Six of One

by Rita Mae Brown

  "Right. I am listening to nobody or nothing. Who's gonna arrest a little old lady? I am doing whatever I please."

  "You said it, Juts. We earned it!"

  "Quit shaking your head. I got a rat's nest here to smooth out You know, Ev, you're the only one of us with a husband left alive."

  "That's a matter of opinion."

  "Ha!"

  "I still get the urge, but Lionel lays on his back like a beached whale."

  "I still wonder how Pearlie and my sister produced two children."

  "Me, too. I can't feature Louise randy."

  The two of them exploded with laughter, then "Shh"ed each other for fear of waking Nickel.

  "Time for you to get in your duds, Julia."

  By the time Juts adorned herself, she looked like Raggedy Ann gone wild. The fright wig added the crowning touch.

  "A paint store hit by lightning." Ev admired the handiwork.

  Julia never minded acting the fool. She figured it was one thing if you did it yourself, quite another if someone did it for you. If anyone stopped and asked her why she was dressed like Patience Horney, she was prepared to tell them she was a refugee from permanent press. That sounded loony enough to satisfy anyone and set them on their way. Patience had often said things that sounded off the wall until you started thinking about them. In the old days everyone called Patience a nut. She'd heard it so many times she'd sit at the railroad station and chatter like a parrot: "Nature provides the nuts. You gotta crack 'em yourself." Julia imagined she was going to enjoy playing old dead Patience for an hour.

  "Hey, remember when Patience had her twins?" Juts practiced walking with the sashay step she recalled the old lady doing.

  "What a scene. She named those poor things Dyslexia and Effluvia because she thought that sounded classy. I think Lexi never did forgive her."

  "Funny, though. Here Lexi and Fluvi grew up with a nut, Fatty Screwloose. They turn out just fine and look what happened to Mary and Maizie."

  "Mary's end was no fault of her own. Maizie— well, that's a different story." Ev shook her red head, which made her sad expression somewhat comical.

  "I still say that two years in the convent gave her a touch of the melancholy."

  "Well never know, Julia, well just never know."

  "You're right. Who wants to think about that anyway? Are you ready?"

  "Ready as I’ll ever be." Ev took a deep breath.

  "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one—blast off!" Julia raced for the door, followed by Ev.

  Sneaking through the back yards and alleyways, they made it to the phone booth in five minutes. At few dogs complicated their speedy progress, but once they smelled it was Juts and Ev, the beasts let them go on their way. Julia plopped down on a creosoted telephone pole laid by the telephone booth next to the road. Ev hurried to get to Louise's, no small task in gold lame" high-heel sandals. Another three minutes and she sank her heels into the frontyard grass. They had about forty-five minutes to pull off the job. Louise dragged her carcass to mass every morning at seven-thirty, sure as the sunrise. Today was confession day, so she'd be a little longer.

  Julia danced around the phone booth. She'd read about method acting, so she tried to get into Patience's character. Then she sank on the log again and watched a few heaps roll by. No one took much notice. In fact, Dillard Flexnor absent-mindedly waved. This blocked Julia's bowels. She resolved to give a command performance.

  "I sat next to the duchess at tea. It was just as I feared it would be. Her rumblings abdominal were simply phenomenal And everyone thought it was me!"

  She sang this as loud as she dared. Not a car passed by. Too early, she thought. It's just as well. I don't want to jeopardize Ev. You'd think someone would notice. Juts sang to herself on the log and clicked her fingers.

  Meanwhile Ev Most was in danger of decapitation from low-hanging rosary beads. The hallway into the bedroom glowed with an illuminated picture of The Last Supper. When guests came, Louise always turned the picture on. The wine in the cups sparkled. Juts would usually whisper into anyone's ear that it wasn't the Romans that killed Jesus, but Near Eastern cooking. This never failed to get a rise out of Patty Piety. Everywhere the eye could rest some religious object hung. Her entire house was decorated in Catholic rococo. The only relief was a wobbly-headed statue of a Philadelphia Eagles football player. Everyone in Runnymede rooted for the Washington Redskins, so naturally Louise rooted for the Eagles.

  Fortunately, Ev had been in the house many times. Otherwise her mission would have been slowed by the dazzle of Day-Glo Jesuses, sacred heart Marys, Saint Christopher carrying his load, and countless rugged crosses. Knowing Louise as they did, both Julia and Ev figured her love letters from this long-ago affair would be in her bureau drawers. They were certain she'd be mushy enough to tie them with ribbon. Ev raced through each bureau drawer and found nothing but twenty pots of red rouge, each a slightly different shade. Ev assumed Orrie, overrun by her beauty potions, had dumped some of her rouge supply on Louise. The bureau yielded nothing.

  Ev teetered over to the closet. How Orrie walked in these things with her bulk began to amaze Ev. Until now she had never realized what a triumph over gravity Orrie Tadia truly was. Louise's closet looked exactly like Julia Ellen's: neat. All the dresses were hung according to both season and style plus color. The shoes were on a rack and even the sweaters and shawls were arranged. Cora taught those girls proper, Ev thought. Nothing in the closet. Even Louise's sewing basket was neat. No folded letters, no hidden codes. Orrie was about to give up. The bed; mustn't forget the bed. She pulled off the covers. Nothing. She rooted under and in the pillowcases. Nothing. She looked under it. Nothing. She slid her arm in under the mattress as far as it would go. She felt something. Didn't feel like letters. Straining, she got her index and middle finger on it. She pulled it out. Felt like a magazine. She stared at the cover in disbelief. Ev had in her hands a piece of genuine pornography. Fired up, she reached in again and swept the whole bed in an arc. She unearthed two more. She crawled to the other side of the bed and repeated the motion. More. A gold mine!

  Bored, Julia Ellen had drifted off into that zone where children go in similar circumstances. She hummed and looked out over the road. She sang limericks to herself. Her favorite was:

  "Nymphomaniacal Jill

  Used a dynamite stick for a thrill

  They found her vagina in North Carolina

  And bits of her tits in Brazil."

  It wasn't until she hummed "tits" that she noticed Louise's rear license plate down the road. Her sister had slipped past her. Frantic, she rummaged in her pockets for a dime. Found it.

  The agreed-upon signal was two rings on the telephone. Ev would clear out on hearing this. Julia, nervous, dialed the number. It rang once. On the second ring, Ev picked it up.

  "Hello."

  "Asshole! What are you doing answering the phone?"

  "Oh, I forgot."

  "Louise slipped by me. Hurry and get out of there."

  "Julia, you were supposed to watch."

  "I did, but you know Louise. She's shrewd. Hurry."

  Ev gathered up the evidence. As she was flying out the back door, her pillow shook loose. She ran with it half hanging down her legs. Under the bushes in Louise's yard, it fell out. Ev was so scared she left it and ran through four back yards. Then she stopped to yank the damn sandals off and ran the rest of the way to Julia's.

  Julia trotted home, too.

  "Did you find them?" Julia asked before she closed the door behind her.

  "No."

  "Piss."

  "I got something better." Ev cradled the precious cargo.

  "What?"

  "Look at this." Ev handed one over.

  Not accustomed to viewing such literature, Julia blankly turned the pages. She finally made the connection. "What in God's name?"

  Nickel called out from her room. "Mom, are you O.K.?"

  Julia cupped her hand to her mouth and
put the magazine behind her back. "Yes. You go back to sleep."

  "Some apples!" Ev smiled, appreciative of her own talents.

  "Ev, you oughta get a medal for this. Do they give Oscars for discovering dirty books?"

  "No."

  Julia held one out at arm's length and slowly turned the pages. Ev covered her eyes but peeped through her fingers. The photos were shameless. After a minute or two of horror, they dropped their poses and sat next to one another discussing the contents of this incriminating evidence.

  "My sister, who when she scratches her head has to be careful not to cut her fingers on the thorns! Now I got her dead to shit!"

  "I never in a million years woulda thought Louise would go for this stuff. Can you believe it?"

  "I can believe anything. Ha! Once news of this gets out, even the flies won't hang around her."

  "If she gives up on twisting Nickel you won't tell."

  Julia paused for a moment. "No, I won't tell, but what a test of my will power!"

  Nickel, awakened before her usual time by the hysteria in the kitchen, shuffled into the bathroom. She saw Julia and Ev in those ridiculous costumes. "Huh?"

  "Take your shower."

  "What are you two doing?"

  Juts and Ev leaned over the magazines, but a few corners showed.

  "None of your business. Go take your shower. This is big-lady stuff," Juts ordered.

  Half asleep, Nickel shook her black hair and closed the bathroom door behind her. As soon as the sounds of teeth being brushed reached the kitchen, the magazines were carefully studied again.

  "Look at this." Ev pointed to an interesting endeavor.

  "People must be made out of rubber to do that"

  "Are you going to call Louise up?"

  "No. Hey, look at this one."

  "Do you suppose Louise tried any of this stuff?"

  Julia yanked her fright wig off her head. It was getting warm. "Who's she gonna try it with?"

  "Let's see—who's living and single?"

  "Single. You're sure giving her credit." Juts smirked.

  Initially shocked, Ev composed herself. "I guess after seeing this stuff I can believe anything."

  "I still say she had an affair before the war."

  "Which war? We've had so many." Ev sighed.

  "Two."

  "Who cares? What you've got on her now is hotter."

  "It's just that I can't stand the thought of Louise raising some hell. I mighta missed out on something."

  "You never cheated on Chessy?"

  The very thought so surprised Julia that she blinked and stopped. "No, why would I do a thing like that?"

  "Plenty do," Ev tossed off airily.

  "Ev."

  "Mind your business."

  "Ev."

  "Never, never, never."

  "Ev."

  "No."

  "Evelyn Most, don't lie to me. You know you are a rotten liar."

  "I did no such thing as you are suggesting."

  "Ev."

  "Once."

  "I knew it!" Julia clapped her hands.

  "Oh, shut up."

  "Who?"

  "You don't know him. He's from Baltimore."

  "Tell me everything. Every syllable."

  "I most certainly will not."

  "Will you at least tell me if it was fun?"

  "It was fun until it got serious. It's hard to keep these things"—Ev thought for a minute—"unserious."

  "Hmm. Did you tell Lionel?"

  "Of course not. How dumb do you take me for?"

  "I never did anything." Juts pouted. "Now it's too late."

  "Nickel's making up for you." Ev laughed.

  "She slowed down once she hit thirty," Julia solemnly assured her bedecked friend.

  "You ought to get her to talk."

  "She's worse than you. I can't get nothing out of that kid. She was always like that, from little on up. She makes her mind up about something and watch out. She never gives up and she don't talk."

  Ev sighed. "What a pity. We could do with some fresh gossip as opposed to this printed stuff."

  Julia flipped through another trophy. "It might be printed, but it's better than nothing."

  "Well, what are you going to do now, Juts?"

  "Get out of this paraphernalia. It's turning hot."

  "No, I mean what are you going to do about these magazines?"

  "Nothing."

  "Nothing?"

  "She'll find them missing. You know Louise will come around with the searching eye or send Orrie out poking."

  "This is gonna be rich." Ev rubbed her hands together.

  Julia sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "We can sit and wait."

  "The mountain comes to Mohammed."

  "Christ Jesus, Ev, don't you go getting religious on me."

  February 2, 1937

  Fannie paced in the railroad waiting room. Celeste's train was late. As usual after Christmas, Celeste had sailed for Europe. This time she hadn't gone for fun and frolic. She had traveled to find Fairy. Neither Fannie nor Celeste had heard from Fairy for a good four months. Busy as she might be, their old crony always managed at least one letter a month. Celeste sent weekly telegrams to Fannie: "trail cold"; "slight scent"; "garbage"; and "coming home feb. 2. 4:02 p.m." Fannie couldn't figure out the garbage message, but she'd get all the details from Celeste.

  When they first became seriously worried they wired the consulate, only to receive evasive reolies. Curtis contacted his business associates in Berlin. They advised him to let well enough alone. In desperation Celeste went to Washington to speak with Spottiswood's old commanding officer, now a general. After noting the Chalfonte family resemblance, he told her Germany was tightly sewed up by the National Socialists. Given Fairy's politics, the general bluntly said, Fairy would either be deported or be dead. Shaken, Celeste came home. Fannie paled upon hearing this hypothesis. She was burning to go to Germany with Celeste, but Celeste forbade her to accompany her. Besides not having the money, a weak excuse because Celeste would have given it to her, Celeste figured one of them in danger was enough.

  The bitter cold intruded into the waiting room. The wooden bench offered little comfort. Fannie felt a rushing in her head. She feared she'd start screaming or weeping uncontrollably. The tension, not knowing, the feeling of helplessness, were worse than a verdict of death. Sam Renshaw, the ticket salesman, and Patience Horney at various times tried to divert her attention. A few other Runnymede people chatted. It was all Fannie could do to keep a civil tongue in her head.

  A blue flash on the tracks alerted Fannie to the arrival of the train. She charged out on the platform and shivered. It took the train another five minutes to pull into the station. Fannie thought those were the longest five minutes of her life. A few cars away, the erect, familiar figure of Celeste stepped down.

  "Celeste, oh, Celeste. I'm so glad to see you." Fannie hugged her with all her might.

  "I never thought I'd see anyone again." Celeste buried her head in Fannie's neck.

  "Darlin', let me get you out of this cold. Come on." Fannie picked up one of her bags and shepherded her into the station. She knew she'd never be able to drive until she found out what was what. "Did you find Fairy?"

  "Not a trace." A tear rolled down Celeste's cheek.

  Fannie was shocked. In all the years of their friendship, over a half a century, she'd never seen Celeste cry. "Darlin', sweetheart, honey. Let me get you something."

  Celeste's strong hand grabbed her forearm. "No, please. I'll be fine."

  "My God, what happened?"

  "Wherever I went, people who I knew knew Fairy and Gunther pretended they'd never heard of them. Communist headquarters were long gone."

  "What about our people?"

  "The embassy? All they're good for is licking asses."

  "Oh, God." Fannie's lower lip trembled.

  "You can't imagine what Germany is like, Fannie. You simply can't imagine. Electing Hitler was li
ke prescribing suicide as a cure for the common cold."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean the streets are clean, the highways are marvelous, but the people are catatonic, in a trance. It's unnerving."