Mary Penney - Green Eyes and Ham

Y oud think if your mom was a priest, and you spent nearly every waking moment in a church, youd never lie.

Youd be wrong.

I never needed to lie until I started public school for the first time ever as an eighth grader, just a few weeks back. I told a lie to protect someone, and convinced myself that was the good kind of lie. Even sort of noble of me. But it still ended up hurting people. Thats the worst part. You can take back the lie, but you cant take back the hurt.

My mom, Reverend Annabelle Hudson, lies sometimes, too. She dresses it up fancy, and its usually to get me to do something that I dont want to do.

Like when she told me that nobody would see me delivering a giant box of lady diapers to Mrs. Minellis house. The box was too big to fit in my bike basket, so I had to carry it under my arm. The store didnt have a bag big enough for it.

Three local terrors kids on bikes chased me all the way from the drugstore to Mrs. Minellis driveway. They rode up right next to me, busting a gut, as they read the details out loud

Check it out! Now with flexi-wings!

Whoa! Absorbs 10X weight.

Church Boy! Whens your mama gonna potty train you?

I just kept my eyes on my front wheel and pretended they werent there. Which was impossible. I recited the periodic table of elements under my breath until they rode away.

I parked my bike and locked it up on Mrs. Minellis porch. Then grabbed the bag from my basket that held her Glowing Red-Hot-Red lady hair dye.

I pushed the bell and kept pressing until I nearly lost all the blood in my fingertip. Mrs. Minelli is pretty deaf. Shes one of my moms Church Ladies. Theres a whole tribe of them. You cant run a church by yourself like Mom does without them. They do all the stuff Mom doesnt have time to do. The Church Ladies would take a bullet for her any day of the week, and probably take a bullet for me, too.

The door flung open and Mrs. Minelli smiled like Christmas had just shown up at her door, even though nearly 100 degrees of August heat beat on us.

Well, there you are, Ham, my darling! This is just so kind of you. She looked over the top of her bright red eyeglasses to study the diapers, and then to the other arm, where Id stashed the box of her hair dye.

Oh, excellent! You found the exact right ones, she said, and led me in. Fortunately, she had air-conditioning, and had it going strong. Mom and I didnt have any at the parsonage where we lived. They hadnt invented air-conditioning yet when the church was built. And my moms bossnot God, the guy under Himwas a money miser.

Hammy, would you like some iced tea?

Thanks! Id love some, I said, and waited for the glass of tea so sweet it would make my eyes cross. And, then Mrs. M would bring out a plate of frostbit circus cookies she kept in the freezer. I think she bought a case of them from Costco the year Mom found me. Someday Id eventually finish the whole lotbut she would never stop calling me Hammy, even though I was thirteen. None of them would.

You must think Im so vain to ask you to do this she started, like she always did.

Gosh, no! I said, trying to swallow a frosted elephant whole.

It is vain, I suppose, and may the good Lord forgive me. I dont have pretty silver hair like Mrs. Dort. Shes lucky. Mine is dingy. She thinks that the other ladies and I, that we should take all the money we spend on hair dye and feed the poor instead. If she makes one crack about my red hair at church on Sunday, I swear Im going to deck her!

But Mrs. Dort is your best friend, I said, trying to imagine two of the Church Ladies coming to blows in the pews.

Oh, she is! I love that woman like my own sister. But being friends with someone doesnt mean you always agree with them. You learn, though, which friends are worth saving, and which ones you hide your welcome mat from. Shes a keeper, even if she is as stubborn as a horses backside.

I filed that away in the event I ever had a friend of my own, and took a small sip of tea. The sugar piled up on my tongue.

Mrs. M headed over to the large mirror in her front room. She held the box up to her face, imagining, I suppose, how the color would look on her. She turned her head from side to side, then studied the hair model on the box.

Lets take a before and after picture. Ive never been a redhead, she said, smiling with excitement. She pulled her phone out of the deep pocket of her sweater and handed it to me. Will you take it for me? Every time I try to take a selfie, I end up with a picture of the front door.

Sure, I said, and opened her camera app.

She fluffed her half-brown and half-white hair while she waited for me. I wish your mom would let us buy you a cell phone, she said, shaking her head. I dont know how you get along without one. All my grandbabies have them, even Honor, and shes only four!

I smiled while giant cavities formed in my teeth from the tea. I snapped a front and back head shot, and handed it back to her.

Mrs. M couldnt actually work her phone. At all. One of her great-grandsons had set her ringer to a hip-hop song. He liked to call her during church on Sunday. He thought it was hysterical. I tried to remember to put her phone on silent every Sunday morning. When the older Church Ladies started getting cell phones, I had to learn how to use one so I could help them.

Mom and I didnt have money for anything we didnt absolutely need. Besides, phones were for kids with friends.

I didnt have friends. And didnt want any.

Kids my age were pretty cruel. They thought it was hilarious that a boy lived in a church, and even had homeschool there. Some of them knew the story of how Id been dumped there late one night when I was a baby. It had been in the newspapers, and I guess maybe their parents had told them about me, probably thinking that their kid would be really nice to me if they knew my story. Instead, it just put a giant target on my back.

On a good day, theyd just shout Hey, Church Boy! as they raced by. On a bad day, theyd yell stuff that didnt even make sense to me. It wasnt like I could ask Mom what their insults meant. Id check the computer for a translation, and sit there while my cheeks burned.

Why would they say such awful things? I did not understand other kids.

At all.

I started to get things ready while Mrs. M continued to fuss about keeping up with modern times. I set out two big towels, one washcloth for her eyes, one stool, and a big comb. This wasnt the first time. Id dyed her hair before.

And not just hers. Before too long another Church Lady would probably ring the bell, and just happen to have a box of hair dye in her giant purse andOh, Ham, you are here! Would you mind just giving me a quick touch-up? Rev said you wouldnt mind at all if I popped in.

Another one of Moms little dressed-up lies. Shed promised Id just have to do Mrs. Minellis hair one time until her regular girl at the salon came back to work. Id been doing it over a year now. Plus a few of the other Church Ladies. They say Im better at it than a real stylist. I get ten dollars a head, a dollar tip, plus snacks. The diaper delivery service was new.