Did you call her that name?”
“Yes, sir, but she didn’t hear me. I said it soft, and she was already walking away.”
“Doesn’t matter if you whispered or shouted it, it’s unacceptable language and I will not have it. When we get home you and I are going to discuss this further in private, you hear?”
Oh boy. Hunter is getting the belt. Daddy doesn’t spank all that often, but when he does, he makes sure you remember it.
Hunter mumbles, “Yes, sir.” And then he shoots a backward glance at me that is so full of evil the hairs on my arms pop up, as if they are soldiers standing at attention.
2
Gracious Servings
(Decatur, Georgia, 1975)
H ow, Mama asks, could she say no when Mrs. Lacy Lovehart herself asked Mama to host a luncheon for The SERVERS ( S weet E arnest R everent V essels E njoy R espect and S alvation)? This is Lacy Lovehart , for goodness’ sakes: confirmed Christian, former Miss America, and current spokeswoman for the Central Georgia Peach Growers Association. Still, the upcoming event has Mama nervous as a cat in a carrying case. Sure, Mama says, she herself did publish Gracious Servings , a book on Joyful Christian Entertaining, and sure, she has both hosted a thousand luncheons and instructed other women on how to do so, but still. Mrs. Lovehart is famous and a legendary beauty, and there’s going to be a photographer from the Atlanta Journal covering the event, which means Mama’s homemaking skills will be on display for everyone who gets the paper.
But Mama knows how to cope. “The best way out is through,” she says at breakfast, the top of her hair covered in a blue and whitebandana. Hunter, Daddy, and I all know what this means—Troy would know, too, but he’s gone, a sophomore at Duke.
Cleaning Lady has arrived.
“Cleaning Lady” is an official term that Daddy came up with, way back during the early years of his and Mama’s marriage, before any of us were born. Daddy loves to tell the story of first “meeting” Cleaning Lady, after six months of wedded bliss. Usually, he says, Edie was sweet and fun, easy to be around, albeit mighty energetic. But when Mama’s parents called from LaGrange to say they were coming to stay in Mama and Daddy’s new house in Decatur for a week, boy howdy did Cleaning Lady arrive. Daddy said Cleaning Lady was beyond energetic, manic even, pulling everything out of every closet, every cabinet, every drawer: cleaning, sorting, and rearranging. And Cleaning Lady did not dress to impress. Usually Mama changed her blouse and applied fresh lipstick each night before Daddy came home, but Cleaning Lady met Daddy at the door with a bandana still tied around her head. She did not even stop her cleaning to eat dinner with Daddy but instead fixed him a peanut butter sandwich—not even taking the time to spread on jelly!—and a glass of milk.
Daddy says that after each of Cleaning Lady’s first few appearances he and Mama would argue and be cross with each other. But, Daddy later realized, Cleaning Lady was a part of Mama, and when he married Edie he agreed to love her, warts and all. Cleaning Lady even became a topic in the seminar he hosts each year for married couples, called Keeping the Spark Alive!
Hunter hates Cleaning Lady. Maybe I should, too. And I do hate how snappy and irritable she makes Mama. But I love how the house sparkles after a good deep clean, and I don’t mind helping out. After breakfast I ask if Mama needs help scrubbing the kitchen. Mama chews on her lip for a minute but then quickly takes me up on the offer, as if it might go away if she doesn’t say yes real fast.
• • •
“Have you decided on what you’re wearing?” I ask, spraying Fantastik on an emptied shelf of the refrigerator.
“I’m half-tempted to wear that Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress I got on sale at Davison’s,” she says, dumping a Tupperware container of old tuna noodle casserole into the garbage disposal. “Though I have a feeling
“Yes, sir, but she didn’t hear me. I said it soft, and she was already walking away.”
“Doesn’t matter if you whispered or shouted it, it’s unacceptable language and I will not have it. When we get home you and I are going to discuss this further in private, you hear?”
Oh boy. Hunter is getting the belt. Daddy doesn’t spank all that often, but when he does, he makes sure you remember it.
Hunter mumbles, “Yes, sir.” And then he shoots a backward glance at me that is so full of evil the hairs on my arms pop up, as if they are soldiers standing at attention.
2
Gracious Servings
(Decatur, Georgia, 1975)
H ow, Mama asks, could she say no when Mrs. Lacy Lovehart herself asked Mama to host a luncheon for The SERVERS ( S weet E arnest R everent V essels E njoy R espect and S alvation)? This is Lacy Lovehart , for goodness’ sakes: confirmed Christian, former Miss America, and current spokeswoman for the Central Georgia Peach Growers Association. Still, the upcoming event has Mama nervous as a cat in a carrying case. Sure, Mama says, she herself did publish Gracious Servings , a book on Joyful Christian Entertaining, and sure, she has both hosted a thousand luncheons and instructed other women on how to do so, but still. Mrs. Lovehart is famous and a legendary beauty, and there’s going to be a photographer from the Atlanta Journal covering the event, which means Mama’s homemaking skills will be on display for everyone who gets the paper.
But Mama knows how to cope. “The best way out is through,” she says at breakfast, the top of her hair covered in a blue and whitebandana. Hunter, Daddy, and I all know what this means—Troy would know, too, but he’s gone, a sophomore at Duke.
Cleaning Lady has arrived.
“Cleaning Lady” is an official term that Daddy came up with, way back during the early years of his and Mama’s marriage, before any of us were born. Daddy loves to tell the story of first “meeting” Cleaning Lady, after six months of wedded bliss. Usually, he says, Edie was sweet and fun, easy to be around, albeit mighty energetic. But when Mama’s parents called from LaGrange to say they were coming to stay in Mama and Daddy’s new house in Decatur for a week, boy howdy did Cleaning Lady arrive. Daddy said Cleaning Lady was beyond energetic, manic even, pulling everything out of every closet, every cabinet, every drawer: cleaning, sorting, and rearranging. And Cleaning Lady did not dress to impress. Usually Mama changed her blouse and applied fresh lipstick each night before Daddy came home, but Cleaning Lady met Daddy at the door with a bandana still tied around her head. She did not even stop her cleaning to eat dinner with Daddy but instead fixed him a peanut butter sandwich—not even taking the time to spread on jelly!—and a glass of milk.
Daddy says that after each of Cleaning Lady’s first few appearances he and Mama would argue and be cross with each other. But, Daddy later realized, Cleaning Lady was a part of Mama, and when he married Edie he agreed to love her, warts and all. Cleaning Lady even became a topic in the seminar he hosts each year for married couples, called Keeping the Spark Alive!
Hunter hates Cleaning Lady. Maybe I should, too. And I do hate how snappy and irritable she makes Mama. But I love how the house sparkles after a good deep clean, and I don’t mind helping out. After breakfast I ask if Mama needs help scrubbing the kitchen. Mama chews on her lip for a minute but then quickly takes me up on the offer, as if it might go away if she doesn’t say yes real fast.
• • •
“Have you decided on what you’re wearing?” I ask, spraying Fantastik on an emptied shelf of the refrigerator.
“I’m half-tempted to wear that Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress I got on sale at Davison’s,” she says, dumping a Tupperware container of old tuna noodle casserole into the garbage disposal. “Though I have a feeling
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