Standing in the Rainbow - Fannie Flagg [112]
“All right, Norma, calm down.”
“I mean it now.”
“I won’t say a word.”
“I am putting your lunch on the table . . . and I am just going to stay in the bedroom if you’re going to make some smart remark.”
“Norma, I won’t say anything, O.K.? Just give me a hint. What did you have done?”
There was a long silence. “We tried something new.”
“And?”
There was a longer silence. “It didn’t work out.”
Macky rolled his eyes. “Oh God.”
“See! There you go. I knew it, just don’t come home if you’re going to have that attitude—”
“I don’t have an attitude. I just said, Oh God, that’s all.”
“Yes . . . but it’s how you said it. I know you’re sitting there rolling your eyes, so if you do come home, I do not want you to even look at my hair.”
“Norma, where am I supposed to look? Your face is attached to your head. Do you want me to talk to your knees?”
“See, there you go again. You just can’t resist trying to be funny. I have had a serious hair mishap and I need your support. I don’t need you to make me feel worse than I do!”
“All right. I’m sorry but at least tell me what you two were trying to do.”
“A body wave.”
“A body wave?”
“Yes, like a permanent only lighter. It was supposed to be a light body wave. . . .”
“What happened?”
“We don’t know, all we know is it wasn’t light.”
“Well, honey, don’t worry about it. It will grow out . . . it did the last time. . . .”
“It doesn’t have to grow out,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because if you must know, if it’s so important to you to know . . . she cut it off.”
“Oh Jesus.”
“See! I can’t tell you a thing without you having a negative attitude—you ask me to tell you, then you say something smart.”
“O.K., O.K. . . . I’m sorry. But anyway, I’ll bet it looks great.” He held off. “How short is it?”
There was no answer on the other end.
“It can’t be all that short, can it?”
“It’s short.”
“How short?”
“It’s an Italian boy cut.”
“What?”
“It’s called an Italian boy cut.”
“Oh Jesus . . .”
“That’s it! Get your own lunch. I’m going to the motel.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Norma, you’re not going to any motel. I’ll be home in a little while.”
Macky had been home for ten minutes but Norma would not come out of the bedroom. Finally, after much coaxing, she stood in the doorway. He looked at her but did not react.
“Well, don’t you have anything to say? I know you’re just dying to say something—get it over with, just go ahead.”
“Well . . . it’s short all right.”
Norma burst into tears. “I’m ruined . . . I look awful . . . it’s horrible . . . I just want to die. I was supposed to look like Audrey Hepburn. . . . It looked cute in the picture.”
“Oh, honey, honey, stop it. It looks cute.”
“No, it doesn’t. You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“No, I’m not. . . . It’s cute. Really.”
Later that night, just before Norma was about to fall asleep, Macky turned over and said, “Honey, I just wanted you to know one thing. . . .”
“What?”
“You are the sexiest Italian boy I ever slept with.”
There was a pause. Then Norma patted his hand. “Muchos gracias, senor.”
Miss Henderson
BOBBY HAD FINISHED his high school equivalency test in the army and he had been home about four months when he finally decided that he would go to college after all and try to get a degree in something. In what he did not know. At one time Doc had hoped he would follow in his footsteps and become a pharmacist but, considering how bad Bobby was at math and chemistry, that was obviously out. He guessed maybe he would take business administration but he still was not sure about it. A week before he was to leave he was out on the porch thinking about it when he looked up and saw old Miss Henderson, his sixth-grade teacher, home from her summer vacation, slowly coming up the front steps of the house. “Hello, Robert,” she said, a little winded. “Your mother told me you were home.”
He jumped up, surprisingly happy to see her. “Hello, Miss Henderson, how are you?” he said and pulled out a chair for her to sit down.
“Just fine,