Classé Girls

Here’s my submission for this week’s Stories From the Jukebox and my prompt, Classy Girls by The Lumineers.

Some people might’ve guessed I’d pick a different song/band, but it was always going to be The Lumineers for me. Always. Wesley Schultz doesn’t overthink poetry—he tells a story and leaves enough room for us to find our own way inside it. And I love that.

Have fun, y’all.

She checked her watch.
9:55.

Brunch started at ten.
Her sister lived thirty minutes away.

Late as always.

Grace Classé suspected her sister hosted New Year’s Day brunch this early just to make sure she didn’t stay out too late on New Year’s Eve.

Of course, all Grace did last night was go to the chapel—to pray before and after midnight, ushering out the old and bringing in the new with prayer.

Her sister had asked her to make the hashbrown casserole. Grace hated being told what to bring to a potluck. Hated it. Still—she wondered if this was the year to ease up on the brattiness. Katherine Dee had told them just last week that she was not, in fact, in remission.

And then, just as plainly, that she wanted things to go on. She wanted the brunch. She wanted the noise.

When she walked in the door, her sister looked at the bowl.
“That doesn’t look like a casserole.”

“Well, Katydid,” she smiled. “I felt like salad.”

“Life360 went dark, Grace. Right around the time the ball dropped.” She looked at Grace and raised an eyebrow over the rim of her Best Mom mug.

Grace offered a saintly smile. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, sis. Maybe He just wanted us to have a private conversation.”

“The Lord or a VPN?” Elizabeth Marie chimed in.

“Both/and, Lizzy Em,” Grace winked.

“I’ll be over in a sec—we need a Classé Girls huddle.” She was already turning back to a discussion about her youngest daughter’s wedding.

“I did check your cameras, though,” Katherine Dee continued, “and noticed you weren’t home yet.”

Just then, Grace’s nephew swooped in and handed her a cup of black coffee. Grace took a swig and turned on her heel, setting the salad in the center of the island buffet.

“Grace Anne!” Katherine Dee followed her to the kitchen.

“You need help with anything?” Grace asked her brother-in-law.

“Nope,” he said. “Got it handled. Mostly. But do you remember how long the French toast casserole is supposed to bake?”

“I’ll ask Mr. Google.”

Grace pulled out her phone. Her voice dropped to a velvet hush.

“…how long do I bake French toast casserole?”

The kitchen went silent.

Everyone.

Katherine Dee.
Elizabeth Marie.
The kids.
The kids’ kids.
The dog.

Her nephew paused mid-pour. “Whoa. Did someone just give Aunt Grace a Marlboro and a shot of bourbon?”

Her brother-in-law froze, one hand halfway in an oven mitt.

“What?” Grace looked up.

Katydid tilted her head. “Must you Kathleen Turner your iPhone?”

Grace blinked.

“Yes,” she said.

Grace wandered over to what was still the kids’ table—grown adults now, some with kids of their own—and slid into a seat next to her nephew. They looked at her with newfound awe.

“I think Aunt Grace has a secret life,” one of them said. “Motorcycles. Maybe midnight trysts.”

“So,” her nephew leaned in, grinning, “the chapel, huh? That’s the official story?”

Grace smiled, glancing back toward her sisters, who were whispering by the island.

“That’s my story,” she said. “Though I can never really be sure if it’s real life, something I read, or just the lyrics to a Lumineers song.”

She took a sip of coffee.

“Now tell me—what does the army have you doing these days? Have you ever disabled a GPS tracker?”

Here’s the mixtape,

Classy Girls — The Lumineers
This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) cover—The Lumineers
In the Light — The Lumineers
Cold Desert — Kings of Leon
Paul Revere — Noah Kahan
American Romance — Michael Marcagi
Slow Burn — Kacey Musgraves
The Muse — The Wood Brothers
Classy Girls (B version) —The Lumineers

Check out the Jukebox and enter your own submission here:

Classy Girls