One could never be too careful. I know that. Haven’t I heard it all my life? I am here because my mama had not been careful enough and my grandmamma hadn’t either. They both fear I will follow in their footsteps.
“Tillie Jo,” (my mama always calls me Tillie Jo) “now look both ways before you cross, you can’t be too careful” or “Tillie Jo, you come straight home now, you hear” or “ Tillie Jo, I don’t need to tell you to be careful and keep your legs crossed.” And on and on.
Hearing how to be careful all the time from my mama is bad enough but I get it from my grandmamma as well only she adds, “pay attention T.J., don’t be like your mama and me.” I am always T.J. to my grandmamma as she purely hates the name Tillie Jo and cringes every time mama calls me that. I think grandmamma does it out of spite myself. Those two fight all the time. Sometimes I think they stay awake nights figuring out things to fight about. They probably even dream of future disputes. It’s enough to make me want to pull their hair or bat their heads together. Well, I’ve had enough.
With a determined look on my face I run to my car; it’s a bright red convertible. My mama wanted me to buy a safe black Volkswagen with bucket seats. Now that is a car to be careful in, at least mama says so. Ha! Little does she know how determined Rodney Littlefield is with his octopus hands. Crossed legs are not about to stop him so I did what every girl does who is being careful. After that I had to drive us home. I think in the future Rodney will be more careful.
After starting my car I try to calm down but darn, it’s so hard to put up with any more ‘be carefuls’. After all, I’m 22 years old and I might want to be a wee bit careless. Yes indeed, I think I do. Stomping down on the gas pedal, I spew gravel everywhere in my wild dash for freedom, leaving a cloud of dust in my wake. Oh how good this feels. No more ‘be careful’, no more ‘Tillie Jo’ or ‘T.J.’ or non-stop squabbles. And best of all—if I don’t want to be careful, whatever happens will be my own fault. “Mama, you just let me be. I’m gonna have myself some fun.”
There is nothing better than a nice long country drive to soothe the jangled nerves. I can hear my mama saying, “Tillie Jo, have you lost your mind?” Well yeah, Maybe. Three hours later I’m tired, hungry and a whole lot calmer. Having no idea where I am, any café or bar will do for a start. A sign states five miles to No Town population 115. As I enter the village I spy ‘The No Town Bar and Grill’ at the end of the block. There was only one street, not even any side streets or alleys. Grandmamma would call it a “don’t blink” kinda place. I can easily see the eatery, a gas station, a barbershop and a general store. Each business turned out to be multi-purpose. Either there were four people making all the money or the whole town was saving a bunch of dollars by sharing space. It’s smart to my way of thinking.
The No Town Bar and Grill had a hotel upstairs and kept the bar separate from the grill. My mama would approve. This is super great because I can eat, sleep and be un-careful all in one place. How lucky could I get? Even better, the town jail was in a room at the back. This way the sheriff is always handy and if he is under the weather or under the table, well anyone can act in his place.
After a meal of famous ribs, followed by apple pie, I wander over to the bar side so I can check out the most un-careful looking males in the room. Wow—this may be a rinky-dink town but the men sure aren’t. With nerves going everywhere, I try to stop the voices in my head. “Tillie Jo – T.J. –you mind now what you’ve been taught. You’re a good girl but you can’t be too careful,” That’s the sad story of my life, I’ve always been too careful to be considered bad.
With swinging hips, I stroll to a stool at the bar and scoot myself up. I had stopped to change out of my ratty jeans and oversized shirt into a tight fitting tank top and mini-skirt. I’m surely glad my mama can not see me now. “Tillie Jo” she’d yell “how can you be careful dressed like that?” And I don’t want to think of my grandmamma’s comments. She and mama have like minds when it comes to what a careful girl should wear. Oh my. Do I ever feel dangerous! My heart pounds so hard I can hardly think straight. I look around the room; half afraid I’ll see my mama or grandmamma. Silly me, of course they aren’t here, nor do they know where I am.
Three pair of male eyes are giving me a slow once, no, make that a twice over with sexy smiles on their faces. Oh my gosh! Am I ready for this? I need to remember to forget the word careful. I give all three men what I think is my best not careful smile and they join me at the bar and want to buy me a drink. For heavens sake, what do I do now? I don’t drink. Never have. What I really want is to go home to my mama and grandmamma. Why did I think I wanted to throw caution to the wind?
Frowning, I stand up and tell the men I’m late for a date and head for the door. I’m being a silly goose but I have to get home where it’s safe. I hate to admit it but mama and grandmamma are right, darn it. Being careful isn’t really all that bad after all.