Donna lie in bed scribbling in her notebook. Thoughts of the near future engulf and occupy her mind—Friday night's meeting with Joey. She knew she had to keep her mind occupied until then or she would make herself crazy creating "what if" scenarios. This, in turn, would cause excessive apprehension and unwarranted nervousness and if allowed, her mind would create an entire lifetime with Joey including all the hopes and dreams and emotions, reactions and responses of situations that had not and never will occur. A complete fantasy scenario in her mind that will betray her and be used against her at any moment something goes wrong in the 'real' world. She then wondered how many places she could write the name Joey on her notebook cover without looking obsessed. There were six . Probably a good time to stop, she thinks to herself and puts the notebook under her bed for now.
"Donna!" her mother called from the other room.
"Yes, mama?"
"Could you come in here please?"
Donna walks from her bedroom to the living room where her mother sat knitting. "Yes, mama?"
"Are all your chores done for the day?"
"Yes, mama. All of them."
"That's good, dear. What did you do today?"
"I helped daddy at the shop. I went to Jackson for parts."
"Oh, that's good you're helpin' your dad during the summer. But you can have a personal life too you know. You should go out with your friends. Have some fun." She paused then continued, "So, Donna, any boys in your life presently?"
"Mother!" she blurted unexpected. Her mother never asked such a question before. And she knew that certain tone she used. It was the one of—the answer was already known before the question was asked—tone.
"Dear, I was a young girl once. I know what's going on in that head of yours," she said. Then pressed, "Well?"
"There's one boy, mama."
"Let me guess, he's in Jackson," she said searching yet knowing.
Donna's eyes lit-up with guilt and surprise as if a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Donna collected herself, "How did you know, mama?"
"Donna, you've been walking around here scatter-brained for days. You're obviously not here, you're mind is elsewhere. I told you, I was once young too. And you're my daughter. There's only one thing that makes a young girl act the way you're acting—a boy." She paused then continued, "And not just A boy but the boy," she paused and looked hard at Donna. She continued, "And you never go on part runs, especially to another town." Her mother stopped knitting, lowered her head and looked at Donna over her glasses. "Donna," she said as she waited impatient.
Donna lowered her head and eyes in response. "Yes, mama," she surrendered.
Her mother continued her knitting and changed to a more pleasant demeanor. "You know, I acted the same way when I met your father. He still gets me scatter-brained every once in a while," she chuckled. Then continued as her attitude changed once more to somber. "You be careful young lady. You're all grown now. These decisions are yours—good and bad. You hear me, young lady?"
"Yes, mama," she replied sullen as if on trial.
Her mother continued her knitting and began her third degree. "So, tell me about this boy," she inquired.
Donna stiffened and became evasive. "Mama I don't think he even likes me. He's real popular and stuff."
"Oh posh, tell me. What's he like?" she said with yet another change in demeanor to flippant.
Donna thought about how to describe Joey and she began to brighten as she straightened her posture and became animated. "Oh, he's tall and very charming. He's so kind and really smart," she stopped abrupt.
Donna's mother saw the twinkle in her eye as she thought about him. She felt a little more probing was in order. "That's it? That's all he is to you? Come girl, spill it! What's his name?" she urged.
Donna had not seen her mother like this before. She seemed so interested and almost like one of her girlfriends. "Joey," she replied.
"So he's tall and charming and kind and smart. Come, Donna, what's he really like?"
Donna decided to go for broke. If she was going to get in trouble she was going to do it for the right reason. "I think he's the strongest man I've ever met, next to daddy of course, and he's so sweet, mama," she melts a little when she thinks about him. "He's not like anyone I know, really. He takes no guff, from no one. And, like I said, he's smart—really smart. I mean he had me going a little for a while there, and you know I'm pretty smart and I had a hard time tryin' top him and..."
Her mother smiled and swelled with prided as she listened to her daughter's audacity, confidence and level of self-worth.
... "He has this determination that you don't want to go against. And he's a really good guy too. He's not mean or unfair. He's a bit gruff but that's okay and...
As her daughter described this boy, she seemed happy, full of life, full of hope and desire. Her eyes lit-up and sparkled. Her mother knows the sign of this affliction. She knows what it can do to a person and knows there is no cure and should be no cure. Her Donna has been afflicted with a condition called love and it is incurable.
... "and he's a really good driver..."
"He seems like quite a guy," she said as she cut her daughter off.
"Oh, yes mama. He really is!" she said prideful.
"And does Joey work? What does he do with his time?"
Donna recoiled and became hesitant, skittish, evasive.
"C'mon, Donna, what does he do?" she asked with a hint of resolve.
Donna took a deep breath, "Races," she quietly blurted as she turned her head.
Again, her mother's demeanor changed from best friend to concerned mother. "Oh, Donna dear. You know better than that. You know how your father feels about you goin' with a rodder."
Donna felt the need to defend, "But mama he's not like that. He's..."
"Dreamy?" she cuts her off.
"Mother, no!" she shouted as her attitude changed to one of attack. "That's a kid's term. Joey's not a kid and he doesn't do kid things. He's serious about his racing and he's real good at it and when he looks at me, I feel like I know him and..." she rambled.
Donna's mother knew this argument. It was the same the one she gave her father before marrying Donna's father. "Almost knew what he was thinking?" she chimed in.
"Yes! How did you know?" she said surprised.
"I know the feeling, dear," she said. She also knew there would would be no way to stop this progression if this boy felt half the way Donna did. Listening to his description and knowing his name, something occurred to her. "Donna, tell me, this Joey, he wouldn't be Jackson Joey would he?" She then spelled the following letters slow and determined, "A-K-A The Jackson Eliminator? Is this your Joey, Donna?"
Donna, feeling less brave, nodded in silence.
"Oh dear, oh dear," she repeated with concern as she lowered her knitting paraphernalia. She continued, "Donna, honey, how did you ever get mixed up with this boy?" she asked concerned.
Donna sat brief in deep thought as the entire scenario ran through her mind. "Well, I kept hearing about this boy who could really race. Everybody was talkin' about this Jackson Joey kid. The kids at school, the guys at daddy's shop and even daddy was talkin' about him. I had to see, mama," she paused and collected her thoughts. She continued, "So I went to a couple of his races and—I never talked to him and he didn't even know I was there—and after this last race I just wanted to say hi. That's all. Just say hi to this really good racer. I mean this guy is good, mama. You should see him he's..." she stopped herself realizing she was becoming caught in the moment. She continued, "He walked by me and I didn't say nothin' I just looked at him—he walked right by me—then he looked back—at me! He looked at me, mama! So I just went over to say it was a good race and stuff and when he looked in my eyes," I couldn't help myself, mama—it was so strange. I felt so comfortable, so... different."
"Like you'd known him all your life? Like he made you feel like a woman?" she said with monotone.
"Yes!" she said as her eyes lit-up. "And he was so kind and gentle. He wasn't like that with other people, not even the other girls. He made me feel special," she glowed with the memory of the moment.
"Like you were the only one that existed to him," she continued.
"Yes!" her eyes lit-up once more.
"Oh boy," she blurted with a tone of concern. Donna's mother knew this story—it was her story. She knew the outcome and what would be the result if that outcome were to be prevented, discouraged or hindered in any way—disaster for all involved. Yes, she knew this story all too well. "Okay, dear. You can go back to your room."
Donna stood dumbfounded, "I can? I'm not in trouble, mama?" she asked searching.
"Oh, you're in trouble dear. Just not with me," she confirmed.
A display of deep concern crossed her face, "With daddy?" she said sullen.
Her mother stopped her knitting raised her head and again looked over her glasses at her daughter. "You don't worry about your father. I'll take care of that," she said insistent. She lowered her head and continued knitting. "Run along now, Donna," she said conclusive.
Donna turned and walked back to her room with more confusion than in previous moments.
