Big Stone Gap

by Adriana Trigiani

  And there it is. The mystery I could not solve. My mother could not bear the thought of me ever being ashamed of her, so she lied to me. A lie is better than rejection by your own flesh and blood when they find out that you are not perfect.

  “Otto, you listen to me. Worley needs to hear this from you.” Otto has a stricken look on his face. He’s just had a heart attack, he’s in pain, he’s facing death, and I am refusing his final request. He is so confused. I have to make him understand.

  “Goddammit, Otto. I’m a bastard. Not because of the circumstances of my birth, but because I was lied to. The lie made it wrong. You had something most people only dream of: a real and true love. And you were graced with a baby! A baby that came from you and Destry. Haven’t you spent your entire life thinking about it? Thinking about her? Wouldn’t you have given everything to hold her again? What is wrong with that? You loved her. That is a sacred thing!”

  “I was gonna marry her,” he whispers.

  “Tell him that. Tell him what your plans were. Tell him what Destry wanted for him. Anything you can remember. Tell him everything. It’s the best thing you will ever do for him.”

  Otto breathes in short bursts. A nurse comes over and gives me the eyeball like, What are you doing in here upsetting people? But Otto keeps his hand on mine, so she gets the message that he wants me to stay.

  “Please go and get Worley,” I say to the nurse. She goes.

  “Now, Otto. Don’t you cry. You be clear with him. He has to hear this from you. Okay?”

  Otto nods that he understands. Worley comes in and goes directly to Otto’s side. I pat Worley on the back and give Otto a look. Otto begins his story. I pull the curtains around the bed to give them privacy. I go out into the waiting area and wait with Spec.

  “If I threw my body down and set it on fire, would it make you stay?” Iva Lou asks me over a BYOB beer at the Coach House Inn.

  “Lyle would kill me.” Lyle Makin goes all over town and tells everybody what a great wife Iva Lou is; she knows it as well as I do. She’s stuck for life and she’s happy about it.

  “Yes, he would. He loves being murried.”

  Ballard Littrell stumbles past us to take a table near the kitchen.

  “Drunk again?” Iva Lou asks Ballard.

  “So am I!” He smiles, and takes a seat.

  “See what you’re gonna miss? What his wife has gone through. At the bottom of every woman’s heartache is a bottle.” Iva Lou swigs her beer.

  “What happened to his ear, anyway?”

  “There was a story going around that a jealous lover cut it off during a fight. But I think Ballard himself started that one around. Lyle told me that he got caught in the Continuous Miner machine up in the mines. Sliced it right off. Why do you ask?”

  “It was the last open question I had about anything in Big Stone Gap.”

  “You know a lot of folks that are in the Drama are dropping out because you won’t be directing this year.”

  “Come on. I’m hardly a director. I just follow whatever Mazie Dinsmore wrote in her promptbook. I am easily replaced.”

  “I don’t know about that. Theodore Tipton quit this morning.”

  “No way. He’s the whole show!”

  “I know. Between him quitting and Tayloe Slagle having a hard time getting the baby weight off, it’s gonna be a long summer. He got offered a big job.”

  “Really?”

  “University of Tennessee wants him to be their band director.”

  “Fantastic!” I am hurt, though. I would like to have been the first person Theodore told. I used to be. He came over to my house after Sarah and Gail Night, but I didn’t answer the door. Maybe that’s what he came over to tell me.

  “Funny thing is, they didn’t hire him for his theatrical flair. They thought the musical arrangement of all the Elizabeth Taylor themes was genius. Imagine that.”

  “It was.”

  “Then of course, there’s old Jack Mac, the best kisser in Big Stone Gap.”

  “What about him?”

  Iva Lou shrugs.

  “What have you heard?”

  “He’s seeing that new schoolteacher. Fleeta saw them up to the Fold.”

  “That’s what he needs. A schoolteacher. Mining and teaching go great together.”

  “Listen to Miss Positive, Everything Turns Out for the Best. Law me.”

  “Well, it does, doesn’t it?”

  “You like old Jack Mac. Admit it.”

  I shrug nonchalantly and finish my beer.

  “No, I mean you like him, in that way that I have liked half the men in Wise County. And don’t lie to me.”

  “Let’s say I did. Why would I admit it? What good would it do me?”

  “To be loved is the only good anybody can do for anybody. And you know how I feel about sex. I must say, though, marital sex is a whole different animal. But it’s still an animal, thank the Lord for that.”

  “Do you ever wonder why we’re made this way?”

  “Who?”

  “Us. Women.”

  “Honey-o, I don’t know. I think I understand men better than women. A man is an animal all his life. He wants to eat when he’s hungry. He wants to sleep when he’s tired. And every so often he wants sex when he’s horny. Simple.” Iva Lou looks at me.

  “It’s that simple?” I wonder.

  “Animals. Uh-huh. Simple creatures, men. And we got the scientific evidence right here in the Gap. Anybody who says men didn’t descend from apes never went out with Mad Dog Mabe. His entire body was an homage to shag carpet. That man even had hair on his elbows.”

  I sit outside Theodore’s house for a long time before I decide to walk up to the door. A walk takes twice as long when you feel stupid. I suppose I’m going to have to grovel and beg his forgiveness for Sarah and Gail Night. I haven’t spoken to him since; I know he’s really angry with me. I’ve been dreading this moment. But I miss him desperately; we used to talk every day. Life is different without him, and I don’t like the change.

  “Who is it?”

  “Ave Maria Mulligan. Town pharmacist.”

  Theodore appears in the doorway. “Former town pharmacist.”

  “Not until a week from Friday.”

  “Come on in.”

  Theodore lets me into his house. I never entered through the front before. I always came in the back, through the kitchen. Why didn’t I go to the back of the house as I have for nine years? Why did I choose this front entrance, as though I were a salesman or a missionary? Why did I do this? Why have I put a wall between me and my very best friend?

  “Did you hear about my offer from UT?”

  “It’s wonderful. Your work will be on the TV and everything now. You deserve all of the fame and glory in the world.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you mad at me?” I say in a funny voice.

  “Yes, I am,” he responds in a very adult tone.

  “I figured. Don’t I get to be a little mad because you made friends behind my back and went up to the MacChesneys’ with a couple of hot dates and didn’t tell me?” I whine.

  “No.” Theodore hates whining. Why am I playing this game with the man who knows me best?

  “Why not?”

  “You’re a very interesting person,” Theodore begins. It has been a rule in my life that whenever anybody has used the word interesting to describe me, it is always something bad. “You don’t want to get involved with anybody, but you don’t want the anybodys you know to get involved with anybody else either. Why do you suppose that’s true?”

  “First of all, it isn’t true. People are free to do whatever they like.”

  “People? Is that what I am to you? A general person?”

  “No, no, of course not.”

  “Start there. What am I to you?”

  I want to tell him that he’s my best friend. That if the entire world collapsed and I could only save one person, it would be him. That the thought of him leaving and taking
a job somewhere else in the universe where I can’t talk to him every day kills me! Why is it different when I’m the one who’s going? Do I expect Theodore to sit here and wait for me while I go out and have adventures, like he’s some talisman I can come back and touch to remind me that nothing has really changed? Instead, I see the wispy sisters shivering in the moonlight on Jack Mac’s porch. The image makes me angry. Why am I never chosen? “Look. You don’t owe me a thing. I can take care of myself.”

  “You don’t need anybody.”

  “That’s right. I’m very strong on my own. I don’t need anybody.”

  “Are you sure you’re not Fred Mulligan’s daughter?” This comment catches me off guard, and I find it cruel. I confided in Theodore about every horrible thing Fred Mulligan ever did to me and my mama, and now he’s throwing it up in my face. But I would never give him the satisfaction of knowing that he has hurt me. If you saw my face in this moment, you would think I hadn’t a care in the world. This is my best area; this is where I perform at my peak. I can shut down, detach, and not feel. So, that is exactly what I do.

  “You’d be the first person in the world who didn’t need someone, Ave Maria. Do you think you’re that person? The one girl in the world who doesn’t need anybody, ever? Are you some special category of person?”

  “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “See, there you go. See how you operate? I’m doing something to you because I’m asking you how you feel. What you feel. It is my business. I love you.”

  “Sure, sure you love me.” I roll my eyes like I’m five.

  “You know, having sex with someone isn’t the only way to show you care.”

  “Well, it would have been nice!” Why am I shouting at this man? Isn’t he on my side? Isn’t he telling me that I am as deserving of love as the next person? That it’s okay to need love? That I’m allowed to be scared? But it’s too late. I know Theodore is really angry because he cannot look at me.

  As he paces, he says calmly, “You have big problems, okay? Big ones that you need to think about.”

  “I have big problems? What about you? You think I can’t connect to people?” Now I’m shouting and I’m sure I’m scaring him. Good. My voice gets even louder. “Stop analyzing me! Stop it! I wanted to marry you for nine years and you didn’t want me. Finally, finally, you propose to me, and what was I supposed to do? Drop everything and marry you in the middle of a black depression? And then what? Be happy? Maybe I loved you in the middle of my depression, and loved you enough not to saddle you with a nut case! You should have married me nine years ago when I was young and I didn’t know so much! I would have had someone to love me when I went through all the worst things of my life. I’ve gone through all the worst things, and I did it alone. A person can’t just pretend that they didn’t go through it all alone. I did. I don’t want any credit for it, but understand that when it comes to love, I don’t understand! I wouldn’t know what to do with a man! Hook him? Serve him? Then pray he never leaves? How do you do it without dying? How?”

  Theodore goes to the kitchen. He turns in the doorway. “How about a cup of coffee?”

  I sit on Theodore’s futon while he fixes a pot of coffee. I look down at the buttons on my shirt. There is no rise and fall, no palpitations. Nothing but the steady breathing that comes with the unburdening of feelings locked up, locked down, and buried for nine years. It feels good. I curl up on Theodore’s couch.

  “You’re my best friend, Ave Maria,” Theodore says casually from the kitchen. “I’ll never leave you.”

  I want to speak, to respond, to let him know that I feel the same, but I can’t. So, I cry instead. I can cry here. I’m safe.

  The postmaster from town calls; he has a certified letter for me. I let him open it. They’re my tickets from Gala Nuccio. I am very excited about my trip, and very nervous. I have called Gala nearly every day to practice speaking Italian and to discuss the trip. She is very excited to have me with the group, since I speak Italian. Also, we’ve become good phone friends. She has told me a lot about her life. Her boyfriend, Frank, has finally asked her to marry him, but she doesn’t see herself as Maria von Trapp, a second mother who plays puppets with her stepchildren. Gala also believes Frank still has other women. She can’t prove it, but he keeps strange hours and is forever calling her from phone booths (she assures me this is a sign of a cheating man, and I think she’s right). I never had a girlfriend who was Italian like me, and it is so much fun. We have similar attitudes about things. Theodore and I drove all the way over to the Tri-City Mall, to see Saturday Night Fever. (It’s been out two years but there is still a demand in Kingsport.) I never knew people were like that. Gala assures me the movie is accurate; she grew up in the same kind of neighborhood. She finds it charming that I have a Southern accent. “You just don’t expect that sound to come out of an Italian girl.” I told her all about the last year of my life, and she listened carefully. She thinks Theodore is not the man for me. She likes the idea of Jack MacChesney. I told her it’s too late for all of that; Jack Mac and Sarah are hot and heavy. Gala wasn’t surprised that Jack Mac turned around and got another girlfriend so fast. “Men always have to be with somebody. It’s just how the sons of bitches are made.” Her words ring in my ears long after we’re off the phone. I think she’s right about that too.

  I wash my face, throw on some lipstick, and grab my keys to run into town. I have already had my mail rerouted to the post office, so daily chores at my house have dwindled to preparing my meals and packing.

  I need a spatula to pry all of my mail out of the post office box. I quickly shuffle through. There is a postcard from Zia Meoli telling me in a line how the whole family cannot wait to meet me. I’ve received a card or a letter from Zia Meoli at least once a week since I wrote to her the first time. I told her I hadn’t heard from Mario da Schilpario since his first and only letter, even though I have written to him three times with the dates of my trip. I’ve given up on him. I would like to meet him, but if it doesn’t happen, if he doesn’t want to see me, I am not going to barge into his home and confront him. I wonder if he told his mother about me. My grandmother. How I wish I could meet her. It’s silly, I know, but the one thing I always wished I had was a grandmother to talk to. Well, the sooner we learn that we don’t get everything we want in this life, the better. I am grateful to meet my twin aunts and uncle and cousins. They will be more than enough; I guess I shouldn’t be greedy.

  The windows in Mulligan’s Mutual have never been prettier. Nellie has painted the backdrop doors a bright lime green and placed paper butterflies on the product displays, making the windows look like a happy terrarium. The mortar-and-pestle neon sign that had burned out on the building has been replaced with a giant ; and it’s a real attention-getter. Otto and Worley did a beautiful job on the bricks. So the place finally is up to snuff, and that makes me very happy.

  Fleeta is handling the store part of the Pharmacy during the day until Pearl gets off school, and that nice man from Norton agreed to take Mondays and Tuesdays for prescription filling until a permanent pharmacist can be found. We interviewed a man from Coeburn, and he may be able to start by early summer. Nellie and Iva Lou are keeping an eye on Pearl already, though Pearl has complained that Nellie is a little bossy. I told Pearl to tell Nellie that; I’m sure she doesn’t realize that she’s being bossy.

  Fleeta is behind the counter. I hear her explaining the difference between the chicken-wing overcross and the sleeper hold to a boy, obviously another professional-wrestling fan. Fleeta begged me to start carrying World Wrestling Federation magazines, so we did. It does bring in that young male element; they also buy a lot of candy. Fleeta is downright religious about wrestling. She has started smoking again; she said it was too hard to quit because everybody smokes in the arenas where the wrestling matches are held. Plus, her nerves get frayed during the shows when the man she is rooting for falls behind. She needs her cigarettes to calm down.

  “What are y
ou doing here?” she asks me.

  “Just dropped by. To say hi.”

  “Shouldn’t you be home, girl?” Fleeta looks around nervously.

  “I was home but I already had my mail rerouted, so I came to fetch it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is something wrong?” I ask.

  “No, nothing.” Fleeta puffs on her Marlboro like she’s blowing up a balloon in spurts.

  “You seem upset about something.”

  “I told you everything was fine.”

  Now, I know Fleeta as well as I know anyone. Something is not right. It could be something small, like she made a bet on Haystacks Calhoun or the Pile Driver and somebody’s into her for twenty bucks; or it could be something big like Portly’s ill. The one thing about Fleeta: She reacts exactly the same to any challenge; there are no degrees with her.

  “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t you think you ought to be getting yourself home?”

  “Fleeta. What is going on?”

  “Jesus. Would you lay off?”

  Fleeta has never spoken to me like this.

  “You know what, Fleeta? I don’t appreciate your tone.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Ave Maria. I really am. But I need you to just trust me on this one. You need to get yourself home.”

  “Is something wrong with Otto?”

  “God, no. That shunt in his heart is working like a garden hose.”

  Fleeta clamps her little lips shut and goes about her dusting. I wait for a moment, but she isn’t volunteering any further information. Something is up.

  When I get home, Otto and Worley are repairing the fence in my front yard. They laugh, share tools, and consult each other about the best way to replace an old hinge. I ask them if everything is okay, and when I tell them about Fleeta, they just shrug. I ask Otto about his shunt. He opens his shirt and shows me the red staccato scar down his breastbone. (I didn’t need to see that.) The doctor is pleased with the results, and Otto is feeling like his old self again. The doctor considers Otto’s recovery a miracle. I think that the truth healed his heart. Once Otto unloaded the terrible burden he had been carrying all these years, the weight on his chest lifted, and he could breathe again. He doesn’t huff and puff when he climbs ladders or lifts things anymore, and he gave up chewing tobacco. It’s the start of a whole new era for Otto. I think he’ll find a girlfriend next. He has his eye on a woman down in Lee County.