Cemetery Silk

by E. Joan Sims

  While I was toweling off, I heard them outside in the driveway loading a big cooler into the back of Watson. I peeked out the bathroom window and watched as they circled the Jeep and kicked the tires. Cass actually rearranged some mud on the front fender and then began to argue with Mother over the advantages of mud on the license plate. Finally they agreed to put just enough to obscure the county name. I was impressed. I was also tickled. This promised to be fun.

  How could I have been so wrong? Ninty-four minutes of bickering and nit-picking later, I wanted to throw them both out. I finally spied a rest area and swung in without warning my combative passengers.

  “Paisley! What are you doing?”

  “Mom, I have to pee,” complained Cassie.

  “We have no time to ‘pee,’” remonstrated Mother. “If you expected to have to urinate, you should have done so before we left home.”

  “Gran, if you don’t get out and let me go PEE, I can’t be responsible for what happens next!”

  Mother scrambled out as gracefully as she could. She gave my progeny a withering look that bounced off like a rubber band.

  I allowed myself a stifled scream and uttered a string of particularly vile and disgusting oaths in Spanish. My sisters-in-law had educated me well.

  “Why, Paisley, whatever is the matter? I don’t know what you said but it sounded really nasty. Remember what your father used to say: only the uneducated need to express themselves with curses. The wise man has the whole English language at his command.”

  I looked at her in disbelief. “Then bloody hell! You and Cassie have fought and argued for the last one hundred miles, and you want to know what’s the matter?”

  “We were not fighting. We were just having a spirited discourse.”

  “Spirited discourse, my hind foot! You were fighting over the route, the gas station, the color of the cars, the weather, when to eat.…”

  “Hey, Gran,” Cassie said as she opened the back door, “how about a sandwich?”

  “Why of course, darling.” Mother gave me a sugary smile. “Be right there.”

  I banged my fists against the steering wheel. Why didn’t I ever learn? I knew I could never beat them, so I might as well join them.

  “Pass me a sandwich, please,” I begged humbly.

  “Sure thing, Mom. I hope you can relax now and enjoy the rest of the trip like Gran and me. Want some tea?”

  Full stomachs made us all more even-tempered and the last few miles of the trip went by quickly. We were almost in Lanierville when Cassie made another announcement.

  “Mom, I have to pee again. It’s Gran’s fault, all that iced tea.”

  Since we had to stop and use the facilities, as Mother called them, we decided to pick a place in Lanierville where the town folk might congregate and chat. After a few passes up and down Main Street, we settled on Molly’s Steak and Coffee House. It looked clean and neat and had three big windows in front. Cassie tried to peer in all three and check out the food, but frilly green and white checked curtains blocked her view. She did manage, however, to attract the attention of every customer in the place. Our entrance, therefore, was far from unobtrusive. To make matters worse, a little bell over the door signaled our entrance with a merry little “ting-a-ling.”

  Molly herself, according to the nametag adorning her ample bosom, saw us to a table in the back. I guessed the window booths were reserved for regulars.

  When Cassie ordered a cup of coffee and apple pie, Mother and I decided to follow suit, and I added a bowl of vanilla ice cream for a la modes. We must have done the right thing because Molly was all smiles. It was like ordering the right wine at “21.”

  Mother followed Cassie to the ladies room and left me alone at the table. I stretched and relaxed back against my chair and looked around the room. Only two of the front booths were occupied. Two old codgers wearing overalls and denim jackets sat in the one closest to the door. On closer inspection I realized they were not that old, just worn and weather-beaten farmers.

  Another waitress, a skinnier, younger version of Molly, was having a quiet flirtatious conversation with a young man sitting in the second booth. He was wearing jeans, a chambray shirt, and a Braves baseball cap. The girl twirled her impossibly blonde hair in her fingers while he fiddled with the long ends of his mustache. She had really lovely ankles and nice legs and kept crossing and uncrossing them to keep his attention. Every time she made this maneuver Molly would frown and grunt in her direction.

  I heard Cassie and Mother returning to the table. So did the Braves fan whose attention was suddenly focused on my daughter. The skinny little waitress almost fell off the stool trying to get him back by gyrating her lower limbs. When he asked her for something from the kitchen without taking his eyes off of Cassie, she flounced out to get it with a sour expression on her face.

  The pie was delicious, a perfect flaky crust with just a hint of nutmeg and cinnamon in the apples. When we complimented her, Molly was ripe for the picking. We asked her to join us for a second cup of coffee.

  “Let me send some of these folks on their way, and I’ll be right back,” she smiled. I watched her smile turn steely as she approached the young man.

  “Bobby, I reckon your kids is gettin’ off the school bus right ‘bout now. Bet Mary Jo could sure use some help from their daddy while she’s lookin’ after the baby and cooking dinner. What say?”

  “I say you mind your own business, Molly,” he snarled.

  But he got up and fished some coins and a crumpled dollar bill out of his jeans pocket. Molly opened the cash register but he slammed his money down on the table and stormed out leaving the little bell over the door jingling madly.

  Molly paused at the other booth, spoke to the two farmers for a moment and warmed up their coffee. Then she stepped behind the counter and picked up a fresh pot and another cup and came back to our table.

  “Where you folks from?” she asked with a tired smile.

  I decided to let Mother field Molly’s questions.

  “Well, my daughter here has been living up North for a while,” she made it sound like I had been serving a prison sentence, “but my granddaughter is going to school in Atlanta. I had some people here in Lanierville, and we came over to visit.”

  “Well, that’s nice. Who are they? I guess I know just about everybody in town and for about ten miles around. Been here since I came with my husband in 1970. Bought this little cafe and worked it together for thirty years ‘till he died last spring.” She stopped for a gulp of black coffee.

  Mother jumped in. “The truth is my cousin died last spring, too. And her husband just recently passed away.”

  Molly straightened up like she was ready to answer a question on Jeopardy. “The Roths, Mr. William and Miz Abigail! They were your people? Why, Miz Abigail was laid out the same day as my Hector. What do you know,” she added. “It sure is a small world.”

  Suddenly she was our new best friend, related to us by a cruel twist of fate. We had shared sorrow and that made us both friend and confidant. She scooted her chair up to the table and leaned in closer. It was an amazing act considering the size of her bosom.

  “Weren’t it a crime what those funeral home people charged? Not that my Hector didn’t leave me well provided for, and money for his funeral, too.”

  She shook her head without disturbing the lacquered hairdo even the slightest. “Poor Mr. William! I ain’t inquiring to be nosey, but he must’a had a hard time puttin’ away Miz Abigail. What with them only livin’ on the social security.” She whispered, “I heard she was buried in a borrowed dress.”

  I could feel Mother’s blood pressure rising even though her mouth maintained the same sweet smile. I took over to avoid bloodshed.

  “Did they come in here often?”

  “Oh, you couldn’t say often, what with them being so careful ‘bout money and all. But Mr. William, he used to meet a couple of his friends here once a month for coffee and pie. And sometimes when they went for his
checkup over to the clinic they would stop by here afterwards for some ice cream. Miz Abigail loved my rocky road. Mr. William couldn’t abide chocolate. He always had vanilla.”

  “You make your own ice cream?” Mother, ever the gourmand, was intrigued enough to forgive Molly for her remarks about the dress.

  Molly beamed proudly. “Sure thing! Used to make fifteen flavors when Hector was alive, but now I’m doing good to freeze just the chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. All the help I got is that no good child of my sister’s and her creepy husband out in the kitchen. Boy, that was a mistake. We should’a sold out and went to Florida instead of letting them come and work for us when Hector took sick.”

  She leaned closer across the table, bosom splaying out dangerously. “Between you and me, he’s drunk half the time and she sleeps around.”

  Mother was beginning to look aristocratic and offended by the slatternly behavior of the peasants. Cassie just looked comatose. I decided to get what I could out of Molly before they gave the game away.

  “What friends did William meet? Did you know them?”

  “Know them? Don’t I know everybody? Let’s see. Sometimes it was just him and Mr. Vern Callaway and old Joe Parks. Other times that Dibber man joined them, although he’s a lot younger. And well, he’s just not like the others, not as genteel, ya know? He always made it so somebody else had to pay his bill. Mr. William even had to pick up the tab for him sometimes. I always thought that was like stealin’. Never did like that man. Glad he’s gone.”

  Cassie came back to life in an instant. “Gone? Dibber’s gone? Where’s he gone?”

  Molly got a little funny look on her face. For the first time, I could see suspicion in her eyes.

  “Why do you care about Ernest Dibber? I thought you was interested in the Roths?”

  Cassie had turned a bright, neon shade of pink. It was amusing. I had not seen my self-possessed daughter embarrassed in a long time.

  “It’s just an interesting story, that’s all,” she offered lamely.

  I could not let it end here. We needed just a little more from Molly. The niece had been staring out the window after Bobby while we were talking. She finally gave up on him and sat behind the counter filing her nails.

  “Your niece sure is pretty. You all are a good-looking family. Is your sister pretty too?”

  Molly patted her stiffly sprayed hair and grinned.

  “Hector always said she was the best lookin’ and I was the best cook. But I was the one got Miss Firecracker July 1964. Hector was always proud of that. Betty did have pretty legs though and so does.…” She inclined her head in her niece’s direction.

  She continued in a hoarse whisper, “Wish she’d keep ‘em closed, if you know what I mean. That Dibber, he was one of the first to come pantin’ after her. Here every night, he was, almost from the first. That’s when he started spending his own money. Leaving her big tips. I’d always come up behind him an’ ask about Sue, even though I could never abide that woman.”

  “Did Sue go with him?” Mother was fascinated now and back with the unwashed masses.

  “Yeah, they left all of a sudden like. Put their house up with Nancy Barnes to sell and moved, kids and all.”

  It was my turn to be fascinated now.

  “Kids? They had children living with them?”

  Molly was getting that funny look in her eyes again.

  “I mean him cattin’ around an’ all with a wife and kids at home.” I could get “down home,” too.

  “They had five snotty-nosed brats, one right after the other. They was Catholic, ya’ know. Although the world would’a been better off if them two had practiced birth control.” She laughed and slapped the table. Our coffee cups shook along with her breasts. “After she had the last one, Sue started learning how to do nursing. Studied real hard. I have to give her that. Graduated and got her a job at the hospital. Let her kids run wild. They all left home soon’s they could. The youngest girl come back last year with a brat of her own. I don’t think she ever got married. She had some kind of sickness. Some said it was the HIV. Bet she was as welcome as a rash! Sue got even meaner after that. Kept Dibber on a tight rein. Didn’t see much of him for a while. Then I heard, all of sudden, they’d moved down about the lake—some fancy resort area about twenty miles from here.”

  The little bell over the coffee shop door tinkled as a couple came in. Molly stood up.

  “Better take care of business.” She threw a hateful glance at the niece. “Won’t nobody else. Enjoyed talkin’ to you folks. Be sure and stop by again. Banana cream pie’s as good or better’n the apple.”

  Chapter Eight

  As Mother and I argued over what sort of tip to leave Molly, Cassie solved the problem by grabbing the check.

  “My treat. Meet you outside.”

  Mother touched up her lipstick and patted her hair. She looked me over with vague disapproval.

  “Have you given up on makeup, dear? Not that the ‘natural look’ isn’t a good one for you. I mean you look very healthy and sweet. And that braid is very chic. But at your age shouldn’t you…?”

  “Mother, let it go. We have a long evening ahead of us, and I’d hate to spend it looking for a place to hide your body.”

  “Now that’s very smart-alecky. I’m just trying to point out to you that since you came home you have, well, let yourself go. You used to have such a terrific sense of style, and now you only wear jeans.”

  “Let’s see, shallow grave, bottomless pit. Oh! I forgot. We’re in coal country. Abandoned mine shaft.…”

  “Whatever could Cassandra be saying to that girl?” Mother was good at changing the subject when it suited her.

  Cassie was indeed holding a long whispered conversation with Molly’s niece. I had to trust that she knew what she was doing. Is that not what parents always say? I wish mine would.

  I followed my extremely well dressed and beautifully coifed mother out of the coffee shop. I had to admit it. She was a great looking old broad. And I was also happy to admit that I had no desire to follow in her footsteps. I was beginning to realize that I felt better and more comfortable than I had in a long time. I was thrilled to say “goodbye” to panty hose and hair spray. I always felt like I was going to a Halloween party in makeup. And high-heeled shoes, give me a break! Maybe when I went back to New York I would change my mind. After all, I could still admire an Oscar de la Renta. I was just glad I didn’t have to worry about being a fashion plate for a while.

  Cassie climbed in just as I started Watson. She had a takeout menu with a crude map drawn on the back.

  “Mom, go back up to the courthouse and hang a left.”

  “What’s up, sweetie?”

  “I got us a place to stay for the night.”

  “Night? What night? Paisley, I thought we were driving back home tonight. We must go home. I didn’t bring a change of clothes, or underwear, or my toothbrush.”

  “We’ve got to spend the night, Gran. We’re having a midnight visit from ‘Deep Throat.’”

  “Whoopee! Way to go, Cassie! That’s momma’s little girl!”

  “And just who is this ‘Deep Throat?’ Oh, the niece. Oh my, Cassandra, that is a coup. You’re absolutely right, we must stay. Paisley, pull over when you see a drug store. At least we can have toothbrushes. My goodness, this is exciting!”

  We found a K-mart in the next block and I whipped into a parking spot close to the front door.

  “Here you go, Mother. Have mercy on them.”

  She calmly opened her Gucci bag and slid the Gold Card out of her wallet. I could see all the little wheels spinning in her head. I doubt that she had ever been in a discount store in her life, but shopping was shopping, and she had a black belt.

  “Look Gran, I know it’s not Bloomingdale’s, but surely you can find a toothbrush you like.”

  “Don’t be a snob, Cassandra.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m sure I can find many things I like here. Coming, Paisley?”

&
nbsp; “I’ll wait here, Mother. You and Cassie get a toothbrush for me. Oh, and get something to drink so we don’t have to feed quarters to some robber baron of a machine all night.”

  The motel that Molly’s niece had recommended to Cassie was about a mile out of town on the Interstate. I had expected some kind of sleazy dive where couples met for a lunchtime quickie but it was a very nice “Mom and Pop” setup with ten small cabins. All were freshly painted and surrounded by well-manicured flowerbeds packed full of fall pansies.

  Mother went into the office and came out with a key to cabin number seven. It had three separate twin beds and a little refrigerator. It was perfect! Pop even came out to help us unload Watson.

  The cabin was clean and neat inside with the usual pieces of furniture and a small but modern bathroom with lots of big, fluffy, white towels.

  Pop was polite but obviously in a hurry to get back to the office. He apologized for not having a dining room but directed us to a restaurant at the next exit. He said a friend had a terrific barbeque restaurant there that also served breakfast.

  Cassie closed the door behind him and ran to bounce on the nearest bed.

  “Doesn’t this look just like the house of the three bears?” She bounced back up and sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. “Come on Gran, show us what you bought at the Trailer Park Boutique.”

  “I don’t know. Your mother looks like she needs a nap. Maybe we’d better rest now and have ‘show and tell’ after your young friend comes at twelve.”

  “Don’t call that little twit a friend of mine; and she may come before then. She actually said anytime after she gets off work.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cassie.” I was tired and irritable. “Couldn’t you have been more specific?”

  “It’s not as though I didn’t try, Mom. But this is not exactly your normal, regulated human being. Her clock seems to revolve around the things she wants to do rather than the things she needs to do. If the opportunity for sex or drugs or booze comes along, we may never see her again.”