The Ladies' Room (14 page)

The next morning I started to put on the yellow dress to
wear to church, but I remembered that Momma had said I
looked good in red when I'd visited her in the nursing home
the day before. Even though I'd worn the red dress to church
the week before, I put it on again. This could easily be my new
look: a straight dress that didn't bind me up in the middle, a
jacket to cover a multitude of eating sins, and simple shoes
with no panty hose. Oh, yes, this was my style, and red was my
new signature color.

There was one parking space left on the east side of the
church, and I had two minutes to get inside before the service
began. With any luck Marty and Betsy would not be sitting in
my pew for the second week in a row.

Guess who didn't have any luck that morning?

Betsy and Marty were already seated, and their mourning
season was clearly over. Betsy wore a yellow dress at least two
sizes too small. She kept tugging on the skirt hem to keep her
thighs covered. Marty's skintight purple top was so low that
she kept pulling at it to keep a disaster from happening right
there in church. I could picture Aunt Gert's eyebrows drawn
down and her mouth set in a firm line, the look that she always
had just before she crawled up on an imaginary soapbox and
commenced to lecturing one of us girls. The words an abomination unto the Lord came to my mind as I settled into the
pew with them.

"Good morning, Trudy. Didn't you wear that dress last
week?" Marty asked.

"Yes, I did."

"No hose?" Betsy looked at my feet.

"That's right."

My smile and cockiness faded when Drew slid into the pew
beside me. He stared at my toenails, which had been painted
the night before-bright red to match the shoes. He then scanned
the abominable goods all the way up to my ultrashort, kinky,
curly, dark hair.

"You look horrible." He spit the words out as if they tasted
bad in his mouth.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"I haven't filed the papers yet. I'm giving you one more
chance"

"I thought I had used up all my chances when I didn't march
my `fat rear end' out to the car last weekend." I didn't whisper,
and several people sitting in the pew in front of us turned to stare.

"You are making a fool of yourself." His tone was colder
than an iceberg.

"File the papers. I'm not changing, and I sure don't want to
be married to you anymore"

"I will tomorrow morning. Then I'm sending someone to
pick up my car." He spoke in low tones, but they were as bitter
as gall.

"You gave me that car for my birthday," I argued. My
mind had a will of its own, and it was not bashful and did
not stutter.

"The papers say that what is mine is mine and what's yours
is yours. The Impala is in my name. I'll send someone to get it
first thing in the morning."

"And they won't touch it. You want it, you come get it," I said.

"We'll begin by turning to hymn number .. " the choir director was saying.

I stood up, deliberately stepped on Drew's toes, and walked
out of the church. It's a good thing Oklahoma law doesn't
allow liquor stores to open on Sunday, or I'd have driven straight
through town and bought a bottle of Jack Daniels just to get the
bitter taste of Drew out of my mouth.

Instead I drove to Billy Lee's church on Broadway Street. Momma always said it didn't matter which church you went to
on Sunday morning. The church wouldn't take you to heaven
or fling you down to the devil, either one. All it did was provide a place of fellowship with others so you could worship
God. I didn't see Him making a change, and I didn't intend to
share a pew with Drew ever again. Betsy and Marty could take
turns sitting beside him for all I cared.

The congregation was singing "I Saw the Light" when I
walked through the doors. They finished the last word, and the
preacher smiled at me. A few people turned to look at what
was taking his attention, and they smiled too.

With a flip of one hand, he motioned me to come forward. "I
do believe Gert's niece, Trudy, has come to visit us today."

I didn't know if they were going to pray for my soul or tack
me to a cross, but I marched right down the center aisle, my
kitten heels sinking into the carpet.

The preacher beckoned me forward. "No one has claimed
the place where Miz Gert sat every Sunday morning, and it
has looked empty without her. I'm sure she'd be delighted for
you to take that seat, Trudy. Third pew from the front, there
on your left. Please have a seat, and sing with us. We'll sing
Gert's favorite song, since Trudy is here. I don't even have to
tell you the number. Let's sing loud enough that the angels in
heaven can hear us without straining their ears."

They began to sing "Amazing Grace" with such volume
that I jumped. The person next to me tapped me on the shoulder to share a hymnbook. I nodded a polite thank-you and
looked into Billy Lee's blue eyes. They held mine for just a
moment, before I looked down at the words and added my alto
to the mix.

He wore the same suit he'd worn to her funeral, and he
looked like a lawyer or a preacher, certainly not a handyman.
When we finished singing, the preacher opened his Bible to
the verses in Jeremiah 51 where God was sending down his
judgment against Babylon. I'm sure he meant for the congregation to realize that God takes care of his own, but what I
heard was something about rendering vengeance.

The rest of the sermon was lost as I thought about Drew's taking the Impala the next morning. Vengeance could belong
to the Lord; I wouldn't argue that issue for a minute. If God
wanted to baptize Drew Williams with vengeance, I'd sure be
the one behind Him, egging Him on. I didn't hear much more
of the sermon as I figured out ways to help the Good Lord out.

The preacher wound down his sermon and announced,
"We're having a social lunch in the fellowship hall today.
Everyone is welcome, whether you remembered to bring a
covered dish or not. I think Billy Lee brought enough ribs to
feed the multitude Jesus talked about in Matthew. So if you'll
bow with me in a final word of prayer, we'll adjourn to the
kitchen."

"Join us?" Billy Lee said after the benediction.

"I didn't bring anything."

"I brought more than enough for both of us"

"You aren't going to ask me why I'm here?" I asked him.

"Don't care. Just glad that you are. It would make Gert feel
right good to know you're sitting in her spot. And I'm glad to
have you here too, Trudy," he said.

"Then I'd be glad to eat with ya'll, and thank you for the
invitation."

I helped the ladies set out the food and wound up sitting
beside Billy Lee for the meal. The ribs he'd brought were delicious, and someone had brought a potato salad that was scrumptious. I had to have the recipe for Thanksgiving. It was creamy
and had fresh green onions and lots of bacon in it.

"I heard you and Billy Lee were doing a number on Gert's
place," Elsie Goodman said from across the table. "She would
like that. Maybe you'll have an open house when it's all done
so we can see it?"

"I hadn't thought of that, but I suppose I could. It would be
fun. But it'll be a while, Elsie."

"I reckon it will. A person doesn't undo fifty years of neglect in a few weeks"

She turned to talk to the lady next to her, and Billy Lee
leaned over toward me. "You look pretty today," he said.

"So do you. Why are you all dressed up?"

"Men do not look pretty," he said.

"Didn't mean to offend you. What is in this potato salad?
Who made it?"

"I made it, and I'm dressed up because I felt like it."

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

"No, ma'am, I am not"

"Children!" Elsie shook her head at us.

I had to smile. "Elsie, I think I'm too old to be called a
child."

"Not to me. I'm ninety. Not much difference between me
and Gert. She just went on ahead of me to get things ready.
Kids your age will always be children to me. Stop fussing,
and enjoy this lovely day. You are as pretty as a picture in that
dress, Trudy, and whether you like it or not, Billy Lee, you
are pretty in that suit. It becomes you and makes your eyes
look even bluer. Now, what were you saying?" She turned to
the lady beside her again.

"Fight settled?" I asked.

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Better
be, if we don't want to stand in the corner."

"Tell me about the potato salad recipe."

"I'll bring it over later this evening."

"I'll make sandwiches for supper," I said, quietly enough
that only he could hear it.

He nodded.

I talked to more people that day than I'd visited with in
years. Everyone had a story to tell me about Gert and what a
blessing she'd been in their lives. My cantankerous, bossy old
aunt had had another side that I'd never known, one that reminded me of my mother. By the middle of the afternoon, I
wished that I'd spent more time getting to know her.

When I got home, I changed clothes and crawled into the
middle of the bed with a dollar-store spiral notebook, writing
down every story that I could remember about her. My legs,
crossed for a long time, went to sleep, and when Billy Lee
knocked on the door, I was hobbling like an old woman.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I was writing down some memories Momma shares with
me when she's lucid, and all the things folks told me about Aunt Gert today. I didn't realize I'd been sitting cross-legged
solo - ng - " I answered.

"Well, I brought the potato salad recipe and a six-pack of
Coke. Want to sit on the swing and have a cold soda pop? I'll
tell you why I wore a suit to church today if you'll tell me why
you came," he said.

That was enough temptation to take me out the front door
and to the porch swing. He popped open a Coke and handed it
to me.

"Well?" I asked.

He grinned. "Impatient, aren't you?"

"You said you'd tell me. It must be something important.
No one died, and you weren't the preacher, so why did you
wear a suit?"

He tipped his own Coke up and took a long swig before he
began. "On the anniversary of my granny's death, I always pay
my respects by putting flowers on her grave. Roses because she
liked them and never could get them to grow in our yard. So
she gets a dozen roses on that day. Other times I just put out
whatever I think is pretty. And I wear a suit to church that week
in her honor. It's crazy, but that's why."

"I don't think it's crazy. I think it's sweet. I'll have to remember to keep flowers on Gert's grave."

"Now I'm pretty and sweet," he groaned.

"Billy Lee, you are sweet and sensitive, and those are qualities every woman looks for in a man. Why the devil aren't
you married?"

"I can run fast."

We both laughed.

"Seriously," I said.

"It's complicated," he said.

I pressed on. "Haven't found the right woman?"

"Maybe the right woman but at the wrong time. Can't seem
to get the two done at the same time."

"Fair enough"

"So tell me now, why were you at my church? What happened?" he asked.

I told him the story. "I'm really mad at him. That is my car."

"Give him the car. You don't need it. Use Gert's, or buy
another one. Don't hang on to the past"

"Pretty, sweet, and wise. You'd better run really fast, feller,"
I said.

He downed the rest of his Coke. "Guess I'd best get on over
to my place. I've got a couple more things to do before bedtime."

"Thanks for the Coke, the recipe, and the company," I said.
-- -- - - - - -- - - - - - -

He smiled and waved as he disappeared through the hedge.

I
sat
in
the
swing
for
an
hour
while
God
and
Lucifer
had
a
battle. I have to admit, Momma would have been ashamed at
the one I championed. Or maybe not. She might have been
right out there in the dark helping me pour coals of fire upon
my ex-husband's sorry, cheating head. I don't know if Lucifer
won the battle or if God got tired of arguing with me and him
and just let us have our way. I may still have to answer for
what I did that night, but I'll go to my grave with a smile because of it.

I opened two cans of sardines and smeared a healthy dose
of the oil on the underside of the mats on the back floorboards.
One sardine found a new home in the glove compartment.
Another one fit perfectly in the CD drawer. A nice film of
Vaseline shined the driver's seat, giving the leather a brand-new
glow. In case he brought Miss Charity along, I greased up the
passenger's seat too.

I thought of her marrying Drew and got an instant visual
of the two of them leaving the church in my car. So I rustled
through the recycling bin outside for soda cans thrown in
there by the men who'd worked on the house. I took down the
clothesline and tied the cans in bunches of three to about fifty
feet of rope. It took almost an hour to poke holes in those cans
and tie them to the rope, and I had to lie on my back to find a
part of the vehicle to attach the rope to, but I got the job done.
-- -- --- - - --- - --- -