennis outfit, the kind rich old ladies wear in the movies, white shorts, white top, white sneakers. She even had the white visor. Her legs were tiny sticks and she moved in quick little jerky motions. I went around the car and took Josh out. We stood there a while before the lady noticed us, and Haley made introductions. Miss Sandy took me in and extended her hand.

“How do you do?”

I told her how very nice it was to meet her and then she crouched down with her hands on her knees and started baby talking Josh, who hid behind my legs.

“I bet you want an Eskimo Pie,” she said.

Of course he did.

Miss Sandy led us around back and apologized for not taking us inside. “They just sprayed up in there,” she said, waving her hand before her face. She dipped inside briefly and I asked Haley if she was all right, and she nodded her head yes. Miss Sandy came back out the side door with an ice cream sandwich for Josh, and led us to the backyard.

“Y’all go on and take a seat.”

The backyard was fenced in and the grass was brown and high...