by Debby Mayne
“Oh.” What a shame, I think as I put the pillow back on the shelf. “How about a spice rack?”
“Hmm. I don’t know. They’ve leased a small house that he’s already moved into.” She pulls out her cell phone and mouths that she’s going to call Amy. I listen as she asks about the kitchen and bathrooms. After she gets off the phone, she shakes her head. “They don’t have much countertop space, so no on the spice rack.”
Two hours later we head home with nothing but a set of bath towels and kitchen linens. “That was a waste,” I say.
“Not really. The bath towels are very nice, and I’m sure she’ll appreciate the dish towel and pot holders you picked out.”
I’ve always had to work hard to not show my annoyance with both Amy and Patty. Being the middle child put me in the position of never doing anything first or last, so I had to really stand out to be special . . . or even noticed for that matter.
As soon as we turn onto my parents’ street, I see an unfamiliar car in the driveway. “Looks like you have company, Mama.”
She leans forward and squints to get a better look. Then she points. “I believe you’re the one who has company. Looky who’s on the front porch.”
What is Michael doing at Mama and Daddy’s? I turn to Mama. “Did you set this up?”
“No, I promise I didn’t. In fact, knowin’ what I know about that two-timin’, sorry, good-for-nothin’ buzzard, I’d never invite him to our house.”
That’s my mama. At least I believe her now.
As soon as she pulls into the driveway beside Michael’s car, I get out and stomp over to see what he wants. “Hey, what are you doin’ here?” I don’t want to waste time.
He looks up, and that’s when I see how swollen his bloodshot eyes are. His skin looks sallow, like he’s been pullin’ several all-nighters in a row. “Trudy, I need your help.”
“What happened?” I can’t help it. When he looks at me with that sad face, the urge to take care of him takes over. However, I resist putting my arms around him.
“I’m in trouble, and I want you to help me get out of it.”
“You’re in trouble?” Lord, forgive me for not bein’ sad.
He nods. “Yeah, that’s what I said. See, Jenna—that’s my girlfriend . . . or was my girlfriend—is tryin’ to trap me . . . ” The puppy-dog eyes get droopier. “She says she’s pregnant, and now she wants me to marry her. I’m just not ready to do that again, Trudy. The first time nearly got me—” He stands up and comes toward me with his arms out.
“Whoa.” I hold up my hands to stop him. “So after you dump me for some young bimbo, and then you dump her for another one and another one, you go and get yourself in trouble?” I can’t believe I ever loved this sorry excuse for a man. “And you expect me to help you?”
“Yeah, I got it all figured out,” he says, dropping the pitiful look. “Me and you can get back together . . . at least for the reunion and maybe a little while afterward. When Jenna sees there’s no hope for me and her, she’ll go away.”
“Are you kidding me?”
He looks confused. “Why would you think that?”
“No way would I bow down to your level. Go find someone else to help you with your scheme, Michael.”
“It won’t work with anyone else. See, since me and you were once husband and wife—”
I jab my finger toward his car and take an aggressive step toward the man I once thought I loved but now can’t even stand the sight of. “Get out of my yard, Michael. I don’t ever wanna see your face around here again.”
On the way to his car, he glances over his shoulder. “At least think about it, Trudy. It’ll be a win-win situation. You can help me get off the hook, and I can be your date so you won’t have to go to the reunion alone. I know how you hate goin’ places by yourself.”
“Go. Now.”
I fold my arms and watch him back out of the driveway. Once he’s gone, I brush my hands together. The way I feel now, I know I’m completely over him.
Mother is waiting on the other side of the door. “Trudy, honey, I’m so proud of you. You’ve finally become the woman I always hoped you’d be.”
Feeling happy all over, I head to my room. It sure does feel mighty good to have told Michael to hit the road. This reunion should actually be fun now.
26
Priscilla
I wake up early on Friday morning to the sound of voices coming from somewhere in the house. That’s odd. Now that Dad’s moved out and Teresa is off today, the only person Mother has to talk to is me, unless she has company. The clock reads 6:30 a.m., so that’s not likely.
Since I’m not sure who’s out there, I slip into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I step into a pair of flip-flops and mosey on out to see who Mother is talking to. Even before I get to the living room, I recognize Dad’s voice.
He sees me and opens his arms wide. “C’mere, Priscilla. Give your old dad a hug.”
“Old? I hardly think of you as old.” All the while I’m talking, I’m moving toward him. He pulls me in for a humongous bear hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Your mother called me last night. We’ve been talking.”
“Since when?” Then it dawns on me that Dad’s wearing the shorts he always puts on when he first gets out of bed in the morning. “Were you here all night?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” he says. “Your mother is concerned about you.”
“Tell her the whole story, George.”
I look up at Mother who is standing in the doorway holding a couple of coffee mugs. “Good morning, Mother.”
“Want some coffee, Priscilla? I would have gotten you some if I’d known you were up.”
“I’ll get it, but first, tell me what’s going on. Are the two of you . . . ?” I glanced back and forth between them. “I mean, does this mean . . . ” How awkward!
Dad watches Mother as she sets down the mugs and settles into her chair. “This has nothing to do with”—she glances at Dad, who nods—“us. I called your father over last night because I’m concerned about you.”
“Why are you concerned about me?”
“I think you’re losing touch with reality. All you think about is business, and although you’ve done quite well, considering . . . you know. This nonsense about buying the ice factory property and going on TVNS just seems rather strange, even for you.”
“I still don’t understand why you called Dad.”
He leans forward, turns his focus to me, and steeples his fingers. “Priscilla, there are some things you need to know about your family history. My grandfather had some problems when he got older, and your mother thinks you might have inherited some of them.”
“Problems? Like what?”
“He became rather . . . confused as he got older. He was always tinkering in the barn, trying to invent something that would change the world. Granny never minded because it kept him out of her hair, but one day he came in and said he’d found a way to stay alive forever, but they’d have to pack up and move to a cave in Tennessee.” He pauses. “I understand he grew rather agitated when she told him he was talkin’ like a crazy person.”
I’d heard about my great-grandfather, the inventor, but this is the first I’ve heard about the cave thing. “What happened?”
“Of course, Granny wasn’t about to pick up and leave the house she’d lived in ever since she’d been married, so she called her brothers to come help her out.”
Dad obviously doesn’t want to tell me all the details about what happened to his grandfather, or he would have. “So you think I’m starting to do crazy stuff?” I turn to Mother. “Are you saying I’m crazy?”
“No, sweetie, that’s not what I’m saying, but I want to make sure you keep your feet solidly planted rather than get all caught up in believing you’re something you’re not . . . ” She casts a look at Dad before turning back to me. “ . . . or thinking you can do the impossible.”
I’m dumbfounded. This has caught me so
off-guard I don’t have a defense.
Dad continues. “My uncle wound up in Whitfield after he tried to jump off the roof holding onto an umbrella and a bunch of helium balloons.”
Now he’s implying I’m certifiable. “Um, Mother, Dad, I’m not doing any of those crazy things. I’ve never wanted to move to a cave, and you’re not likely to find me on the roof. I’m just trying to grow my business.”
“But TVNS?” Mother shakes her head. “That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard of. After you told me about it, I watched it to see what it’s all about. I don’t understand why you’d even want to be on that channel. Have you seen what those people do?”
“Yes, of course I have, Mother. Millions of people tune in to watch demonstrations of products and buy things.” I turn to Dad. “Have you ever seen it?”
He glances at Mother and turns back to me. “Yes, your mother showed me the channel last night. I have to admit I was rather intrigued, but your mother reminded me that I’ve always liked strange and unusual things.”
“But it’s not so unusual. Do y’all realize there are other retail networks that do the same thing? They wouldn’t be there if they weren’t successful . . . making money.”
“Is that all you care about?” Mother asks. “Making money? Don’t you even care about how this will make the family look?”
Frustration wells inside me. They’ve turned my career dream into a crazy scheme simply to make money and taint the family reputation.
Mother continues. “You know we were very unhappy when you dropped out of school to pursue this path that doesn’t utilize your intelligence, but we thought you were just rebelling and would eventually see the light.” She glances at Dad who remains impassive. “After you kept opening new salons, we realized your pride got in the way, but at least you were able to make a living.”
I let out a whispered grunt. “Y’all don’t get it, do you?”
“We got that you needed to exert your independence.” Mother holds out her hands. “But now you’ve crossed the line, and we can’t allow you to continue on this path of self-destruction.”
“Your mother feels that my moving out might have put you over the edge, so we’ve . . . ” He looks at Mother. “Why don’t you tell her?”
“We’ve decided that your father should move back home to give you the stability you obviously need right now.”
“I—” The instant I open my mouth, I remember what I’ve been praying for and the fact that I asked the Lord to show me how to help. This wasn’t what I had in mind, Lord.
“We’re not saying we’ll stay together forever, but for the time being . . . ” Mother smiles at Dad, and he smiles back his encouragement. “This is the best thing we can do to help you.”
This discussion has gone too far, so I stand up. “I’m going back to my room.”
“Everything we do is because we love you,” Mother calls out.
I close the door behind me and lean against it. Very funny, Lord. Your sense of humor astounds me. I pray for a way to help bring Mother and Dad back together—to have them agree on something. The only thing they see eye-to-eye on is that I’m crazy. I chuckle. I totally didn’t see this one coming.
It’s too late to go back to bed, so I get ready for the day. A glance out the window lets me know the weather report was right, and it looks like we’ll be having tonight’s event at the VFW. I sure hope Pete follows through with the karaoke machine, or we’ll have a bunch of people in a big room with nothing to do but drink.
When I get to work, Sheila looks stressed. “We’ve had two cancelations already, and with this weather, we expect more to come. Folks from your class want to reschedule tomorrow, but we don’t have enough openings.”
“I can work a little later tomorrow.” I open my tote and pull out a solution that’s guaranteed to stop frizz. “Here’s a product that just came out of development. Maybe we can try it on those who don’t cancel.”
Sheila takes the bottle, turns it over, reads the back, and smiles. “Looks like this might be the answer to all our prayers today.” She tries to give me back the bottle, but I shake my head and laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You don’t wanna know. Keep that bottle. I have several more.” I start toward the back room to put my things away, and I can hear Sheila trotting along behind me.
“You seem different today, Priscilla. Did something happen? Are you okay?”
I’m tempted to tell her nothing is different, but I really need to talk, and she’s the person I trust most in the world . . . at least at the moment. “To be honest, I’m not sure. Some strange stuff is happenin’ at the Slater house.”
She looks up at the clock on the wall. “I have a little time if you’d like to talk now.”
As I tell her what’s happening with my parents, she nods and gives me an occasional smile. “So now my parents are back together, but only to gang up on me and protect me from myself . . . from accomplishing what I’ve wanted to do since I first saw TVNS.”
“I have to admit, Priscilla, you’re in the most unusual pickle I’ve ever seen. I’ll have to think on this one.”
“In the meantime, we better get out there, or the other hairdressers will come looking for us.”
Chester stands at his station, watching us as we walk out of the back room. “What’s the big secret? Y’all leavin’ me out again?”
“No, of course not,” Sheila says. “Did you know that Priscilla has a new product that’s guaranteed to fight the frizz?”
“Honey, I don’t think nothin’ will work on a day like today. At least everyone has to deal with the same conditions.” He finishes getting his station ready as I start working on mine.
Midway through the morning, Chester approaches my station. “Got anymore of that magic frizz serum? It seems to be workin’.”
“I put some out on the table in the break room. Help yourself. Just remember that a little bit goes a long way.”
He grins and gives me a thumbs-up. “I’ll go easy on it. We don’t want to overdo it again, do we?”
I laugh and shake my head as he walks toward the back. Last time I told him to use just a little bit of conditioner, he didn’t realize just how little, and it took him a half dozen washings to get it out of his client’s hair. After she left, he groaned. “That stuff was like shellac.”
I’m pleased with how this new anti-frizz product is working out. Two of our clients have called in after they got home and said even the rain didn’t ruin their blowout.
After my last morning appointment leaves, I sit down in the break room with my peanut butter sandwich. Sheila comes to the door, holding the phone out. “Mandy. She says it’s urgent.”
I push my sandwich back and take the phone. “Hey, Mandy, whatcha need?”
“TVNS called and said they need to see you as soon as possible.”
“TVNS?” My heart pounds at the mere mention of the station call letters. “Are they seriously considering my product line?”
“They’ve narrowed it down to the final three items, and they can only choose one for next season.”
“But . . . ” I remember them saying they’ll need more information before final approval. “When do they need to see me?”
“Tomorrow if possible, but I told them you’d be out of town all week, so they said the Thursday after the reunion at the very latest.”
Okay, calm down, I tell myself. No way can I even consider going tomorrow. “Can you call them back and let them know I’ll be there that Thursday?”
“I would, except they want to speak directly to you.” She waits for me to get a pen and something to write on before giving me the call-back information. “Sounds like you’ve finally got a real shot at this.”
“I sure hope so, Mandy. Thanks.”
After we hang up, I sit back in my chair and stare at the woman’s name and number. I’m supposed to stay with Mother through part of next week, and now I’ll have to give her a good reason for l
eaving. I can only imagine what she and Dad will say when I tell them I need to cut my visit short to take an appointment with an executive at TVNS. Lord, you may be laughing, but I still don’t see the humor.
27
Tim
I been trying all week to give Priscilla the space she needs, hoping she’ll come to me and say she misses me somethin’ awful and she realizes now that she can’t live without me. But that’s not happening. Instead, I’m running myself ragged trying to please another woman whose husband looks at me like I done lost my marbles. Yeah, I’m talking about Laura Moss, gestapo of her high school graduating class.
Here it is Friday already, the day before the big event, and I’ve only seen Priscilla a handful of times. And some of those times have been when I stopped off at the Cut ’n Curl and she was too busy to do more than wave. I’m beginning to wonder how smart it was to come to Piney Point. All it does is aggravate me to no end.
I used to try to impress her by showing her I was smart enough to learn big words, but I’m not blind. I can see her amusement when I say stuff wrong. It don’t come natural to me like it does her. When I say stuff like adversity and capacious, chances are, I’m getting it wrong. I might have studied the meaning of them, but using them is a whole ’nother story.
Priscilla was born into a family that uses big words every day. My family used to laugh at folks like hers. Called them uppity snobs tryin’ to put on airs. Of course I’d never tell Priscilla that ’cause I was taught to never be rude, no matter what. And when I talk to her, I think about what I’m saying before I let it leave my mouth. Most times I think I do just fine, but like I said, it don’t feel natural. When I get tired and talk like I think, I see her little smile. At least she don’t correct me like I suspect Laura does Pete. If I didn’t know about his drinking back in high school, I would’ve thought Laura drove him to it.
I’m fixing to go on down to the VFW hall where Pete said he’d meet me after he gets off work, which should be . . . about fifteen minutes. I just hope he ain’t had nothing to drink yet, or I’ll be setting it up all by myself. Pete’s not a bad guy when he’s sober, but all it takes is a couple of drinks, and hoo-boy, he sure does fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. And then he falls asleep, no matter where he is—might even be behind the wheel of his truck.