The Book of Bright Ideas

by Sandra Kring

  “Freeda, Button and her ma are here!”

  Daddy’s laugh stopped quick, but not Freeda’s. She came out of her bedroom shaking her head. “I don’t know how you put up with that guy, Jewel,” she said, while still laughing. She tossed her head back and turned her face some, like she wanted her next words to float inside the room where Daddy was. “He puts in a new light fixture, and it actually works, and he’s so damn proud of himself that he gets cocky!”

  Freeda waited a second, like she thought maybe Daddy would yell something smart-alecky back, but he didn’t. She shrugged, then headed toward the kitchen, leaving Ma and me still standing in the dining room. “How about a cup of coffee, Jewel? I was just about to make some.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t staying,” Ma said. “I just stopped by to drop off a key for the back door.”

  “A key?” she asked.

  Ma reached over and quickly set the key down on the dining-room table. Her face was redder than it usually was.

  “Wanna see the pictures I drew?” Winnalee asked.

  “Sure,” I said, my eyes still on Ma.

  “Come on,” Winnalee said. Ma and I started following Freeda and Winnalee to the kitchen. We hadn’t yet cleared the living room when Daddy came out of Freeda’s room, coming face-to-face with Ma and me. He had his hand bunched around a screwdriver and was carrying a box with a picture of a ceiling light on the side. The old light was stuffed in it, poking out of the top of the box. Daddy looked a little red-faced. “Her ceiling light was shot,” he said. “A short. So I picked one up in town.”

  Freeda appeared in the kitchen doorway. She had one of those little scoopers from a coffee can in her hand. She looked at Daddy first, her eyebrow on that side raised, then she looked over at Ma, and her other eyebrow lifted. “Thanks, Reece. Now get lost so us gals can talk about you.” Daddy almost ran to get to the door. “Oh,” Freeda called after him. “And before you put that little toolbox away, why in the hell don’t you hang that mirror up in your wife’s sewing room, huh?”

  “See ya, Uncle Reece,” Winnalee called, but I doubt Daddy heard her, because I think he was already halfway down Peters Road.

  “Come on, sit down, Jewel.”

  Ma sat down, her back as stiff as the chair she sat on.

  “Winnalee, get those papers off the table.”

  “Wait! I wanna show them to Button!”

  Winnalee might not have been good at coloring (her crayon marks going every which way, her colors all goofy), but she sure was a good drawer. Her paper—which must’ve come from Daddy, because it didn’t have good lines—was filled up with pretty fairies with skirts shaped like bells, and pointy wings coming out of their backs, both wings the same size.

  “They’re real nice,” I told Winnalee, and she said thanks. “You want to draw some too, Button?”

  “Out on the coffee table,” Freeda said.

  “No!” Winnalee whined. “I want to color here! All my stuff is already out!”

  I started picking up the crayons. “I’ll help you,” I said quietly.

  “No! I’m going to color right here.” This time she screamed.

  “I said move it, kiddo. You take cream or sugar, Jewel?” I glanced up at Ma, who was watching Winnalee hard.

  “Um, no. Just black, thank you.”

  One by one, I picked the crayons up and tucked them back into neat little rows. That is, until Winnalee grabbed the box from me and shook them out onto the table. I held out my hands to catch the red-orange crayon that was rolling to the edge.

  “Damn it, Winnalee. Now scoot! We’re going to have coffee here. Go on!” When Winnalee didn’t budge, Freeda scooped her papers into a heap.

  “You’re crumpling them!” she bellowed.

  “I’m gonna dump them in the garbage next. Just try me, Winnalee. You gonna move into the living room, or do I throw them out?” When Winnalee grabbed the crayon box from me and shook them out onto the table, Freeda ran to the trash can. “I mean business, Winnalee. You get your butt out of here now, or they’re going in.”

  I didn’t know what to do, and I guess Ma didn’t either, because she was staring just like me, with her mouth open.

  “Stop it!” Winnalee screamed. She ran to Freeda and started slapping at her hands to get her pictures back. She whacked Freeda right in the bump, and Freeda cussed and tossed Winnalee’s pictures into the air. Winnalee was crying and screaming both, as she tried to catch the pages. “I hate you!” Winnalee screamed. “And I hate the way you tell me what to do. You’re not my ma!” Freeda stopped, her arms going limp at her sides.

  Winnalee sobbed as I helped her gather up her papers. Freeda had tears in her eyes too.

  I spread out the pages and crayons and pencils on the coffee table, while Winnalee sat on the floor, her arms folded tight over her chest. “I hate her,” she hissed. “She crinkled my best fairy.”

  “You should have listened to her the first time,” I said quietly.

  In the kitchen, I could hear Freeda telling Ma how she didn’t know what to do with “that kid” and that she should count her lucky stars that I was not as headstrong as Winnalee.

  “Well, Freeda,” Ma said. “Any kid would act like Winnalee if they knew they could get away with it.”

  “Well, what in the hell am I gonna do with her? You saw how she doesn’t mind!”

  Ma laughed a little. “Maybe I have something to teach you, in exchange for my beauty lessons. When it comes to discipline, I’ve got plenty to spare.” And Freeda said, “No shit!”

  In no time at all, the whole fight between Freeda and Winnalee was over, and Winnalee was drawing and chattering, and Freeda was telling Ma how she should update her hairdo. “I should give you a short, cute bouffant do.”

  “You cut hair? I thought you only set it.”

  “I can cut hair. I’ve cut lots of hair—just not in a beauty shop.”

  “No, here, like this,” Winnalee said, right in my ear that was busy trying to hear the story Freeda was telling Ma. “You’re making angel wings, but fairy wings are different. Like this.” Winnalee was yapping so much that I missed the whole story, even though it had to be a good one, because it made Ma laugh. And not one of those soft kind of laughs either, but the kind that jiggles your belly. I’d never heard my ma laugh like that before.

  Winnalee decided we should have some cookies then, so I followed her into the kitchen, where Freeda and Ma were still dabbing at their laugh-damp eyes. Winnalee hoisted up her lady’s dress and leaped up on the counter to fetch the fudge-striped cookies.

  Freeda got up quick. “Get your ass down from there, before you fall and crack your head open.”

  “I’m gettin’ the cookies!” Winnalee grabbed the bag, then reached an arm around Freeda’s neck, and let Freeda swing her down. Freeda kissed the top of Winnalee’s head. “You’re a sassy little shit,” she said, “but I love you anyway.”

  “Love you too, Freeda,” Winnalee said, meaning it this time, even though ten minutes ago she hated her enough to want her dead.

  “Yoo-hoo!” Me and Winnalee glanced at each other and grinned when we heard Aunt Verdella’s voice. We raced out of the kitchen and into Aunt Verdella’s arms for our hugs. “We’re gonna have cookies. Want some?” Winnalee held up the bag so Aunt Verdella could see what kind.

  “Just a couple,” Aunt Verdella said. “I’ve gotta watch my girlish figure, you know.” We headed into the kitchen, our arms wrapped around each other.

  “Hi, Jewel!” Aunt Verdella sounded surprised to see Ma sitting at the table having coffee with Freeda.

  “Grab a cup, Verdella,” Freeda said. “The percolator’s here on the table.”

  We let go of Aunt Verdella so she could get a cup down from the cupboard. “Want to see the fairies we’re drawing?” Winnalee asked.

  Aunt Verdella sat down while Freeda poured coffee into her cup. As Winnalee ran to gather up our pictures, Aunt Verdella caught her reflection in the chrome toaster. She tilted her head this way
and that while she plucked at the tufts of hair poking out from the bobby pins holding back the sides. The stripe on the top of her head had gotten as wide as a belt. “Oh, Jesus, look at this mess!”

  “Funny you should mention hair. I was just telling Jewel that she should change her hairdo. Update it a bit. A nice bouffant.”

  “Oh, that would be nice. I should do something with mine—probably shave it off,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t know what color to make it this time.” Aunt Verdella took the fairy pictures Winnalee handed her. “Jewel, you remember when I colored it with that off-brand that time, then permed it myself?” She laughed, her belly shaking. “The box said Bright Auburn, or something like that. Good God, I don’t know if it was the coloring, or if I left my perm on too long, or what, but remember that? I looked like a red squirrel who tried lighting a woodstove with gas. Clumps of red-orange hair fell right out in my hands. Poor Rudy, he didn’t know what to do when he came home and saw me. I know he wanted to laugh, but he was afraid to. Once he’d laughed at my coloring concoction—that time I went jet-black, and ended up lookin’ like a witch—and I started cryin’. Course, that was back in the days when I’d get all emotional from the curse. Anyway, there we were, needing to go to a wedding, and I had that red-squirrel thing going on. I had to get a hat from Mae. She didn’t have anything the right color for my dress, except this old thing with a fake flower on the side. I’ll tell ya, I looked like a circus clown in that ridiculous thing. Bozo, with a dead red squirrel sticking out from under his hat!”

  We were all ha-ha-ing over her story. Even Ma. “Oh, such pretty pictures, girls,” Aunt Verdella said after we all settled down. “How about giving Auntie a couple to hang on her fridge? You each pick out the one you want me to have. Okay?”

  “Hey, I know!” Freeda suddenly yelped. “Let’s go to the drugstore and get some Clairol. We’ll play beauty shop!”

  “Right now?” Ma asked.

  “Sure! Why not?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t even made dinner yet.”

  “Oh, let’s do it, Jewel! Reece was having stew with Rudy when I left. So you don’t need to worry about him,” Aunt Verdella said. “Button, run over to my place and grab Auntie’s purse, will ya?”

  So off we went to Aunt Verdella’s, then to the Rexall drugstore. We laughed and chattered, right there in the drugstore aisle, when Freeda grabbed a box with pale, reddish-brown waves on it and held it up to Aunt Verdella. “Look at that, kids. Auntie Verdella’s gonna look like a peach in this, ain’t she? Hot dog!” She shoved the box of color at Aunt Verdella, then started scouring the shelves for something Ma would look like a piece of fruit in too, I suppose.

  “Here we go! A nice golden blond. You wait and see how this brightens you up, Jewel.”

  Me and Winnalee didn’t play that afternoon, and we didn’t talk about fairies either. We stayed in the kitchen and watched Freeda goop up Ma and Aunt Verdella’s heads with that stinky hair-coloring stuff, while we ate bologna sandwiches.

  After both their heads were rinsed, Freeda gave them each a haircut. “Don’t cut too much!” Ma said, as tufts of hair rolled down her shoulders, and Freeda told her to hush up. That she was giving her a cute bouffant hairdo, like it or not, and that she’d love it when it was done.

  When the floor around Ma and Aunt Verdella looked like a matted rug, Freeda rolled their hair in pink, foamy curlers. Then we had to wait till they took turns sitting under the dryer cap, to see what they were going to look like. “Is this thing turned up too hot, or am I just having a hot flash?” Aunt Verdella said as she fanned herself with the fairy pictures Winnalee had given her for her fridge.

  “Can you color my head red like yours, Freeda?” Winnalee begged. “Please?”

  Freeda laughed. “You’ll have to wait a bit longer before you start that shit, Winnalee.”

  Winnalee crossed her arms. “But I want to play beauty shop too!” So Aunt Verdella, whose hair was dried but still in curlers, told Winnalee to get a couple rubber bands and she’d give her some braids. Winnalee ran to get the rubber bands.

  “Button could use another hair trim soon,” Ma said, while Winnalee’s footsteps thumped on the ceiling above our heads.

  Freeda looked over at me, and I slipped my hands up over my ears.

  “Jewel, why in the hell do you do that to her hair, anyway?”

  “What?” Ma asked. Freeda pulled the pink cap up so Ma’s ears would be sticking out.

  “Cut her hair like that, and perm it. You ever ask her if that’s what she wants?” My arms started itching like crazy the minute Freeda said that, because I was afraid Freeda would say that bad F-word, so I started making those noises in my throat, even though I knew that those noises would only make Freeda stare at me longer.

  Ma shrugged. “Well, I, uh…”

  “She hates her hair like that, Jewel,” Freeda says. “She hates it!”

  “But it’s easy to take care of. It stays neat,” Ma said.

  “Yeah, well, your hair would be easiest to take care of too, if you shaved it off to your scalp, but I don’t see you doing that. Jesus H. Christ, Jewel. Let the kid have long hair if she wants it. It’s no skin off of your ass. She’s old enough to take care of it herself.” Ma squirmed a bit, and Freeda told her to sit still.

  Winnalee came in the room then, carrying a few rubber bands. “Winnalee, get your butt over here,” Freeda said. “Come on. Stand behind Button. There. Now lean your head right over the top of hers.” Freeda’s hands started rearranging Winnalee’s loops, tucking them around the sides of my face until they tickled my cheeks and my arms. “Look at this, Jewel,” Freeda said, loud enough to be heard over the hum of the dryer. “Just look at how cute your daughter would look in long hair. She’s got the face of an angel, and she should have hair like one. Just look at her heart-shaped face. She’s got your eyes too.”

  My whole insides smiled when she said those things, then she leaned over and kissed my cheek. Then Freeda told Winnalee to move, and she started rubbing her fingertips in circles on my scalp. “Button, every day you massage your scalp good, just like I’m doing. It stimulates the hair follicles and will get your hair growing faster. Before you know it, you’ll have hair as long as Winnalee’s.”

  The whole rest of the time we were there, even though I didn’t get to play beauty shop, just knowing that maybe I’d get to grow my hair long now made me smile. And when I went into the bathroom, after I peed, I stood at the mirror and I rubbed my head, just like Freeda had done, while I looked for the heart shape on my face.

  Freeda was busy taking the curlers out of Ma’s hair when Mike Thompson yelled hello through the screen door. “Come in,” Winnalee shouted, and Freeda gave her a crabby look. We all hushed up when Mike came into the kitchen.

  “I knew it was your day off, so I thought maybe you’d like to go for a drive, or a beer, or something,” Mike said.

  “Sorry, Verdella and Jewel are here. We’re doing their hair. Another time, Mike.”

  “We’re almost done, aren’t we, Freeda?” Aunt Verdella called out.

  “Another time, Mike,” Freeda said. Freeda didn’t walk him to the door but gave him a wave and started talking to Ma about her haircut, as though he’d already left the room. “I really like Mike,” Verdella said.

  “He’s nice enough, I guess,” Freeda said.

  “At least he puts the toilet seat down after he pees, so I don’t fall in in the morning,” Winnalee said.

  Me and Winnalee walked Aunt Verdella home before I had to leave, so we could help her show Uncle Rudy her new hairdo. He might not have noticed, but Aunt Verdella saw to it that he did. She marched right in front of his head, blocking his eyes from the TV, and she turned her head this way and that, so he could see her light red-brown hair, cut short and spicy-looking, like Freeda said. “Holy cow! Who’s this standin’ in my living room?” Uncle Rudy said. “She’s a real looker. Boy, is Verdie gonna be mad when she sees the beauty queen Button and Win
nalee brought home for me.” We all giggled when he said that.

  Ma didn’t stand in front of Daddy to get him to see her new hair. She stood quietly at the sink when he came through the door and headed straight for the junk drawer. “Jewel, you see my Phillips screwdriver?”

  “No,” Ma said.

  “Well, damn it. I thought I left it on the table when I came in earlier. You sure you didn’t move it?”

  Ma patted her new blondie bubble-hair that Freeda had made stand high by taking a rat-tail comb and running it backward down strands of Ma’s hair. Then she made it smooth by combing some hair over the top of it to hide the ratty parts. When Ma had stood in front of Freeda’s bathroom mirror, she patted her hair as though it were a new baby puppy. But now her pats looked more like slaps.

  “Jewel?” Daddy said. “You hear—” Daddy stopped the second he looked up and saw Ma. His eyebrows scrunched down, and his mouth fell open.

  I held my breath, wanting—and hoping—that Daddy would say something funny and nice like Uncle Rudy had, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, “What the hell did you do?”

  “Freeda did it,” Ma said. “She did Verdella’s too.”

  Daddy shook his head, then went back to rummaging in the drawer. “I picked up a box of files last time I was in town, but I can’t find those damn things either.”

  The next morning, when Ma drove me over to Aunt Verdella’s, she was wearing her best office suit and a sheer scarf, even though it wasn’t cold or rainy outside. As she tugged the knot a bit so it wasn’t so tight under her chin, I thought of how maybe that scarf was supposed to be like a pair of hands. Yet the farther she got down the road, the more I saw her glance in the rearview mirror, and by the time we reached Aunt Verdella’s, I thought I saw a bit of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

  After breakfast, when we ran to Winnalee’s to get some different dress-up shoes for Winnalee because the ones she had on kept slipping off, I asked her if I could add another bright idea. Winnalee handed me the book, and I wrote, Bright Idea #90: After you play beauty shop, your husband might say you look like a beauty queen, or he might just ask you where the Phillips screwdriver is. Either way, it doesn’t matter, as long as your new hair makes you think nice things about yourself.