Making Waves (15 page)

“Frances Martha, would you quit trying to help me?” I shouted at her because I was so aggravated. “You like to have made me fall down the steps!”

Frances Martha's big blue eyes filled and she hung her head. That was one way she got on my nerves bad. She was so blame sensitive you couldn't say a thing to her. It use to drive Mama crazy, too. Next thing you know, she'd be squalling.

“Don't you start fussing at me, Sister,” she said, her voice tear-filled. She started calling me Sister when she was too little to say Della. She couldn't talk plain until she was half grown.

“Besides,” she added, “we're right next door to the preacher's house, so you need to keep your voice down.”

She held the door that leads into the beauty shop open for me. I can remember when it was the front bedroom in Essie's house. But that's been a long time ago, before me and Rufus married. The last time I was here myself was before Taylor left for college, before the accident, of course. That June I believe, when Essie did my hair for Buddy Clark's daughter's wedding. I had to serve punch. As I entered the shop, I noticed that everything looked the same. Reckon Donnette can't afford to fix things up.

Donnette was standing over at the sink, washing some hairbrushes or something. When she saw us, she turned the water off and came over to help us.

Donnette's a pretty girl, I always thought so, tall and blonde with big dark eyes. Essie was sure proud of her and bragged on her all the time. I never felt comfortable around Essie or Donnette after the accident, though it wasn't Taylor's fault what happened. I don't believe anybody but them ever thought so.

“Good morning, Miss Della, Miss Frances Martha.” Donnette smiled at us, just as friendly as can be. I felt relieved that she was being friendly and not acting so hurt, like she used to do. Evidently she's gotten over it now, and everything was all right. She hurried to the door, trying to help me, too. I swanny, I do better when people just leave me alone!

“Come on in here, Miss Della,” Donnette said to me as she grabbed my right arm. Frances Martha was still hanging on to the left. “Let's get you shampooed first, okay?”

Donnette was pulling on one side of me and Frances Martha on the other, me hanging on to the walker for dear life. They were trying to pull me to the sink, but Frances Martha tripped over my walker again and I stumbled. Donnette gasped and about broke my arm, she held on to me so tight.

“I swear, Frances, if you trip me one more time I'm going to end up flat on my fanny-butt!” I tried not to raise my voice but couldn't help it. This was really getting on my nerves.

“Don't you worry, Miss Della,” Donnette chimed in sweetly. “I'm not gonna let you fall.”

She continued to pull me to the sink, and I saw her look across me and wink at Frances Martha.

“Let's go ahead and get you shampooed, hear? Is that all right with you, Miss Frances Martha?”

Without waiting for a reply, Donnette pulled the walker away from me, turned me around, and plopped me down in the black plastic chair at the sink. Still moving quickly, she pumped it up with her feet until I was even with the sink. Then she pumped it back down, realizing I was taller than I looked, hunched over that blooming walker.

“Now, then, Miss Della. I'll have you ready in no time,” she said as she began running the water, feeling it with her long, red-tipped fingers for the right temperature.

Frances Martha sat down in a pink chair under a dryer, pushed the dryer out of the way, and sighed, loud. She was acting like she was pure worn out from having to help me into the shop. I saw her cut those big childish eyes over at Donnette, and I knew she was looking for sympathy. She loves sympathy about better than anything.

“Essie, Sister is being
so
aggravating this morning. I declare I don't know what's wrong with her,” she said, looking wide-eyed at Donnette.

“Frances Martha, you hush your mouth,” I said to her, rather sharply. Sometimes you have to be firm with her. “That is
not
Essie, that is her niece Donnette. Essie's been dead for months now and you know it. Don't act crazier than you are.”

Donnette looked at us nervously, like we were going to fight or something. Guess she's too young to know that me and Frances can't help fussing every time we get together. Most folks don't pay us any attention. But I didn't want Donnette to get too nervous, so I smiled up at her as she lowered my head into the sink.

“Don't worry, Donnette. Me and Frances always go on at each other. Don't pay us no mind,” I said.

Donnette smiled but about yanked my head off as she pushed me farther back into the sink and started to shampoo my hair. Now that's another reason why I don't ever go to beauty parlors. The shampoo smelled like rotten apples, and the water was about to blister my scalp, it was so hot. Just pure torture, that's what it was.

“How have you been getting along, Miss Della?” Donnette asked as she began to scrub my scalp as though it were on a washboard. And me so tender-headed I could hardly stand it. “I hear you've not been doing too well lately.”

“No such thing,” I told her rather sharply. Harris was probably telling people stuff like that so he could send me away to a nursing home. “I can't walk real good, but I'm just fine.”

“Don't you listen to her, Essie,” Frances Martha butted in. “She can't get around good enough to take care of herself. I don't know what we're going to do with her.”

“That's not true, not a word of it. I'm fit enough to stand this water burning the devil out of me,” I said.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Miss Della! Why didn't you say so?” Donnette cut the water on ice cold now. I should've kept my mouth shut.

Meanwhile, Frances Martha was about to have a conniption fit.

“Sister, you know that we are right next door to the preacher's house, and you talking ugly like that! I don't know what's got into you, unless you've got that old-timer's disease.”

“There's not a blooming thing wrong with saying something is hot as the devil, Frances,” I reminded her. “Says so in the Bible. And Papa used to say it, so it can't be wrong.”

“No such thing, Sister,” Frances Martha said loudly. Had to be loud for me to hear her over the sound of the water running. “Papa never said any ugly words in his life and you know it! Harris is just like Papa and Harris says it's a sin to talk ugly. Especially next door to the preacher's house. I'm going to tell Harris what you said.”

I couldn't help it, Frances Martha was beginning to make me mad. I had to raise my voice even louder so she could hear me over the water running in my ears.

“Harris is not a thing like Papa and you know it! Papa says that Harris is just like his Uncle Henry, the orneriest Clark who ever lived. You know that's true, Frances—you know it.”

By this time Donnette was through washing my hair and had pulled me up in the chair. Cold water dripped all down my back. Raised up, I could see that Frances Martha was looking all hurt and teary-eyed again. Lord have mercy! I wisht I'd stayed at home.

Donnette began combing through my dripping wet hair, slinging water everywhere. She acted like she was trying to stand right in front of me so I couldn't see Frances.

“How you want your hair fixed, Miss Della?” she asked me.

I was about tempted to tell her to forget it and go on home. Already I felt worn out and the worst was yet to come. However, I couldn't go to Maudie's funeral looking like this.

“Well, just roll it around my face a little, I reckon,” I told her. “I don't want to look tacky. I'd like to look nice at Maudie's funeral.”

“What are you wearing?” Donnette asked me as she continued to sling water every which way, combing my hair.

“My navy blue suit. With a white lace blouse, I guess. And Mama's pearls.”

“Oh, your hair would look so pretty with a toner on it, Miss Della! Silver and navy go so nice together.”

Donnette turned me around to face the mirror while she rolled my hair. I saw her pretty face reflected in the mirror and she looked so young and hopeful. I hated to tell her that I didn't want any of that mess on my hair. Silver and navy, my foot. But I didn't want to hurt her feelings. I noticed that her hands were shaky like she was nervous. I kept forgetting that she just opened the shop up, that she's only a year younger than Taylor. Just a child, really. I was about to tell her to put a toner on just so as not to hurt her feelings. But I remembered that Taylor wouldn't like it a bit.

“Just plain gray will do for me, honey. I've been plain all my life and there's no sense changing now. So fix it nice, okay? For Maudie. Today's
her
day.”

Donnette began to roll pincurls around my face and I relaxed some. I might as well relax and get this over with. I noticed that Frances Martha was nosing around, looking at a sheet of paper lying on the table by the dryer. I too had to be nosy and ask, then wished afterwards that I'd kept my mouth shut.

“What is it that you're looking at, Frances?”

“I don't know. Looks like somebody is drawing something.”

Frances Martha started to put it back down, but Donnette stopped her. She quit rolling my hair and went over to look at the piece of paper on the table.

“Oh, Miss Frances Martha—you've got to see this—it's the cutest thing in the world.”

She held the piece of paper up and looked at it. I couldn't imagine what on earth she could be talking about.

“This is the drawing that my husband Tim made for a sign he's going to make me for my shop. I want you to see it.” She held it and smiled like it was a baby or something. “Isn't it just the cutest thing you've ever seen?”

Frances Martha pushed her glasses up farther on her nose and peered at it real hard. “Well, I'll be. It
is
real pretty. And he's colored it, too. Who did it?”

“Tim, my husband. You know him, Miss Frances Martha. He's going to make me a real nice sign for my shop.”

Donnette leaned over Frances Martha like she was hard of hearing and pointed it out to her. “I'm so proud of it. It was his idea to make it for me.”

You could tell that Frances Martha really liked it because of the pretty colors. From here, I could see that it was real colorful.

“What does the sign say?” Frances asked. I don't know why—she can read as good as a fifth grader. She can really get on your nerves. I just wisht I hadn't said anything about it. I sure didn't want Donnette to start talking about Tim. And I hoped Frances Martha didn't say anything about Taylor being home. It'd embarrass all of us for that to be brought up now.

Donnette pointed to the sign. “It says ‘Making Waves.' That's what I'm naming my shop. And I'm getting him to put my name on it, too, and the hours I'll be open. See—Donnette Sullivan, owner. Ain't that something?”

“How come you naming it Making Waves?” Frances asked. She could be so childlike!

“Well, I don't know. I just liked it. It reminds me of Miss Maudie, in a way. Don't you think it will be nice to have a sign like that hanging out front? Nobody else in town has one anything like it!”

“I sure do think that will be pretty. You say your husband drew it?”

“Yes, ma'am. He's already cut the wood out at the lumberyard where he works. Now he's got to paint it. He's real good at painting. Tim can do anything he sets his mind to do,” she added.

Donnette then remembered me sitting there dripping wet. She came back over and started rolling my hair again. Frances was still staring at that piece of paper with Donnette's sign drawn on it. Making Waves. That did sound real cute, and nobody else in town had a sign for their place.

But then I noticed Frances looking first at the sign and then at Donnette. I could tell by the expression on her face that she was about to ask a stupid question—I could just tell.

“You're married to that Sullivan boy, ain't you?” Frances may be slow, but she can be as cunning as a fox sometimes. I've never seen a slow person who couldn't be. She knew good and well who Donnette was married to! Then Frances began to look at me with a look I knew so good, too. She was putting two and two together. I had to get her talking about something else, or she'd be saying something that she shouldn't, embarrassing us all.

“Mary Frances tells me that you fixed Maudie up for the funeral, Donnette,” I said loudly, before Donnette got a chance to answer Frances. Donnette finished rolling my hair and was now wrapping a hairnet around it.

“Oh, yes, ma'am. I did. I sure didn't want to at first, I'll admit it. But I went over there and fixed her hair and did her makeup. I thought she looked real good when I finished.”

Donnette pulled me up from the chair, and with the help of my walker, got me over to the dryer. After plopping me down in the seat, she stuffed cotton over my ears and turned the dryer on full blast.

“Mary Frances says that she was really pleased with the job you did on Maudie,” I managed to say before the dryer came down over my head and I couldn't hear a thing. I just hoped to goodness that'd be enough to get Frances Martha talking about the funeral. Anything but Tim.