Relatively Crazy

by Ellen Dye

  “Bitsy, here, used to think that very same thing. Didn’t you, Bits?” Val nodded toward Bitsy, who was now seated in front of the shampoo bowl. “But let me tell you, baby girl, there are no ‘right’ husband cards.”

  Trista wisely chose silence, pressing her lips together as she frowned.

  “Bitsy’s story isn’t essentially any different than most. She fell in love young, got pregnant, and married the guy. Right, Bits?” Val breezed on without pausing for Bitsy’s reply. “But when the reality of a forty-hour work week and dirty diapers hit home, he hit the road. And there was poor, poor Bitsy—Bless Her Heart,” Val paused, giving the full pity effect to the triple appellation. “All alone.”

  Bitsy growled and crossed her arms.

  Val continued. “She was left with nothing at all, because when Euelle Simpson hit the road, he did it with a fully loaded U-Haul truck containing everything from their apartment, right down to the last can of pork and beans.”

  Val tapped an index finger against her pursed lips. “I just know I’m forgetting something…” She abruptly snapped her fingers. “But that wasn’t all he had in that truck, was it, Bits?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bitsy huffed.

  “Oh, sure you do. I’m talking about what filled that U-Haul’s passenger seat.” Val turned toward the class; Bitsy glowered at the floor. “It was another woman.”

  “A younger woman?” Renetta gasped.

  “Nope, older. Way older. In fact, I believe she was nearly sixty compared to Euelle’s nineteen. She was cashing in on her early retirement from Backhill’s and moving to Florida.”

  “Ew,” the class responded, while I merely gasped.

  “Remember Miss Mac?” Val asked me.

  I nodded.

  She’d been a diner regular, always seated by five-thirty sharp and ordering the special of the day. Miss Mac had been a crotchety old woman, in temperament if not quite in years, who bore a striking resemblance to the plucked chickens she spent her days sorting—unfortunately the resemblance covered both wrinkles and smell.

  No, it couldn’t have been the same woman.

  “Oh, yeah. It was.” Val smiled.

  “Ew,” I agreed.

  “Okay, so that about covers Professional Development. It’s an easy lesson to remember. If it has tires or testosterone, it’s bound to give you trouble, so always be ready to go to work.”

  “Bravo!” A cheeky whistle followed by loud applause sounded from the rear. I swiveled in my seat and saw a friendly-looking woman of medium height standing in the doorway. She sported a perfectly cut wedge dyed the wildly imaginative shade of Flaming Cranberry.

  “I’ve never heard a more profound way to sum up Professional Development,” the woman, whom I judged to be near my and Val’s age, said.

  I liked her immediately.

  “Thank you.” Val took an elaborate bow. “I’ll be here for the next twelve weeks.” She waved graciously to the room before taking her seat.

  “Hi, everybody. I’m Mitzi. Sorry I was a bit late today.”

  Bitsy sprang to life. “Class.” She clapped both pudgy hands together. “This is Miss Mitzi, your teacher. And remember to use the Miss. It’s professional.” She paused only long enough to shoot a nasty glare at Val before heading toward, and thankfully through, the door.

  “Now you’re in for it,” I whispered to Val.

  “With Bitsy?”

  I nodded.

  “Nah.” Val laughed. “Remember Pat Lockley?”

  “Your high school sweetheart, baseball all-star, our State Championship winning quarterback, right?”

  She nodded. “And remember his mama?”

  I nodded. Mama Dove, the headmistress of Vo-Tech and surrogate mother to each of us.

  “I married him. Ergo, I got Mama Dove.”

  My brows shot up to my hairline, both at her choice of husband and her completely bare ring finger.

  “Yeah, I know. All brawn, no brain.”

  Cruel but accurate character assessment. I forgot about Mama Dove for a moment. “What happened?”

  “The usual. Got married. Got pregnant, twice.” Val shrugged. “Then it was over.”

  “I’m so sorry, Val.”

  “Don’t be. It was really the best thing that could have happened. I got the kids, the house, full custody of the cats, and best of all, I got to keep Mama Dove.”

  “How’s she doing?” I asked, still a bit muzzy on how this all tied in with Bitsy.

  “Great. She’s retired from Vo-Tech. C’mon, ask me what she does now.” Val playfully nudged my arm.

  “Okay, what’s Mama Dove up to?”

  “She owns two businesses. One’s a salon here in town…” Val trailed off with a comic waggle of her brows.

  “And the other is…”

  “This very school.” Val dissolved into a puddle of laughter.

  “Lord,” I gasped. “You mean she’s Bitsy’s boss?”

  “You got it.”

  “So since I couldn’t possibly improve on that Professional Development lesson, how about we start with some fun stuff?” Mitzi asked from the front of the room. “Manicures, anyone?”

  Heads nodded joyfully.

  “Do we really have to call you Miss Mitzi?” A small girl with mouse-brown hair asked.

  “I’ll leave that up to you all. With two exceptions.” She leveled her gaze toward Val and me.

  “If you two even think about adding the Miss, I’ll flunk you both,” she said with a wink.

  “No problem,” we returned in unison.

  “I’m glad you’re home, Wanda Jo,” Val said, giving my arm a squeeze.

  “Me, too,” I agreed.

  And I realized, with no little surprise on my part, that I really was.

  Chapter Ten

  Mitzi closed her textbook. “Okay, that’s it for today.”

  Across the classroom, books snapped shut, pencils were hastily tucked away, and a multitude of contraband items popped out. Val reached for her cell phone.

  “You go first, and then I’ll check on the girls,” Val said, passing her phone to me.

  I nodded, once again amazed at how easily we’d fallen back into our old friendship. Over the last few days of carpools and baked goods, courtesy of our daughters’ newfound friendship and shared interest in cooking, we’d bonded. Now it was hard to remember we’d ever been apart.

  Knowing Olivia was covered, I pulled out my day planner. I quickly ran an index finger down the list. Venue? Decided and confirmed. Food? No problem. Entertainment? A done deal. Media? The only remaining detail. I punched in the number with a feeling of satisfaction, knowing that within a few minutes all arrangements would be finished for the finest benefit Buckston County of West Virginia had ever seen.

  One short conversation later, my mission was completed, and I disconnected. Handy things, these phones. I made a mental promise to replace Olivia’s phone and get myself a matching one as soon as I got my next diner paycheck.

  Glancing at my crosshatched list, I was impressed at not only what I’d accomplished with this very important project but in all other aspects of my life.

  I’d taken—and aced—my first written exam since accepting my diploma from Principal Padgett in the auditorium at Buckston High, this time on Professional Development, of all things. And I’d done well on our first practical exam, as Val’s still-fresh-looking frosted lavender nails clearly attested.

  It was amazing how quickly the daily routine of school during the day and diner shifts at night had returned. All in all, I had to admit I’d adjusted. Even my reflection when attired in the Pepto-Bismol pink Tunic of Information didn’t cause me to flinch.

  Of course, the ten pounds I’d dropped had helped greatly with that problem. Even clothed in solid white from head to toe, as I now was, I bore much less resemblance to Frosty. Who’d have guessed waiting tables burned so many calories?

  “Love you, babe,” Val said before disconnecting.
>
  “Internet or kitchen?” I asked.

  “Kitchen. Cream puffs today.”

  I raised a brow. “Sounds challenging.”

  “Knowing our girls, I’d say fattening would be more precise.”

  “Point taken.”

  Good thing I was working six nights a week at the diner. Otherwise, now that the girls had advanced their culinary efforts to pastries—my personal favorite caloric sin, second only to Godiva truffles—I’d not only be gaining the ten pounds I’d just lost, I’d be adding twenty more.

  “What is that smell?” Trista asked.

  My attention turned to the girls sitting in the front row.

  “Chips,” Renetta answered, extending the bag. “They’re really awesome. Hot and spicy guacamole. Look, they’re even a really cool green color.” She shook the bag slightly under Trista’s nose.

  “Oh, God!” Trista instantly turned the same color as the chips and clapped one hand over her mouth. Within seconds she’d left her seat, at a full run toward the door and presumably the ladies’ room beyond.

  The formerly exuberant class was suddenly silent, and every pair of eyes stared at the door. I glanced toward Mitzi, who’d paused in cleaning the blackboard to watch Trista’s hasty exit. She shot me a questioning look; I shrugged one shoulder slightly, and Val concurred.

  “Okay, let’s get this place cleaned up and get on out of here,” Mitzi called, already hurrying in Trista’s direction, pausing only long enough to shoot both Val and me a Get-Them-Moving look.

  In a matter of minutes, the classroom had been restored to order and all the daily cleaning chores were finished.

  “Third time this week,” Val said once all the other students had taken off.

  “Do you think she knows yet?”

  “I doubt it.”

  Before we could speculate further, Mitzi returned, wearing a grim expression.

  “Did you tell her?” Val asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Mitzi sighed, dropping into the seat next to Val. “Any of that Verona left, Wanda Jo?”

  I nodded and in short order filled three cups from the thermos I’d taken to carrying during the day.

  I handed a cup each to Mitzi and Val before reaching into my pack for a baggie filled with the girls’ almond tea cookies. “How did she take the news?”

  “Baffled at first.” She paused, taking a sip and reaching for a cookie. “And then thrilled.”

  “How far along?” I asked, holding out the bag long enough for Val to select a couple cookies.

  “Six weeks. Once she actually thought about it, she was pretty sure about the date of her last period. I told her to pick up a home test at the drug store.”

  Val backed up. “Did you say thrilled?”

  “The cloud nine variety. She left in a flash, determined to get copies of all the hot new baby magazines.” Mitzi rolled her eyes before biting into a cookie.

  “Oh, Lord.” Val and I groaned together.

  “I know. The poor girl has no idea what’s in store for her.”

  “But she will,” Val returned.

  “But she’s so young,” I said. “How—”

  “She’s a year older than I was when I got pregnant with Ryan,” Val interrupted.

  “Same here. I’d only been out of high school two weeks when I found out I was pregnant with Jack,” Mitzi added.

  “Guess I was a late bloomer. I was twenty-four, with Olivia.” I took a sip of coffee and reached for another cookie. “But still, Trista seems so young. So much younger than you at eighteen, Val.”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes I think our generation was somehow born older. Or maybe it just seems that way since I’m older now.” Val shrugged.

  Mitzi nodded. “I remember feeling like such an adult back then. So capable. Completely confident in my abilities.”

  Val laughed. “Me, too. And then a funny thing happened. I grew up and found out otherwise.”

  “Don’t we all,” Mitzi agreed. “Sometimes I think it was just sheer luck that Jack turned out all right. I’m still shocked he’s in his second year of college at Georgia Tech.”

  “Do you think Trista is going to be able to handle the reality of having a baby? I’m pretty sure she’s only thinking in terms of Ivory Snow commercials right now.” I continued to worry aloud.

  “I’m sure she is. Judging by how many of those bridal and home magazines she devotes her time to instead of schoolwork, I’d have to say she’s that way about life in general.” Mitzi stretched her legs and then crossed one over the other. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more serious case of Rose-Colored Glasses.”

  “But, hey, she’ll learn. We all do.” Val paused to savor a bite of cookie. “When there’s a baby involved, there’s no other option.”

  I silently agreed with them but still had trouble picturing dreamy Trista dealing with middle-of-the-night feedings, dirty diapers, and colic.

  “So what’s your story?” Mitzi turned to me. “It sounds as though you had a much more sensible outlook on life than I had.”

  I gulped coffee and promptly burned my tongue. If there was one thing in the world I hadn’t been, it was sensible. My mind began to scramble for possibilities to explain what was still unexplainable even now. Namely, why had my nearly twenty-year-old marriage crumbled?

  Val must have noticed my discomfort; she came to the rescue. “You know, I really can’t think of anybody who is really sensible at that age. Take me: I married the high school sweetheart, had two kids, fought the battle of bills versus money for almost two decades, and thought everything was just fine.”

  “But it wasn’t?” Mitzi asked, thankfully diverted from my situation.

  Val shook her head. “Apparently while I was busy finding things, like lost kid shoes and enough money to buy groceries and pay the electric bill at the same time, Pat became lost.” Val spoke without emotion, surprising me. “And naturally, it took an eighteen-year-old girl to find him.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Mitzi patted Val’s hand and offered the cookie bag.

  Val gave a genuine smile before diving in. “Thanks. But I’m not.”

  “What do you mean?” Mitzi asked.

  “I don’t regret marrying Pat, really. I wouldn’t have Ryan and Kate if I hadn’t. But the truth is, somewhere in the daily grind of raising kids and dealing with the PTO and the dirty laundry, I’m really the one who lost Pat. I don’t know when exactly, or maybe it happened so gradually that I never noticed. But when he told me he was leaving us for Kiki—”

  “He left you for an eighteen-year-old named Kiki?” I squeaked.

  Lord, that was even worse than Trixie. And much worse circumstances, too. Reed hadn’t left me for Trixie, I was certain of that.

  Val nodded. “Sad, but true. I’d say she was either an unwanted pregnancy or a difficult labor.” She laughed, a clear and pure sound without the slightest trace of either heartbreak or bitterness. “But I digress. The point is, when he told me, I realized I didn’t really care.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Mitzi raised her cup. “Plenty more fish in the ocean. You’ll find someone else. I met Rich shortly after Jack’s father left us.”

  We all indulged in a long, thoughtful sip of coffee.

  Finally Val broke the long silence. “I hope not.”

  Mitzi goggled. “Why?”

  “I’ve spent all my life being something else to somebody else. The kids’ mama, Pat’s wife. And before that I was my mama’s daughter.” She held up one hand. “Not that I regret it, especially about the kids. But now with my mother happily retired, Pat out of the picture, Rye in college and working, and Kate only having two more years of high school, I’m finally free to be nothing more than just me. I like it.” She finished with a sincere grin.

  “Aren’t you lonely?” Mitzi asked.

  “Not so far.”

  “It’s pretty tough out there on your own.” Mitzi’s voice was filled with emotion—fear or pain, I couldn’t tell. “Damned tough.” Sh
e rubbed her upper arms as if she’d suddenly taken a chill.

  “I suppose,” Val said thoughtfully. “But I was pretty much on my own when Pat and I were together.”

  “And besides,” Mitzi carried on as though she hadn’t heard Val’s last comment. “You’ve got to have a man in your life. What other options are there?”

  Val snorted. “Truckloads. Shiploads. A whole wide world just full of every kind of option you can imagine. Personally, I’ve already selected mine.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “I’m going to be one of those crazy mountain ladies.” Val nudged my arm playfully. “A real Bird. I’m going to wear bright red lipstick and tie-dyed outfits with plenty of purple and keep a herd of fifty cats. Heck, I’ve already got seven; why not add the other forty-three?” She laughed. “I’m going to give your Aunt Nettie a real run for her money.”

  I laughed as I had a mental flash of Val’s laughing blue eyes peeking from beneath a froth of tulle draped from a purple pillbox hat. It was a good look for her. I was impressed, not only with her independence but also her spirit. A real Bird. Honestly, it really didn’t sound like a bad option to me.

  We fell silent as the cookie bag was passed around once again. I couldn’t help but notice the strange, faraway look in Mitzi’s eyes. My intuition told me there were problems, but whether they were of the past or present variety I couldn’t tell.

  “What’s up, Mitzi?” I asked, hoping she’d take the opening to talk if she needed to.

  She shook her head and her expression cleared. “Nothing.”

  “You looked so far away there for a minute,” I pressed.

  “Oh, it’s just Trista.”

  “She’ll do fine. We all do,” Val commented.

  “It’s not really her situation in particular that’s bothering me. It’s more like her situation has made me wonder if I’m cut out to do this job. I had no idea what it would be like to deal with teenagers again. And girls this time.” Mitzi groaned before taking solace in the last almond cookie.

  “I think you’re a great teacher,” I volunteered.

  Val agreed. “But teaching isn’t for everyone. You know…” She paused and then smiled slowly. “We should open a shop.”