Josey adjusted the dusty blinds, gave one more look down the street and said, “Bathed in prayer is a phrase I read in a Christian magazine. You know you might get a little spiritual knowledge if you read something other than the TV guide. And no, I don’t have anyone interesting coming in today. It’s going to be another exciting day in Carington. Whoopee! I’ve got Mertis Taylor this morning, Karen Foster after lunch and then who knows. Tuesday’s are always slow for me, but I like it because it gives me time to concentrate on all my prayer requests. You are going to be at the prayer meeting tonight aren’t you? Those women always look at me like I’ve got two heads. They still haven’t gotten over me being made head of the prayer group. Well I say fair is fair, and it was my turn to be the prayer group leader. Besides, it doesn’t take a spiritual giant to lead that pack of hens.”
“Well, I’ll drop by sometime this afternoon for some coffee. When Mertis comes in, see if you can’t get her to try something new. I don’t want her showing up as part of the welcoming committee looking like a drenched poodle. Did you ever see . . . well never mind. Let me go,” Tootsie said, as she blew Josey a kiss.
Josey waved her out the door, snapped her black stretch Capri pants into place, since they had crawled up into spaces they shouldn’t be, and lit a cigarette while she waited on Mertis.
Mertis stood outside of Josey’s shop and proudly adjusted her new lilac-flowered dress that playfully blew in the wind. Across the street was her husband Bud's barbershop. Her tired blue eyes admired the cute blue and white striped pole. The short distance across the street might as well have been miles; it had been so long since she’d had a decent conversation with her husband. She tried to remember when it was, he had taken to having lunch at the shop instead of coming home to her. And his visits to her room at night had ceased so long ago. She didn’t even bother to try and think of why they had stopped, it just didn’t matter anymore.
He had taken up another life and she had taken up crocheting, it was as simple as that. She only had to count the doilies, bedspreads and place mats that adorned every spare surface in her home, to tally up the number of years since their estrangement began. But again, why bother. A gulf had been created that couldn’t be crossed and she found she didn’t have the energy anymore to even try.
She shook her head, brushed her fingers through her tight, gray sausage curls and geared herself up for another morning with “the girls.” Her arthritic knee added a wobble to her walk and her short, chubby frame made it difficult for her to maneuver the curb. Out of breath, she entered the shop. Adjusting the massive blonde French twist that sat upon her head, Josey called out a greeting through a mouthful of bobby pins.
“How you doing honey? Don’t you look pretty with that fancy new dress? Have a seat, I’m just about finished.”
Stay tuned for the next episode!
1 comment:
Love the characterization, but distracted by run-on sentences, Josey. She smokes? What year is this?
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