I Can't Make You Love Me, but I Can Make You Leave

by Dixie Cash

  “I’ve said it before and I’m saying it again,” Eddie said. “One of these days, you’re gonna get what’s coming to you.”

  She chuckled. “Damn straight. And when I do, I won’t even know your names. In fact, when we get back to Nashville, I’m going to make a few phone calls. And after I do, it’ll be a cold day in hell before either one of you sits in a band for anyone again.”

  Roxie flipped her hair and started out of the room.

  “Oh, yeah? Well don’t look now, missy, but this is hell and it’s snowing outside.”

  ”Eat shit, Eddie.” He had a lot of nerve.

  The Overstreet dogs began barking outside and Debbie Sue heard the sound of a truck engine she recognized. She walked to the window and looked out. “Bob’s here. Guess those directions I gave him were good enough.”

  “Listen, both of you,” Darla said. “Promise me you won’t say a word about what I just said. I mean it. Promise me right here, right now or I’ll ask him to take me back to the house.”

  “Scout’s honor,” Debbie Sue vowed.

  “When were you ever a Scout?” Edwina asked Debbie Sue. To Darla she said, “Don’t worry about it, hon. I talk a lot, but I know when to keep my mouth shut.”

  Debbie Sue looked at Darla and Edwina. She believed Darla’s confession was safe with Edwina, but she wondered if Darla herself might break the promise.

  She opened the door to Bob and led him into the kitchen, where Darla and Edwina sat at her square yellow Formica table. He walked over to Darla and dutifully gave her a peck on the check. To Debbie Sue it appeared to be as casual as the nod he gave to her and Edwina. But she had no doubt Edwina was visualizing something entirely different.

  Edwina jumped up from her chair and went to the blender on the kitchen counter. “Bob, you wouldn’t turn down a Texas-style margarita, would you?”

  “Texas-style? Dare I ask what makes it Texas-style?”

  “Tequila, Grand Marnier and a splash of Everclear. If it doesn’t kill you, it’ll clean your teeth. If you swish it around in your mouth a little, they’ll practically dazzle.”

  “Lord, is that what was in the two I’ve had?” Darla asked, wide-eyed. “My God, Edwina, I don’t think even antifreeze is a hundred and ninety proof.”

  Edwina frowned, pressing a crimson-nailed finger against her chin. “Really? Well then. Now you’re all set for the coming winter months.”

  Bob laughed. “I’ll take the margarita, but no Everclear please. I don’t drink much and I think anything that’s a hundred and ninety proof might do me in.”

  “Okay, Bob, I’ll leave out the Everclear,” Edwina said. “I don’t want to make anybody sick.”

  Everyone laughed more and Bob took a seat adjacent to Darla at the square table. “Hey, look at this,” Bob said of the table. “An antique.”

  Darla smoothed her hand over the top of the table. “This is what they used to call a cracked ice pattern.” She twisted in her chair that matched the table and ran her hand over the silver upholstery tacks. “How old is this dining set? I haven’t seen one like this since I don’t know when.”

  “We had a red one, Darla, when we were first married,” Bob said, and sipped his drink. “Don’t you remember? We bought it used at a Salvation Army store.”

  Darla beamed a huge smile at him.

  There was no missing the smug look on Edwina’s face.

  “Debbie Sue, how long have you had this?” Darla asked.

  “It was my grandmother’s. My mom used it her whole life before she moved out of this place. She wrote many a country song right here at this table. It has to be from the forties or fifties, I’d guess.”

  “As long as you’re guessing, guess how much it would cost to buy this set now,” Bob said.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Three hundred dollars?”

  “Ohhh, The Price Is Right,” Edwina said. “I love that game. Let me guess, too. Hmm, I’m going to say two hundred. You’d be a fool to pay more than that.”

  “Darla, you want to take a guess?” Debbie Sue asked.

  “What does the winner get?” she countered playfully.

  Debbie Sue looked around the room, then left her chair and headed for the cupboard. “A jar of genuine home-canned pickled peaches. Made ’em myself.” She brought out a pint jar of golden peaches. “I can’t cook worth a damn, but one of the customers at the beauty shop taught me how to make these.”

  “They’re beautiful,” Darla said. “And I love them. I’ll say seven hundred dollars.”

  Edwina gasped. “Y’all are nuts. Why, I can practically taste those peaches now.”

  Darla grinned. She appeared to be having fun with the game.

  “The table is in perfect condition,” Bob said. “I think it would go for about eight-fifty. The chairs are probably worth about a hundred and fifty each.”

  Edwina’s jaw dropped. “My God. As I live and breathe.”

  Debbie Sue quickly did the math in her head. “That’s fourteen hundred and fifty dollars. Lord, I don’t think everything in this house combined is worth fourteen hundred and fifty dollars.” She, too, gently ran her palm over the table. “When I think of the saddles I’ve thrown on this table. And I mean big, heavy saddles.”

  “Not to mention the times Buddy has thrown you on it,” Edwina added, laughing.

  “Ed, no one needs to know that.”

  “Just don’t do it anymore,” Darla said. “The saddles, I mean.”

  They all laughed together, then fell silent, as if they had run out of anything to say. Debbie Sue had purchased three enormous sacks of candy bars at Sam’s Club for the candy bowl in the beauty salon. She dragged a bag out of the cupboard and found a deck of cards in the hutch on one side of the small room. “Okay, everyone, since we’re having a slumber party, how about a little poker?”

  Everyone agreed.

  “Here’s how we usually play. A Snickers is worth five dollars. Almond Joys are ten and a PayDay’s worth twenty, M&M’S are—”

  “Oh, hell, forget the M&M’S,” Edwina said. “I’m eating those.”

  A couple of hours later, little piles of candy lay in front of Bob and Edwina both. Debbie Sue and Darla had only a few pieces.

  “This is so much fun,” Darla said. “I can’t remember when I’ve laughed so much.”

  “Wish y’all were going to be around to meet Buddy and Vic. Bob, you and Darla should come back and—” Debbie Sue stopped herself, realizing she had inadvertently made a couple out of Darla and Bob.

  Edwina grinned like a cat that had swallowed the world’s only canary, and Darla blushed.

  “Oh, hell, I’m sorry,” Debbie Sue started.

  “Don’t worry about it, Debbie Sue,” Bob said. “It happens all the time, doesn’t it, Darla?”

  “All the time,” Darla answered. “But at least they don’t ask if I’m your daughter.” Her hand flew to her mouth and Debbie Sue could see she was genuinely embarrassed by what had popped out of it. “Oh, Bob, I’m so sorry. That was a lousy thing to say. Can I blame it on the tequila?”

  Bob placed his hand on top of Darla’s. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’.” He looked at her intently. “That’s something that just tonight I decided to do something about. When this tour is over, if I can wait that long.”

  Oh, my God, holy cow, Debbie Sue thought. They were on the cusp of something. Debbie Sue wasn’t sure how she should react. Did Bob intend to leave Roxie for Darla? And if that happened, would it be a big cataclysmic explosion or nothing more than a tiny pop? She almost felt sorry for Roxie, remembering the pain she had experienced when she and Buddy were divorced and Buddy was hanging out with a schoolteacher from Odessa.

  The jangle of the wall phone made everyone jump. Debbie Sue stumbled out of her chair to get to the phone. She checked caller ID and saw Maudeen Wiley’s name. Maudeen was her favorite octogenarian and a loyal Styling Station customer. “Hey, Maudeen, what’s up? Are you okay? You’re not sick, are you?”

  “Why,
lands no,” Maudeen answered. “Why would you ask?”

  “Sweetheart, it’s after ten. And you told me you made yourself sick on homebrew.”

  “Oh, that,” she said dismissively. “Why, I didn’t even think about the time. I was just watching ‘Lustful Co-eds in Cancun’ on the Playboy Channel, and I saw this girl with the prettiest red hair. And it reminded me, I think I missed my appointment to get my hair trimmed and colored.”

  “No problem, Maudeen. Just come in tomorrow. Around eleven.”

  “I didn’t drag you away from that pretty husband, did I?”

  “No, no,” Debbie Sue said. “He’s out of town until Monday.”

  “Honey, that man spends too much time out of town. Just think what you could be doing if he was in town.”

  Debbie Sue didn’t need to be reminded of that. “Oh, we’ll catch up when he gets back.”

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sorry to call you so late, honey.”

  “That’s fine, Maudeen. That’s okay. Don’t apologize. We’ll see you tomorrow. Cut, curl and color.”

  Debbie Sue hung up and returned to the group. The spell surrounding Bob and Darla had been broken. “Everything okay with Maudeen?” Edwina asked.

  “She lost track of the time.”

  “I don’t wonder, as dark as she keeps that apartment all the time.”

  “Oh, Ed,” Debbie Sue said. “She says that’s the secret to her lasting beauty.”

  “One of our elderly customers,” Edwina explained to Bob and Darla, stacking the cards and slipping them into their box.

  “Bless her heart,” Darla said.

  “Bless her heart,” Bob added.

  “Oh, don’t worry about Maudeen. As the old-timers around here would put it, she’s a ring-tailed tooter.”

  “Anyway she’s coming in tomorrow,” Debbie Sue said. “Her hair won’t take us long.”

  Bob rose from his chair. “Guess I’d better be getting back to the house. I’ve got to make sure everyone is present and accounted for tomorrow and not cavorting around doing something they shouldn’t. I swear, sometimes keeping up with a bunch of musicians is like running a day care.”

  “Well, rats,” Edwina said. “I was winning, too. Do I get to keep the candy?”

  “It’s going to the shop, where you’ll end up eating half of it anyway,” Debbie Sue said.

  “True enough,” Edwina countered.

  The three of them accompanied Bob to the door. As they stood on the front stoop and watched him walk to Vic’s pickup, Debbie Sue remembered the Price Is Right game they had played earlier. “I never renege on a bet, dammit.” She hurried to her kitchen pantry, pulled out a jar of pickled peaches and returned to the porch. “Bob, wait,” she called to him.

  He stopped mid-stride and turned toward them.

  “I’ll take it to him,” Darla said, snatching the jar from her grip.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darla felt self-conscious walking the jar of peaches out to Bob. The closer her steps took her to him, the more she realized he was watching her intently. She felt giddy, almost girlish, as she handed him the jar.

  “Thanks,” he said. “You didn’t need to bring these out. I could’ve come back and gotten them.”

  “I wanted to,” she said, then ran out of words.

  Darkness surrounded them like a black cape. No light could be seen anywhere except from the countless stars twinkling down at them from the heavens. “My God, look at all those stars,” she said, gazing upward. “I can’t remember when I’ve seen anything so pretty. Or for that matter, the last time I even looked.”

  “Me either,” Bob replied.

  She turned her gaze to him and realized he wasn’t looking at the stars, but was instead staring at her. The next thing she knew, his arms were around her and their lips had met in a homecoming kiss that sent a million different emotions racing through her. They kissed for a long time, with her hanging on to the jar of peaches between them. He murmured words of sweetness. Tears sprang to her eyes, but still she kissed him.

  At last they parted and he set her away. “I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice rough.

  “I know,” she said in a tiny voice.

  He turned away from her and opened the pickup door. She wanted to grab him, beg him to stay, but she didn’t dare. Instead she stood there hanging on to the jar of peaches. Oh, my God. The peaches. “Bob,” she said shakily.

  He turned back to her. “Yes?”

  She thrust the jar of peaches toward him. “You—you forgot your prize.”

  “No. I didn’t, baby. I never did.”

  Though driving in a virtual black box with only his headlights to show the way, Bob had never seen things more clearly. He didn’t belong where he was. Being Roxie’s husband was as laughable to him as it was to everyone else. Why hadn’t it been two years ago, before he had said those vows?

  Maybe it was because when he first met her, Roxie had brought back memories of a youthful Darla—fresh, beautiful and talented as all get-out. Like Darla, she had known exactly what she wanted and had gone after it. The difference was, Darla hadn’t stepped on toes and feelings and, in some cases, hearts to get to the top. Roxie, on the other hand, in her attempt to climb the ladder of fame, had strewn human beings behind her as if they were trash, never bothering to wonder what might become of those she disposed of. To Roxie, no-longer-needed people were someone else’s problem.

  Bob held no doubt that at some point, he too would become one of the disposables. And because he was convinced of that, the telethon performance would be her last under his management.

  He felt an instant relief and freedom at the thought. In high spirits for the first time in a long time, he began to hum a Darla Denman song especially dear to his heart. He had helped her make up the lyrics one evening when they were wrapped in a blanket in front of a roaring fire . . . humm-hmm . . . we loved all night . . . humm, hmm . . . Now it’s daylight and time we both went home . . .

  Pulling into Salt Lick, he made the first turn on the right, another left and parked in the small house’s driveway. No lights were on in the house, which was just as well. He wasn’t in the mood for late-night chatter. He opened the front door quietly and tiptoed inside.

  Snores came from the dark living room. A figure was on the couch. He couldn’t make out who it was, but the snores told him the sleeper was dead to the world.

  He slipped off his boots and in stocking feet started for the master bedroom. He found the door closed and heard sounds. Unmistakable sounds. Someone was having sex. Roxie? With whom? Mike or Eddie? A new acquaintance she had met earlier in the day? He suspected Mike. He had seen that Roxie seemed to have a connection with him that she didn’t have with Eddie.

  An odd feeling stole through him. His brain told him he should be furious and indignant, but the only feeling he had was to marvel that she would be so bold as to do it right under his nose. Whoever she was with, the two of them must be having a good laugh about what an old fool Bob Denman was.

  Well, he wouldn’t give her the pleasure of walking in on her and making a scene. She would enjoy all of that melodrama too much. He quietly stepped backward, went to Darla’s room and shut the door, where at least his wife’s activities wouldn’t disturb his sleep. He wanted to be rested and alert tomorrow when he told her to take a hike. Literally.

  Sunday morning’s light came way too early for Debbie Sue. The last Texas margarita had been one too many and she felt the ill effects.

  The unmistakable aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and something baking tickled her senses, and the sound of someone in the kitchen piqued her curiosity. Buddy? No way. He would be out of town for another day at least, and even if he was fooling around in the kitchen, he wouldn’t be baking.

  Then she remembered that Edwina and Darla Denman had stayed over. She was pretty sure Edwina wouldn’t be baking either. Padding barefoot to the kitchen, she saw Darla standing at the sink, busily washing dishes and stacking them on the dish dr
ainer to her left.

  Darla looked up. “Why good morning, pretty girl. I thought you were going to sleep the day away.”

  Debbie Sue squinted toward the clock on the wall. “What time is it?”

  “Eight fifteen. Hope I didn’t wake you up too early.”

  “Heck, no. Eight fifteen is sleeping in for me. How long have you been up?”

  “Must have been around seven. I tried to be quiet. When I’m a guest in someone else’s home I try to follow their routine, but I was so hungry I took the liberty of rummaging through your cupboards. I found everything I needed for a cinnamon coffee cake. I haven’t made it in years. I thought I’d forgotten the recipe, but it all came back. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mmm, yummy,” Debbie Sue said. She poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it to the table. “You actually found the ingredients for cinnamon coffee cake in this kitchen? Lord, something that good hasn’t been cooked in here since my mom moved out. The only thing I ever find in the cupboards are excuses not to make something. Buddy does most of the cooking. I’ve never been very good at it.”

  Darla slipped an oven mitt on her right hand and opened the oven door. As an even more intense scent of cinnamon filled the kitchen, Debbie Sue’s mouth watered. Darla set the square pan on the stovetop, pulled off the oven mitt and, as if she knew right where to go, went to a drawer and found a knife. Then she opened the cupboard door and dragged out plates.

  “Marriage is a whole lot more than just who does the cooking, you know.” She sliced the coffee cake into squares. “I’ve heard you talk enough about this Buddy of yours to know he’s your soul mate.” She lifted out two pieces of the coffee cake and placed them onto the plates. “Take a lesson from me, baby-girl. Do not ever let anything come between you and that man. I mean, nothing.”

  “You know, I did do that for a while and Buddy divorced me. And while we were apart, he took up with a schoolteacher who was hearing wedding bells. That was a very bad time in my life, on top of a previous bad time. So, no, ma’am. I will never again let anything come between me and Buddy.”