Count Your Blessings

by Sharon Sala

“Really? I’ve just assaulted you and started a fight in The Curl Up and Dye. I’m sure there’s damage to the property and—”

  “No, no damage here,” Ruby said quickly.

  Bobbette groaned as she traced the path of stubble that began at her widow’s peak and went all the way down to the back of her neck.

  “Lord hab mercy,” she mumbled, then rolled her eyes. “I’m sure this was an accident and—”

  “No, it wasn’t an accident. However, it wasn’t premeditated. That I can swear to, because I did not know you would be here.” Patty handed the clippers to Ruby. “When you talk to the police, tell them I did not run from the scene of the crime and that I will be at home when they come to arrest me.”

  Bobbette rolled her eyes, then winced because even that hurt.

  “I’b not pressing charges.”

  Patty frowned. “A harlot and a coward! You must be such a disappointment to your mama.” Then she smiled at Ruby. “So, I guess you can put me down at my regular time next week after all. Y’all have a nice day.”

  The door jingled when she opened it, and then she was gone, leaving the women to stare at each other in disbelief.

  Vesta handed Vera her bowl and fork and went to clean up her station. She had an appointment due in about fifteen minutes and needed to sweep up the red hair before she arrived.

  Mabel Jean grabbed some rags and began sopping up the acrylic, then went to the back room to get some more cleaning supplies, leaving Ruby with the task of dealing with Bobbette.

  “Uh, do you want me to call an ambulance?” Ruby asked.

  Bobbette thought about the future and the fate of her hot date, and frowned.

  “Dough, but I deed a ride to the Hoddywood botel to pick up by car.”

  There were several reasons Vesta and Vera Conklin had reached the age of forty-two without getting married, and they were looking at one of the reasons why. Men could not be trusted around easy women.

  “Why don’t you call your hot date?” Vesta asked.

  Bobbette glared, pulled out her cell phone, and punched in the number to her mother’s house.

  Vera snickered and then ducked back into the break room.

  “Baba, it’s be, Bobbette. I’b at duh booty shob here in town. Cub get be. Hurry.”

  She dropped the cell phone in her purse, then yanked the cape off the back of Vesta’s chair, threw it around her shoulders, and proceeded to shave herself bald.

  “What in the world?” Vesta cried.

  “I’b baking lembunade out of lembuns. Had accident. See… bwoken dose. Busted lib. I’ll work dis look till by hair grows out.”

  Then she pulled a scarf out of her purse, tied it turban-style around her head, and handed Ruby two twenty-dollar bills.

  “For duh mess and duh towel,” she said, and sailed out the door with her head up, the bloody towel pressed against her nose and her backside swaying.

  Moments later, her ride pulled up in front of the shop. They saw her mother scream, although the car windows were up so they didn’t actually hear it, and then watched as they drove away.

  “Well, that just about takes the cake,” Vera said, as she came out of the break room.

  They were still giggling as they began putting the shop back together. A couple of minutes later, the bell jingled over the door yet again. They looked up.

  Conrad Clymer was standing in the doorway with an uneasy look on his face.

  “By any chance would… I mean, is—”

  “Who are you looking for? Your wife or your whore?” Vera asked.

  He gasped, as all the color faded from his face.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re gonna be begging for more than a pardon before this day is over,” Vesta said, as she continued to sweep up the red hair at her station.

  He looked down. He’d had some damn good blow jobs with his fists wrapped in hair that color.

  “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered. “Is that… uh, what…”

  “Bobbette Paulson’s hair? Why yes, it is. Patty June shaved part of it off. Never would of guessed it, but she’s got a real mean streak. And, you can tell Bobbette is a stickler for style. She shaved the rest off herself so it would match. Nothing worse than a messy hairstyle,” Vesta added.

  “I, uh…”

  He pivoted on one heel and flew out the door.

  The four women looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

  Their day was about to level off, but Patty June’s day had just shifted gears.

  • • •

  Patty June had been thinking about this day for weeks. She knew in advance what she would do once it all came undone, and the first place she stopped after she left the salon was at the First National Bank of Blessings. She was operating on adrenaline as she walked up to the vice president and sat down without being asked.

  “I need to move some of my money,” she announced.

  Lawrence Cornwall smiled and started to wave a teller over when Patty June stopped him.

  “No. You do it, Larry. Please.”

  Lawrence blinked. It was the tremble in her lower lip that did him in.

  “Why, certainly, Patty June. Tell me what you want and it’s done.”

  “I need to open a new account in just my name. Then I want you to transfer all but fifteen-hundred dollars of the money in our personal checking account into the new one. Then I need all of my IRAs and the saving account moved into just my name.”

  Lawrence gasped. “Patty June… is there—”

  “Conrad has been fornicating with Bobbette Paulson, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t know about it. The money is mine. I’m leaving him his last month’s salary, and it’s more than he deserves. Move it all now, please. I will wait.”

  “Oh my stars, I am so sorry,” Lawrence muttered.

  “Yes, well, so am I, Larry, but it is what it is.”

  “Sit tight, Patty June. This won’t take long,” Lawrence said.

  And it didn’t. Once it was finished, Patty stood abruptly, shook Lawrence’s hand in a forthright manner, and walked out of the bank with her head held high.

  She didn’t remember driving home. It wasn’t until she started up the steps of her house that she realized what she’d done. By the time she got indoors, she was shaking. She made it down the hall, but when she walked into the bedroom, she dropped to her knees.

  All the little lies she’d been telling herself to excuse Conrad’s behavior were gone, and now everyone in town would know it, too. There was nothing left to face but the truth. Her husband was a cheat. Her marriage was over. She’d known it for months, but today it was final. She rolled up in a little ball on the floor and proceeded to cry until her head was throbbing and there was snot all over her face. She was thinking about getting up to get a tissue when she noticed dust bunnies underneath the bed. It appeared she could not keep a house or a husband.

  Wearily, she pushed herself up off the floor and staggered into the bathroom to clean up. When she came back, she headed for the closet and began dragging his clothes out by the armfuls, making trip after trip to the front porch until his side of the closet was empty and his clothes were all over the porch and the yard.

  Next, she went to the kitchen for a trash bag and began emptying the dresser drawers and all the drawers in his office. Then she dragged the bag out onto the porch and threw it into the yard.

  Next stop was his office, and she cleared it as well, dumping computer equipment in the yard. When she began emptying two shelves of his reference books from the bookcase, she was more careful, taking special care of his big Bible with all of his favorite highlighted passages. She could have happily set fire to everything he owned, except the books. There was no need to destroy words from the Good Book just because he’d touched it. She hated Conrad, but she didn’t hold a grudge
against God.

  Once the books were out, she went back into the house and began going from room to room, taking down the personal pictures of their wedding and the holidays they’d taken together. Every family memento that had his face on it was going in the garbage. She would not lay her head on a pillow tonight until she made sure every trace of his presence had been removed from this house. Her heart was so full of rage that there were no more tears. The only positive in this mess was that they’d never had children to suffer this disgrace with her.

  She had just carried the last stack of pictures outside to the trash and was coming in the back door when she heard the front door slam and then the sound of running feet.

  Her heart jumped, but then she took a deep breath and curled her hands into fists. She heard him running from room to room, and waited. Eventually, he’d get to the kitchen and then she would have her say.

  Chapter 2

  If Marvin Scheffler had been watching where he was driving instead of trying to get a fly out of his truck, he wouldn’t have had a wreck on his way out of town or been transported to the hospital in Blessings, afraid he was going to die. And if Marvin hadn’t been afraid he was going to hell for boycotting the church for ending bingo night, he wouldn’t have insisted on seeing Preacher Clymer before he went into surgery, and the entire day would have evolved quite differently for a lot of people. But being what it was, life was full of surprises and Marvin’s wreck was only one of them.

  • • •

  Conrad had just met up with Bobbette at the Hollywood Motel and wasted no time getting naked. He was, as his daddy used to say, primed and ready to go. They were about to get down to business when his cell phone vibrated all the way across the end table beside the bed.

  Bobbette frowned. “Don’t answer it, sugar bear. You’re not a doctor. No one’s gonna die if you don’t show up.”

  He stifled a frown as he glanced at the text.

  “It’s Melba, and it’s an emergency,” he said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “The only message on her text is a 911.” He quickly dialed the church. “Melba, what’s wrong?”

  She relayed the message and asked him what he wanted her to do.

  “Tell them I’m on the way,” he said and disconnected.

  “Someone had a wreck. They’re afraid he’s dying. I have to go,” Conrad said, and began grabbing his clothes.

  Although she knew better than to argue, Bobbette began complaining as she proceeded to get dressed.

  “This just messes everything up. What am I going to do? I don’t want to sit and wait here all by myself.”

  “We can hardly go into Blessings together, and you know it,” Conrad said.

  Bobbette pouted even more as she began yanking on her clothes and, in the process, broke off one of her artificial nails, which brought on a fit of monumental proportions.

  She cried, then she pouted again, and then she promised Conrad to add a special little trick to the next blow job if he’d take her with him. Before Conrad knew it, they were in the car together on their way back to town.

  Even though he’d driven around to the back side of the hospital to park, he’d been a nervous wreck that they would be seen together. They’d parted company in the parking lot, with the agreement to meet back there in an hour. She was going to get her nail fixed, and he would go pray with Marvin Scheffler so he could go into surgery.

  Conrad had known all the way into town that it was a risk, just like he’d known from the start of the affair that he was committing a sin. But this woman had been scratching an itch Patty June could never reach. The possibility of getting caught had always been in the back of his mind, but he had a just-in-case plan.

  Years ago, televangelist Jimmy Swaggart had been caught chasing tail and begged for forgiveness in front of his congregation on a nationwide broadcast and got away with it. Conrad had gone along with his own cheating with something similar in mind.

  Once inside the hospital, he prayed with Marvin and sent him on his way to surgery, then went out to the parking lot to wait for Bobbette.

  But she never showed up, and it kept getting later and later. The only place he knew to look for her was at The Curl Up and Dye. He’d thought seriously about leaving her to her own resources, but he didn’t want to make her mad. He’d thought to just walk in, pretend to be looking for his wife, and if Bobbette was still there, he’d soon know it.

  So he headed to the beauty shop, careful to keep an eye on the streets for Bobbette as he drove. Once he arrived, he got out with his usual aplomb and poked his head inside to look around. But after Vesta’s comment about whores and wives, and seeing all that red hair on the floor, it became apparent that the train his Jimmy Swaggart plan was on had already left the station.

  Conrad drove home, shaking like a sinner at the altar praying for redemption and so damn scared he felt like puking.

  When he came around the corner and saw his things out in the yard, he swerved, barely missing a parked car. He wheeled into the driveway, then stumbled to the house, his legs shaking so hard he could barely stand.

  “Oh my God, oh my God, please, please, please,” he kept muttering.

  Unfortunately, he had not been specific enough with his prayer, and Patty June was obviously not a bit inclined toward forgiveness. He staggered past computers, office equipment, books, clothes, and what appeared to be everything he’d ever owned strung all over the porch and the yard.

  But the bigger shock was the empty walls inside. It was if their marriage had never happened. He ran through the hall to their bedroom, then back through the house toward the kitchen, so damn scared now that he couldn’t call out her name.

  When he rounded the doorway into the kitchen, he stopped short. He’d found her, but from the look on her face, he was regretting the search.

  “Patty June, I—”

  “Shut your mouth, Conrad. There is nothing on this earth I want to hear from you. You have defiled me. You slept with me at the same time you slept with your whore. You have shamed me, your church, and your congregation. You are a lying, cheating bastard, and you should be grateful that my father has passed over, or he would have shot you dead where you stand. Get out of my house. Get your things off my property or I will set them on fire. When you get wherever you’re going, send me a mailing address for the divorce decree. If you do not, I will hire a private investigator to find you and proceed to ruin your name everywhere you go for the rest of your life.”

  Conrad gulped. All of a sudden, he needed to pee.

  “I am so sorry—”

  “Yes, you are. As sorry a man as ever set foot on this earth. Get out of my sight.”

  “Please. I’ll go to counseling. I’ll—”

  Patty June pulled a knife from the knife block. “I won’t tell you again,” she said and started toward him.

  “Jesus Christ! Patty June, have you—”

  She came at him, and Conrad turned tail and ran screaming out of the house.

  She stood in the doorway with her eyes blazing, the knife held tightly in her grip, watching him carry away his things. Every time he came back to the porch to take another load, it was all she could do not to take the butcher knife to what was left of his hair, the same way she’d marked his damn whore.

  • • •

  Conrad kept an anxious eye on Patty June as he gathered up his things, frantically stuffing them into the trunk, then on the car seats and in the floorboard, until the car was so packed he couldn’t see anything through the rearview mirror. He knew the neighbors were watching. A couple of them had even come out to their front porches for a closer look. If it would have been possible to drop dead at will, he would have already passed on. Apparently God was not inclined to let guilty bastards out of their own messes that easily.

  Finally, he had everything packed in the car. He stoppe
d by the door and looked back at his wife, unable to believe fifteen years of marriage were ending like this.

  “Patty June, I—”

  She went back in the house, slamming the door to punctuate the fact that she had just shut him out of her life.

  His heart hurt as he got in the car and started the engine, but the car was so full that he had to hang his head out the window to back up.

  It didn’t occur to him until he was driving away that he didn’t know where he was going. He’d blown a career and a marriage for the pleasure of Bobbette Paulson’s blow jobs. Looking back, he could honestly say it was not a good trade-off.

  He was halfway down Main Street when it occurred to him that he would need money. He made a quick stop at the bank, then grabbed the checkbook from the console and ran inside, not realizing everyone in the bank already knew what he’d done.

  He stopped at the nearest teller and began writing a check, then tore it off and scooted it toward the teller.

  She looked at it and shoved it back.

  “Sorry, Preacher, but that check will bounce.”

  “What? But that’s imposs—” Oh shit. He cleared his throat. “What is the balance?”

  She wrote it on a piece of paper and slid it toward him.

  He swallowed past the knot in his throat and rewrote a check for the entire fifteen-hundred dollars, pocketed the money, and walked out with his steps dragging.

  He thought about going to check on Bobbette before he made himself scarce, then decided against it. It wouldn’t be the same getting a blow job if he didn’t have all that hair to hold on to.

  • • •

  By the time the sun went down, nearly everyone in Blessings had heard about the preacher’s fall from grace. The board of directors from the Freewill Baptist Church arrived just as Patty was about to sit down to a solitary supper. She saw them drive up and went to the kitchen to turn the fire off under her stew. If she did what she wanted, she wouldn’t even go to the door, but eventually she would have to face them. Might as well get all the ugly stuff over in one day.

  When the doorbell rang, she stood in the kitchen, waiting until they rang it the second time before she went to answer. They were rude in showing up without calling, so she didn’t feel any immediate obligation to be prompt. Once she got to the foyer she took a deep breath, patted her hair to make sure it was still in place, then let them in and proceeded to play dumb. From the looks on their faces, they were less than pleased with the day’s events, but she could have cared less. She wasn’t all that happy about them herself.