July 7th

by Jill McCorkle

  “I’m tired of the YMCA.” Patricia slouches back in her seat. “And so is he.” She nods toward Harold, Jr., but he doesn’t say a word. Juanita can just look in that rearview mirror and tell by that frown on his face that he’s thinking about his Daddy.

  “Tired of it? How can you be tired of it on a day as hot as this?” Juanita just doesn’t understand Patricia these days. If Juanita says that something is white, she’ll say it’s black and so on.

  “I’m sick of looking after him.”

  “Now don’t you let me hear that again, you making Harold, Jr., feel bad for being underage. Next summer when he’s twelve he can go by himself, and you’ll be sixteen and will probably have a job to keep you busy.”

  “A job?” Patricia turns on her and that face is all flushed. “Oh mother, be serious.” Juanita just ignores her, because it’s simply not in that child’s nature to carry on this way. She blames her mother for Harold’s leaving home, can’t see the kind of things Juanita was having to put up with beforehand. Juanita stops right in front of the YMCA.

  “Have fun, kids.” She smiles and tries to make up with Patricia. “I’ll be here at noon and then when we leave, well go to Burger King, how about that?”

  “Hey, can I get a Return of the Jedi glass?” Harold, Jr., finally smiles, bless his old acting heart.

  “Sure you can, and Patricia can get herself one, too.”

  “Whoopee.” Patricia slams the door and doesn’t even wait for Harold, Jr. He runs on up yelling and waving to some boys close to his age, but Patricia doesn’t wave to a soul, probably won’t, either. Every day when Juanita picks them up, Patricia is sitting off by herself near that Coke machine, knowing full well that she shouldn’t fill herself up on cola. Juanita pulls away, thinking that she ought to go on down to the shop, but then thinks better since she only has a little paper work to do, no appointments today. It seems that’s getting to be a regular thing. She decides to go on to Nautilus and get her workout out of the way just in case she should happen to see Harold if she decides to go to the party. Lord God, she stops at the stoplight and it is like she has radar, the way that the first thing she sees is Harold Weeks coming out of Woolco. The whole time that they were together, she could go out and about all day long and never lay her eyes on him, and here all of a sudden she’s seeing either Harold or his truck or a truck like his truck everywhere she goes. He looks so good even from this distance with those tan strong arms wrapped around a bag, that cap pulled down over that thick curly hair. The car behind her toots because the light is green so she moves on, deep down hoping that he sees her car; there aren’t too many bright yellow Toyotas that she’s seen around town.

  Nautilus isn’t too crowded on the weekday mornings, due to the fact that most people have jobs. That’s why Juanita likes being her own boss. She can get right in and get a bike first thing. She gets on and Al Taylor is right beside her. She can hardly stand to look at Al Taylor because he’s an old friend of Harold’s, and more than likely reports to Harold every time that he sees Juanita in Nautilus, probably tells Harold that she flirts with the boys who work there which she doesn’t. There’s a big difference in flirting and being friendly and she has tried to explain that to Harold Weeks since she first met him, but he’s too damn hardheaded to listen.

  “How’s it going, Juanita?” Al asks and grins at her. The bell on his bike rings and he struts over to the first machine. Just what she was hoping would not happen. She was hoping that Al would skip the leg machines and go on to his flabby arms and stomach like he sometimes does, but now she’s got to go right behind him which means it could take forever the way that he’s always stopping to flex his muscles and catch a glimpse of himself in that mirror that’s down at the end of the room for the aerobics group.

  “Just fine, Al, thank you.”

  “You’re looking good, considering.” He lies flat on his back and straps himself into the hip and back machine. “I’m sorry, but you know what I mean.”

  “I know all right.” Juanita wishes that young instructor would come over and talk to her just so she could stop listening to Al, but that boy is over on the arm machine working with a new person, a little Chinese-looking woman. Juanita has never seen a Chinese in Marshboro before.

  The nerve of that man anyway, saying those things to her, knowing that she ain’t going to say anything back to him. Sometimes the thought has crossed her mind just to pick out a spot on the map, load herself and the children and her electrolysis equipment and move on, so she won’t have to put up with all of this. Of course, that would be saying that she’s ashamed of herself, which she is, but also saying that she can’t take it, that she’s a weak woman who can’t take what she dished out. Too, Harold Weeks would never come back if she moved away, because he ain’t about to leave all that farmland of his Mama’s that he works with so hard, especially when he knows that Ernie Stubbs is dying to get his hands on it. And that’s another bone to pick; she ain’t about to let Ernie and Kate be right about her. All these years, treating her like she wasn’t fit for anything, and treating Harold and their children the same for that matter. Well, she’ll show them all. She’ll go to that party and just see who’s a big person. Harold Weeks may cuss her out or slap her down, but she’s willing to take that chance.

  By the time that Juanita has used all of the machines, she is drenched with sweat and old Al is hanging around that water cooler like a big white whale.

  “Going to get in the hot tub whirlpool, Juanita?”

  “No, I’m in a rush today.” There ain’t no way that she’d get in that hot tub with Al Taylor. She doesn’t even get herself a drink of water, because she knows how Al smells once he’s worked out. She just gets her purse and leaves, heads on down to the shop.

  The shop is in an out-of-the-way place, located in a small gray cinder-block building behind Belk’s, so that clients can come and go without everybody in town knowing their hair business. Lord knows, it seems that people would give her the same respect, but it ain’t tit for tat, never has been and never will be. What if Juanita was to go through her files and pull out all of those women from Cape Fear Trace who have had moustache shadow or chin hairs, and fanned that around? Kate Stubbs had the hairiest toes that Juanita had ever seen, was ashamed to even wear barefoot sandals until Juanita took care of her. Of course that was way back when Kate was trying to be nice, even though it was a put-down kind of nice, but Lord, that has all changed.

  Juanita is worn slam out from her workout, but it’s that pleasant kind of tired, so she just stretches out on her table and stares up at those nice colorful posters she has of magnified follicles. She feels like she might could even take a little nap, and Lord knows she could use one. She closes her eyes and still she can see those follicles just like they’re stamped on the inside of her eyelids; she sees those roots that have to be tweezed way down where they begin. It’s a little sad to think of uprooting. She couldn’t just uproot Patricia and Harold, Jr., even though it seems that that is what has happened. A wild hair should be uprooted though, growing where it ain’t supposed to be, a wild hair, that’s all it was, a thought, that’s all. Ralph Waldo Emerson Britt never really said things like “prostrate” in her ear, not really, but it seemed so real, just like a wild hair can become to look like it belongs somewhere even when it doesn’t. She just went to the Winn Dixie and the next thing that she knew, she was up at that little office at the front of the store where Ralph Britt was standing there in his bow tie and she said, “Pardon me, Ralph, but I can’t find a single pork chop,” which was true because she had already been and looked. Ralph Britt glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Ralph Britt is not handsome and she had never thought so, nothing compared to Harold. Now, she wonders why Ralph even got into la la land in the first place, except maybe because he was ugly. He is a little man with stringy blonde hair that he brushes back and fluffs when it’s clean, itty-bitty eyes, sharp nose, and no trace of facial hair, unlike Harold who keeps a sort of Fr
ed Flintstone shadow on his face even after he shaves because he’s got such a thick beard. She loves that on Harold. She just knew that Ralph Britt was gonna say “scrotum” at any given second. He stepped down beside her and was so close to her that she could see a filling in his mouth. “I’ll go and help you,” he said, still staring with those itty-bitty eyes, and that wasn’t new, that staring. Ralph Britt had stared at her for years and maybe that’s why she came to think of him in the first place. She walked back to the meat counter and Ralph nodded at this youngster standing there in his meat apron. That boy must have been just a speck older than Patricia and not the slightest facial hair. He was helping a woman who did have facial hair pick out a country ham.

  “I’ll check myself,” Ralph Britt said in a real exasperated way and winked at her, at least she thought he winked at her. “Come on, you can just pick what you want,” he said and she followed him, knowing that at any minute he’d say “gesticulation” and then she’d come to and be lying on hers and Harold’s bed, watching those late afternoon pink clouds passing by. She went back into that room with Ralph and lo and behold, those were two-way mirrors out there. She always had wondered why they had mirrors over vegetables and meat, cause most people would not like to see what they look like during an average trip to the grocery. She said, “I never knew,” and sort of shied away because she was standing right in front of that woman examining a country ham, though she now thinks that she must have known, considering it was in her own thoughts that she found out.

  “It’s fun to watch people,” he said, and opened this other door where there were huge hunks of meat hanging. “I’ve watched you lots of times.”

  “Oh my,” she said, thinking that now’s about the time for the ear whispering. She followed him into that meat room and it was like she was really smelling it all, salty, hickory, meaty smells. It was barbaric, almost savage smelling, and she happened to think that if somebody could bottle that smell for a man’s aftershave, they’d make a killing. She couldn’t tell what were chops because everything was so big, huge hunks of meat swinging around on hooks like the ones Rocky beat on, and for a split second that reminded her of Harold because he loved that movie. She kept staring at Ralph Britt to see if she could tell what he was thinking and he was staring back. It was getting cold in that room. “I don’t know which are chops,” she said and walked over to where he was standing. Next thing, she and Ralph Britt were in a prostrate position on top of some crates and there was a big ham swinging overhead. She thought that ham ought to fall down, hit her in the head and wake her up, but it didn’t. That’s what she was thinking when she turned her head to one side and realized that she could see out the mirror right into the Winn Dixie from that position. That same boy was helping a woman she had seen once at a donkey softball game, and that was something the way that she should happen to think of that woman. It seemed like all kinds of people were passing through. Then there came Harold walking up to that meat counter, her canvas purse slung over his arm, and that was funny, because Harold never went to the grocery store; it was so funny the more she saw it, the more she knew that she was in a prostrate position right by herself on top of that velvet bedspread, which is why she didn’t even try to get up. It got more and more real when Harold came through the door and was in that meat room. “Juanita? Juanita?” She could hear him clear as a bell. “You ain’t gonna buy anything without this. Went right out and left your purse.” She was doing fine with all that talk coming from Harold, until she realized that Ralph Waldo Emerson Britt was hearing it, too. It got more and more real, the most real when Harold socked Ralph Britt right off of those crates and onto that filthy sawdust floor. It seems her memory fails at this point because that’s when it got so real that it liked to have killed her when she got out in that bright sunlight with Harold squeezing her arm, and she knew for sure that it was real. Harold got home before she did and he was already packing up. That’s when he set off for the Tonawanda Indian Village Trailer Park out in the country, and that’s when she sunk down onto that door stoop. Nothing’s been right since.

  Juanita sits up now and her heart is beating fast and her face is all flushed, just like it all might have just happened again. It makes her sick as a dog to think of Ralph Britt; it makes her miss Harold so bad that she aches deep inside. There’s no way shell get a lick of work done in this state. Shell go on over to the YMCA and try to relax. Shell go to Burger King just like she promised. Shell do anything under the sun to make it all up to those kids and to Harold if she ever sets her eyes on him again. Shell start by getting herself looking so good today that it’ll make Harold ache to see her. She’ll step out of her Toyota to let Harold, Jr., out of the back seat with Granner’s present and Harold will get up from that rocker on the front porch and come down those steps slow motioned, his John Deere cap in his hand against that fine hairy chest. He’ll walk right up to her, tears in those sweet bloodshot eyes, bury his face into her swirling hair and breathe into her neck real softlike. “I can’t stand being away from you no more, Juanita. I forgive you that mistake. I understand how you got a little confused. I know that you never would have got a little confused in the mind if I had been the kind of husband I should have been, the kind of husband I’ll be if you take me back.” Hell look at her, those pleading eyes glistening with teardrops, those strong hands with the little ridge of hair on the back of them, trembling. “Can I come home, baby?”

  “Does a fat baby poot?” she will ask.

  The first thing that Ernie Stubbs sees when he opens his eyes is Kate standing there in the center of the room in those loud shorts. She is looking at herself in the mirror, turning from side to side to get the stomach profile, and the rear view which does not even compare with what Ernie saw at the office last night. This is the third time that he has awakened since he got home, took a scalding hot shower and crawled into bed where Kate was flat on her back, her breathing so raspy that it would occasionally turn into a heave, a snore, and each time that he has awakened he has momentarily forgotten what happened, pulled the covers over his head to avoid that initial confrontation with Kate.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Kate walks over and plops down right beside him. “I know you had a late night but you’ve got to get up. We have to go to Mother’s today, remember?”

  “Oh, do we have to?” Ernie rolls over and Kate runs her finger along his side, grabs him around the hip and jostles him. She does have a gentle touch.

  “It’s the least that we can do. I don’t want to go sit in that morbid hot house a bit more than you do. We can leave early and we do have the Fosters’ party as a good excuse.” Kate is up again and at the closet. “I can’t decide what to wear tonight, because it’s not going to be like a club party considering there will be young people there.”

  Ernie has closed his eyes again. He’s got to think through every course of action, make sure that he never slips up. How the hell does everyone else do it so easily? Practice?

  “Poor Ernie, so tired.” Kate has pulled out a bright-colored sundress with big yellow circles that look like fried eggs. “Maybe my Malia?” She comes and stands, that bright dress right in front of him. “Goodness, I would think that you had gone out and built a building yourself. What time did you get in?”

  “I don’t know.” Ernie rolls over on his back, stares at his lovely stuccoed ceiling, the huge oak beams. “Must’ve been around one.”

  “Oh, it was after one I’m sure, because I happened to remember an idea that I had for our barbecue and got up to write it down.” She goes to the window which looks right out on the pool. “What do you think about big fruit bowl floats on the water? Maybe even a floating bar, wouldn’t that be novel?”

  “Maybe it was after one. I don’t watch the clock while I’m working.”

  “I know, dear. You’d forget about everything if I wasn’t here to remind you.” She smiles, those lines stretching out from her eyes. “You and Dave Foster.”

  “What?” Ernie gets up n
ow, walks to the bathroom. Kate keeps talking the whole time that he’s in there.

  “You know, work, work, work. Helena and I decided that we’ve got everything anyone could ever want and that you two need to take a little play time.” She is right outside the door; she would come in and talk while he peed if he hadn’t told her before not to do that. A man must have his privacy. He stares at himself in the mirror, not a trace of guilt. She doesn’t suspect a thing or she would have said something by now. He’s home free.

  “What were you saying, dear?” He comes out and goes over to his dresser, puts on a nice starched shirt. Nothing feels so good as a starched oxford cloth shirt.

  “You’ve got to relax a little, Ernie.” Kate is making the bed now. Nothing goes undone with Kate around. “What good are you to me if you have a heart attack or a stroke?”

  “Good God, Kate, look at me. I’m not old; besides, I’ve seen days when I worked harder.” Ernie gets a pair of pink golf slacks from his closet and puts them on. Everyone always does say that he is the best-dressed man on the course. “What time do we have to be at your mother’s?”

  “Around three, but we can be a little late.” Kate is brushing her hair, tossing it from side to side for that natural look because it doesn’t do that naturally and then she holds her hand over her eyes and sprays it that way. “You know Harold will be rudely early as usual if there’s food to be had.”

  “Especially now that he’s left Juanita.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Kate puts on her add-a-bead necklace for that youthful look that she likes. “I have been living in fear that one of our friends will have heard about Juanita in the Winn Dixie.”

  “We all have skeletons in the closet.” Ernie walks out of the room and he can hear Kate scampering right behind him.

  “That’s true, as a matter of fact, I have heard that Ted Miller has been seeing someone. You know I’ve been wondering why Nancy has seemed so upset lately, and that must be it.”