Making Waves (21 page)

On impulse, I turned the car down the road that leads to the river. I thought I'd just ride by the river for a minute; I hadn't been since Hamilton and I married. It was almost noon now, so I didn't expect to see anybody much. I sure didn't expect what I saw!

Actually, this time of the year is not one of my favorites at the river. It's not fall yet and summer is dying out. Not real pretty. I rode slowly along the road that runs next to the river, looking for any sign of the leaves turning, some signal that my favorite season might be coming on early this year. I was right, nobody much out this early. There were some fishermen on the river in their boats, and a few women and little children picnicking on the picnic tables under the oak trees along the riverbanks. One little kid was at the river's edge, poking a little plastic boat with a long stick.

I was about to turn the car around and head back when I saw a couple off to themselves, sitting on a big beach towel. They were on the sandy riverbank where it widened before a bend, sort of a private little cove. You couldn't have seen them if you hadn't been looking just right.

At first I glanced at them and didn't pay them no mind. Then I looked back again, startled. Speak of the devil—it was Taylor Dupree and some woman! Who on earth was he with, out here midmorning? Guess I'd better pull over and get a better look, I thought, because from where I was, I couldn't see them all that plain. I stopped the car and stuck my head out the window. They were almost hidden from my view because of the steepness of the riverbank at that particular place.

I must say that I couldn't blame them for wanting to hide from sight. From here I could see that they were sunbathing and that he was rubbing suntan lotion on her, very slowly and suggestively. She had on a skimpy black bikini and he had on swim trunks, like they'd been swimming already. She had her head back and was laughing like he was tickling her. Probably someone as common as Taylor is. No matter if his mama is Hamilton's aunt and a true-blooded Clark, everybody knows his daddy was a Cajun. They got colored people's blood. I was dying to know who he was with, so I fished around in my purse until I found my glasses and then stuck my head back out the window.

Lord have mercy! I had
never
in my life—I could not believe my eyes! That woman was none other than Miss Maudie Ferguson's niece—that college professor! I had met her at the funeral home the other night, actually shook hands with her. And I remembered that Miss Opal introduced her to me as Sarah somebody, saying that she was an old friend of Hamilton's Aunt Charlotte. Good heavens! That'd have to mean that she was probably old enough to be Taylor's mother. If that didn't beat all!

I have never met Hamilton's Aunt Charlotte, but she'd have to be in her forties to have a son Taylor's age. This Sarah woman didn't look that old. She was really a good-looking woman. I recalled Hamilton carrying on about her at the funeral home, whispering lewd remarks to me about what he'd learn with her as his professor and stuff like that. From where I was, she looked skinny as a fashion model in that black bikini, and usually Hamilton prefers women with more meat on their bones. But I'd better be careful. I've heard about women like her, who go for younger men. She might go after Hamilton. He's certainly much better looking than that long-haired, half-colored cousin of his.

Now Taylor turned around and she was rubbing lotion on his back, though he's so dark, looked like he wouldn't need it. He sure acted like he was enjoying it. I could tell from here that his eyes were closed and he was smiling. Looked like he was purring like a kitten. That woman leaned over his shoulder and whispered something in his ear and they both laughed like everything. Well. I could just imagine what she must have said to him!

I'll be—right out of the clear blue Taylor opened up his eyes and looked right at me. I was so surprised that for a minute I just stared back at him. He said something to the woman and she turned to look up at me too, shielding her eyes with her hand. I rolled the car window up quickly and turned the car around fast as I could. I hoped to goodness Taylor didn't recognize me with my glasses on. I sure wouldn't want him to think I cared enough about his carrying-on to be spying on him!

Once I left the main river road I just kind of drove around, sorting all this out. There were plenty of country roads all around the river, and I followed one until I came to a deserted spot. I parked the car and sat a minute to think. Right now the only thing I could think of doing was going back to Donnette's and telling her what I'd seen. I knew that Donnette was more knowledgeable about these things than me. Not that she was fast or anything; she just got around a lot more than I ever did at her age. I bet that she wouldn't be nearly as shocked by this as me. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that's what I should do. I could go tell Daddy Clark or Miss Opal, but something told me not to. Not just yet. I cranked up the car and started back into town to her place. Making Waves, that's what she was going to name her shop. In spite of being so shocked, I giggled. I bet that Taylor and Sarah what's-her-name were making a few waves right about now!

As I drove back into town, I thought about how strange it was that I've gotten to depend on Donnette so much lately. Ever since our friendship started, I have come to rely on her. I really owe her so much. Without her, I could not have changed my life the way I did.

About a year ago, I quit my secretarial job at the First Baptist Church to go off to business college. I don't know exactly what made me up and do it like that. Come to think of it, I'd always been pretty much like Glenda—just a good obedient girl who never gave anyone a minute's trouble.

Mind you, I was not like Glenda except on the surface. I was really bored and unhappy underneath, and I wanted something more out of life than the backwoods and the Freewill Baptist Church. I courted a couple of boys from my church, but never anything serious.

Then I turned thirty years old and realized my life would stay just the same if I didn't do something about it, and do it fast. But even at that, I moped around miserable for a couple of years before I set my mind to exactly what it was that I wanted in life. That's where Donnette came in.

It all started with my hair. Daddy has always said that the Bible says a woman's hair is her crowning glory, and it should never be cut. Mama can sit on hers. Mine has always been fine and stringy and broke off at the ends. But it was never cut; instead I wore braids or a bun as I got older. The kids in school used to make fun of me looking so old-timey, but I couldn't bring myself to go against my raising.

When I went off to business college in Columbus, I realized that I looked like a hick. The next thing I did was to go to Donnette Sullivan's trailer and get her to cut my hair. I knew her, not real well, but like everyone in town, I knew their situation with Tim's accident. So I wanted to give her my business. At first I couldn't bring myself to get it cut enough for Daddy to notice. I had it cut just to my shoulders, and I still wore it pinned up. Donnette showed me how to make a French twist and Daddy never even noticed. After that, I got my nerve to go to Kmart's and get me some more stylish clothes. A couple of the young men at the business school began to notice me and asked me out occasionally.

To this day, I don't know exactly what it was that made me confide in Donnette. All I know is, I went to get my hair trimmed; there was no one in her shop but me and her, and the time just seemed right. It was late spring, already hot so the window unit was going, which made it cozy with just me and Donnette talking.

Although it was a beautiful sunny day, and things were looking up for me, I was still down in the mouth and unhappy with my life. So for some unknown reason, I just up and told Donnette that.

“Then change it. If you don't like your life, change it,” Donnette said to me, not missing a beat as she snipped away on my hair.

“If only I could!” I'd replied, sorry that I said anything. I'd been taught that self-pity was a sin.

“If
you
can't change
your
life, then who can?” Donnette kept right on cutting away without looking at me.

“Oh, Donnette. You just don't know. I'm an old maid. I ain't never had anything exciting happen to me in my whole life, lest you count when the preacher slipped down in the creek at my baptism.”

We both giggled. I didn't tell Donnette I'd never had any girlfriends to giggle with before. Daddy wouldn't have put up with such.

“Come on, Ellis,” Donnette said to me. “You can do
anything
you want in life if you set yourself some goals.”

“That sounds good, Donnette. But I guess I don't really believe it. I'd have to have some kind of evidence.”

She laughed at me then. “Okay. I can provide that. You're looking at your evidence.”

“What on earth do you mean?” She had my curiosity roused now.

“Well, I'll tell you something, if you promise not to tell. A few years ago, I set myself some goals and decided nothing on earth could keep me from getting what I wanted. And nothing has.”

This time she did stop and look right at me.

“What was it that you wanted?” I asked.

“Tim Sullivan.” She let that sink in a minute. “Need I say more?”

When I considered all they'd been through, I was sold. Donnette didn't say anything else about that then. Instead she asked me some business-type questions about the shop, since she was fixing to buy her Aunt Essie's place in town when Essie retired. I gave her some good advice, too, and I could tell she was grateful. People admire my good business sense.

It wasn't but a few days later, however, that Donnette asked me a question that really started me thinking. And it was this soul-searching that eventually led me to change my life completely.

She had talked me into getting a manicure that warm spring afternoon, and we were sitting there talking as Donnette worked on my nails. They were in bad shape from all the filing and typing I had to do in business school. I didn't want any colored polish on them, just some clear shine. Daddy would have a bigger fit if I came home with nail polish on than if I got my hair cut any shorter.

“Ellis,” Donnette asked me as she filed away on my nails, “who do you admire more than anybody you know?”

I admit, I had again been feeling sorry for myself, talking about how uneventful my life was. I was surprised at Donnette's question at first, but I didn't have to think long about it, not the way I was raised.

“Why, Jesus Christ, of course,” I said to her.

Donnette laughed. “You sound like a Miss America contestant. Come on.”

I felt sort of insulted. “I'm serious. Jesus Christ.”

“A living person, Ellis. Think of it this way—who would you most like to be?”

The answer came suddenly as I looked into Donnette's artfully made-up dark eyes, and her long, sun-streaked hair, curling so perfectly around her pretty face.

“Well. I reckon that would be you, Donnette.”

This time Donnette threw back her head and laughed, but I could tell she was flattered.

“There ain't nothing to admire about me! Come on, let's get you shampooed now. Your nails look so nice we might as well do your hair, too.”

It was under the dryer that I realized I really hadn't been truthful with Donnette. Oh, sure, I admired her looks all right. And she was married to Tim Sullivan, who in spite of that accident still looked so good any girl would be glad to get him. And I knew from the way she talked about him that she loved him more than anything on this earth. No, it wasn't that. It was that Donnette and Tim, in spite of having such good looks and each other to boot, were just too poor for me.
That
I didn't admire one little bit. We had always been dirt-poor, so poor we couldn't even buy regular groceries; Mama and Daddy had to raise vegetables and chickens and hogs so that we would have enough to eat.

I knew then who I admired more than anybody: I admired the Clarks. Come to think of it, I admired Miss Opal Clark most. I had seen her many times around town, and of course people talked all the time about the Clarks, so I knew that she had come from a poor family like me. But she had set her cap for Harris Clark Jr., and look where she was now. She had been a widow for over twenty years, but she stayed right there with the Clarks and became one of them. I admired that a lot, too. So. If only I could look like Donnette, have a husband like Tim, and be in Miss Opal Clark's position in town. My goals! I decided as soon as my hair dried I'd hit Donnette with them—see if she thought goals were all you had to have in order to succeed. Ha! She'd faint dead away.

Donnette didn't faint dead away at all—she didn't even laugh. As a matter of fact, she took me very seriously. She listened to me carefully, and nodded when I told her what I'd decided under the dryer. All she said was, “Let me think on that some, okay?” I never dreamed she'd find the perfect answer for me!

Later that same night, I lay in my bed in Mama and Daddy's house and thought about my life. I had made the first step by going away to college, I knew that, but I also knew that it was not enough. I felt almost panicked when I thought about being over thirty years old, and time slipping away from me. The years had started to roll by, one right after the other, and they were all the same. I took deep breaths in order to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest. I had to get away from this. I had to change.