The Ladies' Room (9 page)

I ate alone and wondered if Billy Lee was having Sunday
dinner with some of the folks from his church. Did they tell
him he looked like a dirt farmer and to go home and change
his clothes? I didn't think so. Compared to Gert, Billy Lee
probably didn't even qualify as an oddball.

After lunch I went home and changed into my new overalls
and orange sleeveless knit shirt and started cleaning out my
bedroom. I carefully wrapped all the ceramic animals in old
newspapers and filled two empty boxes I found in the garage.
After I taped the lids shut, I carried them down to the living
room. I'd haul them down to Durant to the Goodwill store the
next time -I went that way.

I found a flat-edged screwdriver in the toolbox out in the
garage and went after the shelves and their cornice boards
with the gusto of a hungry hound dog. But the screws had
been there since the sixth day of creation and wouldn't budge.
I leaned into the screwdriver with all my might, and a cornice
finally let go. I started to back that sucker right out of there,
only to have the one on the other end of the shelf let go and the
whole shelf crash down on my bare right foot.

I threw myself across the bed and beat the pillows while it
throbbed. How was I ever going to get this house cleaned out
and remodeled if my foot rotted off? Its arch was turning
purple, but I could still wiggle all my toes and put weight on
it. It appeared that nothing was broken-thank goodness! I
needed that foot to kick Drew.

I lugged the shelf to the top of the stairs and chucked it to
the bottom. It clattered and rattled all the way down, landing
only a few inches from a table with a huge lamp shaped like
a Siamese cat. I was going to have to practice my aim. With
luck, by the time I threw the last shelf, I'd break the cat into a
million pieces. I wouldn't even fuss about having to clean up
the mess if I could accomplish that feat before nightfall.

It was dark when I finished in the bedroom. If Drew knew
what was good for him, he'd catch the red-eye home tonight
instead of waiting until the next day. My arms ached so badly
that I could hardly make a sandwich, but my aim hadn't improved a bit. I hadn't hit the cat lamp even though I'd tried. If
he came home now, I wouldn't have the energy to even utter
angry words in argument, much less kick him with my sore
foot. I might have the energy to pull a trigger if I hadn't left
my .22 behind in my fit of anger. Apparently Gert had known
better than to tempt the devil, because either she didn't keep
guns in the house or I hadn't found one.
- - - - - - - - - - -- --

I made a ham and tomato sandwich slathered thickly with
mayonnaise and liked it so well, I ate another one. My tired
muscles protested when I started up the stairs, but I didn't
listen to them. After a soaking bath, I went to bed in a nice,
cool room completely devoid of animals with beady little black
eyes.
-- - - - - -- - - - - - - - -

I laced my hands behind my head and thought about the
next day. My stomach didn't knot up. Drew's clothes and the
house were in shambles. I'd faced off with Charity down at
the bank and basically told everyone where they could go and
which poker to ride. I wasn't taking one step backward. From
now on everything was full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes, even if one was named Drew.

Billy Lee and I were in my bedroom measuring for new
carpet and talking about paint when the doorbell rang and the
door creaked open. Heavy footsteps crossed the foyer and
moved up the staircase. I hopped up and peeked out the bedroom door into my husband's uplifted eyes when he put his
foot on the third step.

I shook a finger at him. "You stop right there, and don't take
another step."

My tone shocked him so badly that he backed up and stopped
in the foyer. That gave me courage to go on. He was not bringing the fight to me on his terms. I was taking it to him ... on
mine.

I leaned on the banister and took the steps two at a time,
even though my foot ached. "You have no right to walk into
my house as if you were welcome. Out on the porch! I'm not
discussing anything with you in here."

At about that time, Billy Lee stepped onto the landing.

Drew's face registered pure disgust. "What is that nitwit
doing here? Have you been. . " He narrowed his eyes at me.
"Trudy, what have you done? And what have you done to your
hair? You know I hate it short"

I opened the front door and pointed.

He stomped out onto the porch, and I followed.

He opened his mouth, but I took off before he could say
anything. "Number one, don't you ever call Billy Lee Tucker a
nitwit or any other name again. He's got more integrity in one
toenail than you've got in your whole body. Number two, I'm working on remodeling this house to live in it. Number three,
I really don't care if you like my hair or not, Drew."

It was his turn to shake a finger at me. "I'm going to have
you sent off to a mental institution. Are you shacking up with
the village idiot too?"

I got so close to his nose that I had to look at him crosseyed. "What's it to you if I am? You're messing around with
the village bimbo. And you are not sending me anywhere. I'm
saner than I have been since the day I made the biggest mistake of my life and married you"

"You mean you regret Crystal?" he snapped.

"That is a stupid question! My only regret is that I cursed
her with a lying, cheating father."

He glared at me. "You are as crazy as Gert. That was the
thing about you that worried my folks."

"You should have listened to them. But Gert was a lot smarter
than me. She figured out the first year what kind of man she'd
married. I didn't figure out things until a couple of days ago, so
I haven't gotten a thing but a reputation for being a naive fool.
She got jewelry every time Lonnie had an affair. Your newest
toy has a brand-new Thunderbird. I didn't get one, did I?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at me. "I'd
say what you got out of the bank would compensate for anything I've done"

If looks could kill, he wouldn't be anything but a greasy
spot on my rotting porch. "What I took amounts to five thousand dollars a year. I don't think that compensates for anything you've done"

For the past three days I had been busy figuring out ways to
kill Drew. Now that he stood before me, merely arguing seemed
to be killing him quicker than a dose of rat poison or a bullet
between the eyes. He didn't have any idea how to fight with
his wife; but then, he'd had no experience. I'd never stood up to
him or called him names before. He was in brand-new territory
without a compass.

He dropped his arms to his sides and hung his head. "I'm so
sorry, Trudy. I messed up bad. You are a good woman, Trudy.
Can't you forgive me for one little mistake?"

He almost had me there for a minute-until I realized that
he was lying about the number of infidelities and that he
hadn't said anything about loving me. Had he ever?

I shook my head. "The old Trudy was a good woman. I'm
not, and I will not forgive you"

His tone went from warm to cold instantly. "Come on,
Trudy, be sensible. This fling was my first one," he lied. "It's a
male-menopause thing. I am past forty, and my life is slipping
away. I hate getting old. I'll buy you a new car tomorrow. So,
what do you say?" He touched my arm.

Cockroaches crawling across my skin couldn't have been
more repulsive. I picked up his hand and removed it from my
arm.

That's when he lost it. Daggers shot out of his eyes. His face
turned the color of day-old liver, and I thought for a minute he
was going to fall down on my porch and start slobbering. And
my cell phone was lying in a ditch, so I'd have to go inside to
call 911. Of course, I could sit down on the steps and see if
he came out of it on his own before I went inside the house and
called. But, dang it all, he started yelling again. Some days I
couldn't catch a lucky break.

"I never wanted to marry you," he said icily.

"I'll make it easy for you to be footloose and fancy-free,
then. Either you file for divorce, or I will."

"The money you stole from me won't last you a lifetime,
and that nit .. " He stopped and took half a step toward me.

"Don't finish that, or I'll kick you off this porch," I said.

He backed up two steps. "Billy Lee can't give you what you
are used to. This is your last chance, woman. Either walk your
fat rear end out there and get into my car, or I'll have divorce
papers served tomorrow morning."

I smiled. "My fat rear end will be glad to get them. The
only thing I'll fight to the death for is my maiden name back.
I don't want to be affiliated with the cheating, slimy name of
Williams ever again. I'd take a job picking the white tops off
chicken droppings before I took another penny of your precious money, so I won't even fight you for half of what
you've got"

He smirked. "It wouldn't do any good. I'm a lawyer, and
I'll.."

"Don't threaten me, Drew. I didn't even want my clothes, so
why would I want anything more? Besides, it'll take more and
more money each time you get involved with a younger
woman, so you'll need it all just to keep up"

He drew back a fist, and I got right into his face. "Take your
best shot, and give it all you've got, and then I'm going to wipe
up this porch with you. There's enough mad in me right now
that you don't really want to take the chance. But if you are idiot
enough to do it to soothe your damaged pride, then hit me"

He dropped his hand and stomped off the porch. "The
papers will be here tomorrow. Sign them, and stay away
from me"

"Signing them will be the highlight of my day. Staying away
from you will be the easiest thing I've ever done"

I watched him drive away, and a nervous giggle bubbled up
from my chest. By the time he pulled out of my driveway, I
was sitting on a porch step, tears running down my face and
laughter echoing up and down Broadway Street.

He shook a fist at me as he drove away. I wished for my
digital camera to take a picture of that sight, but it was back at
Drew's house, lying in the nightstand drawer beside my little
pistol.

Billy Lee sat down on the top step a few feet from me. "You
okay?"

"You didn't rush right out to my rescue, did you? Some
neighbor you are, and after I took up for you too. Left me to
fight the battle all by myself."

"You are a strong woman. You just proved it. I was standing
in the doorway. If he'd tried to hit you, I'd have been there"

I didn't know whether to thank him for all that confidence
or to slap him for getting out of helping me. "Okay, that's over
and finished. Let's go back up to the bedroom. I hate white
woodwork. What's it going to take to get it all stripped and
stained, and is it worth the effort, or do we just buy new?"

I went back inside the house, and he followed me up the
stairs.

Halfway up he said, "Thanks for taking up for me"

"Who said I was taking up for you?"

"You did. And you told him not to call me a nitwit."

I turned and looked back at him a few steps behind me.
"Maybe I was taking up for me. I don't befriend nitwits. My
friends are all first-class people. Maybe I thought he was questioning my judgment"

Billy Lee grinned. "Thanks, anyway."

By then we were in the bedroom, and he went right back to
talking about the job. "Refinishing or buying new depends on
how much work you want to do. I chipped a chunk of paint away
in a corner of your bedroom. Looks to me like the woodwork
is burled oak, so it's worth the time and effort."

"Then let's move the furniture out of the room, tear up the
carpet, and get started"

"Right now?"

"You got somewhere else you have to be?"

"No, ma'am. It's Billy Lee at your service until we get this
old place into shape, but we'll need to make a trip to the lumberyard for supplies after we tear up the carpet. I imagine there's
oak hardwood under it."

"Then let's go to the lumberyard right now before we get al l
sweaty and hot."

"I'll go get my truck and pick you up on the corner," he said
enthusiastically.

"Me and my fat rear end will be waiting."

"I don't listen to derogatory remarks about my friends, either.
And you look just fine to me, Trudy."

He walked across the back lawns and returned in minutes
with his pickup truck. He got out and opened the passenger's
door for me. I felt like Cinderella in the pumpkin-chariot in
that beat-up Chevy truck that had to be at least twenty years
old. It had been red at one time, but now it had rust spots and
splotches of primer gray where Billy Lee had tried to keep it
together with putty and paint.

We bought paint stripper, varnish, and two kinds of wipeon stain for the woodwork, but we held off on lumber, just in
case we lucked out with the flooring under the carpets. By noon we'd moved the furniture from the guest room I was using
to Uncle Lonnie's old room. I'd be sleeping in Aunt Gert's
room until mine was finished. I wasn't looking forward to the
possibility of sharing the room with her spirit if it hadn't gone on
to rearrange heaven. But the other option was Uncle Lonnie's
old room. I wasn't about to stretch out on the bed where lousy
Lonnie had slept.