Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,57
breakfast, coffee, Piggy Peggy’s face
“Well, look at who stayed in town!” Piggy Peggy oozes as she almost leaps over to where Cal and I are sitting at the Homestead later that week.
“Oh hey,” I say, narrowing my eyes once again at Cal. Everything related to the Homestead is, apparently, his fault. He smiles.
“Oh hey! Haven’t had your coffee yet, I see?” Piggy Peggy says, making a face insinuating that I’m either in a foul mood, or based on her amateurish miming, drunk and/or having some kind of seizure.
“What’s that you’re doing there?” I ask, motioning to her solitary game of charades.
“Oh, you know,” Piggy Peggy says, looking over at Cal.
“Nope, I don’t,” I say with nary a smile.
“You’re just . . .” Piggy Peggy trails off as she launches into another bizarre bout of charades where she acts out what a bitch I’m being instead of just telling it to me straight to my face.
“I didn’t know the Homestead had turned into dinner theater,” I say, looking around the room.
“Oh,” Piggy Peggy laughs, waving her hand at me to just stooopppppp. So crazy, she insinuates without a word. Again. God forbid she’d actually say something unkind to my face. I doubt Piggy Peggy is this tongue-tied about my less attractive characteristics when she’s with her friends. I bet there’s a lot to be said about me when I’m not around.
“I’d like two eggs over medium, some wheat toast, and your house potatoes,” I say.
“And coffee?” Piggy Peggy asks, eyebrow arched.
“Sure,” I say, not looking at her.
“Cal, honey?” Piggy Peggy’s voice cuts across his name. The way she says it sends a chill down my spine. It’s icy at best and downright disrespectful at worst.
“Country breakfast, please,” Cal says.
“You sure do have quite an appetite, son,” Piggy Peggy says, writing down Cal’s order on her order pad.
“Yes, ma’am,” Cal says, looking over at me.
“Just like your momma, I guess,” Piggy Peggy’s words are more mumbled than actually said.
“Ma’am?” Cal asks, looking confused.
“What did you just say?” I ask, standing and placing my entire buzzing-with-rage body centimeters from Piggy Peggy.
“Oh, you know . . . ,” Piggy Peggy trails off, her eyes darting around at all the restaurant patrons who are now watching our every move.
“Nope,” I say, stepping even closer.
“Aunt Queenie,” Cal says, his eyes imploring me to sit down.
“I’m just asking Peggy to point out where the bathroom is,” I say, loudly, so all can hear.
“Right back that way,” Piggy Peggy says, her voice shaking.
“See? We’re fine here,” I say, for Cal.
“Fine. We’re fine,” Piggy Peggy says, clearing her throat.
“I would appreciate it if you would show me to the bathroom personally,” I say to Piggy Peggy.
“Please don’t kill Piggy Peggy, Aunt Queenie,” Cal says, just as we step away from the booth.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say with a quick wink.
Piggy Peggy walks toward the bathroom as a condemned man walks to the gallows. Maybe I should ask her what her last meal would be. In the tiny hallway that holds the bathrooms, I corner Piggy Peggy.
“I didn’t mean nothing by it,” Piggy Peggy says, bracing for the physical harm I mean to save her from. This time.
“Then why did you say it? To my fifteen-year-old nephew? What kind of person does that?” I ask, my voice a violent whisper.
“He should know what kind of woman his mother is,” Piggy Peggy says, defiantly.
“What did you just say?”
“I just . . . he should know.”
“Know about what?”
“That people are saying Cal only got the QB1 position because Merry Carole is . . . you know . . . with Coach Blanchard,” Piggy Peggy says, still not making eye contact with me.
“Is that what you think?” I ask.
“What I think?”
“Yes. Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know that you can think for yourself, right?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then answer the question. Do you think Cal got the QB1 position because of a rumored relationship between Merry Carole and Coach Blanchard?”
“Well, Wake women . . .”
“Wake women, what?”
Piggy Peggy is silent.
“Wake. Women. What?” I repeat.
“People say Wake women are evil and will ruin you,” Piggy Peggy recites. Felix Coburn’s exact words.
“How can you even say that?” I ask, hating that I’m actually having this conversation with Piggy Peggy in the darkened hallway by the bathrooms in the Homestead of all places.