by Debby Mayne
I have to bite my tongue and dig deep to get into professional mode. “I was hoping I could show you some of the latest eye-shadow techniques that’ll bring out those gorgeous eyes of yours.” I turn my head and wait for her reaction. “It might take more than an hour, though, so if you’re in a hurry, I’ll just freshen you up a bit.”
“Latest techniques?” She chews on her bottom lip as she ponders what to do.
Score. “It’s what all the models are doing these days.” I look at her and wait.
“Let me make a call.” She nods toward the door. “May I have some privacy please?”
Looks like I got to her. “Yes, of course.” I stand up and leave the room.
Two minutes later, I hear her calling my name. “Priscilla, I’m done.” When I walk back into the room, she wiggles around a bit in the chair. “Looks like I have more time after all.”
“Good. Now let’s get started.”
Throughout her facial and makeup application, I try to keep the conversation on what we’re doing. Every now and then she makes comments about Laura, Pete, and even Tim, but I don’t want to go there with Celeste while I’m working on her face, so I steer the conversation back to how beautiful she’s becoming. Besides, gossip has never served any purpose other than to make the people doing the talking feel better than the ones they’re discussing, and that’s only momentary. I’m not saying I’ve never been guilty of gossiping, but when I do, I regret it later. More times than I can count, whatever I’ve said has come back and bitten me on the backside later.
I’ve just shown her how to apply the plum and gray eye shadow to give her the current smoky-eye look, when she glances up at me. “So I hear you found out your parents are splittin’ up. I guess they were just waiting to make sure you could stand on your own two feet.”
I resist the urge to turn her smoky eye into a black-and-blue one. As I scoot my chair away from her, I grit my teeth. “My parents’ marriage is not open for discussion.”
“Ooh, touchy subject, huh?” She snorts. “You better get used to it, though. Piney Point is a small town, and people will talk. Most everyone already knows your daddy moved out.”
That does it. I stand, brush my hands together, and wave my hand toward the door. “We’re done.”
“But we haven’t done the mascara yet.” The sound of her whimper annoys me even more than I already am.
“Nothing’s changed with mascara. You know how to do that already.”
Her nostrils flare as she stares at me, but I refuse to back down. She’s treading in an area I’m not ready to discuss with anyone, let alone Celeste who grates on my last nerve. When she sees I’m firm, she stands and struts toward the door before turning back to face me. “You are way too sensitive, Priscilla. But I reckon I shouldn’t expect nothin’ else from a girl who was always a prima donna.”
Prima donna? Me? Never. I open my mouth, but I’m so stunned by her comment I can’t even speak.
“See you Friday mornin’ for my haircut. I’d really like me some bangs, I think. I hear it makes ya look younger.”
I remain standing there staring at the door as she leaves. Why do I let Celeste affect me like this? Or more like it, why do I even care what she thinks?
Throughout the day, as my classmates come in for their new hairdos for the reunion, my mind keeps taking me back to Celeste’s comments. After I finish my last appointment of the day, Sheila comes up from behind and puts her arms around me, gives me a squeeze, and lets go.
“I don’t know what’s been buggin’ you all day, but I can tell you’re worried about somethin’. If it has anything to do with movin’, don’t worry about us here. We’ll be just fine.”
“No, I’m fine.” I turn around to face her.
“I mean it, Priscilla. I don’t wanna stress you out or nothin’.”
“Sheila, I want you to be completely honest with me about something, okay?”
Concern deepens the lines between her eyebrows. “Of course, I wouldn’t ever lie to you. You know that.”
“Do you think I’m a prima donna?”
Sheila rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Are you kiddin’ me? You’re anything but a prima donna. I’ve never known anyone more concerned about other people than you. Why? Did someone tell you . . . ?” She narrows her eyes. “Is that what’s been buggin’ you all day?”
I slowly nod. “It’s strange how much it bothers me.”
“Just tell me one thing. Was it Celeste who told you this?”
“Yes.”
“Listen to me, Priscilla. Celeste has never had even a smidge of tact. That girl runs off at the mouth more’n anyone I know, and she’s only gotten worse since her makeover. Matter of fact, I’m the only hairdresser who’ll work with her when you’re not here. She’s the reason Germaine walked out and never came back. No matter what anyone does, Celeste isn’t happy. What galls me is she brags about how you’re her regular hairdresser when you’re in town, and she has to settle for the rest of us when you’re not.”
“Oh.” Celeste is even worse than I thought. “No one should have to put up with that, including . . . especially you.”
“Trust me, I’m a big girl, and I can stand up for myself. Last time she mouthed off, I pointed to the door and told her not to let it hit her in the backside. She didn’t give me no more lip after that.”
I laugh. “Good. I’m glad you set her straight.”
“Now all I have to do is set you straight. You are so not a prima donna. Most people see you as a kind woman who puts up with way too much from people.”
“Oh, I’m sure there are others who don’t like me much.”
“If you’re talkin’ about some of your sorry classmates, it’s just because they’re jealous. Don’t worry about them.”
Sheila is loyal to a fault, and it only makes me love her more. “Thanks. I need to run home now and make sure Mother is okay.”
“My small group has been prayin’ for your mama and daddy. I know how hard their separation must be on all three of you.”
This is the first she’s mentioned anything about my parents’ split. “Thanks for the prayers. I wish I could figure out a way to make them come to their senses.”
“I know. I think the same thing about a lot of folks I know. Me and my husband don’t always see eye-to-eye, but we figure that’s how it’ll be with anyone you’re married to. When I hear about people splittin’ up over not bein’ soul mates, I wonder what they been smokin’.” She clicks her tongue once. “Soul mates. I’d like to know who came up with that idea.”
“I believe everyone has a soul mate,” Chester says from behind me. “Havin’ that one person in your life who totally gets you would be a wonderful thing.”
Sheila sticks her fist on her hip, bobs her head, and makes a face at Chester. “So tell me, Mr. Relationship Expert, how long you been married?”
He snaps a towel at Sheila. “You know I never married, but that’s because I can’t find my soul mate. When I do, though . . . ” He looks off into the distance with a dreamy expression.
“It’ll be a cold day in July,” Sheila finishes before turning back to me. “Stop lettin’ people like Celeste play with your mind. I’d be willin’ to bet every woman in your graduatin’ class would give her eye tooth to be you.”
“She’s right,” Chester agrees. “So what brought all this on?”
“Nothin’.” Sheila winks at me. “It’s just girl talk. Nothin’ you’d be interested in . . . or would it?”
He snaps the towel again and walks away. “Obviously not.”
Sheila and I look at each other, and I can see she’s trying as hard as I am not to laugh—at least until Chester is out of hearing distance. Then we both let loose.
“I don’t know what I’d do without him,” Sheila says. “Whenever things get too serious, he has a way of lightening things up.”
I call Mother on my way to Laura’s house for the committee meeting. She doesn’t answer, so I leave a messag
e reminding her I’ll be home late.
As I turn onto the street in the Mosses’ suburban neighborhood, I see a row of cars parked along the curb in front of Laura and Pete’s house. Looks like I’m the last to arrive, but that can’t be helped.
I park a half block away and half-walk, half-run up the sidewalk. Before I get to the door, Bonnie Sue flings it open. “Hey, Miss Priscilla. They’re waitin’ on ya.” She grins with hero worship, which makes me very uncomfortable.
“Thanks, Bonnie Sue.”
I walk past her, and I’m almost to the kitchen, when I hear her coming up behind me. When I turn around, she stops. “Miss Priscilla, I have a favor.”
“Sure, what is it?” I’m already a few minutes late, so I figure another minute won’t matter.
“Can you teach me how to wear makeup right? I mean, Mama told me I’m too young, but all the girls wear it at school, and Mama said if I can learn the right way to wear it—”
“Sure, I’ll be glad to.” I glance at my watch. “When?”
“Tonight?”
I let out a sigh. “Okay, if the meeting doesn’t go on too long, and it’s all right with your mother, I’ll be happy to spend a few minutes on some simple makeup tips. How old are you?”
She straightens her shoulders. “I’ll be eleven on my next birthday, and I’m in middle school.”
Her thick eyeliner, clumped mascara, and heavy blush makes her look like a little girl who got into her mother’s makeup bag. “There are ways to enhance your looks with makeup and still look your age.”
“Priscilla, is that you?” Laura calls, her voice getting closer. When she sees me talking to her daughter, she stops and scowls at Bonnie Sue. “I told you not to pounce on her the minute she gets here. Sorry, Priscilla, but my little girl is tryin’ to grow up too fast.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “I understand. I hope you don’t mind if I give her a few tips after the meeting.”
“If you don’t mind, that would be great. Come on back to the kitchen. Looks like we might get rained out, but Tim has saved the day.” She shakes her head. “He’s turning into our class’s knight in shining armor.”
When I walk into the kitchen, I see Celeste, Jimmy, Michael Baynard, some young girl sharing his chair, Didi Holcomb, and Tim sitting around the table. “Hey, everyone. Sorry I’m late.” Since Didi’s here, I wonder where Maurice is.
Celeste points to Tim. “Looks like we’re havin’ the bonfire at the VFW, only it won’t be a bonfire.”
“What’ll we do for entertainment?” Michael asks. “It’s too late to hire a band.”
“We’re havin’ a band on Saturday.” Laura gestures around the table. “Any ideas?”
Jimmy raises his hand. “I like karaoke.”
Didi rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t offer a better suggestion. Everyone just looks at each other, until I comment.
“Karaoke can be fun,” I say. “Where can we get a decent karaoke machine and music?”
Pete comes walking into the kitchen with his empty beer can. “One of the guys at work has a good one. I’ll ask him.”
“Good. Now there’s one more thing we have to cover,” Tim says. “Regardless of where we have this party, we have to hire an off-duty sheriff’s deputy. Apparently, that’s a new city policy, after what happened at the last reunion.”
Laura shakes her head and slumps down in her chair. “We don’t have any more money left in the budget, and it’s too late to ask for everyone to pay.”
“How much does the deputy cost?” I ask. “If it’s not too much, I’ll cover it.”
“Get a load of the rich girl.” Didi’s voice drops at the end.
Laura waves her hand to dismiss her. “Hush up, Didi. You’re just jeal—”
“Oh, all right,” Didi says, waving her left hand around. “I’ll pay half. If Priscilla and I split the cost, it won’t be too much of a burden on anyone.”
I know that no matter what I do, I get under Didi’s skin. She obviously wants to make sure I feel some of the competition, or she wouldn’t be flashing her multikarat rock every time she speaks.
25
Trudy
Mama reminds me to call the Cut ’n Curl to get my hair done by Priscilla, so I call to try to set an appointment. I don’t recognize the voice of the girl who answers the phone . . . someone named Nicole.
“I’m sorry, but she’s booked until next week, after the class reunion,” Nicole says. “She’ll be here for a few days next week. Can you see her on Monday?”
“No, I really need to see her tomorrow or Saturday.” Before, I couldn’t have cared less about having Priscilla do my hair, but now that I know she’s booked, I want her real bad. “Can’t you work me in on Saturday? Please?”
“Um . . . ” She covers the mouthpiece for a few seconds. “What did you say your name was?”
“Trudy. Trudy Baynard.”
“Okay, just a sec. I’ll see if she can squeeze you in.” Once again, she covers the mouthpiece. I don’t know why she doesn’t punch the button to put me on hold. I’ve been to the salon, and I’ve sat in the reception area long enough to know they have a fancy system. After less than a minute, she comes back, her voice all cheerful sounding and smiley. “Ms. Baynard, Priscilla says she can see you at two o’clock, as long as all you need is a cut and style.”
Yes! At least someone in Piney Point thinks I still got it! “That’s all I need.” After I get off the phone, I feel as though I’ve scored something real big. I used to take Priscilla for granted back when she first started working for Dolly, when the place was called Dolly’s Cut ’n Curl. Who would ever have thought she’d wind up being a big-shot hairdresser? Even Joel, my hairdresser in Atlanta, knows about Priscilla.
After the last reunion, I went in to see him, and he asked me who redid my hair. I told him, and he went from acting all haughty and full of himself to being impressed. “Priscilla, as in Priscilla Slater?”
I nod. “Yes, how do you know her last name?”
“Trudy, sweetheart, any hairdresser who keeps up with the latest in the industry knows the name Priscilla Slater. That woman is simply the latest and greatest.”
I puff out my chest and smile. “We went to school together.”
From that moment on, Joel has treated me like a superstar. All I have to do is answer questions about Priscilla and act like we were close friends back in the day. That’s not exactly a lie either. I mean, we didn’t hang out all that often or anything, and she wasn’t, like, in my wedding or even one of the guests for that matter, but I did say hey to her when we passed in the school hallways. And she did my hair when I used to go to the Cut ’n Curl, before I moved away from Piney Point when I was still married.
I lean back on the bed in my old room that Mama has kept decorated exactly how I had it in high school. There’s a picture of me accepting the Miss Piney Point crown, all my teeth sparkling white, tears making my eyes shiny, my hair fluffed out and perfect, as the mayor looks at me with pride. The words he said to me that night—“Represent Piney Point well, Trudy”—still play through my head. I’m pretty sure I did a good job of representing Piney Point, even though I didn’t win Miss Mississippi. In fact, I wasn’t even one of the top five finalists.
When Mama comes to the door, she knocks, even though the door is open a few inches, and she’s looking right at me. “Everything all right, Trudy?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I don’t move from my half-lying-down, propped-up-on my-elbows position.
“Did you ever get hold of Priscilla?”
“I called her salon and booked an appointment for Saturday.”
“Oh.” Mama pushes the door open a few more inches. “I’m goin’ shopping in Hattiesburg. Wanna join me?”
“Sure.” I rise from the bed and slip into my Cole Haans. “Where ya goin’?”
“I thought I’d stop off at the home decorating store and see if there’s anything that Amy might like.”
I wish I’d asked before
I agreed to go. I’m sick and tired of everything being all about Amy. Ever since she announced her engagement, it’s Amy this, Amy that.
“Why doesn’t she register and make it easier on everyone?”
Mama shrugs. “I’ve tried to talk her into it, but she says it feels uncomfortable—like she’s asking for presents.”
“That’s part of the fun of it,” I say. “Maybe I can talk some sense into her while I’m here.”
“Oh, I forgot to mention she’s not gonna be back until next week. As soon as school let out, she went down to the coast with some of her schoolteacher friends. They’re having a bachelorette weekend.”
If it had been anyone but Amy, I would’ve imagined a bunch of wild women cutting loose in Biloxi. But since this is Amy we’re talking about—sweet, never-miss-church-always-perfect Amy—I suspect all they’ll do is lay out in the sun, chow down at the all-you-can-eat buffets, and walk on the beach. Oh, and they’ll find some nice little church to attend on Sunday morning.
I don’t ever openly complain about Amy, though. She’s the one who stayed home to help Mama and Daddy after me and our oldest sister, Patty, got married. Not that they needed all that much help. It’s just that Mama and Daddy always wanted to travel and go on cruises, but they didn’t want to leave the house empty. Now that they got that out of their systems, I reckon Amy feels free to do her thing.
As we drive around Hattiesburg looking for places to spend money, Mama tells me about Tyler and his family. “They’re not moneyed, but they’re good people.”
Being good people is important to Mama, but I’ve never understood exactly what she means by that. I used to assume it meant they were law-abiding folks who had high-paying jobs, but even some of those don’t make the cut, according to Mama.
“Tyler is a minimalist,” Mama says when I pick up a pretty throw pillow that’s very pretty and lacy all over. “He doesn’t like too many frills.”
