Maggie Sweet (16 page)

Saturday
morning, Steven, Mother Presson, and the girls left for Chapel Hill. For their graduation gift, Mother Presson planned to take the girls clothing shopping, then to an art museum and on to dinner at a fancy restaurant. I pleaded a headache and after-party cleanup and stayed home, hoping to hear from Jerry.

On the way out the door, Steven mumbled something about spending the night at Mother Presson’s if it got too late.

After they left, I settled in at the kitchen table with a third cup of coffee, a cigarette, and the newspaper. Just when I was thinking about getting dressed, an article on the front page caught my eye:

I’d barely finished reading the article when the telephone rang.

“You’ve got to get down here. It’s a matter of life and death!” Shirley shouted. Then before I could ask the first question, she hung up.

I ran upstairs, threw on my clothes, looked at the phone one last time, and drove uptown faster than the law allows.

When I pulled up in front of the Curl & Swirl, the parking lot was full. There were women sitting in their cars, others waiting on the porch and more sitting on the stair steps.

When I finally got inside, Shirley, who was usually calm and slow moving, looked like a televangelist on a mission from God.

“Did you read the paper?” she asked.

“I was reading it when you called. I can’t believe it.”

“I know. I’ve been wishing this for years. But like Mama always said, ‘be careful what you wish for, your wish might come true.’”

“Well, Shirley, you ought to be thrilled.”

“I
am
thrilled. It’s just that everyone from here to Silver City picked today to have a hair crisis. I need you to work all day, if you can! Lurleen’s in the bathroom having a nervous breakdown and that Dixie left for a breakfast order at Hardee’s and never came back. I swear, Mama’s nearly eighty and she’s more help in a crisis than those two.”

Just then, Mrs. Mabes came out of the back room, grinned and waved a teasing comb at me.

“Mama’s in her glory,” Shirley said. “She’s already shampooed and Dippity-Do’d anything that don’t move. I know she’s thinking maybe we can be number one again. But Lord, the timing. I was already booked solid with the Spivey wedding and without telling me, Mama set up appointments for all the Freewill Baptist ladies for their bus tour of Charlotte tomorrow.”

Shirley wasn’t exaggerating. There were women under dryers, women sitting and dripping waiting for a dryer—not to mention all those still waiting outside. For a second I thought about what Steven would say. Then I remembered that Steven was in Chapel Hill.

“Lead me to a smock and chair. I’ll stay as long as you need me,” I said.

A few minutes later, Lurleen came out of the bathroom and Dixie, returned from Hardee’s claiming a flat tire. Shirley mapped out a plan and we all set to work. Shirley, Dixie, and Lurleen doing sets and comb-outs, Mrs. Mabes making coffee and fussing over the customers, and me cutting hair.

Even though we were too busy to take more than one breath at a time, I grinned the whole day.

At noon, we quit taking walk-ins. But even so, it was
seven o’clock before I powdered the neck of my last customer.

We were all cleaning up our sections and talking about the day when Modine, Doris, and Jessie Rae Moore came into the shop.

“We’re fixing to close, ladies,” Shirley said, sweeping hair into a pile.

“Oh, we’re not here to get our hair done.” Modine said.

“It’s just…we’ve heard some news that can’t wait,” Doris said.

“We came right down—wanted you to be the first to know,” Modine said.

We all stopped what we were doing and looked at them.

Doris took a deep breath. “I went down to Nims Hardware this morning and the store was closed—”

“That should have told us something…Nims never closes…It’s Bucky’s motto—Nims Never Closes,” Modine interrupted.

“Well, it did seem kind of odd, but I shoved it to the back of my mind, you know, like you do when you’re busy. Then tonight I was calling around town to find out where I need to drop Mama off for her bus tour of Charlotte in the morning—”

“Lord, Doris, cut to the chase. My feet are killing me,” Shirley said.

“Well, that’s when I heard it,” Doris said. “Bucky Nims has gone and left Dreama!”

“What?” Shirley shouted.

“Not Bucky Nims. Why he’d never…” Dixie, Lurleen, and I said in unison.

“Bullshit and applesauce,” Mrs. Mabes said.

“It’s true,” Modine said.

Shirley sat down hard in her chair. “Now, you all, repeat that and say it real slow, but don’t tell me something like that if it ain’t true. My nerves just can’t take it.”

“It’s true all right,” Doris said. “Like I said, I was calling around for Mama and got it straight from Harvel Pollard at the Trailways Bus Depot. Harvel said Bucky just packed his things and left a note saying ‘I told you I was leaving. Now I’m gone.’ Then he took the first bus out of town.”

“It happened yesterday, right after that pasty-faced girl of theirs graduated,” Modine added.

“He musta had it planned for years. To leave out so quick,” Shirley said.

“Lord, Lord. I didn’t know he had it in him,” Dixie said, her voice filled with wonder.

“Still waters run deep,” Lurleen said.

“It’s the quiet ones that bear watching,” Jessie Rae said, biting her lip.

“Well, I hope he went farther than a Trailways bus could take him. His life won’t be worth a plug nickel when Dreama and that girl of hers catch up with him,” Mrs. Mabes said.

“Maybe they won’t catch him, Mama,” Shirley said.

“Oh, they’ll catch him all right. They won’t rest ’til they catch him,” Mrs. Mabes nodded wisely.

“Lord, Mama, can’t we enjoy this for one minute?” Shirley asked.

“All I’m saying is, I know what I know. They’ll catch him all right and when they do his life won’t be worth spit,” Mrs. Mabes went on.

Shirley rolled her eyes. “Go on, Doris. Mama’s just being a killjoy.”

“They say Dreama’s taking it right hard—she’s took to her bed. Why the shock alone like to have killed her. I drove by her house and all the shades were drawn,” Doris said.

“Ashamed to show her face,” Modine said.

“Bullshit and applesauce. That woman don’t have no shame,” Mrs. Mabes said.

“What Bucky did was the bravest thing I ever heard of and I surely hope he gets away,” Jessie Rae said. Then her eyes darted everywhere. “Oh, my, that sounded so ugly. I only meant—”

“It’s all right, Jessie Rae. We know what you meant,” everyone said.

“Anyway, we figured after Shirley chasing Dreama out of her shop and Dreama fixing to ruin all y’alls’ lives…well, we figured you all deserved to be the first to know,” Doris said.

“Shirley, I want you to know, I think you chasing Dreama off and all, well, I think that’s the bravest thing I ever heard of,” Jessie Rae said. “And Maggie Sweet, I think you wearing that precision cut and working at the Curl & Swirl, when everyone knows how Steven feels about it…well, I think it’s the bravest thing I ever…”

“Thanks Jessie Rae,” I said.

Everyone stared at Jessie Rae. It was the most we’d ever heard her say.

Her eyes darted everywhere, but she went on. “Sometimes I get so timid and tongue-tied I wonder why you all even bother with me. But, Maggie Sweet, I’ve been thinking about some things. I’m nearly forty years old and I’ve
never done anything the least bit brave…so I figured I’d start with one of those precision cuts and a little of that number 104 hair color. And I’d like you to set me up an appointment…you know, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

I looked at Shirley. I wasn’t sure if I was an official Curl & Swirl employee.

Shirley winked and handed me the appointment book.

A second later she disappeared into the back room and returned with a dusty, green bottle.

“It’s old, it’s cheap and it’s room temperature. But it
is
champagne,” she said.

When she opened the bottle, the cork hit the ceiling so hard it stuck. Everyone shrieked.

After she’d divided the champagne into eight Styrofoam cups, she raised her cup and said, “We need to celebrate. Bucky Nims lives. The Curl & Swirl lives. And Maggie Sweet and Jessie Rae are fixing to start a new life. I swanee, some days the universe is just slap full of surprises.”

It was late when I left the Curl and Swirl. All in the world I wanted to do was get home, take a long soak in a hot tub, and crawl into bed.

But when I pulled into the driveway, Steven’s car was there.

For a second I panicked—unbuttoned my smock to hide it under the car seat. Then I thought about Jessie Rae calling me brave. No one had called me brave in years. I thought back to the little girl who’d wanted her nickname to be Scout. What had happened to her? What had happened to Daddy’s “Rebel,” his “feisty little brown-haired girl”?

I took a deep breath and got out of the car.

When I opened the door, Steven called from the kitchen, “I was just about to call the State Highway Patrol. The girls decided to stay with Mother, but I had work to do.” He rounded the corner into the front room, spotted my smock, and stood stock-still. “Dammit, Maggie! You’ve been working at the Curl & Swirl, haven’t you?

“Yes. I—”

“The breakfast dishes are still on the table. You must have gone down there the minute we left this morning. No wonder you wouldn’t go with us. You’d planned this all along. Well, I won’t have it. I’ve told you over and over again that no wife of mine is ever going to work.”

I didn’t think. I just blurted out, “I can’t do this anymore, Steven. I won’t. You’re not my daddy. I don’t need your
permission
.”

Then I walked out the door and drove to the center of town and checked myself into the Yadkin Motel on Main Street, next door to the Zippy Mart—fifteen dollars a night, no questions asked.

I felt reckless and happy, strong enough to handle anything.

I was barely settled in my room when the telephone rang. “Maggie Sweet, have you lost your only mind?”

“Steven! How in the world did you find me?

“You’re staying in a motel on Main Street, next door to the Zippy Mart. Everyone in town knows where you are. I’ve already had two calls. I’ll give you five minutes to get home.”

“I won’t be home. I’ve gone and left you, Steven.”

He gasped at the other end. For a few seconds the
phone seemed to go dead. I was just about to hang up when he sputtered, “You can’t do that. You’ve got children. You’ve got responsibilities.”

“I’ll take care of my responsibilities. But I’m not coming home.”

“I’m warning you, Maggie! Five minutes!”

I didn’t bother to argue. Hanging up was the easiest thing in the world to do.

Ten minutes later he was pounding on my door.

I opened the door as far as the chain lock allowed. “What do you want?”

“I want to know what’s come over you. I want to know why you’re determined to humiliate me?”

“I’m not out to humiliate you.”

“Dammit, Maggie…”

“We haven’t been happy for years. I want a divorce.”

He brushed his hand across his forhead like he was completely worn out. “I never thought you’d do this to us.”

My eyes welled. I fumbled with the chain lock, opened the door. “I never thought I would either, Steven. It’s just…no one should have to live with someone who doesn’t love them—someone they don’t love.”

“You’re being ridiculous. What’s worse is you’re making
me
look ridiculous. If you don’t care about me and the children, what about your mother and Mama Dean? Any minute now their phone will start ringing too. I never thought you’d do this to them.”

I took a deep breath. I’d rather take a beating than have Mother or Mama Dean come to the Yadkin. Then it hit me: Steven was threatening me with Mother and Mama
Dean to keep me in line. To make me do what he wanted. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call Mother and Mama Dean myself,” I bluffed.

He looked at me like my hair was on fire. Then he grabbed my arm and started hauling me across the parking lot toward his car.

Now I’m not the type to make a scene in public and Steven knows it. But with my free hand I snatched his good Cross pen and pencil set from his shirt pocket and stomped on them. It was the only thing I could think to do.

Steven just stood there with his mouth gaping open, staring at his pen and pencil set sticking out of the blacktop.

Then the traffic light in front of the motel turned red and several cars stopped. Everyone was craning their necks watching us scuffle.

“Steven! Those people in the cars are watching us. They think you’re trying to kidnap me or something,” I hissed.

Well, Steven was so mortified he let go of my arm and aimed a sickly smile in the direction of the cars to show he was harmless. Then he picked up the pieces of his pen and pencil set, got in his car, and drove off.

I ran back to my room completely worn out.

For a while, I sat on the patched chenille bedspread, aggravated enough to scream. A person couldn’t even leave her own husband without everyone in this town getting in on it.