The Ladies' Room

by Carolyn Brown

  Billy Lee was sitting on the porch when I opened the door. He wore bibbed overalls and a short-sleeved chambray shirt. Both were crisply ironed, and his shoes were polished.

  "You going to church?" he asked.

  "Yes, I am"

  "Which one?"

  "Same one I always go to. The one on Main Street. You?"

  "I go to the same one me and Gert always went to. The one on Broadway Street. Thought if you were going to our church, we might ride together."

  It looked like the property came complete with Billy Lee Tucker in all phases-work, eating, church. "Maybe another time. You want to come with me today?"

  He shook his head so hard that if he'd been wearing glasses, they would have been flung to a far corner of the yard. "No, thank you. But it's an open invitation if you ever want to go with me"

  "Thanks. I just might do that someday."

  He followed me out to the Impala and opened the door. "You look lovely. Is that a new dress?"

  "Yes, it is, and thank you," I said.

  "Red is a good color for you. It goes well with your hair."

  I had a panic attack in the church parking lot. I wasn't even sure I could get into heaven if I didn't uphold the standards set by my mother. What would happen to the rich and shameless if I didn't wear black Versace and control-top hose to church on Sunday mornings?

  Eyebrows almost hit the ceiling, and there was a steady drone of whispers, but no one brought out a rope with a noose on the end when I walked inside. Betsy wore the same black suit she'd worn to Aunt Gert's funeral, and her bleached hair had been cut. Marty wore a black sheath-style dress with a lacy jacket, and her red hair was swept up with a clip. If they had their hearts set on a new Thunderbird, they'd best call in a plastic surgeon. A new hairdo wouldn't be enough to do the trick. I slid into my normal place, leaving room for Drew out of habit.

  Betsy leaned over and whispered into my ear. "What in God's name are you wearing?"

  "A new bra, panties, no hose, a dress with matching jacket, and shoes," I whispered back.

  Marty leaned past her and gave me a dirty look. She should be careful with those mean glares. A dead alarm clock could testify that I was never taking any guff again, and the hammer was in the toolbox, ready and waiting.

  The Sunday school director made a few announcements. The choir director led us in a hymn, and the preacher took the pulpit. He preached on about forgiveness. He was one funeral late and two cousins short. I'd forgive my cousins if they apologized from the depths of their evil souls. I would forgive Drew when he was lying in a casket with his hands draped over his cheating heart.

  "Drew is going to kill you, coming to church looking like that," Marty said the minute the benediction was delivered.

  "Crucify, is more like it," Betsy said.

  "Which one of you wants Aunt Gert's house when he does?"

  Marty shivered.

  Betsy's eyes bugged out.

  "Then you'd better protect me, because I swear to God, I'll leave it to one of you. You'll be sure to take care of it for me, won't you?" I reached the door and shook the preacher's hand. He blinked fast a dozen times before he called me by name. I'm sure he was in shock, but I don't reckon it was fatal, since he didn't drop graveyard-dead.

  I was glad for air-conditioning when I got into my car and drove west through town toward the Western Inn's restaurant. I cruised past the funeral home, the H&R Block, the flower shop, drugstore, E-Z Mart, a bank, clothing stores, and all the makings of a small town with a four-block business area and two red lights.

  I knew most of the people in the restaurant, and a few mumbled a cautious hello. They didn't want to get too close to the crazy woman, since scientists hadn't yet proved whether crazy, like stupid, is inherited or contagious.

  The waitress brought a glass of water to my booth and asked if I wanted to see a menu or if I would be having the buffet. I chose the buffet, so she told me to help myself. Mabelle Strong slipped in behind me as I was loading my plate with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, and hot rolls and eyeing the fried okra on the other side. --- -- - - - -- - - - - -

  Mabelle had wispy blue gray hair that barely covered her scalp. Her lipstick had run into the wrinkles around her mouth, and a bed of crow's-feet cradled her bright blue eyes.

  "Trudy Williams, you need to go home and stop this nonsense. You look like a cheap floozy. Have you lost your mind, girl? Gert would be ashamed of you," she said, without lowering her voice a bit.

  "How are you doing, Mabelle? I suspect that Gert would be standing on a tabletop clapping for me this morning. That is a lovely brooch you're wearing. I believe my Uncle Lonnie bought that for you back before he died. Now, what were you saying about my state of mind?"

  She turned sixteen shades of red, one of which matched her lipstick perfectly. It looked as if she was going to succumb to acute cardiac arrest, but she managed to suck in enough air to keep her heart pumping. It would have been terrible if she'd dropped right there, because it would've slowed down the line, and the fried okra was on the other side of the buffet.

  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 basic
ally 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.

  Sweat had slicked up every inch of my overweight, overforty body by the time we pulled up the carpet, but I danced a jig when we found oak hardwood floor, the movement of my feet sending dirt flying up around my sneakers and settling into the grooves of my turned-down bobby socks. Suddenly I could see the house in all its potential glory, just waiting to be turned from the girl in ugly rags to a princess, the belle of the ball.