The Woman He Married (35 page)

“I told you I was on my way.” John was flustered. “Why didn’t you just go?”

“Well, I couldn’t
leave
 
them
. What if you didn’t show?”
Lydia
looked down at Beth and clicked her tongue. “You’ve put her costume on backward, and just look at her hair. Come here, baby, let me fix you.”
Lydia
leaned over, untied the ribbons, and turned Beth’s problematical attire around frontward before tying the ribbons perfectly.

“Are you sure you can get the twins to my neighbors all right?”
Lydia
asked while removing Beth’s crown. Then, smoothing out her hair with her hands, she reapplied the band and spun the ponytail around into a bun, pinning it to stay before replacing the crown. After having spent fifteen minutes on the atrocity that
was
Beth’s hair, John watched in amazement at how quickly, and effortlessly,
Lydia
straightened it out.

“I got it. Jocelyn left me a
detailed
schedule.” Getting Beth here was hard enough and now he wondered why he had to watch the twins as well. “Where are you going anyway?”

“Doctor.”
Lydia
didn’t offer any more before kissing her little ones goodbye and heading out. Her lack of eye contact had him thinking, remembering Andy saying something about a consultation with a plastic surgeon. Apparently, she needed larger breasts to complete her “hot momma” look. Plus, he heard
Lydia
admit to Josie that she hoped “they” would keep Andy home more. Holding back a smile, he remembered Josie saying that if she were married to Andy, she’d want him gone as much as possible.

After herding his small pack of giggling girls through the door, John looked around as an unexpected wave of uneasiness swept over him. Sitting in folding chairs along the perimeter of the room was a group consisting entirely of women who had become very quiet, eyes agog as he entered. He smiled uncomfortably while shuffling the girls through to the classroom door, closing it behind them. Turning to face the waiting room again, and seeing all eyes were still focused on him, he excused himself to go outside to make a few calls. Despite dialing every person possible in his phone, including Josie, John came up empty. The heat of the afternoon sun had grown oppressive so he removed his tie, and rolling up his sleeves, he weighed his
options
:
The
hot van, or the women?

Back inside, John eased down into a seat, hoping the ladies wouldn’t notice him.

“Are you Beth’s daddy or the twins’?” A young mother holding a baby and wearing sweat pants—her hair looked like she might have brushed it yesterday—spoke to him first.

Nodding “Hello” to all the gawking faces around the room, he said, “Um, Beth’s daddy. I’m John Bearden.” He decided to be cordial—after all they could be potential voters.

“Oh, you’re Josie’s husband?” the one with the baby said, looking unsure.

“That’s right.”

“Aren’t you the man who’s running for mayor?” Another women in tight jeans, heels, and big hair asked as she handed a baggy full of goldfish crackers to a little toddler dressed in a green and yellow John Deere t-shirt.

“Judge, actually,” John corrected as politely as possible. In
his
world everyone knew his status and rightfully shrunk in his presence. He wondered,
what’s wrong with all these women, don’t they pay attention to what’s going on in the world around them?

“That’s funny, Josie never mentioned her husband was running for office,” an older woman, about as round as she was tall, with short spiky hair and what John thought might be a permanent sneer, commented suspiciously.

Mom with the baby jumped back in. “But then she’s not real
talk’tive
…
kinda
quiet, but very sweet.”

John nodded, trying to hide his annoyance that Josie hadn’t mentioned she was married to a future judge. But then she’d never been one to elevate herself above others—or to brag.

“That’s right! I’ve seen your commercial.” Nodding, the mom with the toddler asked, “I thought the attractive woman standing behind you was your wife.”

“Oh yeah, she’s real
perty
,” said a thin woman wearing a plaid jumper and reading glasses, looking up briefly from her knitting.

“No, that’s my press secretary,” John corrected, trying to hide his embarrassment at the implication.

“Um, huh,” spiky hair lady grunted doubtfully.

He slid his finger between his collar and neck, allowing extra air to reach his now-flushing skin. John’s anxiety level rose with the guilt that burned after positioning Trisha front and center when it should have been Josie all along.

“You know, Josie’s quite the looker herself,” infant mom said, scanning the other women for confirmation. “More of a
nat’ral
beauty though…don’t you think so?”

All eyes turned to John, pressuring him to comment. “Yeah, I…um, love the way her freckles dot her nose,” he said, remembering how beautiful she was after he’d dunked her in the water down in the
Caribbean
. “She’s always trying to cover them up, but I think they’re
kinda
sexy.”

“
Ahhh
.”
The women recited in unison, except spiky hair,
who
disagreeably rolled her eyes.

Encouraged by his audience’s admiration, John took his affection for Josie one-step further. “I especially love the way her eyes change color with her moods.” Emboldened by their undivided attention, he continued. “When they start turning to amber, I know to take cover, ’cause there’s a storm
brewin
’.”

The women sighed in unison.

“That is just the
sweetest
thing I have ever heard. Bubba doesn’t even know what color my eyes
are
,” infant mom said wistfully, and voices around the room spoke up in agreement.

Smiling smugly on the inside, John decided now was a good time to bow out of the conversation. “You ladies don’t let me bother y’all now. Just pretend like I’m not here.” Pulling out his PDA, he pretended to occupy himself.

“Then you don’t mind if I breast feed? I’m ’bout to burst.” Pulling up her blouse, infant mom turned the baby on its side and plugged him in.

John started to wonder if he shouldn’t have opted for the van.
“Won’t bother me a bit.
Jocelyn nursed all of our babies.”

“Are you feeling better?” toddler mom asked infant mom.

“Oh, much better.”
Raising her voice to address John, she said, “I had
the
mastitis.”

John looked up.
What the hell is she talking about now?

“Did Josie ever have that when she was breast feeding?”

“I really can’t say for sure.”

“You would’ve known,” infant mom explained. “First you get a real high fever, and your breast feels like it’s on
fire.
Then when the baby sucks, it feels like red-hot needles are shooting right through your nipple.”

John felt his face wrinkle disconcertedly before he could stop it. He had no possible response to that.

Completely unaffected by infant mom’s graphic explanation, knitting mom asked, “How’s your sister doing? Did she have her baby?”

“Yes, but her labor was long. She had to wait hours to get her epidural. She was
pitchin
’ such a
fit,
they finally went ahead and gave it to her.”

“Epidurals are a wonderful invention. I don’t even think I’d have a baby if I couldn’t get one,” toddler mom said, ducking when her little guy launched a cracker at her head.

“We didn’t have such things in my day. They just knocked you out, or put up with the screaming,” Spiky hair lady said. “Hell, my daughter was playing cards and watching the soaps while she was in labor with our little ballerina in there.”

“Epidurals also make it easier on the daddies. Isn’t that right, John?” Infant mom seemed determined to include John in on the conversation.

“Oh, um, I can’t really say. Jocelyn had all our babies natural.” Looking up casually from his PDA, he saw shocked faces trained on him once more.

“On
purpose
?”
Knitting mom abandoned her project, looking aghast.

“That’s just crazy. Why would she put up with the pain when she didn’t have to? Are you sure?” Spiky lady asked, swaying her round body and putting one hand to her waist.

“You bet. Almost lost two fingers and got slapped the first time Jocelyn gave birth.” He gave his head a quick shake. “I tell you what. I learned the difference between being encouraging and being supportive.”

All the women stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain. “‘Encouraging’ will get a man slapped. ‘Supportive’ means anything Jocelyn wanted, Jocelyn got,” he finished by giving his audience an arduous look.

Toddler mom put a hand to her chest. “You are so sensitive and accommodating. Eddie just sat in the recliner through the entire labor, watching the
Auburn
game on the TV,” she said.

“My hats off to you ladies.
I have the utmost respect for y’all. I got to tell ya, if I had to do it, Jocelyn and I wouldn’t have any children—you know what I’m saying.” John leaned back, smiling, satisfied with himself as he observed all the affectionate eyes gazing in his direction.
This really is too easy,
he concluded.

“How
is
your sister now?” Knitting mom brought the conversation back on topic.

“Oh Lord, her labor was awful and they ended up giving her a
fourth
degree episiotomy just to get the baby out.”

Infant mom cringed in horror.

For the next ten minutes, voices around the room chimed in with personal accounts of cutting, stitches, cold versus hot compresses, and subsequent healing. John shifted nervously in his chair, feeling the blood drain from his face.

“Eddie drove me crazy after Travis was born,” toddler mom said, pointing to her child who was now throwing goldfish crackers at his discretion. She ignored his behavior, like throwing food was perfectly normal and continued, “You’d think he’d gone a year without sex, or something,” she said and the other women appeared to agree. “Not only were my stitches still healing, but I felt all squishy and my breasts were leaking.” She made a disgusted face and directed it at John.

“Why don’t men understand that after squeezing a “watermelon” out of an opening this big,” Spiky lady made a ring with her thumbs and forefingers, “the last thing you want is something going back
in.
Especially the
thing
that got you pregnant in the first place.”

“Why can’t y’all just wait a few weeks, is all I’m
askin
’. It’s not
gonna
kill ya.” Toddler mom grabbed the crackers from poor Travis who finally got in trouble, not for throwing food, but simply for being born into the male species. Nods of agreement passed between all the women as the mood in the room turned precarious.

An eerie silence engulfed the space while John watched the women’s expressions change from those of adoring fans to lynch mob. Looking around anxiously for the quickest escape route, John was saved when the studio door flew open, and eight screeching four-year-olds spilled out and to their mother’s waiting arms.

* * * *

On his feet again, Scott began to argue his case for the State. He began by bringing on his strongest witness, Mrs. McGee, the victim’s wife and only witness to the crime. Josie decided that it was time to
really
pay attention. Only, her pantyhose were pinching in places she couldn’t re-adjust in public, and she really wished she’d gone to the ladies room one more time before taking her seat.