Blue Moon of Kentucky

Chapter 11

Elvis was sitting on the front porch, lost in thought, when the smell of fried chicken drifted into his nose. He got to his naked feet and looked around in confusion. No other homes were near enough for him to smell their cooking. His stomach growled and his mouth began to water. He hadn't had fried chicken since God knew when. Did his subconscious mind want fried chicken so badly that he started imagining the smell of it?

"Your daddy got us some chicken," Gladys said, her voice cheerful. "Ain't that great?"

"Yes, ma'am." Elvis favored her with a wide smile. He strode over to where she was turning the chicken in a pan.

"No," Gladys warned. "It ain't done, Elvis. So leave it be."

Elvis heaved a small sigh. He made his way over to the table and took a seat, staring ahead miserably while his stomach continued to growl.

"Can I just try it?" Elvis complained.

"Not now you can't," Gladys said. "It won't be long till your daddy gets home."

Elvis groaned at the idea of having to wait for his father to show up before they could eat.

"Loretta wants to learn how to cook," Elvis said.

Gladys turned toward him at that. "Oh, she ain't learnin' yet?"

"No."

"Don't her mother teach her?"

"She don't have no time to 'cause she got so many kids. Did your mama teach you to cook?"

"No, she didn't. She was quite sick most of the time."

"Loretta's mother ain't sick. She just got no time and Loretta said that she ain't good in the kitchen."

"She wouldn't be if she ain't never done much in the kitchen. Any girl can learn how to cook at least some and your friend Loretta's quite bright."

"She don't think she is." Elvis walked back over, looking at the chicken longingly. His mother gave him a sharp look before turning back to her cooking.

"Can you teach her some?" Elvis asked.

"Teach Loretta how to cook?" Gladys waited for Elvis to nod his head. "I don't see why not. I'm gonna cook anyhow and I got no daughter..." She trailed off to rub Elvis' cheek when a wide grin spread over his handsome face. "Tell Loretta that she can come over to cook and have supper after. We can figure out when, alright?"

"Alright." Elvis' grin widened.

"You can tell her tomorrow after church."

"We're gonna sing together tomorrow," Elvis said.

"At the church? Oh I didn't–did you practice?"

"Yeah, we do that when we hang out."

They did, and more than that too but his mother didn't have to know. To her, he was still a boy. He remembered what Loretta told him not long after he moved to Kentucky–that she was old enough to marry. She was fifteen then and he would be fifteen in January. Being old enough to marry meant that one was a man. His mother, he suspected, would never see him as such.

He met with Loretta that night and told her about his mothers offer. Loretta refused at first, but gave in to get Elvis to stop bothering her about it. Two days later she came for her first lesson, and almost ruined the food by using sugar instead of salt. Elvis watched, his hands thrown over his eyes the majority of the time.

His mother did most of the cooking and the meal turned out to be almost as much of a success as their performance at the church. They sat on the porch eating sweet potato fries and green beans and drinking sweet tea.