“ALL I’M SAYING is that I’m busy. I would’ve appreciated someone telling me Kevin had a girlfriend and a car.” Kay sat at the kitchen counter, watching Vera finesse a waffle off the hot griddle iron. Over the last few days, the women had been leaving terse messages for each other until Vera wrote a note spattered with exclamation points. “We’ll talk!! Friday Morn!!! Get Up. I’ll cook!!”
“I thought it was something Kevin should tell you himself.” Vera pulled a warm plate from the oven and plopped the waffle on it. “Several times, I asked him to call you, but you were at work.”
Vera slid the plate in front of Aunt Ula, who sat beside Kay, holding a bottle of syrup. “It’s a good thing you gave your heart to God because you’ve sold your butt to Tulio’s.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kay said.
“It means even with work, you’re just as responsible for keeping up with your kid’s love life as we are for telling you.” She used both hands to squeeze Mrs. Butterworth, gushing amber syrup over her waffle. “And the world doesn’t circle around you. It’s all about me.”
“For your information, Kevin and I finally talked last night.” Kay stared at the steam rising from another waffle cooking in the iron. “He sounded happy.”
“We’re all happy.” Aunt Ula slapped a knife piled with honey-butter onto her breakfast. “If you’d hang around, you’d hear us bust into song and do a little jig. We’re all one big, happy crew.”
Kay looked at the old woman, cocking one eyebrow higher than the other.
Aunt Ula bugged her eyes. “You wanna know what’s stuck in my gills? We’ve all been waiting for your day off. We were gonna inspect the float together. Talk. Have lunch. The kids were coming over to cook a meal this evening and surprise you. But nooooooooo. You decided to work instead.”
Vera placed a warm waffle in front of Kay and tugged Mrs. Butterworth from the old woman’s hands. “I don’t know why you don’t have diabetes. Kay needs to use her free time for job hunting, not entertaining you.”
“Don’t start on me—either of you! I thought Ace was going to fire me on the spot. I had to help out. I’m only working a few hours.” Kay scooted a bowl of sliced strawberries toward Aunt Ula. “Here. We’ll inspect the float. I’ll work. When I get off this afternoon, we’ll go to a movie and I can sleep through it. The boys can still come this evening. I’ll act surprised. I promise.”
Aunt Ula nodded, ladling berries onto her waffle. Vera gave her batter a quick stir, and whacked the wooden spoon against the side of the bowl harder than necessary. “Maybe it would be good if he did fire you. Did you call that man back about designing his book cover?”
“Ohhhhh!” Kay closed her eyes. “I forgot. I haven’t messed with my graphics programs since I was let go.”
“Turn on your computer. Check your email or your kid’s Facebook page. You’d see he’s in a relationship.” Aunt Ula cut her waffle into tiny squares. “I like Jules, though I told Kevin to date around. You can see her photo. All that technology is wasted on you young people.”
“I promised the gentleman you’d call and discuss his book cover. Please do so,” Vera’s said.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Kay kept her eyes on her plate as she slathered peanut butter into waffle indentations, mashing, stabbing, and tearing the pastry.
“Will you be keeping your word about inspecting the parade float?” Batter hissed and dripped from the edges of the iron as Vera closed it.
“I just said I would.”
“We’re behind schedule. Maybe you can find a solution for—leave some berries for the rest of us.” Vera crossed the kitchen and snatched the bowl from Aunt Ula.
“It’d be easier to drive a submarine to Texas than herd that float.” Aunt Ula picked up her utensils and ate European style, keeping the knife in her left hand and the fork, tines-down, in her right.
“What’s wrong with it?” Kay asked.
“Don’t tell her.” Aunt Ula pointed her fork at Vera, a hunk of waffle impaled on the tines. “I wanna watch her face when she sees it.”
*
“There’s been some modification since I saw the plans.” Kay stared at a 30-foot-long platform which looked like a paint palette had puked on an egg carton. “What are those?” She pointed at seven green humps rising from the flatbed.
It took Vera a moment to answer. “It’s like the old joke: a committee tried to design a horse, and the camel is what they ended up with. Once we started, every church had some suggestions. This,” Vera fanned a hand, “is the product of negotiation and horse-trading.”
A few other volunteers had arrived. Kay waved to Walt, who was opening the doors so the float could be driven out of the large warehouse into the parking lot.
“There’s where I’ll sit my dungbie.” Aunt Ula pointed with one hand and patted her bottom with the other. “I’ve been stuffing my mound with purple.”
“And Lorena has been unstuffing it, replacing it with green tissues so it won’t look so…gaudy.” Vera scanned the float from end to end. “It’s quite the monstrosity, isn’t it?”
Kay smiled at her for the first time that day. “Why’s it humpy?”
“Do you have a psychology degree?” Walt asked as he walked up. “You’ll need one to understand the caterwaulin’ over this float. Lookit the driver’s seat.” Walt held up the chicken wire skirting already stuffed with yellow papier mâché. Beneath the platform, the tiny cockpit had room for only a steering wheel and seat; the driver’s head and partial torso stuck through the topside of the platform. “Some bean brain thought it would look stupid to have half a body poking out of the float, so they covered him with a mound. This is Willie, our official driver.” Walt slapped the shoulder of the small mousy-looking man who’d joined them. “Since he can’t see out, me and a walkie-talkie are his eyes through the black in front of him.” The red-cheeked driver offered a shy smile as he nodded a hello.
“Why’re all the other humps there? What happened to Lorena’s design?” Kay asked.
Willie gave another shy nod. “There was lots of arguing. I tried to make everybody happy. The folks standing on the float liked the idea of having something to grab onto or a place to sit. They demanded more mounds, so I built them.”
“Looks like a cow lot of melted gumballs, eh?” Aunt Ula elbowed Kay’s ribs.
“I bet Lorena is having a fit.” Kay stood on tiptoes, eyeing the top of the float. “Why is it…uh…multi-hued?
“The homecoming colors were sold out.” Walt waved the detail away. “So everybody raided their Sunday school rooms and we’re using what they could find. Now, stand back. We’re gonna fire her up.” He left to shoo away women who were stuffing pink paper into one of the mounds. Willie disappeared under the skirting.
“Are you telling me there’s no black or orange tissue paper in this county?” Kay frowned as Vera herded out the double doors. “Why hasn’t anyone gone to Tulsa or Oklahoma City?”
Vera didn’t answer. They stepped into a clear, sunny day. A cool breeze made them turn up the collars of their coats. Behind them, the Jeep engine revved beneath the platform. Fallen leaves had time to bounce across the pavement and sneak into the building as the float slowly inched outside.
Walt stood twenty feet away, yelling, “Bum knee. Bum knee,” into a walkie-talkie.
“Doesn’t navigation take several people? Should I take Lorena’s place for now?” Kay asked.
Vera wrapped a long woolen scarf around her head, its ends flapping in the breeze. “She’s no longer participating. Things have changed since you were last involved. Just watch.”
When the platform and people cleared the wide doors, several volunteers closed them. Aunt Ula and a group of paper stuffers had followed the float outside, watching it wander a snaky path across the large parking lot. When it got to the end, Walt yelled, “Wedding ring. Wedding ring.” The float jutted left, hit a traffic cone, then tacked right and jumped the curb into the grass. A section of the chicken wire skirting fell off. “Back up. Back up!” Walt yelled into the radio. It took two attempts to rock the float over the curb and onto the asphalt again.
“That does it. I’m not goin’ down with that ship.” Aunt Ula stabbed her finger at the mutant fabrication. “We’d be pitchpoled to the Gulf. I quit. I’m going inside where there’s donuts. I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid.”
Vera sighed. “And that’s the problem. We don’t think it can travel down the street without maiming a few hundred people. Walt tried to drive, but he’s too big to fit the cage underneath. No one else wanted to shoulder the liability, and Willie really wants to do it. It’s his creation. He did all of the construction, and he’s been generous to let us use his warehouse.”
The float motored backwards, bouncing into the curb, even though Walt was yelling, “Bum knee. Just a half turn!!”
“Willie’s a sweet, quiet widower.” Vera stuck her hands in her coat pocket. “The problem is he gets flustered easily. He panics and forgets his right from his left. And Lorena didn’t improve the situation. I could’ve throttled her.” Walt continued yelling into the talkie, trying to get the wheels straightened out.
“She tried to help by coloring the back of Willie’s hands with markers,” Vera continued. “Red for right. Lilac for left. It was really purple, but it didn’t matter. He hit a tree even with all the volunteers shouting ‘Turn ‘red!’ He was very embarrassed, but it’s not his fault. It’s too dark under there for him to see his hands, and too many navigators were yelling at him. Lorena told him she was going to whack off his left earlobe, so when she yelled “Pain,” he’d immediately know which way to turn. Most people don’t get her sense of humor. When they banned her from speaking on the radio, she quit.”
Kay shivered, pulling her collar closer around her neck. “Wow. Good times, huh? So I take it ‘wedding band’ means left and what’s the other?”
“Bum knee for turn right. It seems to be two directions he doesn’t even have to think about.”
At that moment, Walt was screaming into the radio, “Stop! Stop. You’ve already killed two pylons.” The ladies watched him pull a squashed orange cone from behind a tire. Most of the spectators went inside. A few got in their cars and left.
“It’s an easy fix. Why hasn’t anyone done it?” Kay asked. Vera didn’t answer. Kay glanced at the older woman, who was staring at the yellow leaves cartwheeling from near-by elms, a tear streaking her cheek.
“It’s cold out here. Let’s get in my Emotionmobile.” Kay ushered Vera toward her Mazda. She unlocked the door, holding it open against the breeze. “There are Dari-Drive napkins in the glove box. I’ll be right back.” She slammed the door and ran across the parking lot to the float.
During a short but lively conference, in which Kay and Walt climbed on top of the platform, her arms flailed the air while Walt nodded, his hands resting on his hips. Kay reached down and yanked on a chicken wire mound. She stumbled backwards as a piece tore loose, Walt catching her before she went over the side. She gained her footing, yelling into the newly-formed hole in the mound and shaking the piece of chicken wire. Then she gave it a hard fling. The red-papered section arced through the air and snagged on the bordering chain link fence. She climbed down. Several minutes later, a cool gust poured into the car as she slid behind the steering wheel. “Now…what’s going on with you?” she asked Vera, who stared at the floor, holding a wadded ball of tissues.
“I’m okay. It was just the wind chill.”
“Yeah. That and your house. Taking care of Aunt Ula. Me. My kids. Church stuff…”
Vera let out a sob at Kay’s last two words. She crammed the napkin into her face, shaking her head, her eyes squinched. “I miss him. I miss him so much.”
Kay felt a strange familiarity wash over her. It filled the air, speaking in volumes without saying any words. Her old friend, heartache. A hollow understanding that fit like a worn shoe. She let out a sigh. After weeks of chaos, at last, here was a feeling that didn’t frighten her. She pulled the lacy red handkerchief from her purse and held it out.
“It’s too pretty.” Tears streamed from Vera’s eyes.
“It’s caught a lot of my hurt. For women like us, there should be some luxury to crying.” She jiggled the hankie until Vera took it. They sat in silence watching Walt. Like a lumberjack working on a stump, over and over, he ripped at the mound on the float, tossing pieces of chicken wire into the parking lot. When it was gone, Willie stuck his head out the hole, blinking in the sunshine. Walt climbed down to the asphalt, walked ten feet ahead, beckoning with his hand. The float followed like a puppy.
Vera stared out the windshield, not seeing the big monstrosity motor along. “It happened so fast,” she said. “Jim got out of bed, collapsed, and was gone. We never even had a chance to say good-bye. I don’t know how to be single. We got married when I was nineteen.” The float turned a corner without running over the pylons. People came out of the warehouse to watch.
“It’s been a year. I should be better, but I’m worse.” Vera refolded the hankie to expose a dry side. “People told me to give away his things. Take off my wedding ring. But I can’t. The tornado ripped it all away before I was ready. All I have left of my husband…my best friend…is this.” She held up her hand, thumbing the thin gold band on her finger. “All our photos and keepsakes are g—” Her voice squelched off as she tried to choke away another crying jag.
“You’re safe here. Let it go.” Kay bit her lip. She’d been such a self-focused fool. She flipped down the visor, hoping to shield them from more volunteers who’d come out of the building to watch the float track around the parking lot. Too bad it didn’t cover her guilt for griping about her problems and ignoring this old woman with real heartache.
“I still sleep on my half of the bed. Isn’t that pathetic?” Vera dabbed her eyes.
“Me, too.” Kay smeared away a tear escaping from her own eye. “And I’ve been divorced five years. It hurts. It’s lonely.”
“Six o’clock is the hardest. I always had dinner on the table by then. We’d talk before he went out again. Many of his meetings took place after people got off work. He was gone most evenings, and yet it’s my loneliest time now. I know I’ve been dragging my feet, re-building, moving out of your house. I’m sorry. Without your boys dropping by or Aunt Ula, I’d be…” Vera’s bottom lip trembled. “The silence is terrifying.”
Kay leaned over the center console, putting an arm around the white-haired woman, pulling her into a hug. They sat, wiping away tears, letting the world turn without them for a while.
At last Vera seemed to notice the float. “That was a good idea,” she sniffed.
“I asked myself what you’d do. Then did it. I went back to Lorena’s design. They’ll build Old Central over Willie. He can drive looking out the windows of the mock building. Whoever was sitting in the middle can have Aunt Ula’s mound. She quit. I’m surprised you didn’t take control. Even Walt knew what had to be done. He only needed permission to do it.”
Vera shook her head. “I’m just going through the motions; I don’t care anymore. I’m so tired. Sometimes, I feel frightened and don’t know why. I think a part of me died, with Jim. There are moments, I wonder if there’s a reason to go on.”
“Are you talking to someone about it?”
Vera looked away. “I think I’m going crazy. At times I can barely attend church because I get so emotional. I can’t be around people very much.”
“After my divorce, my counselor told me: ‘Only grieving can heal grief.’” Kay watched a red leaf loop back and forth in its descent. “Big whoop. Deep down, I knew I’d survive just like you know you’re going to make it through the knothole. The question is: when? How long will the pain last?”
“I’m so sick of people asking, ‘How are you doing?’”
“Tell them the gritty truth. They know you’re not fine when they ask. Lay it out there.”
“That’s so like you.”
“Folks who really care want to help. I kept a journal. I wrote nasty letters to God, my ex, and anyone who ticked me off.” Kay’s eyes slid sideways to check Vera’s reaction. “I didn’t send them, but I got it off my soul.”
They were quiet for a while, watching Willie practice emergency stops.
“Have you written any letters lately?” Vera said quietly, eyeing the section of chicken wire dangling from the fence, its red papers fluttering in the breeze. “You seem angry.”
“I haven’t talked to God in a while. Not since He stopped answering His email.”
“You should start. And soon, dear.” Vera patted Kay’s hand and gave her a painful smile. “You’re going to hear about that float. You just destroyed two weeks of back and forth bargaining.”
“People are idiots. It doesn’t matter if it’s a church, an office, or the soccer club; everyone’s got a bone to pick. Yesterday, I protected a waitress from beer-guzzling pinheads. Now she’s furious with me. Why bother?”
“I understand completely. Who needs the grief?” Vera nodded. A few people had climbed onto the float, sitting in the humps. “Aunt Ula and I will be out of your hair soon, I promise. That’ll be one less hassle for you. Lazlo has provided a set of house plans. Walt looked them over. Said they were fine. I haven’t had the courage to write a check for the plans and clear what’s left of our house away yet.”
“Then Lazlo will be around more?” Kay asked.
“Yes, unless Aunt Ula has her way.” They watched Willie make slow stops and smooth starts without bucking off the volunteers. Vera’s voice notched up an octave, with false happiness. “We’re getting on with our lives. That means only two things remain for you to do.”
Kay squinted a “what’s-that” look.
“Call the man about the book cover. And because you just usurped Selana Sorder. you need to get in front of this and tell her before she hears it from volunteers.”
The wind sucked up a vortex of leaves, circling, sliding to and fro, and skittering them along the asphalt. Kay’s stomach felt the same way. She wasn’t sure if it was because of Lazlo or Selana.
Across the parking lot, Walt pointed toward the warehouse. Volunteers smiled, pushing the doors open. Willie, his head and torso sticking through the platform, whooped as he drove toward the final staging area. With a grin, he shook his fist over his head, his wedding band momentarily glinting in the sunlight.