Calling Home

by Janna McMahan

  21

  A small speck of polish was out of the perfect lines of Shannon’s fingernails and she picked at it nervously. The girl at the Estée Lauder counter had called the color Dusty Mauve. It should have been called Gold, as much as it cost. The makeup counter girl had done a good job on her, had even plucked her eyebrows, made a perfect arch that she said opened up Shannon’s eyes. She said the bushy-eyebrow look was over—no more Brooke Shields and Phoebe Cates. But Shannon’s eyebrows were so pale that they were hard to see, so the sales girl had penciled in the parts she had plucked out. Go figure. Shannon hadn’t been able to reproduce eye shadow methods, but she had been able to give her own cheeks that hollow look that said she hadn’t eaten in a couple of weeks.

  “Don’t pick,” Patsy said. “You look perfect. You’ll be the prettiest girl in there.”

  Shannon put her hand on the car’s door handle and took a deep breath.

  “Hey,” Patsy said. “Come here.” Shannon leaned over and her aunt hugged her tightly. They stayed that way a moment and Shannon could feel her aunt’s heartbeat, rapid and steady. “I’ll wait for you. Now go on. Go knock ’em dead.”

  Shannon daintily touched each stepping stone on her way to the front door of the immense brick house. She admired the homes along Lebanon Avenue, had always wished she lived in one of these houses with the smooth lawns and bushy pots of flowers at the doors. This house belonged to Mrs. DeSpain, the Junior Miss director. She pushed the doorbell, and inside, chimes rang long and solid. A cheerful woman showed her inside where a dining table was set with finger sandwiches and punch. Girls who had already been interviewed milled around talking alongside their beaming mothers. Shannon put a few things on a tiny china plate, took a crystal cup of punch with a handle too small to get her finger into, and found a chair. It was a good thing she was too nervous to eat or drink because she couldn’t have balanced everything on her lap and eaten.

  Virginia had promised to take her to this interview, but when it came time to go she had claimed cramps and crawled into bed. Shannon wondered if she would even come to the pageant tomorrow night. Since Will’s death, her mother had lost her spark. Even when she was unhappy, Virginia had always gotten things done, made her opinion known, taken care of responsibilities. But this was something different from simple dissatisfaction with life. Aunt Patsy called it a funk, this melancholy glaze on her mother.

  A door opened down a hall and one of the girls from the city school came out. Behind her came Mrs. DeSpain. “Ready, Shannon?”

  Shannon walked into a den where four judges sat in a semicircle, two women on a sofa flanked by two men in chairs. While Shannon waited for an invitation to sit down, she glanced out the picture window into a yard with clusters of peonies and banks of begonias. A kind-looking, bald man motioned to the chair in the middle of the room and asked her to have a seat. Shannon slid into the chair, smoothed her skirt, crossed her ankles, folded her hands in her lap, and smiled. I can do this, she told herself. She took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. She was the girl they were looking for—the girl with a sense of values, clarity of expression, knowledge, perception, and an ability in human relations.

  “Miss Lemmons?” A cheerful lady in a bright red suit held out the questionnaire Shannon had filled out back when she applied to the pageant. So this must form the basis of their questions. “I see here that you really like to read. Your favorite book is Gone With the Wind. Tell me why you like that book so much.”

  The judges were all from out of town and they had introduced themselves, but now Shannon couldn’t remember their names, so she didn’t try to call them. “I like Scarlett.”

  “But don’t you think she does questionable things, Miss Lemmons?”

  “That’s because she’s a survivor. She constantly pulls herself up out of bad situations.”

  “Sometimes at the expense of others.”

  “That’s true, but she does a lot of good things for other people, too. For instance, her sisters and the slaves would have lost the only home they ever knew if it hadn’t been for Scarlett. She doesn’t set out to do bad things, but when push comes to shove, she’s willing to make the hard decisions. She’s not bothered by what people think about her.”

  They seemed to like her answer. The questions came more quickly and the judges all blended together in her mind. She tried to focus on the one asking the question, to look seriously at them, their lips moving, but it seemed like it took forever before their words arranged themselves in her brain to where they made sense. She was surprised when answers flowed from her mouth, forming in the air in front of her, and the judges were nodding and looking at her intently as if everything she said was logical.

  “You’re on the debate team?”

  “No, sir. I’m in speech club. That’s different.”

  “How’s that?”

  “We aren’t assigned sides of a topic and then asked to argue that side. What we do is pick something we feel strongly about and then write and give a persuasive presentation about it.”

  “What do you talk about?”

  “Environmental issues mostly—pollution, the greenhouse effect. I’ve talked about children’s rights before.”

  “Would you say you’re politically concerned?”

  “I’m politically aware.”

  “Wonderful. Let’s talk politics then. Can you tell me what the big story involving Iran was this past summer?”

  Shannon tried not to sound like she had all this information memorized. “Terrorists took fifty-four American hostages back in November at the U.S. Embassy in Tehran. In April, President Carter tried to rescue them but it was a disaster. Eight of our military died and they didn’t even get close to rescuing our people. I think the Iranians scattered the hostages all over the country now, so it’ll make it harder to save them.”

  “Do you think the president should have done that?”

  “I don’t know. He tried economic pressure by halting oil imports from Iran and other things like that, but nothing worked. Every night we have to watch those poor hostages blindfolded and forced to say things. It’s scary. I’m not sure that it was the wrong thing to do. It worked for the Israelis.”

  “You seem to know your current events. Let’s talk about you. What values do you think your parents have instilled in you most?”

  She paused thoughtfully and tried to seem spontaneous when she said, “I think my parents set a good example of honesty for me. They always told me that no matter what I did, that I could tell them.”

  “Did you ever have to tell them you did something really bad?”

  Right. Like I’m going to tell you something awful I did.

  “Nothing much yet, but I’m sure I’ll do something they won’t like when I get my driver’s license.”

  They laughed and she felt relieved.

  “That’s right. You’re still fifteen. Youngest in your class.”

  “I skipped second grade.”

  “Do you study hard or does it come naturally?”

  “I’ve always liked school. Never found it very hard.”

  “What’s your worst subject?”

  “Spanish.”

  “What’s your best subject?”

  “I like science. Natural sciences like biology. I like math, too.”

  “Of course, I’m sure that’s where your speeches come from. Do you intend to major in a science when you go to college?”

  “I’d like to.”

  “Do you plan to do something with this interest? Perhaps be a teacher someday?”

  “I’m thinking about being a researcher. Maybe track down new insects in the rainforest or something.”

  “You’d better study your Spanish, then.”

  “Excuse me?” Shannon said.

  “If you intend to visit the rainforest you’d better brush up on Spanish. Many countries with rainforests speak Spanish.”

  Damn, Shannon thought. That wasn’t good.

  “Let’s ask you someth
ing about your family. I see here that you have an older brother. How do you like being a little sister?”

  She had prepared for every possible question, but this was one she hadn’t seen coming. Shannon paused. How should she answer that? A hot knot formed in her throat and she tried to swallow it down.

  “Miss Lemmons?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I…”

  “Is this information wrong? You do have an older brother?”

  “Yes. But,” she hesitated, stumbled. “He died. My brother died, a few weeks ago…in July.”

  The judges were quiet. “I’m sorry,” a couple of them mumbled. “We don’t have to talk about that. We certainly understand.”

  “No,” Shannon said. “No. It’s okay. I’ve hardly talked about it at all. Everybody just tiptoes around me. Like if they don’t bring it up then it didn’t happen.”

  They all stared at her. What should she tell them? That her mother was a basket case? That her best friend was now a smelly old hound? That she wanted to pick up that heavy-looking glass vase of fake flowers on the coffee table and toss it through the picture window into the back yard?

  “Will drowned…in Green River. It was a freak fishing accident. Will was very athletic.” Shannon pointed to a tray with a pitcher and small glasses for water. “Would you mind if I had a drink?”

  “No, certainly. Let me get it for you,” the bald judge said. He poured her a glass and she thanked him, took a couple of sips.

  “Honestly, I wondered if I should even try to do this,” she said, trying to keep a quiver from her voice. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “Be in Junior Miss, I mean. But you have to get past things, because…really, what other choice is there?”

  Shannon had been using gritty tooth polish for weeks, but she still couldn’t tell if her teeth were whiter as she smeared a thin layer of Vaseline on them. She ran her tongue over the oily surface and it made her think of eating slimy okra. She wore the blue sheath dress from prom. Shannon dabbed powder under her arms and smoothed it in. The lights were so hot that all the girls were sweating after the fitness routine. The cheerleaders were setting a quick pace, but then everything seemed to be moving terribly fast. Good thing the glaring stage lights kept Shannon from seeing past the first two rows of the audience. She could clearly see the judges at a table off to one side of the stage and so she made sure to direct her smile at them.

  “Do I have powder showing?” she asked Pam. Each girl was allowed one helper.

  Pam checked her all around. “No. You’re good.”

  “What about my hair?”

  “It’s flopped out a little. Let me spray it back down.” Pam fiddled with a few tendrils. The green room was oppressive with the sour smell of hair roasting on hot rollers. “I can’t believe they make you do fitness before talent. They’ve got to know it just tears up everybody’s hair.”

  “Shannon Lemmons!” the stage director shouted. “Three minutes!”

  Shannon grabbed her sheet music. She had the piece memorized, but had decided at the last minute to take the music in case she lost her place. Shannon clomped up the stairs and stood behind the curtains stage right. She tried to breathe deeply, but the air came into her jagged and didn’t help. She jiggled with nervous energy. Talent was probably her weakness. She’d done great in the interview and that was 35 percent of the total score. Creative and performing arts counted 20 percent, and poise and appearance, youth fitness, and scholastic achievement each counted 15 percent. Unless another girl at the city school had a 4.0, she would win the scholastic award, but talent was going to be her weak spot.

  The emcee announced her name and she walked out into the glaring lights. Her jaws hurt from smiling, but she kept it up. When she sat down the applause stopped and the auditorium fell silent. She felt small and insignificant behind this giant instrument, but her aunt Patsy had taken her to church a couple of times so Shannon could practice on the baby grand there. Her aunt had told her, “Now, Shannon, don’t be intimidated. They both have eighty-eight keys.” Shannon adjusted her music and someone in the audience coughed. Four hundred eyes watched her. Shannon’s fingers flew over the keys, much faster than Adagio sostenuto. No sustained, leisurely pace, but a mad rush to get through the piece. She finished and the applause seemed strong. At least she hadn’t hit any sour notes. She stood and bowed. The curtain fell. She wobbled back to the wings. Next was poise and appearance, then the awards ceremony.

  Shannon peeked out from the curtain before the next girl came onstage. She could see farther into the audience at this angle and found her mother and aunt a few rows back, mixed in with what seemed like every relative Shannon had. She knew Kerry was there, but she couldn’t pick him out of the pale, round faces. Shannon went downstairs to change into the sparkly green gown she’d bought in Louisville.

  “I messed up,” she whispered to Pam.

  “No. You did fine.”

  “Fine is not what I was going for. I played too fast.”

  “You didn’t mess up any that I could tell. Look, I got you a program.” Shannon flipped to her photo—another thing that hadn’t gone exactly as she would have liked. Still, it was better than some of the other contestants’ pictures.

  “Girls!” the stage manager called. “Ten minutes until Poise. Ten minutes!”

  Soon they were all lined up backstage, ready to begin their fluid-movement routine. This was the part the program said was to determine, “grace, grooming, carriage, and posture in evening attire.” Shannon’s pale green gown had beads on the bodice and a flowing skirt. The sales assistant had called it diaphanous, a word Shannon had quickly written in her notepad. Shannon liked her dress because it was classy, not trashy like the county beauty pageant girls’ who looked like a child’s sparkler under the lights. Music started and they trailed across the stage and into a circle. They twirled and someone stumbled and Shannon kept counting steps in her head and praying that she wouldn’t misstep, too.

  After a quick stop back downstairs to dab at sweat and touch up hair, the girls were back onstage for the awards. They lined up and waited for the curtain to rise. Shannon had expected that after the judging was complete everyone wouldn’t be so nervous, but the contestants were buzzing with excitement. A few held hands while they listened to the audience shuffling back to their seats after intermission.

  The emcee walked onstage in his tuxedo, winked at the contestants, and said in his booming baritone, “Okay, everybody ready?” The curtain went up and the audience applauded. The emcee made a big deal out of reaching down to take the envelope from one of the judges at the table. Shannon could see a haze of perspiration radiating from some of the girls, but their smiles were wide and tight. The pageant had been going on for three hours by this time, so the emcee didn’t waste time teasing the audience but launched right into the awards. A bubbly cheerleader practically skipped out to take her silver tray for the Youth Fitness Award, but Shannon knew her grades were in the basement. The award for talent went to a girl from the city school who played the flute. When the emcee announced the Scholastic Achievement award he prefaced it by saying that frequently there were ties in this department and that when that happened, the judges took extracurricular activities into account. Shannon’s heart fell, as she had dropped out of a lot of her activities this past year. When he called her name, Shannon stepped meekly forward to receive her tray. She sensed another girl’s shoulders drop. One of the county fair beauty queens got the award for Poise and Appearance, and then the emcee began to call the runners-up. As he called one girl after another to receive her award Shannon’s hopes were shoved out by an odd sense of dread.

  “Now we’re down to the moment we’ve all been waiting for—the crowning of Baylor County’s Junior Miss for 1981. This young lady will receive a four-hundred-dollar scholarship from the Baylor County Junior Miss Pageant, a fifty-dollar savings bond, a gift certificate from Scott’s Ladies’ Apparel, a new camera from Supertone Studio, a silver tray, a dozen roses, and the best part, a beaut
iful tiara, compliments of Shivley’s Jewelry.” A spattering of claps came from the audience. Shannon’s cheeks ached and quivered with the effort to continue smiling. She glanced to her sides to see that many of the girls were no longer even attempting to smile and others had faded to a weird sort of grimace.

  “Our judges wanted everyone to know that the young lady chosen for this year’s crown is well rounded and has excelled in every part of the pageant, but she had an exceptional personal interview. So without further delay I’d like to announce that Baylor’s County’s Junior Miss for 1981 is…” The audience seemed to surge forward in their seats. “Miss Shannon Gale Lemmons!”

  Shannon stood in her spot, gripping her academic award, until another girl gave her a nudge. White noise roared in her ears and her ankles quivered in the high heels. Shannon was trembling so that the woman trying to pin the tiara in her hair said, “Honey, calm down.” Shannon held the spray of roses as she had seen Miss America do and she waved to the audience. A few of the girls hugged her. Shannon looked down to see her aunt Patsy knocking people to the sides of an aisle as she rushed down to the stage. One man’s popcorn showered over a section of audience, but her aunt kept on, yanking Virginia behind her. She could hear her mother yelling, “Excuse me, that’s my daughter!” Shannon laughed then, a long and needed laugh that made her look stunning on the front page of the News-Journal. It would always be Shannon’s favorite photo of herself, even though it showed a small streak of eyeliner trailing down her right cheek.