Original Sins (54 page)

“No, put it back please, Joey. Mommy doesn't need starch.”

“Joey want to iron.” He dumped the can in the cart

Sally returned it to the shelf and pressed on. Clutching the starch, Joey caught up.

“Joey
going
to iron!”

Sally grabbed the can. “Joey
can't
iron. Joey's a boy. Girls iron.”

His face turned dark red. “Me want to iron!” he screamed. Shoppers turned and stared at Sally, the child abuser.

“Please
, Mommy! Joey can iron!”

Gritting her teeth, she pushed the cart into the next aisle, leaving him lying on the linoleum kicking his feet. “Teddy Bear's Picnic” was playing over the public address system. A voice broke in: “Ladies, we're having a special, today only, in aisle four: Nabisco Chips Ahoy! cookies, a big double bag for only fifty-nine cents. One to a customer please!” Housewives hurtled past her in search of aisle four. Sally stopped in front of the margarine. Two cents off Parkay. But she'd cut a coupon from the newspaper for four cents off on Fleischmann's. She took out the coupon and read it. Four cents off on two pounds. Which was the same as two cents off on a pound, wasn't it? And after all, she only wanted a pound. She took the Parkay, pleased with herself for being a good shopper. Jed liked real butter. But an article in
Modern Wife
had cautioned her to watch his cholesterol. What would she do if he dropped dead of a heart attack and left her with two little children? He was getting a roll around his middle. She was thinking about putting him on a diet, had been collecting diet recipes from magazines for several weeks. She might be able to do it so he wouldn't even know he was on a diet.

Joey caught up, red-faced and bedraggled. Laura struggled in her cart seat.

“Can Joey ride?” he whispered.

“Aren't you ashamed? A big boy like you riding?” She took a large roll of Saran Wrap off the shelf. She'd read in
Modern Wife
if you wrapped yourself in it while you exercised, it was good for your pores.

The bag boy loaded her groceries into the Dodge. “I just got one question,” he said with a grin, as she thanked him.

“What?”

“When do you girls ever take your rollers out? Or do you keep them on all the time? All day long that's all I ever see, is big old rollers!”

Sally laughed. “It's so we'll look nice when our men get home in the evening.”

The boy, tall, thin, and dark, looked enlightened. “Why don't you give the rest of us men a break sometime?” he said with a sweet smile.

Sally was enchanted—and grateful. Was he flirting? No one had flirted with her in years—not since Jed had claimed her when she was fifteen or so.

“I might just do that”

“Hurry back now,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, I will.”

She drove home, smiling and singing the Honey Sweet song,
“All I want is just to be your girl …”
She glanced over at the Castle Tree as she drove past. It was covered with tender pale green baby leaves. When she used to climb that tree, she'd planned to be a singer in New York when she grew up. She remembered the fervor with which she wailed into her jump rope handle. That had been her talent for the Miss Newland pageant. If only she hadn't dropped the microphone, she might have won. Her answers during the question session had been pretty good:

“If you were Miss America, Sally, traveling around to other countries as our Ambassadress of Beauty, what would you tell them about our great nation?”

“Well, Stan, I'd tell them first of all about the ideals that have made our country what it is today—our belief that all men are created equal and endowed by the Lord with rights that nobody can ever take away from them. Let's see … I'd tell about the beauty of our terrain—the towering mountains the rushing streams, the vast plains. I'd tell about the people from every end of the globe who have come here and found for the first time in their lives Justice and Brotherhood …”

If she'd been crowned Miss Newland, she'd have gone to the Miss Tennessee pageant. From there to Atlantic City for the Miss America pageant. She might have begun a career as a popular singer, like Anita Bryant. She'd have spent the following years traveling around doing personal appearances. She'd have had to leave Jed behind. He'd have found another girl. She wouldn't have gotten pregnant.

She pulled into the driveway and studied their little house. She turned and looked at Joey and Laura in their car seats. But for one ill-timed stumble, none of this would have existed.

For a moment, she willed it all to oblivion. She shook herself, got out, and began unloading groceries. She fed the kids, and took them into their room and put Laura into her crib, pulling up the side bar. She wound up her musical angel mobile. She made Joey lie on his bed and look at his mobile of sailboats. She knew once she left, he'd climb down and play with his tank and poke Laura through her bars, but she just ignored the commotion unless Laura began screaming. She couldn't wait for Jed to finish the new room, so she could separate them once and for all.

She put a load in the washer and turned on the TV to “Love for Life.” She arranged her entire day so she wouldn't have to miss
it.
Sometimes Brad and Elvira seemed more real than Jed. Brad was taking his secretary to a motel today. Sally removed her Ever So Ice nail polish and put on some Eat Me Orange. She felt bad for Elvira, at home sneaking gin from a bottle and replacing it with water.

Sally blew on her nails. If they didn't dry before Laura began shrieking to have her diapers changed, she'd ruin them. Would Jed be likely to do that—take a girl to a motel? How would she ever know if he did? Could she ask him? And if she did, would he tell her the truth? If he wasn't seeing another girl already, probably he would eventually. That was how men were. But did her daddy have other women? Surely not. Who? It was too small a town. If that's how men were, how were women? Was she supposed to sneak gin alone in the afternoon?

Immobilized by her nails, she ran through her outfit for supper—mauve silk shirt and matching wool skirt, a paisley scarf around her neck. Yes, Jed liked that outfit. Oh dear, no, not mauve. Not with orange nail polish. Darn. She just hadn't been thinking.

And for supper—steak, baked potato, corn bread, molded Jello-O salad. Which place mats, now? What if he did have another girl? Was that why he hadn't wanted to make love much lately? The gold woven ones. With candles to match.

She waved her nails in the air. Those windows next to the TV were streaky. She'd have to remember to tell Rochelle to wash them tomorrow. A pie! She'd bake a cherry pie this afternoon. Jed's favorite. If only her nails would
get
hard.

She reached for the phone and dialed carefully with the ball of her finger.

“Hi, Mama … nothing much. Just thought I'd say hi. What are you doing? … Yeah, I'm sitting her waiting for my nails to dry. Waiting for the kids to wake up … Yeah, a little bit lonely. None of my friends are around anymore. Besides, when would I have time to see them? … Yeah, I'm going to Happy Homemakers tomorrow with Jed's mother. They're having them a Hawaiian luau. Mercedes Marshall is showing her slides. You ought to come … Poor Little Joey, he was bound and determined I was gonna buy him some spray starch at Kroger's this morning. Said he wanted to iron. Can you imagine? … Let him? Are you kidding? Jed would croak! … Yeah, I know he's just a baby. But like Jed says Coach Clancy always used to say, ‘The way you bend the twig is how the branch grows!'… Yeah, well, see you soon, Mama.”

As she hung up, she was surprised to find tears running down her cheeks. She'd thought she was doing what her mother wanted. After all, it was what her mother herself had done. Sally had started it all too young, yes, but that was in the past. She'd been making a success of it. What did she have to do to make her mother proud? Cheerleader, Ingenue, Devout, Homecoming Attendant, runner-up to Miss Newland—none of these had seemed to impress her. Some days she'd walk the kids over to her mother's house and prop them up in front of her: Here, isn't this what you want from me? Emily had left Newland, came home dressed in jeans, and was losing her accent. But Emily was the one they talked about at Sunday lunches—what courses she was taking, what concerts she'd been to, what witty remarks she'd made in letters. Ha, ha. Sally wondered if there wasn't some way to let them know that Emily had been having sex with that repulsive Justin under their very roof, and had laughed about it later. How could she manage to let this bit of information slip out?

She picked up “How To Keep That Man Coming Back for More”: “…
every man finds mystery alluring in a woman. Don't let him in on all the tricks of your trade. Shut him out of the bathroom when you're putting on your face
…” She put a check in the margin. “…
don't run around the house in rollers when he's there
. .
.”
She checked this off. “…
re-dye your hair before the roots grow out
…” Check. “…
let him suspect he doesn't know everything there is to know about you. Go out from time to time without telling him exactly where you're going
…” She thought this over. She could hide a photo of some man—an uncle he hadn't met—in a drawer where Jed would be sure to come across it … “Who is this?” he'd demand.

“Oh … someone.”

Laura started shaking the bars of her crib. Joey toddled out, rubbing his eyes. “Laurie wake Joey up.”

“Naughty Laura,” she intoned. Laura was jumping on her mattress, holding the bars. Sally felt a wave of irritation that alarmed her. Mothers weren't supposed to dislike their children, but she often did Laura. Joey's energy and determination enchanted her, unless she was in a hurry, like today at Kroger's. Laura's annoyed her. Little girls were supposed to be calm and polite, affectionate and cooperative.

She swept Laura up and smothered her with guilty kisses, strapped her on the changing table, and tickled and nuzzled her. Laura giggled, cooed, and kicked her pudgy legs. Sally plopped Laura in her playpen, then took her rollers out, and combed her hair. Then she put on her face and changed her clothes.

As she dumped a can of cherry filling into a frozen pie shell, she thought about what a lucky girl she was. To make a pie and watch her family enjoy it. To watch them grow healthy and put on flesh from what you fed them. This was an honor. Emily had read a lot of books and knew some fancy words, but had she ever actually done anything
real?
Emily thought she was pretty smart, but had she been smart enough to keep Earl?

Sally turned on the radio loud enough to compete with the Tom and Jerry cartoons Joey had switched on in the living room. Honey Sweet was wailing,
“You make me want to be a mother
…”

Should she have her another baby? Both times she was pregnant Jed hadn't been that interested in sex, which had been nice. He'd turned into a real gentleman and brought home surprises. Sometimes he'd rub her feet.

At supper Sally said, “How's the strike, honey?”

“Same.”

“Any trouble?”

“Eggs on the Chevy when Dad and me crossed the line this morning. Lazy bastards. Standing around waving signs. Do you know, they was having them a pork barbecue down there this evening when I left? Seems they think it's a party. And that insane brother of mine running around playing hero. He called Dad and me ‘traitors to the working class' today.”

“What's that mean?”

“Damned if I know. Dad fixed him good, though. Hollered out the window, ‘Where was you when I was on Guam, you damned Commie?'” He laughed, so Sally did, too, although she didn't
get
it. “All I know is we got orders to fill. I figure if you accept a job, you have a responsibility to do what they pay you to do. Otherwise you should clear out. Am I right?”

“I'm sure you are, honey. What do you think about place mats to match the curtains in here?” “Huh? Oh, sure, fine.”

“Yeah, but would you tell me if you
didn't
like the idea?”

“Yeah, sure I would. That'd be real nice, honey.”

“Maybe cloth napkins, too.”

“Uh huh.”

“You don't really care, do you?”

“Not really, darlin.”

She sat in silence, her chin quivering. “As far as you're concerned, we could be living in a mobile home, with rented furniture and flour sacks for curtains.”

“Now honey, you know that ain't so. I love our home. What you think gets me through work ever day. Come on now. This ain't like you, darlin. Be Daddy's big girl.”

She reminded herself she was supposed to be the harbor, not the sea. “I'm sorry, darling. It's getting to be my time of the month.”

He nodded. “I got to hurry. Got to go out guarding.”

“But I thought maybe we could have us a quiet evening tonight. Go to bed early. Watch some TV. See if we can't find us some mischief to get up to.” She smiled coyly.

“I'd like to, darlin. But the strikers threw ball bearings through your daddy's windows last night after I left. Didn't you hear?” She studied his face. Was he telling the truth, or was he going out to meet someone at the Lazy Daze Motel? She could hire a sitter, tour all the motels in the area looking for his Chevy …

“No. I talked to Mama, and she didn't even mention it. Why would they do a thing like that?”

“Bunch of Reds. Want to wreck the whole country and take over.”

“Poor Daddy. Do you reckon he's upset?”

“Wouldn't you be? After all he's done for this town? I sure am, and it ain't even my windows. Somebody oughta string them up.”

“Cherry pie for desert!”

“Don't have time, darlin. I'll have some when I get in.” “But it'll be all cold, honey.” “I like it better cold.”

“I thought you liked your cherry pie warm.”