Big Stone Gap Part 15

"So, yes, you'll marry me?"

I shake my head slowly. I cannot marry Theodore Augustus Tipton. I have changed my mind. My prayer has been answered, but it was the wrong thing to have prayed for.

"Why, Ave Maria? I thought you wanted to marry me."

"I'm going to try to explain this. I hope you'll forgive me in advance if the words are inadequate, or I am inadequate."

Theodore motions to me that I should speak. I love when he does that; it means he's really listening.

"A while ago Iva Lou told me that I could never trust any man until I understood my relations.h.i.+p with my father. You can take your pick: Fred Mulligan or the mysterious Mario da Schilpario. Since that particular thing was said to me, I've made it my business to observe fathers and daughters. And I've seen some incredible things, beautiful things. Like the little girl who's not very cute-her teeth are funny, and her hair doesn't grow right, and she's got on thick gla.s.ses-but her father holds her hand and walks with her like she's a tiny angel that no one can touch. He gives her the best gift a woman can get in this world: protection. And the little girl learns to trust the men in her life. And all the things that the world expects from women-to be beautiful, to soothe the troubled spirit, heal the sick, care for the dying, send the greeting card, bake the cake-all of those things become the way we pay the father back for protecting us. It's a fair exchange. But I never got that. So I don't know how to be with you. Oh, I guess I could pretend, make it up as I go along and hope that I figure it all out later. But that wouldn't be fair to you. What if I never figured it out? You deserve a woman who can give all of herself to you. I think you should hold out for it."

Theodore has pressed and folded the tinfoil wrapper from his hamburger into a silver square the size of a s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.ton. He stares at it for a very long time.

"Let's go home," he says. I gather up the dinner, clear off the picnic table, and toss the garbage into the can. Theodore stands by the car looking up at nothing in particular. He's going to be fine. I'm sure of it.

Pearl received the results of her PSATs, and she's in the top tenth percentile of her cla.s.s. She shows me the report, but I have to grab it out of her hand in midair, because she won't let go of it as she jumps up and down. Fleeta is excited for her, even though she has no idea what the test is; she loves when anybody she knows wins.

"Pearl, congratulations! You're a brain!" I shriek.

"I knew that the day she didn't mix the a.n.a.lgesics in with the laxatives." Fleeta winks.

"Mr. Cantrell says I can get into a good school. Maybe Virginia Tech or UVA, or maybe William and Mary!"

"Go to Tech. They got a good wrestling program," Fleeta promises.

Tayloe's mother, Betty, comes in with a prescription slip. Fleeta and Pearl fan out to the back to do their ch.o.r.es.

"How you doing, Betty?"

"I've been better."

"You sick?"

Betty answers that she's not and hands me the prescription. I go behind the counter to fill it.

"Tayloe sure made a magnificent Cleopatra. We were all so proud of her."

"Some folks thought she done looked better than Elizabeth Taylor herself."

"I think I'd have to agree."

I look at the prescription from Doc Daugherty. It's for prenatal vitamins.

"Congratulations, Betty! A new baby?"

"Not mine. Tayloe's. She's done found out she's pregnant."

"Oh." I look down at Doc's prescription. Sure enough, it's T. Slagle. I don't know what more to say. This is tragic. She's a little girl!

"Can you believe it? She was on the Pill, too. But it's too late to cry over spilt milk; it's spilt and that's all there is to it. We got to clean it up and move on here."

"How's she feeling?"

"She's over the shock, but you know, the same darn thing happened to me when I was sixteen, and I got my beautiful baby Tayloe out of it. So we're trying to look on the bright side."

I give Betty the prescription. She takes it and puts it in her bag.

"Kids." Then she turns to go. "Ave Maria?"

"Yeah, Betty?"

"She's having the baby in April. Can you keep her part in the Drama open till she's back on her feet? Playing June Tolliver means the world to her."

"You tell Tayloe she can come back to the Drama whenever she's ready."

Betty brightens considerably.

"Thank you kindly."

Betty goes. She knows and I know that Tayloe's performing career is over. But Betty isn't ready to let go of all the dreams she had for her daughter. I can picture what will happen, because the outcome of this situation is always the same. Tayloe will marry, get a trailer, have her babies, and be a wife. There won't be time for six performances a week.

Fleeta comes down the aisle, having overheard our conversation.

"That d.a.m.n La.s.siter kid. The halfback on the team. You know, with the bedroom eyes. He done knocked her up. Boys."

Fleeta goes off to the back. I can hear Pearl, flipping the metal clip on her inventory clipboard. I join her at the makeup counter.

"Her life is ruined, isn't it?" Pearl asks.

"Of course not. It'll be hard for her, but she's a very determined girl. And her mom will help."

"I don't ever want to get stuck in a trailer," Pearl decides.

"Stay away from the La.s.siter boys."

Pearl nods and goes about her inventory. I check my face in the mirror. I have dark circles under my eyes. The lids droop in exhaustion. I've lost my sparkle.

The familiar jingle of the door chimes tells us we've got a customer, but there is a residual jingle, like the door was slammed after entrance. Somebody's angry and taking it out on my door. I peer down the aisle. I'm right. It's Aunt Alice.

"Where are you, you hateful b.i.t.c.h?"

I look at Pearl. "Does she mean you or me?"

"I think she means you," Pearl says fearfully.

I get out of the makeup chair slowly and take that long walk down the anti-inflammatory aisle toward my aunt, who looks like she could shoot me.

"May I help you?"

She waves a letter in my face. "You done screwed me good. You think so, don't you?"

"I didn't screw anybody." I speak the literal and figurative truth, of course.

"Do you think I will sit back and accept this? If you do, you don't know me very well."

"Aunt Alice, if you have any problem with my business dealings, you need to speak to Lew Eisenberg."

"I am not talking to that feriner! I am talking to you!"

"Have your lawyer call Mr. Eisenberg."

"If I can't have this Pharmacy, I'm gonna get my house back. You watch me!"

"You'll never get my house! Never!" The tone of my voice surprises me. Fleeta ushers Pearl to the back room. That's when Aunt Alice really lets me have it.

"You're a wh.o.r.e just like your mother before you. You're a sponger, a taker. And you're evil. You may think you beat me out of what's mine, but I will fight you until my last breath."

"You need to leave. If you don't, I'll have to call the police."

"This is mine! This is all mine! All of it! You robbed me!" She looks like a sad six-year-old girl who didn't get the doll she wanted. Her eyes fill with mist. "I never got anything I ever wanted in my whole life!" she cries.

"You got Uncle Wayne." This is all I can say to her? Where's my fight? Why can't I defend my mother's honor? Where's the woman who schemed to protect her a.s.sets against this cruel woman? I don't need a doctor to tell me. Something is wrong with me.

I have been exhausted lately, but I blame it on the cold weather and my schedule at the Pharmacy. I started stocking ornaments, lights, and decorations (by customer request), which attract extra business. I feel bad sticking Fleeta and Pearl with longer hours around the holidays, so I cover the extra time myself. Also, folks get the flu and colds this time of year, so I'm on the run constantly filling and delivering prescriptions. Theodore and Iva Lou check on me quite a bit; they're worried, but I keep telling them it's just the holiday rush. Maybe I'm especially exhausted because this will be my first Christmas without Mama and I'm not up to facing it just yet. If I could just get some rest, I would feel so much better. It's gotten to the point where I can't sleep through the night. I haven't told anyone. But I've been thinking about calling Doc Daugherty. I just haven't gotten around to it.

I am donating several boxes of twinkling lights to the Dogwood Garden Club for the Christmas flower exhibit at the Southwest Virginia Museum. I'm late delivering them; I had some straggling customers at the Pharmacy. I drive right up on the lawn and park by the door, too tired to walk the few extra feet from the sidewalk. I would've asked Theodore to deliver them, but he's gone to visit his family in Scranton for the holidays. He invited me to join him, but the thought of a long car trip and spending time with a large family was too tiring, so I politely refused the invitation. This Christmas, I just don't feel like celebrating.

The entrance to the museum is actually the foyer of the only mansion in Big Stone Gap. The museum was the Slemp family home for years, until they donated it to the state in the 1940s. Now it is a sweet homespun museum with dioramas that tell the stories of the miners, quilters, Cherokees, Melungeons, and families of the area. I must be standing here a long time because two of the Garden Club members whisper to each other to fetch Nellie Goodloe. Nellie descends the grand staircase and greets me at the door. Her expression is one of concern. She looks deeply into my eyes.

"Ave Maria, honey, are you all right?"

"I brought you the lights." I give Nellie the stack of lights, but I miss her arms and they fall to the ground with a clatter.

I wake up in my own bed, in my pajamas. Pearl, her mother Leah, Fleeta, and Theodore stand at the foot of my bed.

"What happened?" I ask.

"You fainted."

"I was dropping off the lights." I move to get up, but my legs feel like they're filled with sand. The group moves toward me. "What's wrong with me?" I am really scared. "Theodore, aren't you supposed to be in Scranton?"

"I've been back a few days."

"A few days."

"It's December thirtieth, Ave," Fleeta announces, confusing me. "Christmas is over."

"But I was at the museum two days before Christmas. What happened to me?"

"Doc Daugherty ain't sure," Pearl tells me.

"What do you mean, he ain't sure?"

"You pa.s.sed out up there, and since you were close to home, they brought you here. And then Nellie Goodloe came over to the Pharmacy and told me and Fleeta. We called Doc Daugherty and he came right over here. All your vitals was okay, so he said you could sleep it off. And you did. For exactly seven days."

"Doc told me I couldn't smoke around you, so I done gave it up," Fleeta says proudly.

"Good for you." I'm glad Fleeta could take my medical emergency and turn it into a positive experience for herself.

"Do you remember any of this, Ave?" Theodore asks.

I don't. I feel refreshed, like I had a nap. I throw my legs over the side of the bed to stand, but I collapse right onto the mattress.

"You got bed legs, is all. Don't let it fret you. The movement'll come back when you start using them again," Fleeta rea.s.sures me.

"Let's go fix her something to eat," Leah announces, motioning to Fleeta and Pearl that she'll need their help in the kitchen. They go, and Theodore sits next to me on my bed.

"Am I dying or something?"

"No. Doc thinks you suffered a nervous breakdown."

"What?"

"He says he's seen all kinds of them in his life. Some folks function through them, some have blackout episodes, and some sleep it off, like a bear hibernating in the winter. You went the cave route." Theodore hugs me.

"Help me walk." I try to stand, and Theodore helps steady me. We walk slowly. We get to the bathroom, where I tell him to wait outside.

My bathroom, with the black-and-white-checked tile, seems huge to me. The skylight in the ceiling has snow on it. It must have been a white Christmas. The bathroom is cold; the fresh towels I hung a week ago are still there untouched. The soap is the same size it was before I went to sleep. This is so odd. I pull the light string next to the mirror. I look at myself.

My face looks like it did when I was a girl. I guess I lost some weight during my nap; my nose seems longer, and my jaw is sticking out ever so slightly. My eyelashes are crusted with sleep; they are gnarled and crisscrossed, but still thick. There isn't a line on my face, and believe me, there were plenty of them before Christmas.

I don't remember dreaming. Did a switch just go off in my mind, and I went to sleep? Why don't I remember anything? Where did my mind go?

"Are you okay in there?" Theodore asks through the door a little nervously.

"I'm fine. I'll be right out."

I wash my face and brush my teeth. I grip the sink, then the wall, then the door. I pull it open slowly. Theodore is on the other side, there to steady me.

"Are you hungry?"

"I've never been this hungry." He carries me down the steps to the kitchen.

CHAPTER EIGHT.