she doesn’t want to talk to me.
At noon, Mother removes the vibrating cap from my head, washes the goo from my hair while I lean back in the kitchen sink. She quickly rolls up a dozen curlers, puts me under her hair dryer hood in her bathroom.
An hour later, I emerge pink and soreheaded and thirsty. Mother stands me in front of the mirror, pulling out curlers. She brushes out the giant circular mounds on my head.
We stare, dumbfounded.
“Ho-ly shit,” I say. All I’m thinking is, The date. The blind date is next weekend.
Mother smiles, shocked. She doesn’t even scold me for cursing. My hair looks great. The Shinalator actually worked.
chapter 9
ON SATURDAY, the day of my date with Stuart Whitworth, I sit for two hours under the Shinalator (results, it seems, only last until the next wash). When I’m dry, I go to Kennington’s and buy the flattest shoes I can find and a slim black crepe dress. I hate shopping, but I’m glad for the distraction, to not have to worry about Missus Stein or Aibileen for an afternoon. I charge the eighty-five dollars to Mother’s account since she’s always begging me to go buy new clothes. (“Something flattering for your size.”) I know Mother would profoundly disapprove of the cleavage the dress enables me to have. I’ve never owned a dress like this.
In the Kennington’s parking lot I start the car, but cannot drive for the sudden pains in my stomach. I grip the white padded steering wheel, telling myself for the tenth time that it’s ridiculous to wish for something I’ll never have. To think I know the color blue his eyes are from a black-and-white photograph. To consider something a chance that is nothing but paper and filament and postponed dinners. But the dress, with my new hair, it actually looks pretty good on me. And I can’t help but hope.
IT WAS FOUR MONTHS AGO when Hilly showed me the picture, out back by her swimming pool. Hilly was tanning in the sun, I was fanning in the murky shade. My heat rash had flared in July and hadn’t subsided.
“I’m busy,” I said. Hilly sat on the edge of the pool, saggy and post-pregnant fat, inexplicably confident in her black swimsuit. Her stomach was paunchy, but her legs, as always, were thin and pretty.
“I haven’t even told you when he’s coming,” she said. “And he comes from such a good family.” She was, of course, talking about her own. He was William’s second cousin removed. “Just meet him and see what you think.”
I looked down at the picture again. He had clear open eyes, light brown curly hair, was the tallest in a group of men by a lake. But his body was half-hidden by the others. He must not have all his limbs.
“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Hilly said. “Ask Elizabeth, she met him at the Benefit last year while you were up at school. Not to mention, he dated Patricia van Devender for forever.”
“Patricia van Devender?” Most Beautiful at Ole Miss, two years in a row?
“Plus he started his own oil business over in Vicksburg. So if it doesn’t work out, it’s not like you’ll be running into him every day in town.”
“Alright,” I finally sighed, more than anything to get Hilly off my back.
IT’s PAST THREE O’CLOCK BY the time I get back home from buying the dress. I’m supposed to be at Hilly’s at six to meet Stuart. I check the mirror. The curls are starting to fray on the ends, but rest of my hair is still smooth. Mother was thrilled when I told her I wanted to try the Shinalator again and wasn’t even suspicious of why. She doesn’t know about my date tonight and if she somehow finds out, the next three months will be full of excruciating questions like “Did he call?” and “What did you do wrong?” when it doesn’t work out.
Mother’s downstairs in the relaxing room with Daddy, hollering at the Rebel basketball team. My brother, Carlton, is on the sofa with his shiny new girlfriend. They drove up this afternoon from LSU. She has a dark straight pontytail and wears a red blouse.
When I get Carlton alone in the kitchen, he laughs, yanks my hair like we’re kids again. “So how are you, sister?”
I tell him about the job at the paper, that I’m editor of the League newsletter. I also tell him he better be moving back home after law school. “You deserve