hear of a millionaire marrying a fat girl?” Dolly replied, feeling the burn in her hamstring muscles. “That’s why I work out. Dating is a competitive sport, and I want to win.”
“All right ladies, you’re looking good. See you again soon,” said the blonde Hollywood exercise model as the screen faded to black. As soon as the dvd stopped, Dolly heard the hard rock music pulsing through her daughter's bedroom door. Dolly opened it and looked for April.
Inside the darkened room, a black light filled the space with an eerie purple glow. When she saw the shaft of light from the opening door, April quickly shoved the small mirror under the bed and returned to her thoughts.
Dolly turned on the overhead light and walked over the strewn clothes and shoes to the far side of the bed, where April was sitting on the floor, her back against a dresser. Above April’s bed hung a poster showing shaved-head rockers wearing black leather bomber jackets and black boots as they belted out a song. The headline read “Skrewdriver.” Dolly reached over to the stereo, turned down the volume, and said, “Honey, don’t play that stuff so loud. You’ll go deaf, I swear.”
“Yeah, Mamma,” April said without looking up.
“Now listen to me, Honey,” Dolly said. “I’m going to take a shower and go out with Chrissie for a couple of hours. We’ll be at White Lightnin’. Don’t go out, and don’t let anybody come over here, either. Turn that music off and hit the books. You know you have a chemistry test in school on Monday. Do you have your homework done?”
“Almost finished,” April replied automatically, knowing that she had no intention of bothering with homework at all that weekend – or any weekend. Chemistry was her best subject. She knew she could ace the test without hitting the books.
“OK, Honey, I’ll see you soon. Be good, stay out of trouble, and finish your homework.”
April nodded silently.
Dolly walked over to her daughter and kissed her on top of her head. “I love you, Sweetie,” she said. As soon as Dolly closed the door, April picked up the headphones of her CD player, put them on, and turned the volume up to 10.
Dolly called to her friend. “I’m gonna hit the shower and then we can head out, Chrissie. Give me ten minutes.”
“Yeah, right.” Chrissie rolled her eyes and gave her a mock dirty look. She knew Dolly wouldn’t leave the house until every detail of her makeup, hair, and clothes was perfect. She flicked the remote control of the TV and settled into the living room couch.
Across the hall in her bedroom, Dolly stripped off her sweat-soaked exercise suit, leaned into the tub, turned the water to warm, adjusted the shower head to needle spray, and stepped in. I sure don’t want to wind up like Mamma, she thought as she poured shampoo into her hands and lathered up her hair.
She knew her mother had been dealt a short hand and lived a hard life. At sixteen, Anne had married Robert Manning, a poor, hard-working young Darlington County farmer, and their family arrived quickly. He adored his wife and children and they all repaid his love. If the truth be known, Dolly was his favorite. He always paid special attention to her little stories and calmed her childhood fears.
His favorite saying was, “You’re never poor if you have food on the table.” To make that happen, he worked the hot, dusty tobacco fields six days a week, from before dawn until well after dusk. Their modest lifestyle went through a wrenching change when Robert died from a tractor rollover accident when he was only twenty-six. Anne was heartbroken. Four-year-old Dolly was devastated.
For Anne, being the mother of six children and the wife of a poor tobacco farmer was hard enough, Dolly knew. But being the mother of six children and the widow of a poor tobacco farmer with no insurance was infinitely worse. A young widow with a large family and few skills, Anne was hard-pressed to keep herself and her children fed. During the harvest season, she worked as a clerk in a Darlington tobacco warehouse. At dusk, she went home and started seamstress work and clothing alterations. Although she worked late into the night, the two jobs barely kept body and soul together. Dolly grew up in a household so poor that she and her brothers and sisters only wore their store-bought clothes to school and church. The moment they returned home, they had to switch to home-made.
As she turned in the shower stall and the pulsating water jets hit her chest, the memories of childhood flooded her mind. Dolly didn’t blame her mother for all of her problems. She blamed her problems with men on her breasts. By the time she turned twelve, her breasts were those of a well-endowed full-grown woman.
She remembered the men who came to see her mother. God! How could she forget the men, the endless succession of men. Perhaps it was the loneliness born of isolation in their dusty tobacco village that led her mother to sleep with nearly every man who came along.
Some of them were kind; some of them were not. Some of them treated her mother well; others abused her. But the one characteristic they all shared was their heavy drinking. And when they drank, they all made the same choices. They either beat her mother up, dragged her directly into the bedroom, or came after Dolly. She outwitted or outran most of them, but by the time Dolly was sixteen, the only kind of sex she hadn’t had was sex with someone she loved.
That’s why she fell so hard for Kenny Devereaux. He was sweet, kind, and gentle in a way that reminded her of her father. She remembered their first kiss as if happened yesterday. She was sixteen and a junior....
“Hey, girl, you growin’ fins and a tail in there?” yelled Chrissie. Dolly snapped out of her trance and turned off the water.
“Keep your shirt on, Chrissie. I’ll be out in a minute,” Dolly said as she quickly toweled off, blew her hair dry, pulled on a thong and a bra, and opened the closet.
Tonight it’s black and white, she quickly decided. After she finished her makeup, she pulled on a pair of black, straightleg jeans, a long-sleeved white silk blouse with pearl buttons, a pair of wine-colored Western boots with a white filigree inlay, and a black ladies’ Stetson. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and flowed gracefully down the shimmering, delicately trimmed blouse. Dolly smiled as she checked herself in the mirror. “Yup,” she said to herself. “That works!”
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Chrissie smirked, scrolling down the webpage on Dolly’s old PC.
“Get off of there! None of your beeswax, that’s what,” Dolly said as she dove for the mouse..
“Gee, Dolly, do you have a beautiful twin you never told me about?” Chrissie, said with a laugh as she blocked the screen from Dolly’s assault. “She sure looks like you!”
“QUIT THAT!” Dolly yelled.
“I’m 5'6" with long blonde hair, ice-blue eyes....”
“You’re gonna be sorry!” Dolly shrieked as Chrissie read Dolly’s ad on the singles’ site..
Chrissie held her right arm up fending off Dolly’s attacks, while she read the personal description aloud. “I am a sweet, cheerful, and sensitive woman. I crave affection. I love kissing, hugging, and holding hands. I love walking on the beach or in the woods. I want a man who really knows the meaning of love and romance, one who can treat me with respect and kindness. A best friend and soulmate; the man of my dreams.”
“Whoo-ee!” Chrissie yelled to her fighting-mad friend. “If you find him, see if he’s got a brother for me!” With a disgusted look, Dolly gave up the chase. Chrissie leaned to the screen with her face in her palms, giggling wickedly as she continued reading aloud.
“My hobbies are reading, horses, and hockey. I love nature. Spending time with my daughter is precious to me. I love country music. I am 36, but I feel more like 21. I am in touch with my inner child. I love to do spur-of-the-moment things. I have a lot of energy when I am excited about something new. I believe in being best friends before lovers. I would love to hear from you.”
“So I made a dating profile, so what?” Dolly asked as she retreated to the bedroom to put her earrings on.
“Nothin’,