Cemetery Silk (8 page)

“Did Sue go with him?” Mother was fascinated now and back with the unwashed masses.

“Yeah, they left all of a sudden like. Put their house up with Nancy Barnes to sell and moved, kids and all.”

It was my turn to be fascinated now.

“Kids? They had children living with them?”

Molly was getting that funny look in her eyes again.

“I mean him cattin' around an' all with a wife and kids at home.” I could get “down home,” too.

“They had five snotty-nosed brats, one right after the other. They was Catholic, ya' know. Although the world would'a been better off if them two had practiced birth control.” She laughed and slapped the table. Our coffee cups shook along with her breasts. “After she had the last one, Sue started learning how to do nursing. Studied real hard. I have to give her that. Graduated and got her a job at the hospital. Let her kids run wild. They all left home soon's they could. The youngest girl come back last year with a brat of her own. I don't think she ever got married. She had some kind of sickness. Some said it was the HIV. Bet she was as welcome as a rash! Sue got even meaner after that. Kept Dibber on a tight rein. Didn't see much of him for a while. Then I heard, all of sudden, they'd moved down about the lake—some fancy resort area about twenty miles from here.”

The little bell over the coffee shop door tinkled as a couple came in. Molly stood up.

“Better take care of business.” She threw a hateful glance at the niece. “Won't nobody else. Enjoyed talkin' to you folks. Be sure and stop by again. Banana cream pie's as good or better'n the apple.”

Chapter Eight

As Mother and I argued over what sort of tip to leave Molly, Cassie solved the problem by grabbing the check.

“My treat. Meet you outside.”

Mother touched up her lipstick and patted her hair. She looked me over with vague disapproval.

“Have you given up on makeup, dear? Not that the ‘natural look' isn't a good one for you. I mean you look very healthy and sweet. And that braid is very chic. But at your age shouldn't you…?”

“Mother, let it go. We have a long evening ahead of us, and I'd hate to spend it looking for a place to hide your body.”

“Now that's very smart-alecky. I'm just trying to point out to you that since you came home you have, well, let yourself go. You used to have such a terrific sense of style, and now you only wear jeans.”

“Let's see, shallow grave, bottomless pit. Oh! I forgot. We're in coal country. Abandoned mine shaft.…”

“Whatever could Cassandra be saying to that girl?” Mother was good at changing the subject when it suited her.

Cassie was indeed holding a long whispered conversation with Molly's niece. I had to trust that she knew what she was doing. Is that not what parents always say? I wish mine would.

I followed my extremely well dressed and beautifully coifed mother out of the coffee shop. I had to admit it. She was a great looking old broad. And I was also happy to admit that I had no desire to follow in her footsteps. I was beginning to realize that I felt better and more comfortable than I had in a long time. I was thrilled to say “goodbye” to panty hose and hair spray. I always felt like I was going to a Halloween party in makeup. And high-heeled shoes, give me a break! Maybe when I went back to New York I would change my mind. After all, I could still admire an Oscar de la Renta. I was just glad I didn't have to worry about being a fashion plate for a while.

Cassie climbed in just as I started Watson. She had a takeout menu with a crude map drawn on the back.

“Mom, go back up to the courthouse and hang a left.”

“What's up, sweetie?”

“I got us a place to stay for the night.”

“Night? What night? Paisley, I thought we were driving back home tonight. We must go home. I didn't bring a change of clothes, or underwear, or my toothbrush.”

“We've got to spend the night, Gran. We're having a midnight visit from ‘Deep Throat.'”

“Whoopee! Way to go, Cassie! That's momma's little girl!”

“And just who is this ‘Deep Throat?' Oh, the niece. Oh my, Cassandra, that is a coup. You're absolutely right, we must stay. Paisley, pull over when you see a drug store. At least we can have toothbrushes. My goodness, this is exciting!”

We found a K-mart in the next block and I whipped into a parking spot close to the front door.

“Here you go, Mother. Have mercy on them.”

She calmly opened her Gucci bag and slid the Gold Card out of her wallet. I could see all the little wheels spinning in her head. I doubt that she had ever been in a discount store in her life, but shopping was shopping, and she had a black belt.

“Look Gran, I know it's not Bloomingdale's, but surely you can find a toothbrush you like.”

“Don't be a snob, Cassandra.” She squared her shoulders. “I'm sure I can find many things I like here. Coming, Paisley?”

“I'll wait here, Mother. You and Cassie get a toothbrush for me. Oh, and get something to drink so we don't have to feed quarters to some robber baron of a machine all night.”

The motel that Molly's niece had recommended to Cassie was about a mile out of town on the Interstate. I had expected some kind of sleazy dive where couples met for a lunchtime quickie but it was a very nice “Mom and Pop” setup with ten small cabins. All were freshly painted and surrounded by well-manicured flowerbeds packed full of fall pansies.

Mother went into the office and came out with a key to cabin number seven. It had three separate twin beds and a little refrigerator. It was perfect! Pop even came out to help us unload Watson.

The cabin was clean and neat inside with the usual pieces of furniture and a small but modern bathroom with lots of big, fluffy, white towels.

Pop was polite but obviously in a hurry to get back to the office. He apologized for not having a dining room but directed us to a restaurant at the next exit. He said a friend had a terrific barbeque restaurant there that also served breakfast.

Cassie closed the door behind him and ran to bounce on the nearest bed.

“Doesn't this look just like the house of the three bears?” She bounced back up and sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. “Come on Gran, show us what you bought at the Trailer Park Boutique.”

“I don't know. Your mother looks like she needs a nap. Maybe we'd better rest now and have ‘show and tell' after your young friend comes at twelve.”

“Don't call that little twit a friend of mine; and she may come before then. She actually said anytime after she gets off work.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Cassie.” I was tired and irritable. “Couldn't you have been more specific?”

“It's not as though I didn't try, Mom. But this is not exactly your normal, regulated human being. Her clock seems to revolve around the things she wants to do rather than the things she needs to do. If the opportunity for sex or drugs or booze comes along, we may never see her again.”

“Oh, well, hand me a Coke and let me splash some water on my face. We'll have a tacky fashion show.”

“Excuse me! No one has ever accused me of being tacky.” Mother stood up and lifted the first of her purchases up on the bed. “These items may be inexpensive, but tacky? Never!”

And of course, she was right. I don't know how she managed in such a short time, but she had bought some really nice things. Cassie was elated at the nightshirts in “faux silk.” She had a red one. I got green, and Mother had white. We all had little terry cloth house slippers to match. There were undies for all of us, again in “faux silk,” and wonderful fleecy sweatsuits that we put on immediately. She also bought an astonishing amount of junk food, including soft drinks for me and Cassie, and Perrier for herself.

As I ate the last salt and vinegar potato chip I realized it was suppertime so we opened up the cooler and polished off the “p-cheese” sandwiches.

I was shaking the crumbs off my bedspread when we heard a knock at the door. We froze like schoolgirls.

“Who could that be?” whispered Mother. “It's too early for Molly's niece. It's not even seven-thirty.”

Cassie tiptoed to the window and peeked out.

“It's her, all right. What do we do?”

“I guess we run hide in the bathroom until she goes away.” I stuck my tongue out at my daughter. “Let her in, you silly goose!”

Molly's niece slipped in the door as soon as Cassie opened it wide enough for her to enter. She was wearing a short black vinyl trench coat, the waist cinched in as tight as possible. Black fishnet stockings and three-inch heels finished off the outfit. She went to the window without saying anything and looked out.

“Great! Nobody followed me.”

I was somewhat surprised that the entire Atlantic Naval Fleet had not followed her in that getup. It was not exactly a bid to go unnoticed.

“Hey, this is real cute. Like the three bears, huh? I knew this was a classy joint, not like them sleazy places Dibber used to take me.”

We all three came to immediate attention at the mention of his name. Cassie pulled a chair up from the table for the girl. We three sat on the bottom of each of our beds.

“Got anything to drink? I'm dry as a desert.”

“Of course, dear. Forgive me for not asking,” apologized Mother. “We have coke, diet coke, and Perrier. Which would you like?”

“You don't have no…? No, I guess you ladies don't exactly travel with the hard stuff. Give me a Perrier. I always wanted to try one of them, but Stevie, he won't spring dough for water. He says water ought'a be free, and water in a bottle is for sissies. Not that you ladies are sissies. Just classy. ‘Specially the old lady. You're real classy, Ma'am.”

“Why thank you, dear. What is your name? My granddaughter didn't tell us.”

“That's cause I didn't tell her. ‘Cause I'm an informant, like in that old movie. I'm ‘Deep Throat.' Ain't that cute?” She giggled and took a big swallow. A look of complete distaste crossed her face, but she managed to keep the drink down. “Class” apparently did not taste as good as it looked.

“Let's get this over with so I can go. Molly closed up early. I told Stevie I had to go to the store so he'll be expectin' me soon. Where's the fifty?”

“What fifty?” I turned to my errant child, “Cassie, what fifty?”

“I didn't have a chance to tell you, Mom, but I promised, eh, ‘Deep' fifty dollars if she told us what she know about the Dibbers.”

They had me over a barrel. If I argued with them now we might lose her. I just hoped it was going to be worth it. Fifty dollars! She was lucky that I kept a fifty-dollar bill hidden in my wallet in case of emergencies. I knew Mother was too “classy” to carry any cash. Deep tucked the money in her bra like any good floozy and started talking immediately.

“Well, Stevie and me, we weren't getting along so good, see? And Ernest, he comes in the coffee shop and starts making up to me. I knew he was married ‘cause Aunt Molly kept makin' remarks. But he was kind'a sweet and needy, ya know? And he was a real great tipper. So one night when Stevie was drinkin' real heavy, Ernest says to me to meet him after work. ‘Come down to the corner,' he says, and he'll pick me up. ‘We'll go have dinner.'”

She looked at Mother and shrugged her shoulders. “Anybody can have dinner. It don't mean nothing, right?”

She paused and I could see her reliving the fairy tale she had created, the romantic rendezvous with a handsome stranger. She had probably recast Dibber in her mind's eye because he was anything but handsome.

I gave Deep a closer look. She was much younger than I had previously thought. On closer inspection, her mouth and eyes looked pinched and ugly, and her skin was coarse and grimy with unwashed makeup.

I felt distaste and pity at the same time. She was about the same age as Cassie, but they were a million light years apart. It was not class that separated them, just luck.

Mother would disagree and argue about genes and morals and ethics and good stock. Cassie would put forth an argument about Karma. The truth was that it was just the luck of the draw in whose nest you were laid.

I sighed away my motherly instincts and reminded myself that Deep was just a tough little cookie out for fifty bucks.

“Where did he take you?” I asked.

“To this really great barbeque place on the Interstate. Hardly nobody from here goes out to eat at night. They are so provincial.”

She looked at Mother for approval at her use of a “really big word.”

Mother smiled back at her. “Wasn't he afraid someone would see you and tell his wife?”

“He didn't care. He told me so. He said I was the only one he cared about, and we could both get divorces and run away together.”

It was Cassie's turn, “On the first date he said all this?”

Deep looked scornfully at her, “Course not! We had lots of dates, a least three or four before he told me how much he hated that string bean he was married to. And Steve was bein' such a potato head.” She laughed, “Ernest was so funny. He said we both deserved better than bein' married to vegetables.”

I was tired of hearing how terrific Dibber was. “Did he ever say how he was going to be able to have the money to take you away?”

“Well, no. I just thought he would have it when the time came. He never talked about money but he gave me real nice presents. He bought me perfume and a real pretty scarf and some of those little panties with lots of lace and no crotch.”

“And just how was he in bed?” Mother and I turned to Cassie with open mouths.

“I mean fifty bucks are fifty bucks, do tell us.”

“Well, I never!” The girl looked at Cassie in a wide-eyed attempt at innocent outrage. Cass stared her down.

“We never ‘done the deed!' That's the God's honest truth,” Deep protested.

Cassie was not going to let it go at that. “Well, just what did you do? I'm sure you didn't spend all that time in sleazy motels discussing world affairs.”

The girl sniffed in an attempt at disdain. “We could'a if we'd wanted. Ernest, he was real smart, and I ain't no dummy!”

She unbuckled her coat and slid it off her thin shoulders. She had an impressive chest. It must run in the family.

“I mostly danced for him,” she said in a small voice. She looked at Mother almost shyly.

“I'm a real good dancer. I'd dance for him most every night and he'd stuff dollar bills in my garter belt just like they do in them clubs in the big cities. Now I ain't saying I'm no virgin, after dancin' a while I'd get real hot, but Ernest said he wanted to keep our relationship pure and sweet, just like me. So we'd hug and kiss and he'd play with my puppies, but he never let me touch his pecker. After a while I figured it out, that maybe he couldn't get it up, ya know? Maybe a war wound or somethin', but that was okay by me. I've had too many rough guys stuff me with the old weenie. It was kind'a nice to just be petted by a real gentleman.”

She took another experimental swig of Perrier. Lying is thirsty work.

“What else do you want to know? I gott'a go.”

“What happened, dear?” Mother had assumed her gentlest voice. “Why did you and Ernest not run away like you planned?”

“Stevie found out what we was doin'. He sobered up one night and followed me to the motel. He waited until I was undressed and doin' a lap dance for Ernest, and then he busts in and slaps me to the ground and starts swinging. It was awful. He beat Ernest up somethin' terrible.”