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Okay, Digby, Yes, I Will Not Lie
by Cesca Janece Waterfield published in RVA Magazine Do we have the Wet Naps, Digby? Vi flipped her bangs out of her eyes and leaned into the back of the Jeep. Because we have to have the Wet Naps. Digby was standing at the hatchback in front of the cooler. He sliced open a bag of ice and started to pour it over the cans of beer and the diet Mr. Pibbs. He stopped. I just don't understand why you won't tell me, Vi. I'm just asking for some seriousness for one minute. They were packing for the trip to Daytona Beach and there was much to do. Vi rifled through the diaper bag she was using for supplies. She ticked items on her long painted fingernails; tanning oil, People magazines, nabs and fruit, playing cards, fuzz buster, address book for postcards. She glanced back at Digby and felt her jeans pocket for the phone number to the dark haired guy. Digby would spend one night out carousing with the boys she hoped, god. She came around the rear of the Jeep with an armful of beach towels. It's not like I wouldn't do it for you, Digby said petulantly. Vi cut her eyes at him and nudged him aside as he emptied the bag. She surveyed the tightly packed trunk and finally placed the towels on top of a tackle box. I would not ask you that, Digby. Vi looked into the Jeep, she was making sure they were packed. Digby stood looking expectantly at Vi. It's a serious thing, Vi. A very serious, a man thing. At his words, Vi was again aware he was there. She swung back and smiled devilishly as she headed toward the door. She sang a song by her favorite band, Do-on't ask me no questions, and I won't tell you no lies. She broke up laughing. Laughing at Digby. She pushed down the lock stem and closed the back door. Stop that, Vi, you are unreal. He was still telling her when she gently pulled him away, slammed the hatchback door and handed him the keys. Vi climbed in the passenger side and pulled on her seatbelt. She dusted off her thighs. I cannot believe we are taking a vacation together - to-ge-ther, Vi - and you cannot answer one simple question. Digby got in the Jeep and shut his door. Vi checked out her sunglasses in the side mirror. Digby put the keys in the ignition then his hands in his lap. A serious, simple question, Vi. I would do it for you. Vi snapped on the radio. You are unreal, Vi. Okay, Digby, Digby, yes. I will not lie. Vi looked up at the roof of the Jeep at the sagging felt, exhaled in exasperation, and turned down the radio. She rotated gravely in the passenger seat to look at Digby. Yes. Yes. You do have a gray pube. Digby stared apprehensively, mouth slightly open, tongue just touching his proud teeth. He nodded slowly. Thank you, Vi, thank you. That's all a man wants, a little seriousness. Vi looked back at him. Some seriousness for one minute. He turned to look out the window. A jogger huffed down the sidewalk. Suddenly Digby clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly. Alright! We are in business. He turned the ignition and pulled it out of park. Daytona Beach, we are in business!
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