Read Leftovers: A Novel Online
Authors: Arthur Wooten
“Cuddle swing, switch,” he shouted, “to a dead cat bounce!”
Hearing this, Vivian stopped in her tracks. “I think I’ll allemande-left and do-si-do myself right out the door.” She spun around and tried to leave when Babs and Stew slipped their arms through hers, spun her back around and dragged her into the dance.
Dressed in every conceivable barn dance outfit one could imagine, the dancers were spinning like tops.
“It looks like a kaleidoscope threw up,” Stew said as he put his hand to his stomach.
Vivian shook her head. “Lord knows I can’t do that.”
“Relax,” Babs reassured them, “this is an exhibition dance.”
Along the outside perimeters, other newbies were seated upon bales of hay watching the seasoned dancers with great trepidation.
Vivian pointed to them. “Look at their faces. I bet they were ambushed like us, too.”
The three of them worked their way down towards the musicians, passing by a woman dancing with great abandon. She was wearing a black jumper spotted with giant yellow and orange flowers separated by white lace, aqua ribbons and fuchsia panels.
Babs shouted out to her. “Loretta, love your outfit!”
“That dress is searching for a migraine,” Vivian whispered to Stew.
He made a quick scan of everyone at the dance. “Viv, I think we’re under the legal age.”
“I heard that. Now stop it,” Babs said as she gestured to the crowd. “Every barn dance organization has its own name.”
“What’s this,” Vivian asked, “the Fallin’ Arches?”
Babs smiled proudly. “The Dusty Boots.”
Stew turned to Vivian. “Dusty they are.”
The dance came to an end just as the three made their way down to the musicians. Everyone shouted and cheered as the white haired fiddler jumped off the platform, winced and instantly grabbed his knee.
“There’s my guy!” Babs shouted as she waved enthusiastically to him.
Tall and handsome with a full head of snow-white hair, Kenneth was definitely looking a bit long in the tooth.
Vivian and Stew turned to each other. “Stew, I didn’t know she was into older men.”
“It was inevitable. She’s dated everyone else in the North Shore.”
Vivian laughed, hitting his arm as Babs pulled her beau over to them.
“Kenneth, this is my friend Viv and my brother Stew.”
“Nice to meet you both.”
Suddenly the caller shouted, “Everybody pair up, time for a contra dance. We’re playing
Flowers Of Edinburgh
!”
“My fiddle’s lead instrument in that one. Gotta get back to work,” Kenneth said as he gave Babs a quick peck. He attempted to hop back onto the stage but lacked the strength. She ran over to him and pushed his butt back up as male dancers swarmed around Vivian.
A portly fellow grabbed her arm first and Vivian did a double take. He was a dead ringer for the actor who played Fred Mertz on the
I Love Lucy
television show.
Out of his pocket he pulled a nametag and a marker. “Name, doll?”
“Fred?” she asked, thinking it might actually be William Frawley.
“First time for everything.” He wrote the name Fred down on the nametag and was just about to slap it onto Vivian’s chest when she blocked his hand and grabbed the tag.
“I’ll handle that.”
She stuck the name Fred onto her blouse as he held out his hand for a shake. “I’m Rudy and you are now officially a Dusty Boot.”
Vivian curtsied politely. “A dream come true.”
The music started up again with the traditional Scottish tune.
Rudy placed Vivian into a row of women and then ran to the opposite line of men facing them. At the same time, a very large and masculine looking woman dragged Stew across the barn and plopped him next to Rudy as she zipped back to Vivian’s side. And like a true groupie, Babs held back and stared up at Kenneth all dreamy eyed as he played his fiddle and stomped his foot. His good foot.
The caller tapped the microphone and then started. “Balance your partner and swing to your left, gypsy meltdown and swing to your right . . . ” and instantly, all the new dancers veered off in all the wrong directions bumping into one another like human pinballs.
• • •
Having barely survived her first three dances, Vivian was having much more success at the refreshment table. With her newly declared commitment to selling Tupperware, her main concern was that she really had no friends to call upon. But to her amazement, she discovered that none of the women she was meeting at the dance had been to a party. In fact, none of them were even familiar with the products. Vivian wrote her name and Babs’ phone number down on a piece of paper and handed it to the woman dishing out helpings of her holiday spaghetti casserole.
“Debbie, Tupperware will keep all this food fresher, longer.”
“And if I host a party, you said I get free Tupperware?”
“Yes. In fact, you can become a Tupperware lady yourself if you like. Maybe you want some extra money for that new hat or a pair of shoes? Or the kids might need something important?”
Debbie handed the plate of spaghetti to Vivian. “So you make good money doing it?”
“You get out of it what you put in.” Then Vivian paused, wanting to quote Brownie perfectly. She continued a bit stiffly. “A still pool . . . of water stagnates more . . . rapidly than a running stream.”
Debbie was a little confused. “OK.”
Then Vivian snapped back to her warm self. “Just give me a call and we’ll set something up.”
“Gee, thanks. I will.”
Vivian took her plate of food over to a bale of hay and watched as a sprightly octogenarian out on the floor swung Babs around a little too aggressively. They switched partners and another man reached out for Babs but clearly got two handfuls of breasts instead of her waist.
“Ahhh!” Babs shrieked. She stopped dancing and squinted at his nametag. “Mister Dimitri Romano, watch it with your Russian hands and Roman fingers!”
She bowed out of the dance and dizzily stumbled over to Vivian who was laughing. “Babs, I didn’t know barn dancing was a contact sport.”
Babs plopped herself down on the hay. “I think I made his night.”
“His year.”
“Isn’t it fun, Viv?”
“It’s different.”
“So what do you think of Kenneth?”
“I think you’re smitten.”
“You don’t like him.”
“I don’t know him. He’s certainly a bit older than the guys you usually date.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, considering they all turned out to be losers. But like you say, the important thing is that you’re happy.”
“Hmm. Am I?”
Vivian nudged her as they looked out onto the floor and watched Stew struggling through a dance. Trying to spin in a Dixie wheel formation, he got flustered and screwed everything up so that his group had to stop dancing. Vivian and Babs started giggling as Babs slipped off her shoes and rubbed her feet.
“Oh Viv, it’s so good to see you out, laughing and enjoying yourself.”
“This really is a hoot.”
“And who knows, maybe you’ll relax, take off your spurs and end up dancing with the man of your dreams.”
“Nah, this cowgirl is out of the saddle.”
The caller hollered out, “Rip cord!” and Stew was flung into a sea of spinning women.
• • •
After several more dances and seconds on the food, Babs and Stew were ready to call it a night but Vivian was still working the room.
“Thanks Carol. I’ll call and we’ll set something up.”
Babs and Stew waved to her as she handed her name and number to another woman. “Here you go, Paula.”
Vivian caught up with them at the front door and then turned back and waved to another. “Love your dress, Betty!”
From the back of the barn, Kenneth signaled Babs to come over. “Let me say goodnight to him one more time.”
She ran back to him as Rudy came up to Vivian.
“Do I get your number too, Fred?”
“Sorry,” she said, smiling. “This is work.”
Stew slipped his arm through Vivian’s as she looked back to the other women. “Bye everyone!” She leaned her head into Stew’s. “Thanks for rescuing me. How’s your foot?”
“Actually feels good.”
“Now where were we?”
“The Tupperware Handolier Cannisters are . . . ”
“One of a kind!”
Stew beamed from ear to ear as they walked out together into the moonlit night.
“I’m shaking like a bowl of Jell-O,” Vivian confessed as she paced Debbie’s kitchen. With Babs working at the dentist’s office Stew helped Vivian set up for the Tupperware party.
“Viv, you’re going to be fine. We’ve rehearsed this inside and out.”
The women waiting for her in the living room burst into laughter, which made Vivian tremble even harder.
Debbie stuck her head into the kitchen. “Ready Viv?”
She adjusted the same green suit she had borrowed from Babs for her first party and then cleared her throat. “As much as I’ll ever be.”
Stew bowed and gestured to the door. “It’s showtime!”
In the center of the living room was a card table covered with a white tablecloth overflowing with Tupperware products. There were more items stacked on the coffee table, end tables and on top of the buffet along the back wall of the room. Six women were squeezed onto the sofa while another fifteen sat in easy chairs, folding chairs and even on pillows thrown onto the floor.
Debbie walked in and to the center of the room. “Girls, it’s time to have some fun.” They all applauded and cheered. “My new friend Vivian has been so kind to come to my home today to share with all of us the wonderful world of Tupperware.” The gals cheered even louder. “So here she is, Vivian Lawson.”
Just about to enter, Vivian spun around and embraced Stew with a huge hug. She picked up a tray of Tupperware, said a prayer and then entered the living room. Not surprisingly, her spontaneous and unexpected display of affection hurled Stew into heaven.
At the beginning of the demonstration, Vivian veered from the suggested way to run the party and decided to pass out a dessert plate to each woman and offered them a choice of cake, pie, tarts or chocolate to make them feel special and welcomed. And it worked. It broke the ice and the women loved it, however it temporarily distracted them from what she was saying.
But once she had their full attention again, something wonderful started to happen. Vivian discovered a quality she never really knew she possessed. She had a self-deprecating sense of humor and it wasn’t an act she was putting on, she was just being herself. And to her delight, the women were responding to it in a very positive way.
“Girls, the truth is, I’m terrible in the kitchen.”
The women laughed at this which momentarily threw her off because she was dead serious.
“I meant it. My husband left me because my cooking was so bad.”
This made them laugh even harder. Vivian trusted her instincts and just went with it.
“Can you imagine if I had Tupperware back then? All those awful meals I threw together, and I mean literally threw them together, would all still be fresh!”
The gals couldn’t keep it together, they found this so amusing.
“But I also keep dry goods in my Tupperware.” Vivian picked up a pitcher. “In these handy Handolier Pour and Store Pitchers with waterproof flip-top spouts, I fill them with cereal, dried pasta, even nuts. I also keep my laundry detergent in them.”
She picked up a round container.
“And these stackables are also great for storing sewing supplies. And don’t forget the men in your lives. Store their hooks and flies for fishing in these or nails, nuts and bolts. Say, do you all want to play another game?”
“Yes!” they all hollered.
“OK, this one is called Musical Tupperware but before we start I want each of you to carefully look underneath your dessert plate, carefully if there’s still a delicious taste treat on them, and tell me if you see anything.”
The ladies held up the plates and looked at their bottoms.
A woman sitting in one of the easy chairs jumped to her feet. “Mine says winner!”
The group cheered as Vivian handed her a small bag. “Then this must be yours.”
Beyond excited, she reached for the bag, pulled out a tissue wrapped item and tore it open. Describing it like it was worth a million dollars she declared, “Look! I won . . . a funnel! Can you believe it? A funnel!”
The girls all laughed hysterically as Vivian smiled with confidence.
• • •
After all the women had left, Stew boxed up the Tupperware as Vivian counted out the money on Debbie’s coffee table.
“One hundred ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight!”
Debbie was amazed. “Oh my Lord!”
“And Debbie,” Vivian added, “you get to keep the Dip and Serve Serving Tray, the Wonderlier Bowls, the Handolier Canisters and the Bye Fly Flyswatter.”