Big Cherry Holler - Adriana Trigiani [121]
“Etta’s got so much more going for her than Misty. What did Misty say about sex?”
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
Jack nods and pours our coffee. He sits down and slices the pie with his fork.
“Well, what exactly did she say?”
Jack does his best to do an impression of Misty giving the girls the goods. “ ‘Now, first, there’s a man. And the man has a different part from the woman.’ ”
“Oh God.” I don’t want to hear this, but I indicate to Jack that he should continue.
“ ‘And the man takes his part and lets the woman know he has one. Then, she decides if she wants his part or not. Now, if she does, it’s called sex. If she doesn’t want no part of it, she’s a virgin.’ ”
“This is horrible.”
“I thought it was funny.”
“Did Etta tell you this?”
“I overheard them when they were waiting for their cotton candy. The line was long.”
Jack says this so matter-of-factly, but for me, this is a major turning point in Etta’s development. Why is it that my husband was with her when she heard the facts of life the first time and I’m off in a tent getting my cards read? This is not how I planned this! “I am going to talk to Tayloe.”
“What for?”
“She needs to tell her daughter not to be scaring the kids.”
“Etta’s not scared.”
“What do you mean she’s not scared? Who isn’t scared of sex—” I stop myself. Jack looks at me. I open my mouth wide and yet no words come out. Jack knows all about my repression, which I thought was long-gone and buried, but thanks to Misty’s sex talk, those feelings of separation and alienation just went from a trickle to a roaring river within me. Once the town spinster, always the town spinster. “No wonder.” I cut another piece of pie.
“No wonder what?”
“She doesn’t come to me to tell me about it. She can tell I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You got that right.” My husband looks at me and smiles.
“That’s awful.”
“Well, fix it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Talk to her.” Jack shrugs as if it’s as simple as teaching her to drive.
I take a long sip of the hot coffee (Jack always puts in just the right amount of cream). Then I slip off my loafers and put my feet in my husband’s lap. How I wish Etta could stay a girl forever.
——
We’re having a sidewalk sale at the Mutual Pharmacy. It isn’t a big deal, just a couple of folding tables borrowed from the First Baptist Church and loaded with stuff that hasn’t sold—pale orange lipstick, strawberry hand cream, and shoeboxes filled with greeting cards, neatly arranged by holiday. We start the sale with everything 50 percent off, but by Friday, we’ll be giving the stuff away. Folks know this, so they wait a few days, linger after lunch in the soda fountain, and then hit Fleeta up for a freebie. Fleeta, in her smock and tight black leggings, leans against the building to light a cigarette. Once it’s lit, she stands up straight and lightly touches her blue-black upsweep (she’s tried the new Loving Care line that just came in) to make sure it’s in place. I wave to her and pull into my parking spot.
“Pearl’s pregnant,” Fleeta barks.
Before I can ask her to repeat the news, Pearl comes out to the sidewalk.
“Fleeta!”
“I know it’s supposed to be a secret, but you know I can’t keep one. You shouldn’t never have told me,” Fleeta says to Pearl as she takes a long drag off her cigarette. “Besides, when you upchuck three times in one morning, I ain’t gonna be the only one ’round here that’s suspicious.”
“Is it true?” I ask Pearl, whose smile tells me it is. “How’s your husband?”
“Thrilled.”
I give Pearl a hug. “How far along are you?”
“Sixteen weeks.”
“My God.”
“I know. I just didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”
“Sixteen weeks is knowing for sure.”
I watch Pearl walk back to the soda fountain, and now I can see the pregnancy. Her waist is beginning to fill out;