I was just sittin’ all alone in my old mahogany rocker like I usually do. I ain’t got much to do these days. I ain’t got an education and by now, I ain’t real pretty. As I gently cradled my Virginia Slim between my pointer and middle finger on my right hand, the phone rang.

I let it ring three more times as it danced on the little table to my left. When it kept ringing, I stretched to answer it and whispered a faint hello. I was surprised to hear Ol’ Roscoe’s voice panting, “Rainy, is that you?”

I had met Ol’ Roscoe when I was just a girl. I was fifteen back in 1928 and every day, I’d walk down to the local diner just to hear the jug band play. Ol’ Roscoe was a drummer and the comic relief. He always made me laugh.

For the first two weeks I started going, I just sat in the diner. During the third week, I started dancing to the tunes. Those jug band boys were impressed with my dancing and they loved my knee-length dresses with the fringes on the bottoms.

Ol’ Roscoe came down to me after their gig one day and he put his bony little arm around my shoulders and rushed my cheek with his soft and muscular thumb. When he did this, I fell back into one of those chairs with a round pink plastic seat and an arched metal back. The heels on my new s hoes almost broke when I fell. Ol’ Roscoe leaned over me and firmly grasped my shoulders. A few hard breaths escaped from my mouth. When I had calmed down, he asked if I’d like to dance with the band. I agreed and it became not only fun, but a job.

Now, more than thirty years after I had last seen Ol’ Roscoe, he was on the phone begging, “Please, come meet me. We’ve got a really important trip to make. Please, Rainy, please.”

“Ol’ Roscoe,” I sighed into the phone, “you know what I told you all those years ago.”

“I know,” he continued, “but this is very important. It concerns both of us. You believe me, don’t you, Rainy?”

I took a deep breath and inhaled my word, “yes. . .”

“Then,” he interrupted, “Please. . .”

“All right, but I don’t have a car. You’ll have to come get me.”

“That fine!” shouted Ol’ Roscoe, “I’ll be there early tomorrow morning! Pack some
clothes and we’ll be on our way!”