by Debby Mayne
“What would be a good reason to leave us with all this work she’s supposed to be helpin’ out with?”
As we make a row of folding chairs, I explain how upset Celeste was. Since I’m not sure what Laura will do if she finds out her husband was responsible for what happened, I leave that part out.
“So let me get this straight.” Laura stands up and looks at me with confusion. “Celeste felt ugly, and she’s using that as an excuse to bail out on us?”
I nod. “Yup. That about sums it up. She’ll probably show up at the party in the school cafeteria looking better than ever. I think she feels she has to prove something.”
“It’s about the stupidest thing I ever heard, but I have to admit it sorta makes sense, with it bein’ Celeste and all.”
I decide to check on Celeste after I leave here. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”
Laura shakes her head. “I went to her apartment to drag her over here, but her neighbor said she left with Jimmy early this mornin’.”
One thing I can count on at my class reunions is to expect the unexpected. When Tim shows up, Laura and I tell him about Celeste and Jimmy, and he doesn’t act surprised.
“Jimmy was really worried about her last night. I’m sure he’s doin’ what any man would do for the woman he loves.” He moves the sofa to the spot where Laura wants it. “Any other heavy liftin’ you want me to do?”
Laura points to the dining room table. “We need to put the leaves in the table. They’re in the hall closet.”
Tim gets right to work pulling out the table leaves and putting them into place. Every now and then, like now, I feel a tiny spark of attraction for him, but I respect him too much to act on it. Laura occasionally gives me a look, and I have to turn away.
Pete comes walking in from the backyard, tracking mud on the carpet. Laura opens her mouth to say something, but she winds up clamping her lips together. Pete leans over to kiss Laura on the cheek, but she dips low and scoots away from him.
Laura rests for a moment with her hand on her hip as she looks around the room. “We’re missin’ somethin’ here.”
“Everything looks fine to me.” Tim brushes his hands together. “I reckon I need to get back to the hotel and get ready for the party. I’ll get here a little bit early in case you have some last-minute stuff.”
As soon as I can leave in good conscience, I take off to get ready. I’m almost to my parents’ house when my phone rings. It’s Mandy calling from the office phone.
“Sorry to bother you, but the executives at TVNS want you to call them. It’s urgent.”
“It’s Saturday, Mandy. What are you doing at the office?”
“We’ve been swamped with some of the direct mailing, and I needed to come in and catch up.”
“But I thought . . . Can it wait until Monday?”
“No, they’re having a meetin’ right now, and they said if you wanna be in their spring lineup, you need to call them today.”
I’m home now, so I park the car and jot down the number for TVNS and thank Mandy for being so diligent. She has me repeat the information to make sure I have it right.
“Oh, and don’t tell your mama I called.”
“Why?”
There’s a brief silence on the phone. “I just think it would be best if you didn’t.”
“Okay.” I close my eyes and say a prayer for my nerves to be steady enough to hold a somewhat intelligent conversation.
Robert Waddell, the head of product development answers and informs me that we’re on speakerphone with the heads of all the departments at TVNS. They take turns asking me one question after another, until I finally manage to answer everything under the sun about my “big hair system.”
“That’ll be it for now,” Robert says. “We’ll see you next week.”
“Does that mean you still want me to fly up there?”
I hear mumbling on the other end of the line. “Of course. We’ll need to see how you are on camera.”
After hanging up, I rub my sweaty palms on the sides of my jeans. If I’d known when I started trying to get on TVNS what I know now, I’m not so sure I would’ve gone through with the plan. I remind myself that I’m almost there—merely days away from achieving my ultimate career dream.
Mother is waiting for me in the living room. “Where have you been?” Before I have a chance to answer, she continues. “Don’t you have to leave for the reunion soon?”
“I’ll be fine.” Mother seems to forget that I’ve been on my own for a while now, and I don’t need her hovering or nagging me about being on time.
Mother follows me back to my room. “What were you doing out in the driveway?”
“Mandy called, and I had to write some stuff down.” Oops. I forgot Mandy said not to tell Mother she called.
“I told her not to call you because you’re very busy with your little reunion parties.”
“Did you actually come out and tell her that?”
“Yes, sweetie, I did. I know you think you have to get on that silly TV network, but how can you take anything like that seriously?”
“Wait a minute. You’ve decided that you know more than I do what I should have?”
“Don’t get all testy on me, Priscilla. I’m your mother, and I think I know what’s best—”
“No. You don’t know anything about me. All you know is what you want me to have, and that’s why I don’t like talking to you about anything.” I walk into my room and have to hold myself back from slamming the door. Mother has a way of reducing me to feeling like a rebellious teenager.
She knocks on the door. “Priscilla, please try to listen to reason.” I hear her take a deep breath. “Maybe you can tell me your plans so I can understand better.”
The teenage girl deep inside me wants to tell her to go away, but my grown-up self can’t. I open the door and stare down at my mother who seems to have shrunk in the past few minutes. “Your reason is obviously different from my reason,” I say softly. “I’ll discuss my plans with you, but not if you continue to insult me or try to belittle what I consider important.”
“But Priscilla, you have to—”
“No, I don’t have to do anything. I’ve never asked you for money or anything other than acceptance. I even paid you back the money from the college fund that I used to get through beauty school. What is it you don’t understand about my personal goals?”
Mother’s face contorts in pain. “How many times do I have to tell you that your father and I had such big dreams for our only child. We thought you’d get a college degree, maybe meet someone nice in school, and settle down to have a family.” She holds her hands out to her sides. “It doesn’t look to me like you’re even considering settling down. I may never be a grandmother.” She sniffles. “And you’re our only hope.”
I try to offer a reassuring smile as I place my hand on her shoulder. “You never know what might happen in the future. I haven’t met my Mr. Right yet, but it could happen any day at any time.”
“But what about Tim? He seems awful nice, and you have to admit, he’s willing to put up with a lot.”
“I’m not going to marry a man just because he’s willing to put up with me.”
“I would love some grandchildren, and you’re getting to the age—”
I hold up my hand to stop her. “If this is all about having you some grandkids, you could have increased your odds by having more than one child. I don’t like all the pressure being on me.”
“You think I’m pressuring you?”
I nod. “Yes, Mother, I’ve always felt the pressure to be everything to you and Dad. I had to make good grades and keep up a certain image. When I made a career decision y’all didn’t expect, I let you down. And now you’re putting pressure on me to give you grandchildren.”
“We love you, and we’ve done the best we can.”
“I know, and I appreciate that. You’ve given me your best. Now why don’t you let me show you my best?”
Once she’s gone, I ponder her last comment. Is the reunion the real reason I’m here? I don’t have to go to a party to see the people I grew up with. What is it about the actual event that has people scrambling around for a few hours of pretending to be something they’re not? Even I put on a tiny bit of an act, making people think that nothing bothers me, that I’m in control of my life and can do anything I set my mind to. No one has any idea how hard I’ve worked or how many failures I’ve had. In fact, I’ve been trying to get products on TVNS since the last reunion five years ago, and until now, I haven’t even gotten to second base.
As I ponder some more, I shower and put on the dress I’d bought for the occasion. As always, I’m ready early. Tim isn’t due for another fifteen minutes. There’s nothing else to do in my room, but if I go out to the living room, I risk facing more guilt-laced comments from Mother.
33
Celeste
I feel like pinching myself. Jimmy is driving us back to Piney Point so we can go to the fifteen-year reunion . . . as a married couple. Some folks would say that’s an odd way to spend our wedding night, but I don’t wanna miss everything I been working on for the past six months.
Oh yeah, that’s right. Jimmy and I got married this morning. We tried to find someone in Mississippi to marry us, but there’s that little issue of not having a blood test, since we decided to do this late last night. Alabama has basically no requirements—no blood test, no waiting period, no nothing. Just find someone who’s allowed to marry folks, and you’re good to go.
“You okay?” Jimmy asks as he turns off the interstate toward Piney Point.
I sigh and smile at my new husband. “I’m doin’ just fine. Are you happy you married me?”
The corner of his bottom lip twitches letting me know he’s still having a case of the nerves, but he nods. “Very happy. I never seen myself as a married man, so I’ll have some adjustin’ to do.” He cuts a glance over at me. “It don’t quite seem real yet.”
I giggle. “I know, but it will when we move all your stuff into my apartment.”
“What’s wrong with my apartment?”
“C’mon, Jimmy, you know exactly what’s wrong with it.” I shake my head. “It’s a dump. You don’t expect me to live in a dump, do you?”
“I like it. Why you callin’ my place a dump?”
I’m not ready to have my first marital fight, so I decide to change the subject. “Everyone will be surprised we got married.”
“Probably. Where’d you put our marriage license?”
“In there.” I point to the glove compartment.
“I hope you didn’t bend it. We gotta get it framed, and it won’t look nice if it’s bent.”
“Framed?” I open the glove compartment and see that it’s not only bent but also ripped where it got caught in the latch. Uh-oh. I glance back at Jimmy and see that he notices. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. I just hope that’s not a bad omen.”
I wave off that comment. “I don’t believe in omens, and neither should you. The Lord doesn’t care if our marriage license is torn. All he cares about is puttin’ Him in our marriage.”
“How’s He gonna feel about us not gettin’ hitched in the church?”
“God’s everywhere, so I don’t think it matters.”
Jimmy grows quiet as he continues to drive and, I hope, think about what I just said. I allow myself to ponder how this whole wedding thing happened. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a real wedding—more like a civil ceremony with me, Jimmy, the justice of the peace, and the JP’s next-door neighbor to sign the witness line. After I came out of the bathroom at the VFW, Jimmy felt so bad about me getting all upset over Pete’s song he was willing to do anything to make me happy. That conversation will forever be burned into my mind.
“That’s just plain mean,” Jimmy said. “I wouldn’t marry no ugly girl.”
“Are you sayin’ there’s no hope for us gettin’ married?” I asked.
“I ain’t sayin’ that. I would never call you ugly, Celeste.”
“So what are you sayin’?”
I’ll never forget as long as I live how Jimmy got down on one knee—which was a might difficult in the VFW gravel parking lot—and proposed. As soon as I told him I’d marry him, I asked when, and he said as soon as possible before he chickened out. Knowing Jimmy the way I do, it didn’t take much convincing to get the show on the road. I was a tad worried he’d back out and not pick me up at sunrise like we’d planned, but he was at my door before that.
“You’re early,” I said.
“I didn’t get no sleep. You ready to go get married?”
And the rest is history. I hold my hand out and look at the simple gold band we picked up at the discount store. Jimmy said he wasn’t ready to wear a ring, and I didn’t push. I figure I can do the wifely thing and trick him into wearing one later.
“Where should I go first?” He’s at the point where he has to turn left or right, all depending on whose place we go to first.
“Since you don’t have as much to do, why don’t we go to yours first?”
He scrunches his forehead. “Nah, I reckon we can go to yours first. You can take your shower and bring all your girly stuff to my place to get ready while I shower and shave.”
This man obviously needs quite a bit of training, but I have the rest of my life to do it. “Okay, that’s fine . . . honey.” It feels strange to call him this term of endearment, but that’s what husbands and wives do.
“What’d you call me?”
“Honey?” I give him a look as a wave of shyness washes over me.
“Don’t call me that, Celeste.”
“What’s wrong with callin’ you honey? We’re married now. Husband and wife. That’s how we show we . . . um, we . . . ” I want to say love each other, but the words won’t come out.
“You best think of somethin’ else, Celeste, ’cause I don’t like bein’ called honey.” He grows silent before adding, “And I don’t wanna hear no sweetie pie or sugarplum neither.”
I can tell I got my work cut out for me—way more than I ever would’ve imagined. “Whatever you say, sugar britches.” I let out a nervous giggle.
The creases in his forehead grow deeper. “Celeste, I’m warnin’ you.”
Jimmy is obviously not in the mood for fun, so I say, “Okay, whatever,” fold my arms, and stare straight ahead. I’m sure the biggest problem between us right now is a huge case of the nerves.
I shower as quickly as possible, and because I never go out anymore without at least some makeup on, I do the bare minimum before stepping out of the bathroom. Jimmy is pacing in my living room.
His face is still crinkly when he looks at me. “Does it always take you that long to take a shower?”
“I’m a woman, Jimmy.”
“I know that.” He still looks pained. “C’mon, we best be gettin’ outta here so I can get ready . . . unless you don’t wanna go to the reunion. We don’t have to, ya know.”
“Oh yes we do. We’re on the committee.”
Jimmy looks at me but don’t say nothin’. I can see that something’s buggin’ him. And then it dawns on me.
“You’re not ashamed you married me, are you?”
His eyes widen. “Now why would I a-married you if I was ashamed? That’s ridiculous.”
I start to feel okay, but he still hasn’t answered my question. “Just answer me.”
“No, Celeste, of course I’m not ashamed.” He comes toward me and puts his arms around me, the first sign of affection he’s shown since we tied the knot. Although his movements are stiff and awkward, I appreciate how he wants to put me at ease. “I was gonna ask you to marry me later, but since you was in such a bad way I figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go ahead and do it.”
“You were .
. . I mean you really did plan to propose later?” Relief floods me, and that’s when I begin to feel a tad more confident.
We didn’t start out with that heart-thumping, crazy-in-love feeling you get when you’re infatuated with someone. We moved a whole lot slower, and it just happened. Don’t get me wrong. I do sometimes feel that flutter when he’s around—like now—but it goes a whole lot deeper than that. I’ve gotten to know Jimmy, and I know he’s not one to take off when things don’t go his way. He might be a touch stubborn and crotchety sometimes, but I can live with that.
“Let’s go.” He tugs me toward the door, but I stop. “What?”
“I have to get my stuff. You don’t expect me to go to the reunion lookin’ like this, do you?”
“What’s wrong with the way you look?” His lopsided grin makes me a little dizzy. “I like it.”
An hour and a half later, we’re on our way to Laura and Pete’s house. “I bet everyone will be surprised,” I tell him.
“Nah, I don’t think so. I done told Pete I was thinkin’ about askin’ you to marry me.”
“You did?”
He nods. “Pete said he thought it was a good idea. He’s been worried that I’m not eatin’ right, and he said if you could cook near as good as Laura, I’ll be healthy in no time.”
I know how Laura cooks, and I would never call it good or healthy. But I don’t say that since there’s no point. Instead, I nod. “I do like to prepare healthy meals.”
“Not too healthy. I don’t wanna shock my body. Might make me sick.”
We pull up in front of the Mosses’ house. Before Jimmy has a chance to get out, I take his hand. “Let me say a prayer before we go in.”
Jimmy groans, but he don’t argue. I keep it short so he don’t get too antsy.
34
Priscilla
It’s almost time to start cleaning up when Celeste and Jimmy arrive. Laura and I approach them at the same time, coming at them from two different directions.
“Where you two been?” Laura demands.
They exchange a goofy look, and I step back. Something is different between those two.
