Chapter 9

As soon as Roxie picked up her new car she sped to the diner to show everyone. It was late in the afternoon. Millie and Bonnie were just getting ready for the dinner crowd. She burst through the front door.

“They even filled the gas tank,” she gushed.

She realized, deep down, that the full tank wasn’t a big deal, but it impressed her enough when the salesman showed her, and she had to say something other than ‘come out here and look at my new car’.

There were a few customers in the diner, Bonnie looked from the window. Millie followed Roxie out the door and into the parking lot where the new acquisition sat waiting for inspection.

“It sure is pretty,” Millie told her. “Not a scratch on it; nice color, too.”

The light blue compact wouldn’t have impressed anyone, except a person who’d been resigned to doing with less. It was only four years old. Millie’s observation was correct; the body was pristine. It had a heater and air conditioner that worked. Best of all, it didn’t make any strange noises. So, on her personal scale of material goods, Roxie had hit the jackpot.

“Just take care of this one better than the last one.”

It was Stan. Even he had ventured from the kitchen to take a look.

“I don’t want to see this one in the parking lot all night ‘cause it’s broke down.”

Roxie knew better than to get mad. Skill in expressing good wishes was a relative matter, too. Stan had just done his best.

The group walked around the baby-blue sedan, making nice comments about it until their repertoire of comments was exhausted. They looked at each other in a ‘what’s next’ pose. Roxie realized that a man would have popped the hood. That was a guy thing, however; besides, the salesman had showed her where the little lever was below the steering wheel, but Roxie doubted that she’d be able to find it right away. She decided not to risk it.

“Come on in,” Millie said, “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee before the dinner crowd starts rollin’ in.”

Roxie sat at the counter. Millie went behind it and poured out a cup for Roxie and one for herself.

“Nice car, Roxie,” Bonnie said as she passed by.

She sped back to a table full of diners before Roxie could answer.

“Havin’ the new car must take a load off your mind,” Millie said.

“It sure does,” Roxie said. “I know it’s not much, but for what I need, it’s just right.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s not much,” Millie countered. “It’s a big moment in a woman’s life when she first acquires things.”

What Millie said confused Roxie. She never thought of the car as anything but improved transportation. Millie said it meant something more but the meaning escaped Roxie’s grasp, at least for the time being.

“I don’t know what you mean, Millie. Anyway, the car really belongs to the bank, and I wouldn’t even have gotten that far if it hadn’t been for Junior and Cal.”

“All the better when men get it for you,” Millie answered in her flippant way, and then tuned her head and gazed out the window. “You just keep thinkin’ on what I said,” she told Roxie. “You’ll understand before too long.”

Roxie did think on it but didn’t get very far. She felt that Millie was older, and probably wiser, so she should listen. Sometimes Millie was hard to understand.

“Looks like it’s shapin’ into a busy dinner rush,” she said. “Could you use some help? I’ve got my waitress uniform in the car. I could use a few extra hours of work.”

“No, Stan would have a fit,” Millie said. “We should be cutting hours. Bonnie and I can handle it just fine.”

Roxie was disappointed by the turndown, but not surprised. She leaned to the side to check out the customers in the booth.

“I know who you’re lookin’ for,” Millie told her. “He’s already come and gone. He and Homer Barlow sat in the booth in the back. Really got into it, too—something about Cable TV. I couldn’t hear much else.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me that he’s not my type?”

“I would if I thought you’d listen,” Millie replied. “I’ve told you that enough already, but you’re determined to find out for yourself. You will, though; wait and see.”

“C’mon, Millie. I just wanted to thank him for helping me with the loan.”

Millie gave her that worldly look that bridged disdain for what Roxie said and the dispensing of advice.

“Save it, honey,” she scolded. “A woman only says ‘thank you’ to a man when she really wants to say ‘I’ll be back for more’. Or is that what you really did mean?”

With the bloom so meanly clipped from the rose, Roxie searched for a reason to leave. It wasn’t hard to find one. Her coffee cup was empty and customers were filing into the diner, which meant that Millie had no time left for chit-chat.

Millie offered a refill, but Roxie put her hands up in refusal.

“Got to get home and see Aunt Flora. I’ll take her for a ride in the new car.”

Millie didn’t protest and Roxie went home.

When Roxie got home Flora was busy in the kitchen warming leftovers for dinner.

“Hi, Auntie; I got my new car a few hours ago.”

Flora kept her eyes on the stove.

“That’s fine, dear,” she murmured.

“We can take it for a ride after dinner,” Roxie offered, “maybe somewhere out of town.”

“That would be fine, dear; if that’s what you want to do.”

Flora’s moods were never easy to figure out, but Roxie could tell that her aunt was feeling especially down.

“I thought you’d enjoy a ride. We can turn on the air conditioning.”

“Okay,” Flora answered, and the listlessness of the answer bothered Roxie even more.

“C’mon, Auntie,” Roxie coaxed, full of pep, “we can go out on the county road and watch the corn grow. How does that sound?”

“Whatever you say, Roxie. It’s your car.”

Her aunt’s mood truly was a puzzle. She should have laughed at Roxie’s joke. Why Flora couldn’t be happy like she was? The car wouldn’t be new past next week. Happiness came in little spurts, to be enjoyed in the moment or lost forever.

“What’s the matter, Auntie? I thought you’d be happy that I’ve got a nice car for once.”

Flora looked up from her cooking.

“I suppose that having a new car means that Cal Tucker won’t be around any more to take you to work,” she blurted out.

“What’s that supposed to mean? He only did that once, and it didn’t mean a thing.”

“I was just hoping it was a start,” Flora confessed.

“Cal co-signed the bank loan for the car,” Roxie countered.

Flora gasped.

“Now that is something else,” she gushed.

Roxie winced as soon as the revealing words escaped her lips. There was nothing false about them, of course. It was as if it was what Millie told her to say. She felt like she played a cruel hoax on her aunt and her fancies.

“Cal did it as a favor for his brother,” Roxie explained.

“Oh no,” Flora insisted, “it has to mean much more than that. How much is the loan for, anyway?”

“Eight thousand.”

Flora swiveled her head to face Roxie in an instant. Her eyes were big and round like pumpkins.

“Eight ... eight ... thousand?” her aunt stammered, barely able to push out her breath to form the words. “That’s a lot of money!”

“It’s not that much in today’s money,” Roxie answered. “Besides, he didn’t give me the money. He just guaranteed the bank that I would pay it.”

“This is very important,” Flora pronounced. “We have to do something—but I’m not sure what to do.”

Roxie could see that her aunt had only listened to what she had wanted to hear. Flora was stepping lively about the kitchen—nearly dancing.

“Dinner’s ready,” the older woman lilted.

She spooned the contents of the skillet into a serving bowl and set it on the table.

Roxie felt guilty at her aunt’s happiness born of false pretenses. She reminded herself how it wasn’t her fault. All she’d done was buy a car. So, she decided to let Aunt Flora enjoy the event in her own way.

“So, do you want to take a ride after dinner?” Roxie asked again.

They ate fast and then did the dishes. Roxie coaxed her aunt into the passenger’s seat. They drove out to the Dairy-Freeze; Roxie bought sundaes for dessert.

It was only eight-thirty when Roxie pulled into the driveway of the house. There was still some daylight left. The rich dessert made Flora drowsy, but Roxie was wide awake. The excitement of the new car hadn’t quite worn off. Aunt Flora took great pleasure in the impromptu ride and treat at the Dairy Freeze. That served to lighten Roxie’s mood a bit more than it already was.

It had been a long time since she’d seen Flora so happy. Roxie knew it was because in Flora’s world the car loan brought her a step closer to Cal. She wished that it was not so. It was probably the newness of it all; an end to the burden of the old heap and beginning of owning something that drew some respect from those around her.

Roxie asked herself if she was sorting out her own dream or her aunt’s. Roxie didn’t feel like spending a lot of effort figuring it all out. It would have been a shame to cut such a day off so early.

“Auntie, if you don’t mind I think I’ll head into town and show my car to some of my friends,” she announced after they walked into the house.

“I was going to read a while and go to bed,” Flora replied.

Roxie bounded out the front door and hopped in the car. She was crossing the tracks on her way into town before she realized that she hadn’t figured out her destination.

She considered making a visit at the Dew Drop for a little while. That didn’t seem right without Junior. Walking in alone would give the men the impression that she was shopping around.

The diner was out; she’d already been there. There was, of course, someone she should have searched out already, an obligation to be met. If it hadn’t been for Cal she wouldn’t be driving at all. She should really go over to his place and say ‘thanks’ and give him a look at the car.

Of course, she realized that Cal had only agreed to the arrangement to get Junior to toe the line. It had nothing to do with her. It had been so long since she’d even been in Cal’s presence without Junior beside her. Still, Cal could have said ‘no’. It was only proper to find him and say ‘thanks’.

Roxie’s car found its way to Cal’s house on a quiet residential street just inside the city limits. Roxie parked in front and shut off the motor.

“Why would a man want a house like this all to himself?” she asked herself.

If houses could like people, then Cal’s house would like its owner. It was an A-frame, built in the thirties when construction was rock-solid. It was big—but not too big. There was a flower garden in front—well-kept, but nothing pretentious. The lawn was recently cut, with the clippings deposited in biodegradable paper bags that the city crews would pick up on their weekly rounds. It sure looked like Cal—all very nice, but too put-together to look warm and inviting. Roxie would have wagered that the inside was a continuation of the outside.