Authors: Michael Lee West
Mad Girls In Love (29 page)
“You're serving us a poot?” Rooster looked horrified.
“It must go with the pee-pee tart,” Lacy said. “Excuse meâI mean fart.”
“No, it goes with the music,” said Jobeth.
“We just want to know what the hell we're eating,” said Lacy. “You know?”
Jobeth grimly nodded.
“Otherwise we could have stayed home and ate hot dogs.”
“Wilma never served me a poot in her life,” said Rooster.
“Oh, I bet she has,” I said. Suddenly I felt gay and buoyant.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Mrs. Saylor lifted her arm and briskly waved it over the table, as if she were an evil fairy casting a spell.
“I
told
Bitsy to fix y'all a feast,” Walter explained. “
I
made up this menu. I specifically requested French food. So if you're upset, then blame me.”
“Honey, we'd forgive you if you killed somebody,” said Mrs. Saylor, her eyes filling. “Blood is thicker than piss.”
“Oh, Mama.” Walter put his long arms around her, his freckled fingers smoothing her wiry hair. “Please don't cry. It's just food.”
“I can't h-h-help it.”
Over by the table, Rooster lifted a Pyrex dish. It was filled with small green balls. “What the hell did you say this was?” he asked.
“Actually, I lied. That casserole is not
fils de pute
,” I said. “In fact, it's not a casserole. It's brussels sprouts.”
“Well, why didn't you just say so from the start?” Lacy giggled and wiped her eyes.
“I was wondering what stunk so bad.” Jobeth wrinkled her nose.
I stepped over to the sideboard and poured another glass of wine. I drank it in three swallows. As the Valium collided with the alcohol, I felt both cheerful and careless. “My darling rednecks,” I said in a grand voice, exactly like Mrs. Wentworth's. “
Fils de pute
means son of a whore, but I promise it doesn't taste like one. And
I
should know.”
Lacy and Jobeth looked at each other and snorted. Walter came up next to me, his red hair bobbing, cheeks flaming, and he put his hand on my shoulder. “Honey,” he said in a patient voice. “You've had too much to drink.”
“No, I've just had a minuscule amount.” I squirmed away from his grasp.
“What's minuscule mean?” asked Rooster.
“Look between your legs,” Mrs. Saylor said, and her daughters dissolved into giggles.
“Laisse-moi tranquille,”
I said, waving my free arm.
“Stop,” Walter cried, spinning me around.
But I couldn't stop, I was on a roll. I pulled away from him, then stared into the blank faces of my guests. “I'm sorry,” I told them. “Let me translate. I just said: âYou're annoying as shit! Leave me alone.'”
“Cut it out, Bitsy!” cried Walter.
“Did you tell Patricia to
spit
it out?” I asked.
“Uh-oh,” Jobeth said. “I
think
a family tift is brewing.”
“I believe the word is tiff,” I said.
Jobeth slammed down her plate and turned to the others. “I ain't putting up with this parley voo shit. Let's haul ass and go to Lucky Lee's Smorgasbord on Highway 231. They'll be sure to have ribs.”
“Barbecued ones,” said Lacy.
“But not the kind that kill,” said Mrs. Saylor, picking up her red pocketbook. Then she turned to her son. “By the way, ask Bitsy how she cooks baby back ribs. Ask about her first husband and what she did to him.”
Walter opened the front door and said, “She didn't do anything to anybody. So just leave.”
“She bashed her ex in the face.” Mrs. Saylor patted her nose. “And that's the
real
reason she don't have custody of her child. Me and the girls have been asking around about her.”
Lacy turned to me. “I guess you thought you'd pulled a fast one, didn't you? You never dreamed the gossip could reach Hanging Limb, Tennessee.”
“Actually, it didn't,” said Mrs. Saylor. “We had to ask around the beauty shops in Crystal Falls to hear the juicy stuff. Her ex had plastic surgery after Bitsy got through with him. A nose job. Be sure and ask her
all
about it, Waltie. Have a safe Christmas.”
The Saylors hurried out of the house. Jobeth lagged behind. “We're real simple people,” she told me. “If you'd served us barbecue and banana splits, we'd a kissed your feet.”
“Maybe I don't want my feet kissed,” I said, wishing I could shut up, wishing I hadn't taken that Valium.
“If you talked English,” said Lacy, poking her head around Jobeth's, “we'd a kissed your ass.”
“Tire-toi morpion!”
I said gaily.
Walter shut the door after his family, then leaned against it, glaring at me.
“I am sorry, Walter,” I began. “I was nervous about tonight, and I just don't know what came over me. Well, I guess I do. I drank too much wine. And I took some of Fiona's Valium. I found it in the cabinetâwhy was she taking it, by the way?”
“I didn't know she was.”
“I may have taken too many.”
“You can't blame wine and tranquilizers. I know my family's loud and tasteless, but I love them and you went too damn far.”
“What about you? Were you getting it on with Patricia?”
“There's
never
been anything between me and her.”
I looked up into his eyes. “But your sisters saidâ”
“They want to break us up.” His orange eyebrows lowered. “What's this about your ex-husband? Did you smash his nose, or was Mama lying?”
“No. But I can explain.”
“You actually
hit
him?” He backed up, his hands raised.
“I'm not like Fiona. It was self-defense.”
“That's what Fiona used to say. Why didn't you just tell me? You had plenty of chances. I can't risk being hooked up to another abusive woman.” He held out his hand, his fingers slightly curled. “I'm sorry, Bitsy, but the engagement's off.”
I hid my left hand behind my back. “You said yourself that your family
wants to break us up.”
“Give it to me!”
“But I love you, Walter. We're getting married.”
“Haven't you been listening? The wedding is
off
!” He crossed his arms like a football referee. Fumble! Pass intended for Bitsy Wentworth is
incomplete
.
“Let's just sleep on it, all right? Then, tomorrow, you can talk to Aunt Clancy. She'll explain about my first marriage.” I tried to smile, but my lips felt rubbery, and I probably grimaced instead.
“I don't need to hear any more. I'm not getting in bed with a rattlesnake. Just keep the goddamn ring. It didn't cost all that much, anyway.”
“But I want
you
, not the ring.”
“Just leave, I want to be alone.”
“Fine.” I looked down at my finger, then twisted off the diamond. I grabbed Walter's hand, and he flinched as I fit the ring onto his pinkie. “A perfect fit,” I said.
Â
A TAPED MESSAGE TO BETTY FORD
December 22, 1974
Dear Betty,
I hope your Xmas turns out to be better than mine. The dentist (Walter Saylor) broke off his engagement to my daughter. She had turned cartwheels trying to please him. She has naturally blond hair, but when he asked her to be a redhead, she went straight to the beauty parlor and had it dyed. Anyway, after they broke up, she marched straight to the drugstore and bought a box of Miss Clairol, a level 8. Only it turned out muddy, and she had to go to the salon and get yet another color correction. I'm sure you understandâyou being a blonde. Only her hair was too porous, not to mention damaged from all that dye, and it broke off two inches from her scalp. She took it in stride, but short hair doesn't flatter her round little face. My heart went out to her. Not only is she torn up over her romance, she's practically bald. So don't tell me that this isn't cosmic justice. First, Fiona has a beauty parlor disaster, and now Bitsy.
Of course, now that her love life is in shambles, I won't be able to get you a discount for your teeth. But if you come to Crystal Falls, I will cook you a delicious meal. Yesterday I baked a hamâthe secret is to baste with Coca-Colaâalong with macaroni and cheese and corn bread and turnip greens. A chocolate pie for dessert with a scratch crust. My food is better than what my sister serves down at the café and she no longer cooks at home. Most every night, Bitsy and Byron eat with me and Mack and that thing he's married to. I don't think my son is happy. He's got a beer bottle in his hand all the time now, even in the daytime. And I no longer hear their bedsprings squeak.
I'll just be honestâlove troubles can drive a body to drink. I don't, of course, because it wouldn't mix with my medicines. My son just lays up watching
Sanford and Son
or
Good Times,
then his head will tip over and he'll start snoring. But he wakes up the minute I change the channel to
Rhoda.
Well, I've got to sign off because the oven dinger just went off, and I don't want my cookies to burn. They are oatmeal raisin, and I've enclosed a few dozen for your dining enjoyment. Wish you were here,
Dorothy McDougal
Â
A NOTE FROM BITSY
December 30, 1974
Dear Mrs. Wentworth,
I am sorry for writing this letter, but I wasn't able to reach you any other way. What I'm wanting to know is, may I have permission to take Jennifer out to dinner at El Toro? My whole family will be going, too. I know it can't be on her birthday, but please let me know which day will work for you. I have enclosed a card and birthday presents from all of us. Will you please give them to her at the party?
Sincerely,
Bitsy
December 30, 1974
Dear Jennifer,
I just can't believe that you will turn three years old tomorrow. I am sending your presents a day early, so you'll have lots of goodies at your party. I miss you, and I hope we can see each other soon.
Love,
Mother
TAPED MESSAGES TO BETTY FORD
January 15, 1975
Dear Betty,
For my 43rd birthday, my daughter fixed up my bedroom. In the old days, I just loved to redecorate. I'd call the designer and tell him what I wanted. But Bitsy beats him all to pieces. I told her my room was my own personal island in a Sea of Antagonism. Since green is my favorite color, Bitsy painted the walls key lime. Meanwhile, she put Mack to work, scraping that hideous orange paint off my furniture. The ugly Sears curtains came down and up went matchstick blinds from Pier One. Over these we hung filmy white sheers that stir in the breeze. We even bought a wicker cage for my canary, Frank Sinatra.
Then at garage sales Bitsy found a quilted bedspread patterned with giant palm fronds; two white lamps shaped like oriental temple jars; and an overstuffed chair that matched the bedspread. Then we went out to Mr. Peyton's greenhouse and loaded up on live plants. We bought a bird's nest fern, baby's tears, and a palm tree. I just hope I remember to water them.
When we got back, Mack had painted the furniture off-white. Bitsy talked him into buying me wall-to-wall carpet. When Earlene found out, her face turned red. She insisted on riding with us to the carpet store and she wrinkled her nose when I picked white shag. She did not go with me and Bitsy to the Starving Artist Sale at the Holiday Inn. We picked out a few beach scenes, then drove back home. Earlene told me to look in my bedroom, that she'd bought me a present. It was a green plant, a mother-in-law's tongue. Do you think she's hinting at something, or is she just jealous?
Love,
Dorothy
May 1, 1975
Hi, Betty,
It's me again. Dorothy McDougal from Tennessee. I have the most wonderful news. My niece Violet will be graduating with honors from the University of Tennessee, and she has applied to medical school. We are all going to Knoxville to see her walk across the stage, and then we are going out to dinner.
This is not to say that my life is trouble-free. My daughter hasn't had a date in seventeen months, two weeks, and six days. Except three months ago, a Purity milkman asked her out. They were going to the 7
P
.
M
. movie. At 6
P
.
M
. the milkman called and said he'd just heard that Bitsy was an attempted
manslaughterer, and he was sorry, but he had to cancel their date. Bitsy just laughed and said she was changing her name to Lizzie Borden. But I am worried that she'll never find true love. She isn't a violent person. It just looks that way. She would make some man a good wife. If your cute son would like to meet her, please write. And just thinkâif they hit it off, we'd be in-laws.
Your friend,
Dorothy
A NOTE FROM VIOLET
June 17, 1975
Dear Bitsy,
Thanks for the bookstore gift certificate. I will put it to good use. I enjoyed seeing everyone in Knoxville. The graduation ceremony was so cool, wasn't it? I got accepted to Vanderbilt Medical School and U T in Memphis. Mama is pushing Vandy, but I just can't justify the cost. Part of that sentence isn't true. Spot the fib. Actually, it's too close to Crystal Falls. There, I've said it. I love my mother, but I long to live far, far away. So come September, it looks like I'll be singing the Delta blues. Please talk to Mama for me. She's got to come to grips with the fact that I'm grown. Otherwise she's going to make me feel guilty and end up pushing me even farther away.
My nickel.
Violet
