Big Cherry Holler - Adriana Trigiani [29]
“I’m painting, Mama!” Etta says proudly.
“I can see that,” I tell my daughter, who haphazardly streaks paint down the wood.
“Don’t worry, Ave. It’s just the base coat,” Otto says under his breath.
“Try not to get any paint on Fleeta’s smock.”
“She can ruin it for all I care,” Fleeta says as she stacks boxes of Christmas tree lights onto the shelf.
I watch my husband as he stands on a ladder, maneuvering a ceiling tile into place. I consider what I told Pearl about spending fifteen years in this town without a boyfriend. Suddenly, I am not in the present—I am the woman I was ten years ago, when I worked in this Pharmacy and it was my life. My husband swivels on the ladder. I don’t think any man could look better in a pair of old overalls and a bandanna. We’re so different; he’s talented with his hands, and the last book he read was Moby-Dick in the eleventh grade. I can’t hammer a nail, and I wait for the Bookmobile every Saturday. I must be attracted to what I don’t have, but I wonder what I fill up in him. He catches me looking at him and smiles. “What are you looking at?”
“You,” I tell him.
“Jack, you gots a call.”
My husband and I are really looking at each other in a way we haven’t in a very long time, and I don’t want this moment to end.
“She says it’s important,” Fleeta says impatiently.
“Who is it?” I ask. My tone of voice causes every man in the room to look at me.
“Karen. Karen somebody,” Fleeta barks.
“I’ll be right there,” Jack says, and steps off the ladder. He touches my arm as he passes; I’m going to take that as a sign of reassurance for now. I look over at Rick, who studies the trim of the counter a little too intently.
“Who’s Karen?” I ask him. Without looking up, he shrugs.
Mousey interjects. “She manages the lumber store up in Coeburn. We git our lumber there.”
I’m so glad I asked.
“Hel-looo?” Iva Lou calls out from the front of the Pharmacy.
“We’re back here,” I holler.
“Well, lookee here. This is gonna be some soda fountain.” Iva Lou inspects the job. “All we need is Lana Turner on the stool and we’re in business.”
“Who’s Lana Turner?” Etta asks.
“She was a sweater girl in the movies when I was a boy,” Otto tells her.
“A sweater girl?”
“Yeah, she made me sweat.” Otto laughs.
“Mr. Honeycutt shows her movies sometimes. I just haven’t taken you to any of them yet,” I tell my daughter.
“I got tickets over to the Barter The-A-ter in Abingdon for tomorrow’s matinee,” Iva Lou tells me.
“What are you seeing?”
“Fiddler on the Roof. Remember that Womack girl who used to understudy June in the Drama? Well, she’s playin’ one of the sisters. I put a group together. I was hoping I could take Etta.”
“I want to go to the show!” Etta says. She puts down her paintbrush and shoves her bangs out of her eyes.
“Okay, honey.”
“I’m gonna be all alone this weekend without my women,” Jack Mac says from behind me.
“Really? You throwing me out?” I tease.
“Kind of.” Jack kisses me on the forehead and pulls a ticket from his pocket. UNIVERSITY OF TENNESSEE VS. ALABAMA, it says in orange letters.
“What’s this?”
“You’re going to Knoxville to see Theodore.”
“You’re kidding.” I’m thrilled. Utterly surprised and a little confused, but thrilled at the prospect of a weekend without chores and errands and worries. I have the most thoughtful husband in the world.
“Go on home and pack. Your bus leaves in an hour.”
“Etta, you’ll be all right?”
“Mama. Go,” she says, and rolls her eyes.
“Okay. Great. I’m leaving.” I kiss Etta and then my husband.
“I’ll follow you home and give you a lift back down to town,” Iva Lou says as I head for the door.
Once I’m home, I throw together a duffel bag of clothes, feed the cat, and turn up the heat so it’ll be warm when Jack and Etta come home later.
“You need to git away,” Iva Lou tells me as we descend the mountain into the Gap.
“I do?”
“Honey, you’re worn to a nub. We’ve all noticed it.”
“I thought I