Mad Girls In Love (27 page)

Clancy Jane was cleaning her house for Bitsy's wedding. It was scheduled for December 28, but Clancy had a bad feeling about it, because Walter was still legally married. According to Bitsy, the divorce would be final after Thanksgiving unless Fiona contested. Clancy stood next to her bed, struggling to flip the mattress, wishing she hadn't offered to throw a home wedding.

“Look, I'll plan everything, if you'll let me,” she'd told Bitsy.

“I wish Jennifer could be the flower girl,” Bitsy had said. “Think Claude would allow it?”

“Probably not, but it won't hurt to ask.”

Clancy Jane had decided to use her living room for the ceremony—the fireplace would be a lovely backdrop. That room could hold twenty-five people, maybe thirty; and she'd get someone to play the ancient piano. A local violinist was also lined up for the evening. At Flowers by Joy, Clancy Jane ordered an arrangement for the dining table, potted poinsettias to set about, and hurricane globes with candles to stake along the driveway. For the bride's bouquet, she and Bitsy decided on three dozen red roses with crimped lace inserts, ribbons streaming down. Zach made up a menu: cheese straws, mints, strawberries dipped in chocolate, punch, and champagne. Finally, a three-layer traditional cake was ordered at Ralph's Bakery. This was a Crystal Falls tradition. You could not get married or have a birthday without one of Ralph's cakes.

Still struggling with the mattress, Clancy Jane heard the doorbell ring. She hurried downstairs, opened the door, and looked up into Walter's bloodshot eyes. “Is Bitsy here?” he asked, his teeth chattering.

“She's next door.” Clancy Jane took a closer look at Walter. His eyes didn't seem right, and she wondered if he was coming down with a cold. “She'll be right back. You want to come inside and wait?”

“I don't know what to do. Oh,
God.
Fiona's
dead
. I never meant to cause this. I didn't.” He began to shake all over. Clancy Jane was afraid he'd faint, so she pulled him inside the house and up the stairs to Bitsy's bedroom where she got him to lie down. As she pulled the gauzy blue curtains across the window, she glanced outside. It was getting dark. Soon the moon would be on the rise.

“Thank you,” he said without opening his eyes. “Why did this happen? Is there a purpose to it?”

“Sleep,” Clancy Jane said. She wanted to ask what had befallen Fiona, but Walter looked too distraught. “Just sleep. You'll feel calmer after you'd had some rest.”

Walter stayed in bed, wrapped in a quilt, stirring only when Bitsy brought him chicken noodle soup and crackers, glasses of ginger ale, bowls of lime Jell-O. He slept all night and awakened the next morning in a pensive mood. He picked at his breakfast tray, a sick child's meal: a three-minute egg, toast, and tea.

“What an awful way to get my house back,” was the first thing he said to Bitsy, after he'd explained about Fiona and the Coke machine. The next was, “I want to go over there. Maybe she won't haunt me if you're with me. You
will
spend the night, won't you?”

Bitsy hesitated. Only hippies and movie stars spent the night with a lover. No one in Crystal Falls would understand, except Aunt Clancy. “Let me think about it,” she said.

“If you don't go,” said Walter, “she'll get me for sure.”

 

That night, Walter moved back into the orange split-level. While Bitsy helped him rearrange the bedroom furniture, the doorbell rang. Before they reached the foyer, the front door opened and Walter's mother poked her head inside. “Yoo-hoo, anyone home?”

She gave Walter a kiss and smiled at Bitsy, then she hurried toward the kitchen. Lacy and Jobeth stepped into the foyer, followed by Rooster. “God, I'm starving,” said Lacy.

“Me, too,” said Jobeth.

The sisters barged into the kitchen. Bitsy peered through the doorway. Drawers and cabinets were slung open, as Fiona's china and flatware was gathered. Jobeth dug into a chicken casserole that Fiona had apparently made earlier. Lacy opened the fridge and found a pecan pie in a bakery box. Meanwhile, Mrs. Saylor rummaged in the cabinet, pulling out a box of Mystic Mint cookies. They kept talking about Fiona and the awful way she'd died.

“I didn't invite them,” Walter told Bitsy. “Maybe they won't stay long.”

“I heard that,” cried Mrs. Saylor. “Let's go, girls. We're not welcome. We just came to pay our respects to Fiona, but that's just fine, we'll leave.”

On their way out, Lacy shot Walter the bird. He closed the door and locked it. Bitsy glanced back at the kitchen. Cabinet doors stood ajar. The cookie box—empty except for crumbs—sat on the counter, next to the gutted chicken casserole. The Saylors reminded her of locusts—they arrived in a swarm, ate up all the food, and then flew off.

 

Now that Fiona was gone, the Saylors were determined to reclaim Walter. Just as Bitsy had once felt their approval, now she sensed their dislike—eight thumbs down. They did not mention Fiona's funeral or Walter's wedding; in fact, they had stopped speaking directly to Bitsy. Mostly they referred to her as “Walter's girl,” putting the same emphasis on the words as if they were saying “Walter's virus” or “Walter's tumor.”

One Sunday they crashed into the split-level, and looked surprised to see Walter and Bitsy on the floor with Jennifer, who was visiting for the afternoon—Clancy and Byron had dropped her off. Walter was helping her build an elaborate Lego city.

“Who's this child?” Mrs. Saylor locked her hands under her chin and smiled.

“Jennifer, Bitsy's daughter,” said Walter.

“What pretty eyes you have,” said Mrs. Saylor, crouching down. “And what pretty hair.”

Bitsy immediately thought of
Little Red Riding Hood
. As Mrs. Saylor leaned closer, brushing her fingers through Jennifer's white curls, Bitsy smelled bourbon. Rooster got down on the floor beside Jennifer and pawed the carpet like a bull, giving off gusts of whiskey. Then he began to bark and meow. Jennifer's eyes widened. She looked up at Bitsy, then she scrambled to her feet and flung herself facedown on the sofa.

“Quit scaring her, Daddy,” said Walter.

“I thought I was funning her.” Rooster's face fell.

Lacy clapped her hands together and smiled at Jennifer. “Come over here and see me, baby.”

Jennifer gave Lacy an imperious look, eyebrows raised, nostrils flaring. Bitsy cringed.
She looks just like Miss Betty
, she thought.

“What's the matter with her?” Lacy frowned.

“She's tired,” said Bitsy, reaching over to pat the child's shoulder. Jennifer scooted away, giving her mother a baleful stare.

“She might need a spanking.” Mrs. Saylor rocked on her heels, dipping close to Jennifer. The child picked up a blue pillow and threw it at the woman. Mrs. Saylor yelped and ducked, and the pillow hit the Lego city, sending the red and white pieces flying.

The Saylor sisters laughed. “Hit 'er again,” said Lacy, holding out another pillow. Jennifer scowled and pushed it away.

“In my day, children were kept in playpens,” said Mrs. Saylor.

“She's not a baby, Mama,” said Walter. “She's three.”

“That's not too old for a pen,” said Mrs. Saylor. “She looks like a handful.”

“She's cute,” said Lacy, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “Don't you think she's cute, Jobeth?”

Jennifer ran to the bedroom and slammed the door. Bitsy started to go after her, but Walter touched her arm. “Let her be,” he said.

“He's right,” said Mrs. Saylor. “You have to ignore temper tantrums.”

“She's a spitfire, all right,” said Jobeth. “But she
is
mighty cute. Her daddy must've been good-looking. Was he good in bed, too?”

“Cut it out, Jobeth,” Walter said.

“I will
not
.” Jobeth stuck out her chin. “It's not my fault that another man planted his seed in Walter's girl's womb.”

“Don't say womb,” said Lacy. “That's ugly. Say twat.”

“I've certainly had lots of seeds planted in
mine
,” Jobeth said, reaching for a tin of peppermints. “And I bet Walter's girl has, too.”

“Bitsy,” Walter said. “Her name is Bitsy.”

Mrs. Saylor ignored him and said, “I will bet you that her you-know-what's been stretched to hell and back.”

“Mine's as loose as the belt on a vacuum cleaner,” said Jobeth.

“I bet Walter's girl's twat is too big for him,” said Lacy.

“Don't you know it is,” said Jobeth. “You could probably drive a Mack truck through it. Did you see the size of that baby's head? It's
huge.
”

Walter's eyebrows came together, and he stood up. “Jobeth, if you can't shut up, then leave. Besides, you can't talk. You've had a child.”

“But its head was smaller,” Jobeth said.

“Every vagina is different,” said Lacy. “Anyhow, Jobeth's kid doesn't live with us.”

“I couldn't help that, my goddamn boyfriend got custody,” Jobeth cried.

“You gave it to him,” said Lacy.

“Bitsy's child doesn't live with her, either,” said Walter.

Bitsy cringed, waiting for them to quiz her, but Lacy kept on talking about vaginas. “All the women in
our
family have extra-small twats,” she said.

“That's the truth,” said Mrs. Saylor. “When I go for my yearly Pap smear, the doctor has to use a child-size specimen.”

“It's
speculum
,” Jobeth corrected, rolling her eyes.

“You ought to know,” Mrs. Saylor shot back. “You've had thousands of them stuck up inside you. Especially afer that truck driver infected you with—”

“We get your drift, Mama,” said Jobeth, holding up her hand, her face turning red beneath the freckles.

“Well, you liked to
never
got cured,” said Mrs. Saylor.

“Put a lid on it, Mama,” said Jobeth. She turned to Walter. “Hey, you got any free samples to give us? Free toothbrushes, dental floss, Darvocet N-100s or Percodan?”

“Not here at home,” Walter said.

“I don't need a toothbrush,” said Lacy. “I need me a rich boyfriend. Don't roll your eyes, Mama. I need one bad. Walter, can't you fix me up with one of your dentist friends? I don't care if they're divorced, separated, or married.”

“All the dentists I know are ready to retire,” said Walter.

“I wouldn't mind being an old fart's sugar baby,” said Lacy.

“Especially if he makes you his beneficiary.” Jobeth laughed.

“Then you could buy me a new house,” said Mrs. Saylor.

“No, I'm buying me a Corvette,” said Jobeth. “Anyhow, Walter's the one who promised to buy you a house, not me.”

“That's true,” said Mrs. Saylor.

“Don't you worry, Mama,” said Jobeth, patting Mrs. Saylor's leg. “We'll get you a fine house someday. Even if I have to whore and steal and write bad checks.”

“If there was one dime left in our house, we'd all get a share,” said Lacy. “If there was one cookie left in our kitchen, we'd break it up evenly. Everybody would get a piece.”

“Don't be too hard on Walter,” Jobeth told her sister. “He paid for your last two abortions. And you got to keep your extra-tight twat. That's the only thing men want, when it's all said and done.”

“I'd hoped that his tooth degree would be our salvation.” Mrs. Saylor sighed. “I told him this every morning after I crawled in his bed and woke him up with kisses.”

This got Bitsy's attention. “You mean, when he was a baby,” she said. All the women turned to stare, and Bitsy felt her cheeks hotten up.

“No, when he was married to Fiona. Sometimes he'd sleep over at my house, and I would bring him coffee in bed.” Mrs. Saylor flashed a thin-lipped smile, obviously enjoying herself. “I hope you don't mind.”

“Of course she doesn't mind,” Walter said. “Mama, are you trying to stir up trouble?”

“Me? Honey, I'd ne-ver do such a thing.” Mrs. Saylor's lower lip slid forward. “Ne-ver in a million, zillion years.”

 

After Thanksgiving, the weather warmed up and Clancy Jane went outside to rake leaves. They lay in deep drifts between her yard and Dorothy's. “Come and help me,” she called to Bitsy, who was hiding in the kitchen.

“I would, but what if Walter's family sees us?” She was afraid to go outside, in case the Saylors should drive by and see her there. They cruised down Dixie Avenue several times a week, and if they spotted Bitsy in the front yard, they considered it an invitation to come in, opening the refrigerator, making fun of the food. Bitsy loathed and feared them the same way she loathed and feared black widow spiders—except she could not smash Walter's family with her shoe.

“Yes, I know they're horrible, but you shouldn't hate them, honey,” Clancy Jane advised. “It will boomerang back on you. That's what hate does.”

Bitsy smiled. “Aunt Clancy, you fear bad karma more than anything. Maybe this is a sign.”

“Of what?”

“That I shouldn't marry him.”

“The path to true love is never easy, baby.” Clancy Jane pressed her forehead against Bitsy's. “Talk to Walter. He knows them better than anyone.”

 

Lacy burst into Walter's office. She found him sitting at his desk, eating a butterscotch doughnut. He stood up abruptly, crumbs falling off his trousers. “I just hope you know how much you've hurt Mama,” she cried. “We were a family long before you found Fiona or that other girl. It's her or us, buster. Who's it gonna be?”

“But I'm getting married in a few weeks,” Walter said. He sat down so hard his chair rolled back and hit the wall.

“When did you get so stingy?” Lacy glared. “You were raised to share.”