Vada Faith (7 page)

It was Monday and I had a doctor’s appointment. I’d left Joy Ruth at the shop to work on the books by herself. She was single and had nothing else in her life. Besides I figured it wouldn’t hurt her. She was so narrow-minded about my impending surrogacy, I wanted a break from discussing it with her. I was glad she had begged to pick up the girls later in the day. That meant I could avoid talking to mama again.

My appointment with Dr. Fine went quickly. He was pleased with my recuperation. It had been several weeks now and I was feeling great.

Back in his office, seated across from him, I leaned back and tried to relax.

“Well, Vada Faith,” he said, smiling, “are you ready for the insemination?”

“I’m ready,” I said. “I think I am, anyway. I’m nervous.”

“There’s no need to be nervous. The insemination itself is painless.” He handed me an information sheet. “You need to read this over carefully as it explains the procedure. All very simple and straightforward. Afterwards we’ll want you to rest for a bit here in the clinic and then you’ll be free to go. You do know, it may take more than one time for you to get pregnant?”

“Yes,” I said, keeping my eyes on the clock behind his head to avoid looking at the diagram he’d given me.

As I left his office it hit me that this was it. I was going through with it.

Before long I’d be inseminated with another man’s sperm. Someone besides my husband. If I got pregnant I’d carry a baby for nine months. Then when it was born I’d hand it over to this childless couple. A couple I barely knew.

Immediately, I squashed the thought.

Driving home I kept saying to myself, “I’m going to have a baby for Roy and Dottie Kilgore. I’m going to have a baby for Roy and Dottie Kilgore.”

Though I repeated it a dozen times it still didn’t seem real.

A few days later as I snapped the last roller in place on Dorene Moon’s fat gray head I looked up to see Dottie coming in the shop door. She waved.

“Hey Dottie,” I said, “be with you in a minute.” I settled Dorene under the dryer and gave her the Star, her favorite tabloid. She’d stay put until I reclaimed her, even if it was a week later. It took almost that long to dry her thick hair. She had been our very first customer and had a standing weekly appointment.

“Can you work me in?” Dottie asked, when I made my way up to the counter. I picked up the appointment book which was buried beneath a stack of orange flyers Midgy Brown had dropped off. She was advertising for volunteers to help her clean up the cemetery that had been vandalized.

“Sure,” I said, knowing I’d be sorry later in the day as busy as we already were. I penciled her in anyway. “What do you need?”

“Everything.” She seemed to deflate in front of my eyes. “A cut. A perm. Some color.” She held up her hands and examined her nails. “I could use a good manicure, too. I’m a mess, honey. A real nervous mess.”

“Gee,” I said, watching her chew on a nail, “I’m busy. I can give you a shampoo and trim. Maybe use the curling iron. I don’t have time for much else.”

I looked over at my sister for some help, but she was busy at her own station. She frowned and shook her head.

“Saturdays are hectic, Dottie.” I closed the appointment book. If I hurried I could squeeze her in.

“Fine,” she said, giving a long desolate sigh, “do whatever you can.” She plopped down in my chair and I had no choice but to put a cape around her neck and lead her over to the row of sinks. I gave the quickest shampoo of my career.

“I just came from the mall,” she said, settling again in my chair. She frowned at herself in the mirror as I toweled her wet hair. “Every woman there was pregnant.” She turned around in the chair to face me. “You don’t believe me, do you, Vada Faith? Roy never believes me either.” She faced the mirror again and I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. “Well, they were. Everyone there was pregnant. Even the old women. From the very young to the very old. All of them carrying a baby inside them.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I said, running my fingers through her hair. I wasn’t sure what she expected me to say. “How about some conditioner? Your hair seems a bit damaged.”

“Damaged?” She reached up and felt her hair. “It would be.” She shook her head. “Damaged. Can you beat that? Even my hair is damaged.”

“What’re you saying?” I asked, stopping to look closely at her.

“I can’t have children,” she said. “I’m damaged. Unlike you and every other woman on the planet.”

“Every woman I know can’t have babies.” I ran a comb through her hair. That wasn’t exactly true. Every one I knew did have a baby or two. Some even three. “Every woman I know doesn’t want a baby.” That wasn’t true either. Most of my friends adored babies. I wanted to pacify the woman in my chair and get her out of there quickly.

“I don’t know any woman who doesn’t want a baby,” she said hotly. “I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? I haven’t slept a full night in the last year. Do you know I hear babies crying? All night long, I get up just to make sure it’s in my head. Of course, it always is. Our house is so quiet I can hear my shoes as I walk across the new carpet. Did you ever notice how certain shoes make noises on carpet?”

“Sure,” I said, though I really hadn’t. “You want more than this off?” I measured off a piece of hair.

“That’s good,” she said, reaching up and touching her hair. “I really need some color. Can’t you do it for me, Vada Faith? Please?”

I’d already seen Marge Randolph, another faithful customer, frown at me over her Good Housekeeping. I’d slipped Dottie in ahead of her. I wasn’t about to upset Marge by coloring Dottie’s hair too.

“Sorry,” I said. “This is the best I can do for today.” I smiled in Marge’s direction and she nodded back, grudgingly.

I finished cutting Dottie’s hair and ran my hands through it, holding it up here and there, measuring it again by eye, to make sure it was even. I ruffled her blond hair with my fingers, plugged in the curling iron, and then picked up the dryer.

“One minute more, Marge,” I called, “and I’ll be with you.” I didn’t want to lose her business. She spent a great deal on expensive products and came in weekly to have her hair done. Besides she was mama’s old friend.

I turned on the dryer and directed it at the shoulder length hair I was drying. For a few minutes I worked in silence. Then I turned off the dryer and ran a brush through her hair.

“Did you breast feed your babies,” she asked, loudly, catching me off guard.

I could see in the mirror that several women behind us were staring over their magazines. “No,” I said, in a whisper. “I didn’t.”

“Well, you are going to Lamaze, aren’t you?” Her eyes met mine in the mirror.

“Maybe,” I said, keeping my voice low. I wanted to keep my surrogacy quiet for the time being and here this woman was shouting it to the whole world. My world anyway.

I had to get a move on. I had customers waiting and I was already behind. We’d had four or five walk-ins. We tried to serve everyone but today I wasn’t in the mood. I wished everyone, including the woman in front of me, would go home.

“You should think about Lamaze, honey. Me and Roy will coach you. Did I tell you I’m joining the La Leche League? Did you know breast milk is best for a baby?”

“I used formula for the twins.” Picking up the curling iron I started curling her hair. “If it wasn’t for that they’d have starved.” I stopped working to think about it. “I have heard breast milk’s best. I was so busy with the girls and they were so impatient.”

“I truly cannot wait for this baby. Look.” She lifted a chain from her neck for me to see. “This is a fertility amulet.” She fingered the trinket. “It’s been blessed. It’s supposed to make me fertile.” She sighed. “It hasn’t worked so far. I’m not giving up hope.” She tucked the trinket and chain back inside her shirt.

I picked up a bottle of spray and gave her hair a mist. It was our most expensive hair product.

“Roy’s finally finished with the new house,” she said. “He had the workers going nonstop and he had to oversee every little detail. It’s something else.” She shook her head. “I don’t like the quiet though. With all those high ceilings, I feel like I’m in a cathedral. It’s creepy. Our windows are bare. Roy insisted. They overlook the woods. Hey,” she brightened, “come and see it. My husband is working too much. Getting the business established. He’s never home. Just little old me. Wandering from room to room. Did I tell you I’m decorating the nursery myself? It will be spectacular. I’ve got people coming this afternoon with carpet and paint samples.”

“Great.” I gave her one last mist. “All done. My sister will take care of you up front.”

“Okay.” I nodded across to Marge as Dottie gathered her things. “You’re next.”

As Marge sat down, the other woman slipped a folded twenty into my pocket.

“Thanks,” I said, “but you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to, honey. Thank you. I feel so much better.” She leaned over and hugged me.

“What a nut case,” my sister said, after the woman had left. I was bent over the shampoo bowl washing Marge’s hair.

“Did I hear her say she was going to breast feed her baby?” My sister whispered as I went to the cabinet to get a towel for Marge’s hair. “Hell-o! Breast feed? Don’t you have to have a baby first? Like, um, give birth?”

“Stop!” I held up my hand and gave my sister a warning. This conversation wasn’t going to happen.

I went to wrap Marge’s hair in one of our biggest fluffiest white towels. She deserved something extra for having to wait so long.

Instead of moving away, Joy Ruth plopped down in the chair next to where I was working.

I sectioned off Marge’s hair, getting it ready to put on the plastic rollers she favored. “There’s Alberta,” I said, as the door of the shop opened, and Alberta Trent hobbled in, a cane in one hand and a pastry box in the other. “You might want to get started on her since we’re behind.”

“Well, your friend Dottie is a nut case if you ask me,” my sister whispered, stubbornly. “I don’t care what you say.” She put on a smile for Alberta and flounced toward the front of the shop.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” the old woman called, pulling a tray of cookies from the box and placing it on the pink reception counter. She fidgeted with her hearing aid. “I said, are you ready, dearie?”

All sugar and spice, my sister gave the white haired woman the customary hug, and told her she loved her pink pantsuit. She wore the same one every week. Two piece polyester with big white buttons. She was one of our best customers and the biggest tipper we had. She could afford it since she was one of the wealthiest women in the state. Her father had made his fortune as owner of several coal mines, now defunct. Usually, she came in three times a week, to socialize and drop off goodies.

“About Dottie…” Joy Ruth held her comb poised in mid air, ready to take up the conversation again. She’d already shampooed her customer who was now waiting patiently in her pink pantsuit for her trim.

“Not now,” I said, sharply, cutting her off. “We’ll talk later.”

I was having trouble concentrating on Marge’s hair, which seemed to be taking forever to wind on rollers. What Dottie said was churning around in my head. How could she breast feed a baby I had?

“Only pregnant women go to Lamaze, honey.” A familiar voice whispered in my ear as strong arms grasped me from behind.

I managed to turn enough to see local news reporter, Barry Carruthers, close as my skin, a smile covering his face. He was our very own success story in Shady Creek. He’d been the best sax player in the high school band and though people had long suspected him of being gay he was so charming nobody really cared. He was one of the few of us who had gone to college and was now on television doing the nightly news.

If my old school chum wasn’t so handsome with his blue eyes and blond hair I might have smacked him. That and if Marge hadn’t turned to stare at us.

“Excuse me,” I said to her and pulled him across the room to the supply closet. “Where did you come from?” I scowled at him. “Are you spying on me?” I glanced around but thankfully didn’t see any of his camera crew lurking in the corners of the shop.

“I have to get back to my customer.” I knew Marge’s ears were tuned in to what we were saying even though her hands were fiddling with the clasp on her purse. “You don’t have an appointment. What do you want?”

“I came in to make one.” He smiled and adjusted his gold wire rimmed glasses. He leaned forward and whispered. “I overheard the news. Now, tell me, why don’t you want anyone to know you’re pregnant?”

I waved him away. He was asking questions like we were best friends. Like we shared secrets. Like he was one of the girls. Well, ordinarily that was how we treated him, but not today. He was butting into something that was none of his business. He might have his sights set on finding the news story of his career but I wasn’t helping him. Not if I could help it.

Barry had a serious bald spot. It kept me busy thinking of ways to conceal it. I discouraged him from combing his hair to one side. I supplied him with an industrial strength glaze that kept it plastered to his head in the style that looked best. If he wasn’t careful, I’d be out of the stuff when he came in for his next appointment.

“I am not you-know-what,” I whispered, checking to make sure the customers nearby were buried behind magazines. Luckily we had all the latest copies.

“Thank God,” John Denver sang loudly from the speaker above me, “I’m a country boy.”

While I frowned at Barry, a voice called out from the front of the shop. “Hi.

It’s me.” I turned to see Dottie tripping through the reception area toward me. “I’m back.”

“Lord,” I said, looking towards the heavens, “what have I done to deserve this?”

I didn’t know I’d spoken aloud until Barry gave me a strange look. With that, he went to study the hairstyle magazines in the wall rack across the room.

Dorene, whose dryer had long ago stopped, waved from her chair when I passed on my way back to my station. Whatever disaster lay ahead, I had to get busy or I’d never finish my appointments.

“Honey,” Dottie gushed, as I rewet a section of Marge’s hair with a spray of water, “I love that wonderful hair spray you used on me. It smells heavenly.” She sniffed the air. “I came back to buy some.”