Vanity Insanity (28 page)

“Toby, I have a few extra combs.”

“Virginia, the new girl? And now another stylist!”

This was not about a comb.

“And all of these renovations. Really? And…”

“And what?”

“I left Baldwin Salon because things got out of control. The place got so big and so busy that I couldn’t hear myself think. Things are fine the way they are. That’s just what I think.” Toby looked at the combs on his station.

“We won’t get that big, Toby. It’s just that we’re crammed in here, and we could use a little more help.”

Toby looked down, and then, as if speaking to the floor: “What time are we leaving?”

“Leaving?”

“For the game on Saturday.”

I looked over to my station and saw Lucy already sitting in my pink chair. She must have sensed the tension and sneaked past us during the Mystery of the Missing Comb. “Oh, right, around three o’clock if that works,” I replied.

Toby shook his head and walked to the back room.

“Hey, Lu.” I pulled her card out of my shoebox.

“Everything good?” Lucy looked over at Toby.

“Think so.” I pulled out an apron and put it over Lucy.

“Well, aren’t you going to tell me how pregnant I look? Everyone else has. ‘Oh, look at the short, little pregnant woman. Are you having twins? You could be eleven months pregnant. You’re all baby…’”

“You’re pregnant?” I teased. “You know what causes that, don’t you?”

Lucy did look pregnant. This would be girl number three. Tom had wailed in delight when they were told at the ultrasound. Maria and Diane, the two big sisters, were pretty proud. The good news about the baby
coming helped to divert Tom and Lucy’s attention from the recent news that Maria was showing signs of mild autism. Theresa had worked with Maria and directed Lucy and Tom to a specialist.

“Just do something with this mop. Cut it all off. Shave it! Just do it.” Lucy’s hair was experiencing the old pregnancy transformation. For some women, the hormones affected the color or texture of their hair. For Lucy, her hair was growing faster with the hormones speeding through her system at the moment. “Hormone hell,” she sniveled.

I read my notes from Lucy’s last appointment and walked her to the sink to wash her hair. “Looks like we just trimmed it last time before your big home party.”

“Home
interior
party.”

“What you said…What is that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. That night was a huge disaster. Theresa came over to help me get ready, you know, with the food and stuff. About a half hour before guests would be coming, she heard some commotion at the front door and saw a woman had fallen on the porch. It was the lady who was giving the party. She had dropped a box holding some of her products.”

“Products?”

“Lamps, candles, pictures, foo-foo stuff for decorating your house. It’s called Home Décor and More or something like that.”

“OK.”

“Anyway, it had been raining, so the front porch was kind of slick. Theresa helps her up and then notices her son, maybe ten years old, behind her carrying another big box. So we get this lady and everything from her car into the living room. We finish getting food ready while she and her son set up.”

“Who is ‘she’?”

“She is some cousin or in-law of DeDe Jereske. DeDe’s daughter plays with Maria.”

“OK.” I put a towel around Lucy’s head and walked her back to my chair.

“Anyway, the guests come, my mom, my sister-in-laws, my mother-in-law, good friends, neighbors…The party starts, and the Décor lady starts giving her little spiel. The way these parties work, the ladies listen to a little speech about the company and products, and they can start ordering—or that’s what’s supposed to happen. The lady starts talking, and two sentences into it all, we all start looking at each other because she’s really slurring her words. Then she starts repeating herself and gets stuck on the little rhyme, ‘A candle with brass is like a home without class
…
’or something like that.”

“She was drunk?”

“Off her home-interior-decorating you-know-what.”

“So what did you do?” I began trimming the ends of Lucy’s hair.

“I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t move. I’m like, all these people have come here for a party, and this awkward thing is happening. Theresa gets up and says to the group, ‘I think we’re ready to start looking through the magazines and placing orders. What do you all think?’ Everyone just shakes their heads and starts looking through magazines. Then Theresa takes the lady to a separate room and finds out that woman had just discovered that her husband was having an affair. She found out when she was getting ready to come to my house. Evidently, she drank some vodka while she packed the car.”

“She had a little boy with her?”

“Yep, and he didn’t look that rattled by it all. Almost like he helped her out a lot. It was so sad.” Lucy thumbed through a magazine as I dried her hair.

“OK, so is now a good time to ask questions?”

“Go right ahead.”

“Why did you have the party anyway?”

Lucy thought for a moment. “Guilt.”

“All of that for guilt.”

“I felt bad for DeDe, who felt bad for her cousin or whatever…Then I felt guilty when I asked my friends since I don’t want them to feel like they have to buy something but they do anyway. Women are so weird, Ben.”

“Ya think?”

“I can’t tell you how many basket parties, candle parties, Tupperware parties I’ve been invited to. It’s all about guilt. When you get the invitation, you feel bad because you don’t want to go, but you should. Then you feel bad if you go and don’t buy anything, so you do. Then you feel guilty since you buy something you don’t need or even want. These parties are what little girls do when they grow up instead of chain letters.”

“OK, what’s a chain letter?”

“You don’t remember chain letters? Didn’t you ever get one?

“Nope. Remember, I’m not a woman.”

“You’d get a letter that would say, ‘Copy this letter ten times and send it off to nine of your friends. Send a letter back to the person who sent this to you and keep their name on your list, include a dollar bill or a stick of gum.’ You were supposed to put your name on the top of the list that you send to your group, or something like that. If it worked out, you were supposed to end up with a million dollars.”

“Or a million sticks of gum. Did it ever work?”

“Never, not once.”

“Did you send them?”

“Always”

“Why?”

“Guilt. And fear. The letter usually said that the chain had not been broken in thirty-seven years or something like that, except by one person. And that person suffered a violent and immediate death by fire after throwing the letter away. I wasn’t going to risk that sort of thing…I was seven, by the way.”

I grabbed Lucy’s coat and helped her put it on. “So where does all of the guilt come from, Lucy?”

No hesitation. “My mother.”

“All of it?”

“Pretty much. I think that even the really good and fun moms had their share of dumping guilt on their children. I think it’s their job. I remember hanging out at Stinky Morrow’s house when we were kids. It was around the holidays since I can remember they had their Christmas tree up. Everyone was finishing up breakfast, and Mrs. Morrow walked in
the room and screamed when she noticed Stinky’s little sister Julie, maybe three or four at the time, sitting on the kitchen counter about to stick a butter knife into the toaster. Mrs. Morrow grabbed Julie and then looked at all of the older kids sitting at the table and screamed, ‘What, you want a dead sister for Christmas?’ The kids all just looked at her like they didn’t know the answer. And Mrs. Morrow was one of the cool moms.”

“So, all your guilt comes from sweet, little Ava?”

“Well, not all of it. The Catholic Church had a big hand in it…but I feel guilt when I blame the Church. Is that funny or what?”

“Not really. OK, so how many Catholics does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

“Easy. Twelve. One to screw it in and eleven to watch and feel guilty.”

“OK, so, Guilt Queen, what guilt-infested activity do you have planned for today?”

“None. Right now, I’m running over to Theresa’s house with this.” Lucy picked up a bag that was sitting next to her purse. She pulled out a small plastic statue.

“Who’s that?”

“Saint Joseph. We’re burying him in her backyard before Michael gets home. He can’t know about it.”

“Why do I feel like I should call the police or something. Are you aware that it’s pouring outside? Could turn to snow with how cold it is. And you’re very pregnant. Now why are you burying a statue? And why can’t Michael know about it?”

Lucy put the statue back in her bag.“We’re burying it so that Theresa can sell her house. It’s been on the market for a month, so we knew that we needed to resort to Saint Joseph. Michael thinks it’s voodoo.” We walked past Toby’s station to the door; his cheeks were no longer red. I would need to make a call to A.C. about the change of plans for the Husker game.

“And you don’t feel guilty about lying to Michael and burying a voodoo doll in his yard?”

“It’s not voodoo. I don’t feel one ounce of guilt. When you’re trying to sell your house, you bury the statue head down facing the house three feet from it. Saint Joseph will help you sell it. You can get these kits at certain
bookstores. Even my Jewish neighbor did it, and her house sold three days later.”

“OK.”

“Don’t tell Michael. Promise?”

“Sure.”

I walked a little pregnant woman to her car, holding an umbrella over her head. As Lucy drove away, her own words echoed in my ears.

People may be weird about their hair, but women are just weird.

25

A.C.: Quick Trim, Heading to Colorado

Saturday, May 17

1993

“A
nd we have probably the best seats at Red Rocks. We’re packed and ready to go as soon as Ben trims my head.” A.C. walked in flanked by Jenae and Virginia, flirting and gushing as he charmed them with each word.

A.C. and I were headed to Colorado to camp near Morrison, a town in the foothills about fifteen miles west of Denver. We had tickets to see Sting in concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater on Sunday night. We were planning on heading back Monday afternoon, the day Vanity Insanity was closed.

“A.C., you already look hot!” Jenae leaned into him as she and Virginia pulled up chairs near my station.

“What is this? The A.C. Entertainment Hour?” I asked as I grabbed an apron for A.C.“I hardly have enough room as it is.” The Vanity Insanity
staff was growing, but the place was no bigger. Tom Ducey had called me months earlier with the news that Tres Chique had decided not to move, and therefore Vanity Insanity was still pretty much landlocked.

“OK, so what’s your favorite song from the new CD?” Virginia, our newest stylist, stood an inch or two taller than A.C. and a good fifty pounds heavier. She wore a black apron over her clothes. The front of it read:
What happens at the hair salon stays at the hair salon
. Virginia’s beautiful face and long, chestnut hair distracted us all from her unusual size. “Ben’s been playing
Ten Summoner’s Tales
all week.”

“I think we know every song by heart…and there’re actually eleven songs.” Jenae rolled her eyes and moved closer to A.C.

“That’s easy.” A.C. sat in my chair and looked at himself. “If I Ever Lose My Faith in You.” Do you guys know the story behind the CD’s title? It’s actually a play on words. A pun. Sting’s name, before he legally changed it, was Gordon Sumner.”

“Gordon?” Jenae squawked. “Sting doesn’t look like a Gordon!”

“I get it!” Virginia shouted. Her voice filled the room. “Like
The Canterbury Tales
. I’m right, right? Am I right?”

A.C. laughed. “I didn’t think anyone would catch it!” As an English major, he gloated about literary allusions that he found, many in Sting’s songs. Sting was a former English teacher himself. “I’m impressed, Virginia! The title links Sting to the naughty summoner in Chaucer’s tales. Kind of funny, if you think about it.”

“I don’t remember Chaucer.” Jenae tilted her head. “Was Chaucer in American lit? I only finished eleventh grade.” She stood up and started playing with her hair in the mirror.

“No, he’s British,” A.C. explained. “If you’d gone one more year, you would have learned about him.”

“All I remember about English was my obnoxious teacher who wore a bad toupee. Oh, and I remember Gatsby. I absolutely loved
The Great Gatsby
. He was so loyal to his dream. He was so in love with Daisy. Something about the green light and his purposeless splendor.” I wondered if I had read the same book. I’d thought Daisy was a ditz myself.

“Gatsby was a little random,” A.C. added as I started shaving the back of his neck.

“Oh, here comes my three o’clock appointment!” Jenae kissed the top of A.C.’s head. “Have fun at Red Rocks, boys!” She ran to greet an older lady at the door.

“Speaking of random,” I muttered.

“Drive safely.” Virginia stood up and headed to her station. “Hey, look who’s here. Lucy!”

Lucy rushed in and reveled in her introduction by Virginia. “I’ve got a sitter for two hours. I’m free, I’m free!”

“What can I do for you, Lu?” I knew she didn’t have an appointment.

“A.C.!” Lucy gave A.C. a hug from behind the chair. “It’s been, like, forever! I just stopped in to grab some conditioner, Ben. Ran out yesterday. This is so weird. I was just praying, and the old neighborhood gang popped into my head. I’m not kidding. I was just thinking of you, A.C. When I dropped off my dry cleaning, I saw a vase with a rose in it, and I just knew it was a sign from God.”

“A sign of what?” A.C. asked.

“A sign that I would run into you!”

“Roses are Lucy’s biggest sign from God,” I told A.C. I’d heard many rose stories.

“So I see.” A.C. smirked.

“Seriously,” Lucy went on. “Roses are signs of answered prayers. I was just praying that I’d see some of the old gang and…”

“Voila!” I said. “A.C. shows up! Just like your moving vans.”

“Don’t make fun. Last year Tom and I were thinking about moving, and so I prayed and prayed if that was the right thing for us, you know, with all we have going on and schools for the girls. That entire week I kept seeing moving vans, Mayflower moving vans everywhere. I mean everywhere. I just knew that was our sign.”