Fannie Flagg Read online

After a few minutes she could not stand it any longer. She went in the kitchen and called. The phone rang and rang, until finally Aunt Elner picked up.

  “Hello.”

  “Aunt Elner, are you all right?”

  “I’m doing fine, honey,” she said in a cheerful voice, “how are you?”

  “I’m fine, I was just worried, you took so long to answer the phone.”

  “Oh, well, I was way out in the backyard and it took me a while to get back up to the house. Macky is helping me plant some sweet williams in the border of my vegetable garden.”

  Norma rolled her eyes but said sweetly, “Oh, I see. Well, no rush, but would you tell Macky when he gets through there to come straight on home and not to stop anywhere? His breakfast is getting cold. Could you do that?”

  “All right, honey, I’ll tell him. Oh, and Norma, are you still on the line?”

  “Yes, Aunt Elner.”

  “My blue jays say thank you kindly. Well, ’bye-’bye.”

  “ ’Bye, Aunt Elner.”

  Norma, a pretty brunette of forty-three, glanced at herself in the mirror over the sink and saw that her face was flushed with excitement.

  About twenty minutes later, after she had almost swept the paint off the front porch and swept halfway up the block, she spotted Macky on the horizon, nonchalantly strolling toward home, waving and How-are-youing to everybody he passed by, including two dogs and a cat. She called out and motioned frantically. “Macky, come on, hurry up!”

  Macky, a stocky, sandy-haired, friendly looking man, smiled happily and waved back. Norma ran back inside, took his plate out of the oven, put it down on the table, and got the coffeepot as the screen door slammed behind him.

  “Macky, get in here and sit down before I have a stroke.”

  He sat down. “Hey, what’s up, kiddo?”

  She poured his coffee, was back in her chair staring at him before he could take the first bite of his scrambled eggs.

  “Guess what?” she said.

  “What?”

  “You are not going to believe what happened.”

  “What?”

  “You will never guess who called here in a million years.”

  “Who?”

  “Not three minutes after you left, maybe not even that long—”

  “Who?”

  “Do you give up?”

  “Yes, who called?”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, honey, I’ve been ready. Who?”

  Norma paused as a trumpet played a fanfare in her head and then, unable to contain herself any longer, she blurted out, “Baby Girl, that’s who!”

  Macky was sufficiently surprised and put his fork down.

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, I am not kidding, she called not three minutes after you left.”

  “Where was she?”

  “New York City and guess what: she’s coming home.”

  “She’s coming here?”

  “Yes!”

  “Huh. Well, I’ll be … Did she say why?”

  “Well, she said she needed to get away from something or another. To tell you the truth, I was so excited I forgot what she said, but she said she had been under a lot of pressure at work and would it be all right for her to come visit.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said of course. I said, ‘We’ve done nothing for years but tell you we want you to come home, would love to have you come. We’ve told you, this is your home, and whenever you want, don’t stand on ceremony, just come on.’ Haven’t we said that I don’t know how many times?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Norma grabbed Macky’s plate out from in front of him. “Here, let me heat up those eggs.”

  “No, they’re fine.”

  “Are you sure … No, let me stick them in for a few minutes.…” She ran to the oven and put his plate in.

  “What else did she say?”

  Norma sat down and concentrated. “Well, she said hello, of course, how are you and all that, then she said she wanted to come for a little visit and would we be home. I said yes, of course, and she said for us not to go to any trouble or anything.”

  Macky frowned. “Do you think she’s all right? Does she need for me to go up there and get her? I can be on a plane and be there tomorrow if she needs me to. Did you tell her that?”

  “Yes, I told her you would be happy to come get her but she said no, she would make her arrangements, then let us know.”

  “I would have been happy to go up there and get her.”

  “Oh, I know you would but I didn’t want to push at her. I was just so surprised she called at all—and when she said she wanted to visit, you could have knocked me over with a feather. You can imagine.”

  “You don’t think she’s sick or anything?”

  Norma took his plate out again. “No, I don’t think so. She sounded tired, maybe a little down—here, eat these now while they’re hot—but she didn’t sound sick.”

  Macky picked up his fork. “I told her she was working herself to a frazzle, I told her to slow down. I said that all along, didn’t I?”

  Norma nodded. “Yes, you did. You said she needed a vacation. You told her she was working too hard; when we were in New York you said it.”

  Norma saw that Macky was having a difficult time cutting into his scrambled eggs.

  “Do you want me to fix you some more eggs?”

  Macky, who would eat anything, said, “No, these are fine.”

  Norma reached for his plate. “It won’t take me but a minute.”

  “Norma, these are fine. I like well-done eggs. What about her job? How’s that going?”

  “I don’t know and I didn’t ask. That’s her business and it’s up to her to tell us what she wants us to know. I’m not going to pick and pry at her. Oh, and the one thing she asked me not to do is let anybody know she is coming, particularly not the newspaper and all.”

  “Oh, good Lord, no, if that bunch finds out she’s here they’ll be crawling up through the pipes trying to get to her.”

  Norma agreed.

  “Is Baby Girl still seeing that guy with the initials, what’s his name?”

  “I don’t know and I didn’t ask,” Norma said, and added, “J.C.”

  “He didn’t show me much.”

  “Well, she likes him and that’s all that matters. All I know is that she’s coming home and I intend to do everything in my power to make sure she feels like she has some family in this world that loves her. She doesn’t have any other relatives besides me and Aunt Elner. She must feel all alone. It just breaks my heart all these years she’s been living from pillar to post, jerked here and there, with nobody that really cares. What if she really did get sick, Macky? Who would she have?”

  “She’d have us, honey, we told her that, and she must have believed it or she wouldn’t have called.”

  Norma reached for a paper napkin from the red plastic holder and blew her nose. “Do you think so?”

  “Of course I do. There’s no use crying over it.”

  “Oh, I know, I guess I got excited and I’m just so happy it was us she called. She trusts us.”

  “Yes, I think she does. She give you any idea about when she was coming?”

  “No, I guess it could be as soon as tomorrow or the next day. Want some more coffee?”

  “Just a little.”

  Norma gasped. “Oh my God.”

  “What’s the matter?” Macky looked concerned.

  “I just realized I don’t know whether she drinks coffee or tea. Or what she likes for breakfast. I need to have everything here she likes, so I can have it just in case. Do you think we should go up to the bakery and buy a cake or do you think I should make one?”

  “Whatever, either way.”

  “Edna’s cakes are wonderful. I mean they are homemade, really.… But I don’t know, maybe it would hurt her feelings to think I bought a cake and didn’t go to the trouble to make one for her.”


  “Honey, a cake is a cake. How would she know whether you made it or Edna Buntz made it?”

  “She’d see the box.”

  “Take it out of the box and put it on a plate. They all taste the same to me.”

  “To you, maybe, but don’t forget her grandparents owned the bakery before Edna; she could tell. No, you’re right, I’ll make a cake. Good Lord, it’s the least I can do. I mean, really. What room should we give her? Should we give her ours? It’s the nicest.”

  “No, honey. She wouldn’t take it. Let’s put her upstairs in Linda’s old room. She’ll have more privacy.”

  “Yes, that’s the quietest. I’ll go up there later and make sure everything’s OK, check out the bedding and all. We need to get those curtains washed and the rug cleaned for her. Thank God I’m getting my hair fixed this afternoon.” She squinted at Macky. “You need to go up to Ed’s and get a haircut yourself.”

  “Now, Norma, she’s not gonna care one way or another if I get a haircut or not.”

  “Well, I will. We don’t want to embarrass her, showing up at the airport looking like a couple of Elmer Fudds.”

  Macky laughed.

  “I’m not kidding, Macky, she’s used to being around sophisticated New Yorkers.”

  “Well, I guess I do need to get the car washed. No joke.”

  Norma looked at Macky with a pained expression. “Why didn’t you let me get the house painted like I wanted to?”

  “Now, Norma, just calm down. She said not to make a fuss.”

  “Yes, but I just can’t help myself. I still can’t believe it. Just think after all these years, Baby Girl is coming home!”

  Hangover

  New York City

  April 1, 1973

  When Dena Nordstrom opened her eyes she had that three-to-four-second grace period before she remembered who she was and where she was. Before her body announced its condition. And, as always after a night like last night, it started with a blinding, pounding headache, followed by a wave of nausea, and soon the agonizing cold sweats.

  Slowly, one by one, the events of the previous evening came back to her. The evening had started out the way it usually did when she agreed to have a drink with J.C. After cocktails they had gone on to the Copenhagen on Fifty-eighth for dinner, slugging down God knows how many glasses of ice-cold aquavit and beer before and with the smorgasbord. She vaguely remembered insulting some Frenchman and walking over to the Brasserie for Irish coffee. She did recall that the sun was up by the time she got home, but at least she was in her own bed alone—J.C. had gone home, thank God. Then it hit her. J.C. What had she said to him? For all she knew they might very well be engaged again. And she’d have to think up a way to get out of it again. Always the same thing. He would say, “But you didn’t seem drunk. I asked you if you were drunk and you swore up and down that you were stone-cold sober and knew exactly what you were saying.” That was the problem. She never thought she was drunk and believed every word when she was saying it. Two weeks ago at a network party she had invited twenty people to her apartment for brunch the next day and then had to pay the doorman to tell each one that she had been called out of town because her grandmother had died. Not only could she not boil an egg, both her grandmothers had died years ago.

  Dena tried to get up but the pain throbbing in her temples was so intense she saw stars. She slowly eased out of bed sideways holding her head. The room was as dark as a tomb and as she opened the door the light she had left on in the hallway almost blinded her. She made it to the bathroom and held on to the sink to keep from spinning around. She turned on the cold water but could not bend over without her head killing her so she cupped her hands and splashed water upward, toward her face. Her hands were shaking as she took two Alka-Seltzers, three Bayer aspirins, and a Valium. All she needed now was an ice-cold Coca-Cola and she might live.

  She walked down the hall to the kitchen and when she got to the living room she stopped. J.C. was sound asleep on the couch.

  Dena tiptoed back down the hall to the bathroom and drank water from the tap. She took a cold washcloth for her head, went in and quietly locked her bedroom door, praying to a God she didn’t believe in. Please make him wake up and go home … please. She got back in bed, turned her electric blanket up to high, and went back to sleep.

  It was around 11:00 A.M. when Dena woke again and needed more aspirin. Now her stomach was hot and burning, screaming for carbohydrates. She quietly unlocked the bedroom door, tiptoed down the hall, and looked in the living room. She was delighted. J.C. had left. Hooray. She called the Carnegie Deli across the street and ordered two grilled cheese sandwiches, french fries, a chocolate shake, and two packs of Viceroys. While waiting, she walked out on the terrace. It was a cold, brown, dank day. The air was stale and humid. Traffic was snarled at Fifty-eighth and Sixth as usual and people were yelling at the top of their lungs and honking at one another. The loud clatter hurt her head so she went back inside, where the sound was muffled. Still, an occasional siren or a shrill horn would slip under the door and scream into her ears like a sharp knife, so she went into the kitchen to wait. A note J.C. had left was taped to her refrigerator. See you at eight for dinner.

  She spoke to the note. “Oh, no, you won’t.”

  After she had devoured all the food in less than five minutes, she went back to her bedroom, stepped over the clothes on the floor, and fell into bed with relief. She smiled to herself and thanked her lucky stars that this was only Saturday and she would be able to sleep until Monday morning. She closed her eyes for seconds—and then they flew open.

  She had just remembered: the affiliates were in town for the NAB convention. Today was the day she was supposed to be guest of honor at their luncheon.

  She moaned. “Oh, God … no, please don’t tell me I have to go to that luncheon, I’d rather be beaten to death with a baseball bat with nails on it. God, kill me in my bed, anything, please just let me lie here, don’t make me have to go to that luncheon … don’t make me have to get up and put my clothes on.”

  She lay there for ten more minutes, debating whether or not she should try calling with a sudden attack of appendicitis, thinking of a serious enough ailment that could hit you on Saturday and be gone by Monday. God, she wished she had a baby; nothing better than a sick child, they’re good for all kinds of sudden ailments. As hard as she tried to convince herself that she had a right not to go, that the luncheon was just public relations for the network and not real work, she finally came to the conclusion that she had to go because if she didn’t she would feel so guilty she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. She always liked to be dependable. Especially when it could do her some good, too. The affiliates had come from all over the country and this luncheon was for many the highlight of their trip. Most of the men had brought their wives along just for this occasion, to meet Dena Nordstrom in person. Some had followed her career from that first big interview with ex-senator Bosley, and she had become known to more of them after she went network. She was popular with almost all the wives, who watched her morning show every day. So she crawled out of bed and went back in the bathroom to see if there was any hope of getting herself together. She looked in the mirror expecting the worst, but was pleasantly surprised at what she saw.

  Through some lucky genetic quirk, Dena Nordstrom was a woman who happened to look especially wonderful when she had a hangover. Her blue eyes seemed to shine, there was a wholesome flush on her cheeks, and her lips looked sexy and slightly swollen (after smoking a thousand cigarettes). No matter how many times this had happened, she never ceased to be amazed.

  At twelve-thirty in the Tavern on the Green, a roomful of excited wives and their affiliate husbands were trying to pretend they were not looking forward to this luncheon. They kept glancing at the door to see if she had arrived yet. At 12:57 all attempts at conversation stopped. Every eye was on the tall, stunning, blond woman standing at the door looking “fabulous,” as more than one wife put it, dressed in a camel cash
mere suit, black turtleneck sweater, a pair of perfectly sized gold earrings, and wearing almost no makeup, so the wives would report to envious friends at home. There she was, in person, Dena Nordstrom, looking just like herself with that fresh, wholesome, open midwestern face of hers flashing that million-dollar smile.

  As the entire room in one great mass leaned toward her, she stood at the podium microphone and apologized to everyone. “I’m so sorry I’m so late. Here I’ve been looking forward to this luncheon all year and wouldn’t you know it, just as I was walking out the door, the phone rang and it was my sister calling long distance all the way from Copenhagen to tell me she was in the emergency room with a broken ankle. It seems that last night she and her husband had gone to some party and had been served all these strong drinks she was not used to … anyhow, long story short, she had tripped over a pair of wooden shoes so I had to run and dig out all the insurance information and give it to her or they wouldn’t release her and they have a plane to catch. So please forgive me …”

  She stopped there, rather than run on further. Why did all of her excuses somehow involve family? It wasn’t very original and besides, she didn’t have any family. But had she announced that she had just slaughtered six nuns with an ax, this crowd would have forgiven her. Afterward they rushed toward her, happily chattering away about how much prettier she was in person and wondering if they might have just one picture with her. What seemed like a hundred Instamatic flash cameras began snapping at her from all directions until she saw nothing but little white dots floating before her eyes. But she kept on smiling.

  Aunt Elner

  Elmwood Springs, Missouri

  April 1, 1973

  Macky had flushed the toilet and turned on all the faucets to make sure they were working. Norma was wondering if they needed a new bedspread and called him out of the bathroom. Macky looked at it. “I don’t think so and I’ll tell you why. I think it’s best if we just leave things the way they are, not do anything different. I’m sure after the places she’s been she won’t be impressed with a new bedspread. We can’t begin to compete with all those fancy apartments. What we need to do is try and make her feel at home, you know, something she can’t get everywhere.”