Crazy People: The Crazy for You Stories (12 page)

I just sat there with the phone in my hand until Darla came by to pick me up for work and said, “I have been trying to call you for half an hour, why are you holding that phone?” so I hung up. And the phone rang again right away, and it was Darrin Mueller saying you’d asked him to look in on me and make sure I was all right, and I knew you still cared about me, Ronnie. I knew you had to love me still, and that’s what I told Darla, and she looked like she wanted to say something but she didn’t.

And then I had to go in to work because I had Leona Cooper’s perm to do at ten. You don’t know how hard it was going in there with Darla and all those other hairdressers. Then Darla came over to the house after work and was really nice again, which was even harder because you know Darla, it takes a lot to make her nice, so I knew she really felt bad for me. She said I could stay with her and Max, but I don’t want to, Ronnie. I want to be here with you where I’ve been for twenty-six years—ever since Daddy died and you said we should get married right away so you could take care of me forever—and this is where you belong, too. So what I’m thinking is that maybe this is just you afraid you’re getting old and the good times are over. And I know what you mean because some nights when we’re both sitting on the sectional, watching the news and you’re moaning about how the Bengals have screwed up again, sometimes then I wonder what happened to us, and how much fun we used to be, and why we aren’t any more. And I’m thinking that maybe this is something you need to do to feel young again for a minute, and that maybe it would be a good thing if I was to be understanding about this because I think that part of what’s wrong with this country today is that people get rid of their marriages too easy. I mean this is a really bad patch we’re going through here, but I’m not going to give up just because you’re having a hot flash, not after twenty-six years, I’m not.

So what I’m hoping is that you’ll realize what you’re missing out on and remember all we’ve been together and how much your family means to you, and then you’ll come on back home where you belong. We can work this out, Ronnie, don’t you think we can’t.

Your loving wife,

Debbie

PS: I wrote you this letter two days ago, Ronnie, but then I had to stop because everything was too awful, and I sat down and cried which is why my name is a little bit blurry there at the end. Then Darla came over, but she wasn’t much help since when I told her again about how I understood that you had needed to work through this mid-life crisis, she said, “Debbie, stop telling me what that jerk needs and tell me what
you
need,” and I said, “I need my husband back.” And she said, “Why?” and I said, “Because he’s my husband, damn it,” and she said, “Well, as much as I hate him and hope he dies, if that’s the only reason you need him, I can kind of see why he left.” And that wasn’t a help, Ronnie, it really wasn’t.

Then yesterday when I got home from work, Mama was parked in the driveway. She got out of the car and said, “I heard it, Deborah Jo, but I don’t believe it. You tell me it’s a lie.” Then she started in about how Headapohl women got widowed not divorced, and how she was not going to be the mother of a scandal. She said, “You just made some mistakes, that’s all, Debbie,” and I said it wasn’t exactly my idea for you to go north with a bank teller, and she said that was my fault for having a career instead of staying home and fixing you hot dinners the way she’d raised me to. I said, “Mama, I don’t think he’s up in Michigan with Barbara Niedemeyer because she’s fixing him hot dinners, I truly don’t,” and she said, “Deborah Jo Headapohl, it is that kind of mouthy attitude that makes a man leave home.”

Then the phone rang, and it was Darla, and I said, “Darla, I can’t talk now, Mama’s here,” and she hung up. Then Mama went on about how you were a good provider, and that you’d surely come to your senses once you got a good look at Barbara in the daylight because her pores were a disgrace, and on and on until Darla drove up wearing her T-shirt that says “Jesus is Coming, Look Busy.” She said, “Hi, Mama, I was just going to Krogers and stopped to see if Debbie was needing anything, like maybe some rat poison for that faithless, sorry skunk she married.” Mama said, “You are not going to the grocery in that shirt, Darla Jean Headapohl, what would the neighbors think?” Darla said, “Well, I am going to,” and drove off, and Mama got in her car to follow her. I know you don’t like Darla much, but there are times when I truly love her. Even though she rolls her eyes when I say that I’m understanding why you’re doing this.

But the thing is, I lied, Ronnie, because I am really not understanding this at all. I do not understand how you can cheat on me because I was always true to you, even that time last year when Darrin Mueller—yes, your best friend Darrin Mueller—put his hand on my knee and told me that I was the kind of wife every man dreamed of having, and that you didn’t appreciate me. And then he told me he had ways of appreciating a woman like me, and he told me some of them, and they were interesting, I must say. But I said, “Darrin, I appreciate the suggestions and the imagination it took to come up with them, but I belong to Ronnie Luterbein forever.” That’s what I said, Ronnie. That’s how much I love you. And then you go to Michigan with Barbara Niedemeyer, of all people.

So I’ve been sitting here, thinking about what Darrin said, and I think what I’m going to do is, I’m going to show up at the hardware store at closing time when you’ve got back from Mackinac with nothing under my coat but my black lace demi-bra and garter belt. And I know I’ve put on a few pounds over the years, but I still have one of the finest butts in Tibbett, Ohio, and I am a D-cup. And I know what you’re going to do when you see that demi-bra with me in it, Ronnie, because I have known you for a long time, and I don’t care how old I am, I can still make you come crawling to me any time I want, don’t you think I can’t. And then later on, when we’re back together—and I know we will be—I’m going to show you this letter just so you know I always had you the whole time no matter what you thought.

Still your wife,

Debbie

PPS: I changed my mind about that demi-bra, Ronnie.

After I wrote those words last Wednesday, I started thinking about you and Barbara, and it made me a little mad. And I kept on thinking and I got a little madder, and now it’s Sunday, and I’m thinking a whole lot of things.

For one thing, I’m thinking you’re son of a bitch for leaving me. I’m middle-aged, too, damn it, and I’m not going around Lake Huron with bank tellers, am I? No, I am not. I am doing my job as your wife, which I have to tell you for the past couple of years has not been that much of a picnic, Ronnie, and if you had any kind of human being in you, you wouldn’t be doing that either. You think it’s tough being a middle-aged man? You try being a middle-aged woman who’s a D-cup. Gravity is a sin, Ronnie, it really is. And you’re no picture yourself, but all you do is slap your flab and say, “Just that much more of me to love, Debbie, honey,” and I swear, sometimes I just want to say, “I don’t need any more of you to love, Ronnie. I’ve got more of you to love than I want right now.” I got so mad I couldn’t even sleep last night, and I got up at three o’clock and ate a bag of Cheetos, standing right in front of the TV, in the spot where you always yell at me to move. I stood right there and ate the whole bag, watching Harrison Ford blow something up, and it felt good.

Then this morning Darla came over to see if I was okay, and I was going to tell her about the Cheetos, but then Darrin Mueller stopped by to mow the grass. I said, “That’s sweet, Darrin,” because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. And he said, “Glad to do it for you, Debbie,” and Darla sort of snorted but he didn’t hear. Darrin got out the mower and took his Tibbett High School Football Coach shirt off, and Darla said, “Well, he is something to look at, isn’t he?”

Then Mama drove up with a tuna surprise casserole, and she said, “Deborah Jo, what is that naked man doing in your front yard?” Darla said, “Warming up, Mama, warming up.” Then she told Mama that potato chips on a casserole were unhealthy because of the high fat content, and Mama said that without the potato chips there wouldn’t be any surprise, and Darla said potato chips on a casserole hadn’t been a surprise since 1952, and Mama got so aggravated, she left. I do love Darla. Then we both got beers and stood at the window and watched Darrin mow the grass. And Darla said, “Deborah Jo, it’s time to forget that worthless skunk you married and move on,” and I said, “Darla Jean, I am thinking about it.” But I really wasn’t because I am married to you, Ronnie. But I did feed Darrin that casserole later, and he did mention the potato chip topping so I guess Mama was right again. And tomorrow, I’m making dinner for him since he’s going to fix the bathroom sink and he says he loves home cooking and isn’t getting any. But he isn’t getting anything else because I am still your wife, even if you don’t deserve me.

Debbie

PPPS. I got your letter yesterday, Ronnie. It was thoughtful of you to say you hoped I was doing fine, although I could have done without the “PS” from Barbara saying she hoped we could still be friends. Where she got the “still” part I will never know because I have never been friends with anyone who wears that color of eye shadow that Darla has taken to calling “Bank Slut Blue.” Women who wear eye shadow like that look like they do it for nickels, that’s all there is to it.

But since you asked, I am more than fine. Darrin Mueller’s been taking real good care of me, and I’ve gotten a whole lot done. Like yesterday morning, after I got your letter, I took all your clothes out to the garage, and this woman pulled up in a Bonneville and she said, “You having a garage sale?” And Ronnie, I looked that woman right in the eye and I said, “Yes.” And she said, “Is that men’s clothes? What size?” and I said, “Extra large and stupid,” and she said, “I’ve got one of those. What’s in there and how much?” And I looked in the window of her car and her little boy was holding a McDonald’s bag, and I felt really hungry for the first time since you left, so I said, “I’ll trade you all of it for that McDonald’s.” And she ripped that bag away from that little boy, and he started to yell, and she said, “Shut up, Jason, I’ll get you another Happy Meal in a minute.” Then she took off with all your things, and I sat on the curb and ate that Happy Meal, and it was the best thing I’d eaten in years.

Of course I didn’t give away the Mustang. It’s waiting for you in the driveway with the key in the ignition, and like Darla said, even if somebody steals it, it’s not going to be hard to find. You just tell the police that it’s a cherry condition, 1975 baby blue convertible with “Bengals Suck” spray-painted on one side in my handwriting and “Barbara Is A Lousy Lay” on the other side in Darla’s.

There is just one more thing I have to tell you, Ronnie , for your own good and for Barbara’s. And I think you should know that I did share this with Darrin Mueller last night. “Darrin,” I said to him when we were finished breathing heavy, “I have to say that it is a pleasure not faking it any more. The truth is, Ronnie Luterbein couldn’t make summer come in June, that’s how bad he is in bed.” I know that’s painful for you to hear, Ronnie, but I’m telling you this for your own good, so that when Barbara starts moaning like I did, you’ll know that she’s just doing it out of the goodness of her heart. And then you can try harder. And now that I’ve gotten to know Darrin better, I can tell you that longer would be good, too.

So, I’m feeling pretty good right now, especially since Darrin’s asked me to marry him, and I think I’m going to because like Mama says, women are meant to be married, although thinking about you does sometimes make me wonder why. Which reminds me, I filed for divorce today, and I put the house on the market, since it’s in my name so the creditors couldn’t take it away from you if the hardware store folded. Remember when you did that, back when we were first married? You said it didn’t matter whose name the house was in because we were going to be together forever, Ronnie and Debbie until the end of time.

I’ll make sure you get half.

Debbie

PPPPS: Well, Ronnie, today’s the day you’re coming home. I’m heading over to Darrin’s now and he’s going to barbecue me a steak for supper. I figure that should give you enough time to pick up the car and find this letter taped to the windshield. I know this has some harsh things in it, but those things are also some of the truest things I’ve ever said, and I think you should see how I got to where I am now so you won’t make any dumb mistakes like trying to come back when you change your mind. Because I’m really different now. I didn’t know how different until Darrin was over here last night.

He was sitting on the sectional, watching the Bengals get creamed again, and I thought about how happy Mama would be to see me watching TV with a man and a wedding ring. I did feel like crying for a minute about us because we were over after twenty-six years…

That’s when it hit me. We’ve been married for twenty-six years, which means that Daddy has been gone that long, which means Mama hasn’t been married for that long. That woman who has been nagging me to be married and telling me my life is over if I’m not, that woman has been single for
twenty-six
years, and in all that time, she’s never even gone to so much as a church mixer. I realized then that the reason she’s so hot to have me married is so she can hold her head up high in public and then go home and eat Cheetos and watch Harrison Ford at three o’clock in the morning. And I sat up and said, “Well,
damn
,” and Darrin said, “I know, aren’t they pitiful?” thinking I was talking about the Bengals, and I looked at him sitting on the sectional, and I thought, “Debbie Jo Headapohl, you have been given a gift here. Ronnie Luterbein just handed you back the rest of your life. Don’t screw up.”

So I’m not going to, Ronnie. I’m taking my half of the house money, and I’m putting a down payment on one of those little condos by the river. And I imagine Darrin will be dropping by regularly to develop my imagination, but he’s not moving in. I’ve been there and done that now, and I don’t see any point in doing it again, no matter what Mama says.