Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,61
finally walk out into the now empty salon.
“We didn’t all figure it out at the same time,” Merry Carole says, coming out from the kitchenette, her mug of coffee still in her hand.
“Merry Carole knew from the start,” Fawn says, motioning to my sister.
“I found that adorable pink card he made you,” Merry Carole says, her hand against her chest as if she’s still emotional about it.
“I just thought you had a crush on him, you know, in junior high and all that,” Dee says. This is like This Is Your Life, but the version where it’s actually, “This is the life you thought you hid from everyone!” Dee continues, “But then I saw you guys one day as you were walking home from school, I guess it was freshman year? Y’all were holding hands and . . . well, it was sweet. He was leaning in and talking to you and you just threw your head back laughing at whatever he’d said. I’d never seen either of you like that, you know? Laughing like you’d heard the funniest thing in the world. I tried to ask you about it the next day at school, but you acted like I hadn’t seen what I knew I had seen, so I just . . . I, well, I got my feelings hurt for a bit, but then just thought it was something you wanted to keep secret.” Dee’s face flushes.
“I’m so . . . I’m so sorry,” I say, mortified. Every time I think I can’t get more mortified the bar just keeps going higher and higher. Or lower and lower depending on how you look at it.
“I figured it out right after your momma died . . . was killed . . . whatever,” Fawn starts. We all shift our focus to her. She continues, “I kept seeing him in that old truck of his, coming around, circling the house, and then he’d see me and speed on down the road like a bat out of hell. Until one night I was coming in from the market and I seen him crawling in your window when he thought I wasn’t looking or what not. I didn’t knock on your door all night, but . . . well, I heard you crying in there. And I remember thinking . . . thank Jesus, she’s got someone in there with her. It was really the first time you’d . . . well, you’d let any of that out,” Fawn says, growing more and more emotional as the story unfolds. I can’t look at any of them. Reliving all of these moments from my past. Feeling the love I’ve cherished and treasured for Everett all these years grow too big for my chest again and again. Always fearing that one day it’ll burst through and fly away.
We are all quiet. Swept away in the romance of it all.
“So did y’all also know about Ms. Merry Carole here?”
“No!” Merry Carole blurts out.
“Oh sure,” Fawn and Dee say simultaneously.
“What?” Merry Carole says, her face flushing. A wide smile breaks across my face. Now this is the kind of scene I can certainly get behind. No more of that tragic slide show of my life, a life I know will no longer have Everett in it. I can’t . . . I can’t even bear thinking about it.
“You’re talking about Coach Blanchard, right?” Fawn asks, just for clarification.
“Yep,” I say, my eyes darting from Fawn and Dee to Merry Carole.
“Oh yeah, that’s old news. They’ve been seeing each other for . . .” Fawn trails off and looks to Dee (not Merry Carole).
“About a year?” Dee works out, her face crinkled up and doing the math.
“About a year,” Merry Carole clarifies.
“About a year,” Dee repeats.
“I think they’re actually quite well matched. What with Merry Carole and Cal and Coach Blanchard and those two little girls of his? It’s just . . . well, I don’t know why they’re keeping it all secret,” Fawn says, sitting down in one of the salon chairs.
We all look at Merry Carole.
“I want him to,” Merry Carole says, striding over to the front counter and violently flipping open the appointment book.
“We don’t have anyone for another thirty minutes,” Dee says, her voice light.
“That’s just fine,” Merry Carole says, defeated.
“Why do you want him to?” Fawn asks.
“We were rejected once by someone I thought wanted to be Cal’s daddy; I can’t do that again. I can’t risk that again,” Merry Carole says.