by Debby Mayne
4
Trudy Baynard
In spite of what the regional manager says, bigger is not more beautiful on some women—although I have to admit she looks fabulous even though she wears women’s sizes. I’ve learned that not everyone should be skinny, and she’s one of them. I, on the other hand, don’t carry extra weight very well.
Back in the day, when I had my figure under control, people stared at me in awe. Now I rarely get more than a quick glance, and the only comments people make are about my complexion, which I’ve managed to keep mostly wrinkle free. And that’s only ’cause I’ve gone for preventive Botox treatments. Yeah, I know, it’s superficial, but most of my life all I’ve had going for me is my looks, and that’s a hard thing to let go of.
My invitation to the twenty-year class reunion arrived last week, and I’m trying to decide if it’s something I want to put myself through again. The ten-year reunion was a disaster because I went with a mission of getting my ex-husband, Michael, to love me again, and I passed out at the worst possible time, proving how pathetic I was and showing everyone I went to school with that I didn’t deserve to lick Michael’s shoes. Well, at least that’s what I thought at the time. Then at the fifteen-year reunion, he’s the one who came out being way more pitiful since everyone knew he’d gotten the senator’s daughter pregnant. I’ve never been so happy since we split up as I was when I looked at his face and saw regret. Even now I smile when I remember how he’s sufferin’ for all he put me through.
But then my smile fades when I think about my thunder thighs that no amount of shape wear can hide. Mama got me started wearing Spanx five years ago, and now I’m addicted and won’t leave my apartment without them. Since I work in fashion for one of the biggest department store chains in the country, I have to wear the latest styles with sizes that don’t go higher than the next one up from where I am now. That worries me. I never saw myself getting this big, and I have absolutely no excuses besides the fact that I eat out for almost every meal since I’m on the road more than I’m home. Even my sisters who both have kids are smaller than me.
If I hear one more person say, “You look good for your age, Trudy,” or, “It’s normal for a woman to put on a few extra pounds when she gets older,” I think I’ll scream.
For the past five years, I’ve been the department store’s regional training director for high-end women’s apparel, and I’ve let my boss know I’m interested in moving up. My personal life might be sad, but professionally, I’m at the top of my game—somethin’ I never saw for myself when I was younger. Those were the days of beauty pageants, homecoming court, and prancing around as half of the Michael-and-Trudy royalty team. Why I ever thought that would last is beyond me. When I look at my high-school yearbooks, I wonder if anyone else has noticed that I don’t smile as big or as often, even though deep down I’m much happier now than I was then.
Mama tells me I really shouldn’t worry about attending the reunion and maybe I should stay home, since people will talk about how I’ve changed. She’s right. I have changed, but as I keep remindin’ myself, mostly for the good. While Mama’s looking at my expanding thighs and businesslike actions, thinking I’m becoming an old maid, I feel like I can command more real honest-to-goodness respect from folks who don’t give a flyin’ flip about how people look. I still care about looks, but at least now, I understand girls like Laura. Last time I saw her she had hips that make mine look downright skinny. Granted that was about three years ago when I ran into her as she was coming out of Olson’s Department Store looking dejected because she couldn’t find anything cute. At least that’s what she told me. I suspect she couldn’t find anything that fit.
People have finally quit asking me about Michael, now that he’s married to Jenna, who was already pregnant and showing when they tied the knot. Jenna flaunts their baby all over town, but rarely is Michael with them. I can’t help but pity the poor girl, who will never have the emotional or physical support of an overgrown boy who was never taught how to be a real man. Things came way too easy for him in his early years. But now he’s payin’ big time.
I wonder if Michael will be at the reunion. His father-in-law is still Piney Point’s senator, and I’ve heard that Michael is constantly on his toes, trying to stay in the senator’s good graces. That actually gives me a chuckle. In the past, everyone else was always bowing to Michael, trying to get his favor. Turnabout sure is miserable, and nothing will make me happier—forgive me, Lord—than to see Michael suffer like I had to suffer after he kicked me to the curb for his flavor-of-the-month bimbo. Looks like the last laugh is on him, poor little spoiled, washed-up brat.
Am I bitter? You bet! Any woman in my shoes would be. But beneath all that bitterness is the strength of a woman who will do anything to prove herself.
Now that I’ve thought about it, yeah, I’ll go to the reunion. It’ll be fun to see everyone again. Well, everyone except Hank, who was all googly-eyed over me, but I couldn’t manage to fall for him, no matter how hard I tried. At least I’ve heard he’s involved with someone else, so I won’t have to worry about him hanging on me all night—even if he still has that crush on me that started back in high school.
I call the phone number on the invitation to RSVP, and Pete answers. “Is Laura there?”
“Just a minute.” Without even bothering to cover the mouthpiece, I hear him holler, “Laura, are you up there? Someone wants to talk to you.”
“Who is it?” I hear her holler back.
“How should I know?”
“Didn’t you bother looking before you answered?” The sound of Laura’s voice as it gets closer to the phone is irritatin’ as ever, but at least I don’t have to live with her. Pete does. I hear her exasperated breath as she picks up the extension. “Hey, Trudy. Whatcha want?”
“I’m calling to RSVP about the reunion. I’ll be there.”
“Are you bringin’ anyone?”
I think for a couple of seconds. “I’m not sure yet.”
“You do realize that both Michael and Hank are likely to be there, right?”
I don’t know why she thinks that matters, but I don’t say that to her. “I’m well aware of that.”
“Let me know if you decide to bring someone. You can call up ’til a day before. We’re having it catered like last time, and I don’t wanna run out of food.”
“Okay. What’s happening on Friday night? Will there be a bonfire?”
“We’re plannin’ on it.”
A blanket of silence falls over the line.
“Anything else?”
I clear my throat. “No, that’ll be it. Thanks, Laura. See you there.”
“Oh, Trudy . . . ”
“Yes?”
Laura clears her throat. “I just want you to know that you made the right decision to leave Michael. He’s turned out to be one hot mess.”
I don’t correct her about the decision to leave being Michael’s, not mine. And I want to hear what she thinks about Michael . . . not that I really care or that it matters, but out of curiosity.
“A hot mess?”
“Yeah, he’s put on about fifty pounds around his gut, and instead of shaving his head once his hair started fallin’ out, he’s doin’ a comb-over. And last time I saw him, he looked like he hadn’t had a bath in days.”
I try not to smile, but I can’t help it. Now I know I’ve made the right decision to go to the reunion. I can’t wait to see Michael, now that he’s falling into disrepair as he so arrogantly puts it when he sees women letting themselves go.
“If you need anything, call me,” I say. I’m sure she knows I don’t really mean it, but at least offering my assistance seems like the right thing to do.
“Will do.” Click. No see ya later, no good-bye. Well she’s never had the advantage of social etiquette lessons from a mama who cares about makin’ impressions, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.
Next, I call Mama and let her know I’ll be in town for the reunion. “I t
hought I told you not to worry about attendin’.” She lowers her voice as though she’s worried someone will hear. “Michael and that wretched little wife of his will probably be there. I don’t want my daughter involved in a . . . scene.”
“Don’t worry, Mama, there won’t be a scene . . . at least not one that I start.”
“Did you know that her own daddy don’t even like talkin’ about her? Why last time he went campaignin’, he didn’t—”
“Tell me all about it when I get there. I really have to run now.”
The longer I’m away from Piney Point the more Mama’s gossip annoys me. I never realized how much she stuck her nose into other people’s business until after I left. Even though I can’t say I’m unhappy about Michael’s woes since he brought ’em all on himself, talkin’ about it seems like a huge waste of time.
Before I head out the next morning, I call my boss, Sandy, and tell her I want to take some time off for the reunion. “I’ll make sure everything is in order before I take off, and I can be reached if someone needs me.”
“Sounds good, Trudy, but I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Now?”
“Um . . . can you work a meeting into your schedule on short notice?” The tone of Sandy’s voice is different and makes me very uncomfortable.
“Sure. Just say when.”
“Tomorrow would be great.”
I have an appointment with the manager of the formal department in one of the Atlanta stores, but based on the sound of Sandy’s voice, I figure it’s best to reschedule and see what she wants. “No problem.”
“Good. See you around one-ish?”
After I get off the phone with Sandy, I call and reschedule my appointment. Then I look up the flight schedule on my cell phone and make the decision I’m better off driving than paying the high prices on last-minute flights, which means I’ll need to pack and leave now if I want to appear fresh and ready for a meeting when I get there. I’m used to a grueling schedule, and at the moment, it’s a blessing that’ll keep me from pondering and worrying about the reunion.
I flip on the TV in my bedroom to watch while I toss a few things into a suitcase. The news is so depressing, I press the channel button on the remote until a familiar face pops up on the screen. There’s Priscilla Slater hawking her hair products. She’s one of the few people who actually looks better now than she did back in high school. I stand there in amazement as I see how comfortable and smooth she looks on camera. Maybe I should give her a call and find out if she’s going to the reunion. It’ll be nice to have someone to talk to—someone who understands that there is life outside of Piney Point, Mississippi.
5
Celeste Boudreaux Shackleford
Most folks’ last words are things like “Don’t forget to count your blessings” or “Remember to go to church every Sunday,” but not Mama’s. The doctor had just left her hospital room when she looked me in the eye, bent her pointer finger, and whispered, “Get closer, Celeste. I need to tell you somethin’.”
I leaned over her hospital bed and tried real hard not to breathe in on account of her bein’ so sickly and all. “Whatcha want, Mama?” I ask.
“I thought I better tell you I’m leavin’ you a rich woman. After I’m gone, you need to go talk to my lawyer and make sure you protect yourself.”
Naturally, I assumed Mama’s fever was messin’ with her thinkin’, so I just shook my head, took her by the hand, and smiled down at her. “I’ll be just fine, Mama. I don’t have to protect myself.”
“I—” She stopped, took a deep breath, and shuddered before closing her eyes and exhaling for the last time.
Mama had told her doctor she didn’t want no one resuscitatin’ her ’cause she was ready to meet the Lord, so we honored her wishes. Her passin’ wasn’t no surprise either on account of her bein’ sick for so long. Jimmy was at work, but I knew he’d be right there with me when I needed him.
The next few days was crazy busy with funeral preparations and all the stuff that needed doin’. Then Mama’s attorney called.
“I know you’re grieving, Celeste, but we’ve got this will to take care of, so whenever you’re ready, come on down to my office and see me.”
Once I got there, I still didn’t believe it. “I’m what?” I didn’t even bother tryin’ to hide my shock.
“You’re a millionaire.”
So Mama did know what she was sayin’. Well I’ll be. After all that scrimpin’ and savin’, she’s gone, and here I am a rich woman. Mama had stock in some of the finest companies, and now it was all mine.
Three months later, me and Jimmy was tryin’ to decide whether to stay in Piney Point or move to a bigger city to get away from folks who was sayin’ he only married me for my money. Me and Jimmy pondered and discussed the advantages and disadvantages of movin’ ’til we was blue in the face. We finally decided we’d go somewhere different, and if we didn’t like it, we’d come back. I always had a hankerin’ for livin’ close to the beach, so we found us a nice place in Biloxi. We been gone three years now, and I don’t ever see us movin’ back to Piney Point.
Now I’m tryin’ to decide whether or not we should go to the twenty-year reunion. When the invitation arrives, I don’t even have to open the envelope to know what it is since I been lookin’ at the calendar, wonderin’ when I’d hear from Laura about helpin’ her. Looks like she don’t want my help, which don’t surprise me. Laura always has liked bein’ in control, and she might be afraid I’ll try to take over, which is hilarious ’cause I have no desire to have all the pressure of bein’ in charge of our entire graduatin’ class havin’ fun.
I put away the groceries and start supper. Ever since Jimmy started his very own security service, he’s been comin’ home starved half to death. I smile as I think about how his pride has made him way more successful than anyone ever would have imagined.
After we moved away from Piney Point, he couldn’t find a decent job as a security officer like he had back home. Every day he came home depressed and feelin’ like a failure. After I had enough of his moanin’ and groanin’, I challenged him to take some of Mama’s money and start his own company. He balked at first, but finally he agreed to borry the money as long as I agreed he could pay it back on account of he don’t want no one to think he’s a freeloader. We’re married, so in my eyes, what’s mine is his and what’s his is mine, but I think there’s some sort of masculinity thing goin’ on with him.
Once he started his business, I seen a side to Jimmy I never knew existed. He was real careful about who he hired and where he spent the money. And I was really floored when he come home and said he joined the Chamber of Commerce. A year after he opened the doors of Shackleford Security, he done paid back Mama’s brokerage account, and we been livin’ offa the salary he pays his self.
I stopped lookin’ for a job once I seen how successful my husband was. At first, he said he wanted me to find somethin’ to do, but now I think he’s just fine havin’ me home cookin’ and cleanin’ and washin’ his laundry. I even meet him for lunch sometimes when he has time to go out.
Shortly after I put the potatoes in the oven, I hear the car door slam in the carport. Less than a minute later, Jimmy flings open the door, a cake-eatin’ grin spreadin’ his face all wide and makin’ his eyes crinkle. That look always makes me go all goose-bumpy.
“Hey, Celeste, you’ll never guess what happened today.”
“Did you land the Dozier account?”
“Even better.” He sweeps me into his arms and gives me a great big bear hug. “The Doziers signed the contract and introduced me to the Millers, who say they’re not happy with their security company, and they’re lookin’ for a new one.”
The Doziers own a new home construction company in Biloxi, and the Millers own most of the land the Doziers build on. “That’s great, honey. I’m proud of you.” I wipe my hands on the kitchen towel and pick up the invitation. “The class reunion invitation came today. We
need to book our room at the hotel if we’re goin’.”
Jimmy stops dead in his track on the way to the table, turns, and gives me a look that brings back a lot of bad memories. “I don’t know about that. Haven’t we done enough with them people already?”
“We don’t have to do anything . . . just show up.” Now I realize I really wanna go, if for no other reason but to show off my husband’s success.
He ambles over to the table, sits down, and hangs his head. “You know what everyone will say, don’t you?”
I go over to my husband and place my hands on his shoulders. “They’ll say I have the smartest husband in the whole entire world.”
“You know better than that, Celeste.”
Unfortunately, I’m afraid I do. No one will ever see Jimmy as more than the flunky security guard he used to be . . . or me as the ugly ducklin’ turned pretty.
Throughout supper, I listen to my husband talk about his plans for hiring new personnel for the two companies who are about to sign with him. He pauses and gives me his thoughtful look. “But ya know, I better not hire too many folks what with the economy bein’ what it is and the Doziers and Millers bein’ so closely connected. If one leaves, the other one prob’ly will too.” He taps his fork on the edge of his plate. “I’ll get them to sign a contract for a year and have my lawyer look it over before I hire anyone.”
A fresh wave of pride fills me from my head all the way down to my toes. Jimmy never leaves anything to chance. His smart business moves has bought us a nice house in a good school district—just in case we decide to have young’uns. But I have to admit seein’ Laura and Pete’s brats makes me think we might never do it.
“So you really wanna go to the reunion? If it’s that impor-tant . . . ” Jimmy asks, yanking me back to the conversation.
