cool!” said Melissa. “Wanda was a real witch.”
“Now we’re gonna run this place right,” said Shaniqua. Dolly was in heaven. She truly liked her co-workers and had been praying that they wouldn’t be jealous.
“Ok, ladies, let’s get this show on the road,” Dolly called to the chattering women. “We’ve got shelves to stock and displays to clean. Melissa, open that case of vibrators and get ‘em priced and on the shelf.”
“Where do the vibrators go?” Melissa asked. Dolly and the other women glanced at each other and spontaneously broke into uncontrolled laughter.
With a wicked grin, Dolly asked, “You’re twenty years old and you don’t know where the vibrators go? You grow up in a convent or WHAT? Don’t they sell AA batteries in your part of town?” Melissa turned red. The other women convulsed with laughter. Dolly knew it was going to be a good day.
2. Doc Something-or-others
Fantasia Lingerie Store
The same day
By noon, the shop was clean and looking sharp. The glass door, windows, and shelves sparkled. The sex lubricants were all carefully restocked and arranged, one flavor per row. All of the X-rated dvd’s were dusted and arranged by sexual performance, specialty, or fetish. The racks were full of new fantasy lingerie, ready for all of the local clients and tourists. The peel-away dance outfits and six-inch, strobe-light heels were arranged by color and size for the local strippers, who were among the store’s biggest spenders.
Just after lunch, Shaniqua answered the phone. “Fantasia Lingerie, where lace and heaven meet. Can I help you?” Within moments, her smile evaporated and the tone of her voice dropped. “It’s her,” she called to Dolly.
Dolly didn’t have to ask who “her” was. “Hello, Mamma,” Dolly said in a sinking voice. “I just got a promotion. I run the shop now. I’m pretty busy. Can we talk after work?”
“Dolly, this is your mother talking to you,” said Anne Doolittle. “You’ll just have to take a few minutes out of your busy life and talk to me. It’s important.”
Dolly knew the tone of her mother’s voice. There was no use arguing. “OK, Mamma, what’s the subject today?” It was a perfunctory question, as both women knew from long experience.
“It’s April, Dolly. What on earth are you letting your daughter wear those crazy clothes for? Those big, black, steel-toed shoes she’s wearing belong on a construction worker, not my granddaughter. And the red shoelaces don’t make them a bit prettier. She’s seventeen years old, almost eighteen now. Why can’t you get her to wear some decent shoes?”
“The girls don’t dress like you did to go to the prom forty years ago, Mamma. A lot of women wear big, black, ugly shoes these days. Those are Doc Something-or-others. I think they look awful, but she used her own money to buy them. She told me a lot of the girls wear them.”
“And what about the long-sleeved shirts and sweater vests? Don’t girls wear blouses anymore?”
“Those are Fred Perry shirts, Mamma. April’s friends all wear them. They’re considered very stylish among her friends.”
“And the haircut? How can any girl cut half her hair down to the skin and let the rest grow? She’s always wearing some kind of cap to cover the bald top. It doesn’t make any sense. She looks like some weirdo from the wrong side of another planet.”
“It’s just fashion, Mamma. Give her a break. She’s going to be a senior in high school this fall. Remember my tie-dye days in high school? Remember the 70s, when Bobby had hair longer than mine? You didn’t seem to mind strange hairstyles on my brother. What’s the problem now with April’s?”
Anne Doolittle wasn’t done with her grilling. “She looks so sad and pale. Did you stop feeding her? Is she spending too much time at Kenny’s? I don’t like that new girlfriend of his a bit. I don’t think either one of them can cook past opening a can.”
“I feed her, and I love her. I keep a close an eye on her, Mamma, but I can’t run a prison. I don’t like Kenny’s lifestyle or choice of friends any more than you do, but April wants to see her father, and he has joint custody.”
“I don’t see why you let her go over there at all,” Anne said. “Kenny hasn’t improved a bit since they arrested him for the marijuana thing ten years ago.”
“April lives mostly with me now, Mamma. I don’t let her go over there without permission, but I have to stay legal with the joint custody order. Yes, Mamma, he’s a jerk, but Kenny is April’s father, and she wants him to love her.”
“What about food? She’s thin as a rail. Don’t you ever feed her?”
“You know darn well I feed her, but she just doesn’t want to eat much, and I can’t put a funnel down her throat. And anyway, I was a little scrawny when I was her age, remember? I wanted to look like Barbie.”
“What about her skin? Doesn’t she ever go out in the sun?”
Dolly was losing her patience. “Yes, she goes out sometimes. But the girls don’t wear a lot of makeup like they did when I was growing up, Mamma.”
Dolly was happy to hear the doorbell ring as a middle-aged couple walked into the store. She knew that her mother could hear it, and the sound of business relieved her of the guilt she felt at cutting her mother off. “Look, Mamma, I have customers. I gotta go.”
“You can take care of them, but what about visiting us once in a while?” Dolly gritted her teeth. Mamma, you’re not getting my vote for Mother of the Year, either, she thought. “I gotta go now, Mamma. Say hi to Henry for me.”
“Why don’t you come by on Sunday, Honey?” her mother asked, knowing the answer in advance.
“I’ll try, Mamma. Gotta go. Bye.” Taking a deep breath, she shoved the guilt and ghosts of her childhood back into their dark caves and tried to think of happier things. Dolly shook her head quickly as if to throw off bad thoughts.
Thank God for Chrissie, Dolly thought. A few hours and a few beers with her best friend at her favorite club was just the kind of attitude adjustment she could use that night. And who knows?, she thought. This week already brought me a big promotion. Maybe it’s finally time for Mr. Right to show up, too.
3. The Child Within
Murrell’s Inlet
“Now for some step exercises! Left up, right up, left down, right down. Left up, right up, left down, right down. Left up, right up, left down, right down. Left up, right up, left down, right down.” Dolly wiped the sweat from her brow as the exercise show rolled towards its end. Four more minutes to go, she thought, but the hardest four.
“All right ladies, it’s time to tone those abs. Down on the mat and arch your back. It’s time to rock and roll.”
Chrissie Beasley, Dolly’s best friend, watched the workout with studied disinterest as she licked the bright-orange cheese puff crumbs from her fingers. “Why do you torture yourself like this every day, Honey?” she called out as Dolly rocked back and forth on her stomach.
Dolly gritted her teeth. I’m gonna kill her. I’m just gonna kill her one of these days, Dolly said to herself as she locked her fingers behind her neck and lifted both legs slowly off the floor in a reverse crunch. I look at a bagel and put on five pounds. She eats ice cream by the pint, wears size 4 jeans, and never gains an ounce.
The video instructor moved along, never missing a beat, “Roll over now. Time for some leg lifts. Up and one and two and three and down and one and two and three and. Up and one and two and three and down and one and two and three and....”
“What?” Dolly called