Jenniferology

By LL Eadie

Fifteen-year-old Jennifer Brice Hamilton has been subjected to her mother's new way of life ever since her parents' divorce two years earlier – a move to a lower tax bracket in Chicago, an undesirable school and her mother's newest boyfriend – Phil. Jennifer rebels. Her mother's answer to the "handful-slash-Jennifer" is to pack her up and send her to her grandma's, whom Jennifer has not seen in almost three years. Her mother's lusty plan is for Jennifer to reside there till Christmas.Jennifer captures her life in Flamingo Junction, Florida with her grandmother in an ongoing diary of sorts – a sketchbook that she has titled JENNIFEROLGY – THE STUDY OF JENNIFER.Jennifer's grandmother, Mama Rudeen, lives in a retirement community called Camelot in north Florida. Mama Rudeen is not what Jennifer expected, nor are her grandmother's friends – the gals: Miss Maggie Pearl, Miss Addie, and Miss Gaynell…and the guy – Sir Stuckie. Jennifer envisioned octogenarians sitting around waiting to take their last breath. She discovers that retirees have a zest for life. And, more importantly, they defined to Jennifer what unconditional love truly means.Maybe it takes a retirement village to raise a child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LL Eadie
• Release date: Jun 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781734737158

LL Eadie

I grew up in North Florida, graduated from the University of Florida (Go Gators), and became a teacher. Since childhood, I have been creating stories for myself, for my family, and for my friends. I love visiting historical places and doing historical research. Although my children are grown with kids of their own I have remained a kid at heart and write Young Adult Fiction Contemporary and Historical stories. Although I would rather be playing on the beach with my grandchildren I am always compelled to create stories, poems, song lyrics, and even illustrations for my books.

Book preview

Chapter Two

COME IN! COME IN! Salutations from my grandmother as she stood in the center of a miniature tropical rainforest on the porch of her blush-colored double-wide manufactured home. She was holding a toy poodle in one hand and a screen door open in the other. Welcome to Flamingo Junction, Florida!

Give me a break. This was definitely not South Beach. Talk about downsizing. This entire town could fit into my back pocket. And in a freakin’ mobile home in a retirement community called Camelot? Not hardly.

Mama, it’s so good to see you! My mother hugged Mama Rudeen. My grandmother looked over my mom’s shoulder and smiled at me. I remained as still as the hot muggy air engulfing me. Their embrace ended. Mama, this is my friend, Philip Radcliff. He’s a real estate broker and he’s partners in his own real estate office.

My, my, how impressive! Mama Rudeen shook Phil’s hand as the door slapped her XL derriere.

How do you like his hair-plugs, Mama Rudeen?

My mother added, I work with Phil, as she and her most recent beef-a-roni stood on Mama Rudeen’s deck hipbone to hipbone.

Oh, I see, said my grandmother nodding and still smiling.

Yes, this daughter of yours is one sharp cookie, Phil said. Heather’s my star employee and selling the hell out of the windy city! Excuse me, Mrs. Brice, nature’s calling.  He walked inside without my suitcase.

It figures.

Seriously, can this place get any damn hotter? And what in the h-e-double-l are these freakin’ black bugs flying around with their butts sewn together? I set my suitcase down and tried to bat the swarm out of my way. The front door shut as my mother readjusted her thong-gone-wrong.

Got yourself a dingleberry there, Mom?

Lovebugs! What a nuisance they are, said my grandmother, as I began my ascent up the steps towards her – my surrogate mother. Can you believe it, sweetie pie, they breed while flyin’ around. They say hurricane winds blew them here all the way from South America.

She greeted me with a kiss on my cheek. Her lips felt chapped. I wiped it. In an ill-willed attempt, I tried to make my mouth smile. It refused.

It’s so good to see you again, Jennifer. It’s been close to three years since I visited y’all. She reached for my hand. I’m so looking forward to our time together.

Yeah...me too...I can’t wait. Another botched effort.

The door opened and my mother reappeared. The Dorcus Maximus, who was suffering from nicotine withdrawal by now, stood behind her, after relieving his bladder. What do you want to bet he left the seat up?

Stuckie, yoo-hoo, Stuckie! called out my grandmother to a neighbor.

I turned to look. It was a B.O.F. – boring old fart with hair that matched the length of the fuzz on a tennis ball and skin like the tough-hided leather of a football.

What a piece of work.

Hi Stuckie, this is my granddaughter, Jennifer...and my daughter, Heather Jo.

My grandmother pointed us out to him as if he couldn’t tell us apart. My mother wagged her tail and grinned along with Coconut – my grandmother’s lifestyle pooch.

He waved back. Hi, ladies, nice to meet y’all.

Stuckie’s the president of the Camelot Retirement Association, said my grandmother, as we walked inside. It smelled like an Italian restaurant.

So, Stuckie’s a bonafide Camelot knight, huh? – Sir Stuckie.

I’ve made lasagna for lunch, Mama Rudeen said.

I’m sorry, Mama, we don’t have time. Phil and I have a ship to catch. 

Oh, I see, my grandmother said. She was no longer smiling.

Phil the Dork made his exit. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Brice. He retraced his steps back to his skanky car and lit up.

Likewise, Philip, said Mama Rudeen, still not smiling.

Mama, are you sure about this? asked my mother glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

I’m lookin’ forward to it, said Mama Rudeen taking my hand. We’re gonna have a wonderful time getting acquainted with each other. My entire arm was set in a swinging motion along with hers. You don’t have a thing to worry about, Heather Jo.

Jenn, I hope you know that I love you... my mother said as she gave me a good riddance embrace and broke my grandmother’s ain’t-we-gonna-have-fun grip. ...And I’m only doing this to help you.

Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Mom, particularly tonight when you’re flat on your back-accommodating Phil. Did I detect moistened eyes? Hmmph, they’re probably tears of elation.

Enjoy your massage, Mom.

My mother shot me her best stink eye. Good-bye, Mama. I’ll be sure to bring you guys something back from the Bahamas for a souvenir. She raced out the door and we followed. Any requests?

Phil was waiting in the driver’s seat, checking out his nose hairs in the side-view mirror. How gross.

Oh, I’d love one of those big floppy hats from the straw market, said Mama Rudeen standing on her front deck again with me now. There was no grass in her yard; only two palm trees and smooth stones bleached white by the sun and three plastic pink flamingoes. Yes, indeedy there was no doubt about it; I was in Florida, all right.

Jenn, what would you like? My mother asked as she opened the passenger door.

I want a mandatory evacuation from freakin’ Florida. And in an ideal world, I want you and dad to get married again, so we can move back to the suburbs and I can hang out with my old friends. I want my other-other life back. That’s what I want, Mom.

Nothing, I answered. I turned to go inside to continue my pathetic life just as a swarm of freakin’ mile-high-club love bugs reappeared.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

I’ll bring you a Bob Marley T-shirt, suggested my mother, as she shut the car door.

Wrong island, Mom

Chapter Three

HELLO, SANDY-BUG-AND-snake-infested Sunshine State. What a freakin’ nightmare. Oh, jeez, I’m talking to myself now. I swear my life needs an editor.

I unpacked my suitcase after gorging myself on Mama Rudeen’s lasagna. Okay, I must admit it was the best ever. I flipped the obviously brand-new girly-girl mermaid comforter over to the solid blue side on my bed. Oh joy, it matches the lamp on the nightstand. This room had the fingerprints of Mama Rudeen all over it. I needed a distraction. I reached over and turned on the radio.

I tried to locate a station, but only one came in loud and clear – WKIK Flamingo Junction’s favorite kickin’ country and bluegrass station on your radio dial. YEEHAW! This was way worse than I first thought as someone named Johnny Paycheck sang, I’m the Only Hell Mama Ever Raised. I turned it off.

May I come in? asked Mama Rudeen, as she cracked my door.

I shrugged. Why not, it’s your nest.

Would ya like to go rent a movie, sweetie-pie?

People still do that? I don’t think so, I yawned. I’m tired.

Okay, now if ya need anything just let me know, ya hear?

Yeah, okay, I said, and then I actually smiled a little. Her sappy goodwill and good cooking were momentarily playing with my worn-out emotions.

I was tired. The night before Phil had waited till every decent motel on I-75 hung out their NO VACANCY sign before calling it a day. We ended up staying in a freakin’ fleabag Super-Sux Inn south of the Mason-Dixon Line. There were dead disgusting cockroaches-slash-palmetto bugs lying on their backs with their legs doing a high five in the air. And live unidentifiable insects crawling around behind the commode. I couldn’t sleep to save my life; I just knew those microorganisms were in that room somewhere and I hoped not on me.

And to make matters worse (if that were even possible – it was) my mother climbed into bed with the biggest preying man-piss of them all. I only wish she had bit his head off. That’s what real female praying mantis’ do while mating.

Chapter Four

GOOD-MORNIN’, SLEEPY-head. Mama Rudeen rinsed her cereal bowl at the sink in the kitchen inhabited by a freakin’ flock of faux pink flamingoes. There were pink flamingo salt and pepper shakers, dish towels, a cookie jar, a...oh well, you get the picture. I have corn flakes, bananas, oranges, or instant oatmeal, and juice or coffee.

I’m not hungry. I strolled over to the bay window behind the breakfast table. It overlooked a golf course. Mama Rudeen’s trailer backed up to fairway number four and a small lake with a futile attempt at a fountain. Hmm, some waterfront property, huh? I watched a beautiful white bird with the longest legs I had ever seen roost on a tree branch that hung out over the pond. Apparently, he was hungry as he scoured the calm water for his breakfast.

Suit yourself. I’m on my way out to play golf with the gals. How ‘bout joinin’ us, sweetie-pie? said Mama Rudeen, who was dressed in her golf attire – a sleeveless pink blouse which showed off her dimpled and very tanned arms. Her shirt was tucked into her white culottes, which accentuated her bloated gut, and to top her ensemble off, she wore a fuchsia visor.

I hate golf – my former father’s favorite sport. And what is she thinking anyway? Seriously, who in their right mind would walk out in public with that bright red hair and wearing neon pink, even on her lips? How pathetic. And what’s up with those socks of hers?

I don’t think so, but I love the socks, I teased. I sat down at the table set with flamingo placemats and a silk arrangement in the center with bright red heart-shaped flowers, that looked like they had grown penises. What had Mama Rudeen called them last night? Oh yeah, Hawaiian red anthuriums-slash-all-my-hearts bouquet.

Why thanks, sweetie-pie, I fixed them up myself. She looked down admiringly at her handiwork – her golf socks with a white wooden tee tied into the knot of a pink bow on the back of each cuff. If you’d like, Jennifer, I’ll sew you some up, right quick this evening. It won’t take but a minute.

My grandmother no doubt had the patent on those. I could most certainly check that off my must-have list.

I don’t think so. I looked back out the window only to see the huge bird fly away as soon as two golf carts, with four old geezers pull up to either shank, slice or hook their next ball into the placid pond, or Mama Rudeen’s bay window. However, the foursome sped off without taking their next shot.

I jumped up. Is that a freakin’ alligator out there?! I exclaimed.

Yep! Sure is. I call her Guinevere. Ya know, King Arthur’s queen? She’s a seven-footer, said Mama Rudeen, coming over to look too at the alligator lurking near the shoreline. If she eats one more duck, she’s out of here!

Seriously, it ate a duck?

She sure did! Just last week. We’re all on high alert now. My neighbor, Mr. Greencove, across the way, says he’s gonna shoot that gator and eat its tail. It tastes just like chicken, ya know? But he knows he can’t. It’s against the law. Ya have to get a special huntin’ license, said my grandmother, cradling her own pet to the point of CPR.

Thanks for the public service announcement, Mama Rudeen.

Don’t ever let Coconut out by herself. Ya never know when Guinevere might come chargin’ out of the tall grass around that lake. They say an alligator can run as fast as a horse on dry land for thirty feet. And don’t you go traipsin’ down there close to the bank either!

You don’t have to tell me twice, I said. I spun back around and watched the alligator glide across the pond. I cringed at how deceiving the tranquil scene actually was. What’s going to happen if she eats another duck – or even a dog?

Well, I hear tell, the Florida Fish and Wildlife folks will come on out and round Guinevere up and carry her off to a watering hole where she won’t be a nuisance to anybody. But that’s getting harder and harder to find in Florida, ain’t it Coconut? Mama Rudeen set her dog down after giving her a kiss right smack on her mouth.

Remind me, Coconut, not to kiss your mother.

I’ll be back in a couple of hours, sweetie-pie, and then we’ll have lunch down at the clubhouse and you can meet my girlfriends – the gals. They can’t wait to meet you. My grandmother walked over to the sink and reached for the dishtowel.

Do I look like an old-people-person, Mama Rudeen?

Then, Jennifer, continued my grandmother, I thought we’d go get you enrolled into school. She dried her cereal bowl and placed it in the cabinet above her head. I’m sure you’ll do just fine at Ponce de Leon High School. Your marks are very high. I’m sure they’ll be tickled pink having you transfer here.

Sure, why not? I leaned forward and planted my forehead against the warm windowpane and stared out. Oh, joy, my first day in paradise-slash-Camelot.

I hope ya don’t mind awfully much, Jennifer, but Coconut could stand for a walk. The pooper-scooper’s right by the garbage can in the carport.

Say what?

Now, sweetie pie, if ya get bored there’s a swimming pool down at the clubhouse. I’ll leave ya some change for a soda, said Mama Rudeen, taking out her change purse from her matching pink freakin’ fanny bag hooked around her robust waist.

I sat up. Don’t bother, I’ll just watch TV. You do have cable, don’t you? I asked. I had already discovered to my disgruntles that Mama Rudeen didn’t own a computer. I was already suffering from technology withdrawal with the loss of my cell phone, too.

Why, of course, sweetie-pie, said Mama Rudeen walking over and kissing my cheek. I wiped it. She looked in the mirror by the front entrance and licked her thumb and index finger working her red curls framing her face. Okay, I’m off. Sho shong!

What in the h-e-double-l did she say? Sho shong?

What?

"I said sho shong. That’s what