Dearest Dorothy, Slow Down, You're Wearing Us Out!

by Charlene Ann Baumbich

  At precisely 10:30, a van showed up in the driveway painted in multicolors of green, creating an outrageously bold camouflage pattern. Big black lettering declared “Edward Showalter, Electrician. Affordable. Dependable. Sober. Jesus Loves You. Even if you don’t SEE Him coming again, HE IS!”

  By 11:25, Katie had worked up a deal with Edward Showalter—for some reason everyone, including him, always said both his names as though they were one—to completely rewire the house. Since Edward Showalter also did a bit of this-and-that handyman projects, she’d gone ahead and set the deal for him to make a few other repairs too. She became convinced not only that he knew exactly what he was doing, but that he would do all of whatever it was within a very reasonable amount of time, “given any unforeseen circumstances, like termites or other vermin,” he’d added as his only disclaimer.

  Katie figured once Edward Showalter was done with his portion of work, all that would remain to get things in order for Dorothy would be for the phone company to get everything updated and wired up for her phone and modern lines. Although Katie would never have believed anyone still had a rotary phone and no snap-in phone jacks, Aunt Tess had proved her wrong. For two women in their eighties, Aunt Tess and Outtamyway Dorothy were about as polarized as you could get when it came to modern-day living.

  9

  Maggie Malone bustled around in her bountiful family room. Ben had built the spacious sixteen-by-twenty-foot addition onto the back of their home decades ago, after the arrival of their sixth child and before their seventh. Maggie was arranging and rearranging all her piles of colorful throw pillows until she got them in just the right order to please herself—or at least until she rearranged them all again. It was her turn to have the Happy Hookers over for bunco, and Maggie adored entertaining. This wasn’t the regularly scheduled meeting night. On that evening she and Ben and every other club member—as well as many other Partonville folks—had sadly ended up attending the wake of Joseph DeKalb.

  Maggie was as vibrant and exotic in her decorating as she was in her clothes, her hair, her life. Currently sporting somewhat chestnut-colored locks pulled severely back into a knot, she’d wrapped a couple of beaded bangle bracelets around it, and they clattered when she bobbed her head. She wore tight stretch-denim slacks and a highly patterned, short-sleeved cotton top and was barefoot, every other toenail painted either blue or violet. Referring to herself as a bit of a gypsy at heart, at seventy-two Maggie continued to be a real corker, as she’d always been.

  The ladies loved coming to Maggie’s, because they never knew what to expect. For dessert this evening, they would be served herbal ginger iced tea; strawberry-licorice sticks happily sprouting out of a crackled-glass goblet; Maggie’s personal blend of salted Spanish peanuts, Oreo cookie bits and frosted pretzels; and homemade caramels with pecans that she’d purchased special for the occasion from her two o’clock appointment last Saturday. Of course, bridge mix was always on everyone’s playing table.

  Even Maggie’s dice were unusual. She’d found them in a novelty shop in Chicago one year after the hair convention. Each pair was a different pastel color. Although Gladys always complained vehemently that the dots were difficult to see with the color—and truly, they were—everyone else would have been disappointed not to find them on Maggie’s table. Even the evening’s individual score pads set themselves apart. She’d decorated Post-it Notes with sparkling star stickers one of her great-grandchildren had given her for Mother’s Day. She’d saved them for just such a special occasion.

  At precisely 7:00 P.M. the doorbell rang. Acting Mayor Gladys McKern, who was still wearing her name tag from the day’s activities, Nellie Ruth and May Belle all arrived at the same time and stood chatting outside the screen door. Ben came to the door, bowed from the waist—one hand at his belly, the other at his back—and greeted them. “Enter. Enter,” he said, as he swept his arm inward. “Maggie’s in the family room beating the stuffing out of her pillows. Perhaps you ladies can rescue them before she completely tears them apart.”

  “Oh, Ben!” Nellie Ruth said. “You tickle me.”

  “You going to fill in for us tonight?” May Belle teased.

  “Certainly not. But thanks for asking. I’m on my way to Lester’s this evening. He said he’s got him a couple fine cigars, and we’re going to sit out on his back porch and smoke them, away from any women who find it necessary to tell us how bad they smell and how bad they are for our health.”

  “And how bad you’ll smell when you’re done with them,” Gladys said, waving her hand in front of her nose, as if the very mention of a cigar had caused smoke to waft up her nostrils. Ben just smiled and headed out the door after the ladies had passed by. He shouted from the front porch that they should tell Maggie he’d gone, and that he’d be back when he reckoned they were gone (“Nothing personal, ladies”)—whether Maggie wanted him to return or not. They all laughed. Jessie was just pulling up to the curb when he rounded the corner. He stopped a moment to say hello to her, encouraging her just to go ahead on in since most of the ladies would be back in the family room by now. Jessie was surprised she didn’t see The Tank in front of May Belle’s when she passed by, since usually Dorothy stayed in at May Belle’s on Hooker nights. She must have been running late, too.

  When the ladies entered Maggie’s family room, Gladys stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the two card tables with four score pads at each table. Although bunco clubs usually had four players at each table, after the long-ago deaths of two of their regulars, they had just learned to play their own peculiar version with six.

  “Margaret!” Gladys exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing with eight places?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Maggie said with a look of mischief on her face.

  “Well, I don’t like surprises,” Gladys said. “I’ve had enough surprises the last two days.”

  “Well, you’re in for another one anyway,” Dorothy said, stepping into the room behind her. “Ladies, please welcome our guests for the evening. I believe you all know Jessica Joy. I just figured it was time Jessica learned what real women do at these meetings. Besides, she could surely use a night out now and again.” Jessica looked from face to face, her own turning a bright crimson when it landed on Gladys. “And I do believe you’ve all met Katie Durbin,” Dorothy said, stepping back a bit so Katie could move forward. “She has been working herself to a near frazzle making sure my new house on Vine Street will be in tip-top shape for me, and I just thought it was time she had some real Partonville fun.” Katie, too, scoped the room, wondering how in the world she’d ever let Dorothy talk her into this.

  Maggie broke the pregnant pause. “When Dorothy phoned the shop today to ask me if it was all right to bring a couple visitors to the meeting tonight, I was not only happy about it but honored to be hosting such fine ladies. And I just knew you’d all be as excited as I am to be able to play two full tables for a change!” With that, she broke out in a thunderous, one-woman applause, her hair beads clacking as she swung her head from Katie to Jessica to the rest of the ladies.

  May Belle and Nellie Ruth scooted over and gave the visitors each a proper welcome, as did Jessie. Rather than end up feeling like an outcast herself, Gladys decided to fall in line with the greeters, whether she actually did welcome them or not.

  After a bit of conversation, Maggie announced that they should each take their first seat for the evening. She figured that it had been so long since they’d played the right way, they’d better get started on time, since all the proper rounds, all twenty-five of them, might take longer than they remembered. As soon as everyone was seated, she scurried into the kitchen and retrieved the handsome, hand-painted serving tray she had readied, then gently placed it atop her Egyptian-pattern, ceramic-inlaid coffee table. Using her candy-apple-red acrylic ice tongs, she plunked a couple of ice cubes into each cobalt blue iced tea glass. Then she began to pour the herbal ginger iced tea from her giant pitcher, which was decorated with an encircling
underwater scene. One by one, she set a glass next to each lady. One by one, they sipped the refreshing new experience, all seeming to enjoy it—aside from Gladys, who took a pass, saying she’d wait for the coffee, thank you.

  At last, Maggie settled down at the table with May Belle, Katie and Nellie Ruth. Then she picked up one of the dice, shook it in her hand and tossed it, rolling a three. Each of the others then rolled. The one with the highest number would begin play for her table; the woman seated across from her would be her partner for this round. Nellie Ruth was the only one to roll a six at her table, which had become designated as the head table. She would be Katie’s partner this round. The way Dorothy and Jessie had seated themselves at their table had left Gladys and Jessica matched up as partners for the first round. Gladys suspected that Dorothy had cleverly and intentionally gotten away with it before Gladys knew what had hit her. Jessie rolled a six, so she rolled first for her and Dorothy’s team.

  The game began with the ladies shaking three dice at once. During round one, the object was to shake as many ones as you could (the next round was for twos, the next for threes), accumulating one point for each. You kept rolling (always all three dice at one time) until none of your dice contained a one, then you passed the dice to the woman on your right and recorded your accumulated score for your current team. If, in one roll of the dice, you got three of any number other than the number you were currently shooting for, that was worth five points and your turn continued. If you rolled, in one roll, three of whatever number you were currently rolling for, that was a bunco. You loudly proclaimed “BUNCO!” and play immediately stopped at both tables. If no one rolled a bunco, bunco was declared when a team had scored twenty-three points. Then each lady recorded her win or loss on her score sheet with an X or an O, with a special notation made for a one-roll bunco. The two losing ladies from the head table moved to the second table, each joining with a new partner. The two winning ladies from the second table moved to the head table, following the same pattern. Prizes at the end of the evening were given for the most wins, second most wins and third most wins, as well as the most buncos, and there was a booby prize.

  Although Jessica was familiar with the game, it took her a while to become comfortable in the setting. Getting invited to the Happy Hookers meeting was like being inducted into Partonville’s private Hall of Fame, even if it was only a one-evening visit. Katie felt like a fish out of water, finding herself just picking up the dice and plunking them to the table rather than shaking them—which would have made her feel completely silly. She was used to intense games of bridge. Thinking. Strategizing. Memorizing. Somehow just picking up the dice and rolling them seemed a bit mindless at best and senseless at worst.

  Even so, by the third round of the second set, everyone had found her rhythm and loosened up a bit, including the two visitors. In fact, Katie’s competitive nature betrayed her own stoic posture, and she began uncontrollably yahooing a bit when she’d find herself on a roll. Although Gladys and Jessica had lost the first round they played together, they’d been teamed up once since, and Jessica had actually rolled a bunco during their play. Gladys couldn’t help but let out a little cheer, finding it exhilarating to mark yet another win on her card—even if Jessica was the one responsible for giving it to her.

  By the end of the evening, Gladys had won the most buncos, Jessie took most wins, May Belle took second and Katie took third. “Not too bad for a rookie of a city slicker,” Dorothy said with a chuckle. No one could believe she’d called her that to her face, or that Katie had actually laughed out loud when she heard it. When the ladies were filing out for the evening, Jessie was surprised to learn that Katie had not only driven Jessica to the meeting, but she’d picked up Dorothy, too.

  The boys had stayed out at Dorothy’s to watch videos—she had a major collection—and shoot some hoops in the barn. Alex never traveled anywhere without his basketball. Henry Wetstra had mounted the now rusty backboard to a support beam after Santa Claus brought it for Vincent, Dorothy and Henry’s younger son, one Christmas when the boys were just little guys. Although the net had long ago rotted away, the backboard was as secure as the day Henry lovingly brought that bit of exercise, camaraderie and brotherly fun to the barn. Dorothy still carried moments of that Christmas Day in her memory portfolio. Henry nearly froze his fingers off working to get it set up. But her sweet Henry would never once have thought about making his sons wait for their joy. Besides that, he loved shooting hoops himself.

  It was a sunny and clear yet bitter cold winter day, and you could see your breath inside the barn. The boys wrestled around with each other in the hay bales, stopping every once in a while to ask, “Is it ready yet? Huh? Is it READY?” Henry would occasionally send them running through the snow to the toolshed for a square, bolt or level, more to burn off some of their energy than out of any real need. He’d ask their opinions about this and that, and, of course, as was customary with Henry, he followed the instructions to the letter.

  Finally the task was complete. Henry drew a quarter out of his pocket. He tossed it high in the air and asked Jacob to make the call quickly as to who got to throw the first ball. “HEADS!” Jacob shouted, but alas, it was tails. Vincent got the privilege, which only seemed fair anyway, since Santa had brought the hoop to him.

  Vincent bounced the ball a couple of times, then with all his might he hurled it up toward the net. It didn’t get within three feet of the bottom! It was then that Henry realized he’d have to lower it for a few years, and the mounting process began all over. By 1:30 P.M., they were all finally playing, the thought of food nowhere in their minds. Try as Dorothy might to keep those boys and her husband bundled up, there was just no way they could play basketball for two hours straight without occasionally peeling off a layer or two.

  Eventually, Dorothy packed a late lunch in a big basket and hauled it and baby Caroline Ann out to the barn. Sitting on bales of hay at the base of the backboard, together they prayed, then ate, then played some more until the sun went down and they were all simply too pooped to bounce, pass or shoot.

  After the Hookers’ meeting, Katie dropped Jessica off at the Lamp Post before she ran Dorothy home, knowing Jessica was anxious to see how Sarah Sue and her husband were getting along. Jessica imagined that Paul would have called if Sarah Sue got out of control, but just the same, she would be glad to get back—even though she’d had a wonderful time. Paul needed to get a good night’s sleep for his very early start at the mine, and Jessica wanted to make sure he got just that. He had been so tender and caring to both of his “ladies,” as he’d taken to calling them. Besides, her breasts were full, and whether Sarah Sue needed her at the moment or not, Jessica would soon need to relieve herself. Although she hadn’t yet braved trying the breast-pumping machine she purchased at the Wal-Mart, she knew it was soon going to be time—and maybe that time was now. Then again, maybe not. The entire idea made her cringe.

  Katie made the drive back to Crooked Creek slowly that night, allowing the fresh air to fill her up. The night sky was absolutely amazing. She and Dorothy rode in silence, craning their necks toward the heavens. Not since Katie had been skiing in Aspen had she noticed so many stars. What with all the city lights around Chicago, even a clear night sky usually appeared like nothing more than a moon and a few starry twinkles.

  When she finally pulled up the lane and turned off the engine, they could hear through the open doors of the barn the thump, thump, thump of the basketball bouncing against the wooden floor. The yard light was shining bright, as were all the lights in the barn.

  “Oh, how it makes my heart sing to hear the sounds of young life in that barn again,” Dorothy said. “I just wish it could stay forever.” Katie leaned her head back against the headrest, sighed and closed her eyes. “I almost said I wish I could stay, too,” Dorothy continued in a reverent voice, “but I’ve fully realized within the last few weeks that I am ready to go.”

  “Dorothy! You’re not talking about dying,
are you?”

  “Goodness no, child. I’m just talking about moving.”

  “You scared me there for a moment!”

  “Well, the task of moving itself is kind of scary. But even so, the notion of just being able to stay in town tonight began to feel safe and right. Yes, it’s time to move on.”

  “So it is,” Katie said. “So it is. And Dorothy, I’m going to tell you something now before I change my mind. I’m going to say it right now while I know it’s true: it is time for me to move on, too. Yes, although the task is daunting, not to mention completely SHOCKING for me,” and she said the word shocking so loudly that it caused Dorothy to bolt a bit in her seat, “I realized when I saw my son covered with mud and grinning from ear to ear today that staying in the city is no longer the right thing. He hates his school, he hates our house, he hates his life, I fear. Staying is not the right thing for Joshua, and it is not the right thing for me. It is not the right thing for us. It is time to try to let go of some wounds I didn’t even know I was carrying until I came to the country and learned to breathe again.”

  Dorothy sat as still as a post, her spirit quickened. Could it be that God had answered her prayers for this precious child of His and her son? Lord, keep my lip zipped until she runs out of words.

  “I’m not exactly sure what I’m even getting myself into, or how it will work out in the end,” Katie said, “but I realized for the first time last evening how lonesome I’ve been for a very long time. Thanks to you and Jessica and all your other kind friends, I am beginning to understand why friends are important, and how much I’ve missed by keeping too busy to have them. I soaked in the tub last night and thought, Katie, if you don’t make some changes now, you’re one day going to die an old, miserable, lonesome woman. Honestly, I think it’s one of the most profound moments I’ve ever experienced. Then today when I saw Joshua covered with mud and again tonight when I heard so many of the stories the Hookers have accumulated…and I hear you speak of young life…That’s it!” Katie said as she pounded the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. “We’re moving to the farm! I’m sure I can find challenging work in Hethrow…I hope Josh will like the school…You know, Dorothy, when one keeps going too fast, one doesn’t take heed of what really matters. Although I never thought I’d hear myself say this, sometimes it’s just time to slow down.”