Ruth sighed. “Couldn’t we just see the new insurance man some other day — like maybe one of the nights we’re all waitressing?”
Jane shook her head. “The meeting is for everybody—that means all the employees of Lucky Aces. Ms. Touliatis isn’t gonna make that insurance man drive all the way back down to make a second presentation for just five cocktail waitresses.”
Ruth acquiesced with a nod. “Why do we even need medical insurance anyway?”
“Because one of these days Mags just might drive us all into the Mississippi River and we’ll probably have to get our lungs pumped out.” Jane looked around the trailer. “I like what you’ve done with this stinky ol’ place.”
“I haven’t done half the things I want to. I did put up those curtains. Lucille helped me. I don’t know anything about curtains. I should have asked Carrie to be my ‘aesthetic advisor.’”
“Whatever the hell that is, I’m sure she would’ve been glad to do it. Carrie’s so cultured. Do you know what Lyle said about Carrie? I don’t go quoting my brother very often because most of what comes out of his mouth is drunken garbage, but this one was funny. He said Carrie and her mother had such high airs they probably shitted divinity.”
Ruth’s mouth wasn’t doing what Jane’s mouth was doing; only one of the two friends was smiling. “What does he mean: ‘divinity’?”
“Divinity! Like pecan divinity. Like what you get at Stuckey’s.”
“Oh, you mean candy.”
“But divinity candy. That’s the joke. You know: divinity’s white and shit is — oh, just forget it.” Jane rolled her eyes and groaned. “It spoils everything when I have to explain jokes to you. You’re getting as bad as Molly.”
“Maybe it’s because I’ve been living with a minister and his sister all these years. When I hear the word ‘divinity’ I don’t usually think of candy.”
“Well, thank you for letting me know I’ll have to start tailoring my jokes to your personal life experience.”
Ruth stared at her friend. “Why are you such a sourpuss this morning?”
“I’m not a sourpuss. On the other hand, I was in a slightly better mood before your Aunt Lucille made a crack about my handbag. You must have told her I got it from Second-Hand Roseanne.”
“When was this? You mean just now?”
Jane nodded. “When I was coming through the house. Now why do I have to come through their house when I’m here to visit you? Can’t I just come around the house without having to pass Go and collect two hundred insults?”
“Oh stop it, Jane. Whatever she said, I know she didn’t mean it the way you heard it. Lucille wouldn’t even know how to insult a person if she tried.”
“She insults me. She calls me her ‘sister-in-spinsterhood,’ her ‘bosom bachelorette.’ Why does she think I’m never gonna get married? I’ll tell you why she thinks that — because she thinks I’m ugly. That’s what she thinks. That we’re two ‘sisters-in-ugliness.’ Do you know how offensive that is? Especially since you’re the one who never wanted a ticket on the marriage train.”
Jane sat down on the couch.
“These shoes are hurting me already. They’re new. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She kicked off one of the shoes and began to rub her foot.
“Do you want to wear one of my pairs?”
“What size do you wear? I can’t remember.”
“Eight.”
“I’m a ten, but thanks anyway. Does Lucille know you’re a lesbian?”
“I’m sure she’s figured it out.”
“But you’ve never told her? Or the Reverend?”
“No, but they have to know. They never ask me why I don’t date. And they see some of the books I read. I’m sure they’re okay with it. So, you’re sure the courtesy van’s gonna swing by to get us too?”
“That’s what Mags said. Isn’t it nice how things work out? Like the way Ms. Colthurst is letting us all work the day shift so we don’t have to go all the way home and then have to come right back again tonight.”
“It would be nice, Jane, except for the fact that we hardly ever get good tips on the day shift. From nine in the morning till five in the afternoon it’s just a bunch of stingy old farts who hog the nickel slots and drink up as many free Diet Pepsis as their bladders’ll hold.”
“Whoo boy! There’s a Ruth Thrasher I don’t see very often.” Jane ran her hand along the fabric of the couch. She sniffed the air. “Did somebody pee on this sofa?”
“I think Lucius had a dog for a while.”
“Let’s hope he had a dog. Aren’t these colors wild? How old is this trailer house of yours?”
“Ancient. I didn’t mean what I said about those old people. I like old people. I guess I just prefer old people like the ones who go to CGS — people who are trying to make the world a better place — not the ones who just sit at slot machines until all their organs shut down.”
“I know that, honey. I also know that going to that church has given you a big ol’ conscience. I depend on your conscience, since sometimes I can’t find where I put mine. That comes from having a brother it’s so easy to want dead. First tortured with acid and then dropped off a bridge.”
“Jane, have you ever once thought something and then not said it?”
“All the time. Like all morning I’ve been thinking of how much I’m gonna enjoy getting the night off. Lyle’s doing something with his friends tonight, and I’ll have the apartment all to myself for a change. I plan to take a sudsy bubble bath with scented candles all around and sip white wine like somebody in the movies. And there’ll be no Lyle to come banging on the door and tell me to please feed him, like he’s a helpless baby chick waiting for his worms. I thought I might ask if I could move in with you, Ruth, since we’re the only ones of the five of us who aren’t abnormally attached to a parent.”
“Because we don’t have parents,” Ruth superfluously interjected.
“Well, duh, yeah. But now that I’ve gotten myself a good look at this place, it’s really small.”
“You’re right. It is pretty small. But I’d have you for a roommate in a New York minute if it wasn’t. You know that Mags’ mother and Molly’s father might be getting married, right?”
“Yeah, I’d heard that. Mrs. Barton will be saving a ton on chiropractic services and all those holistic teas and things Doc Osborne sells. Do you have any coffee?”
“No. Do you want me to get you a cup from the house?”
“What? And give your opinionated Aunt Lucille a chance to say something new about how sucky my chances are of getting a husband? I don’t know why she has it in for me.”
“I think she means well, Jane. She just can’t overlook those things the two of you have in common.”
“Excuse me, Ruth Thrasher, but I have absolutely nothing in common with your shriveled-up old Aunt Lucille!”
“Now who’s talking smack about old people?”
“Who’s that guy walking up to the trailer?”
“By the look of his livery uniform, I’d say he’s the courtesy van driver from Lucky Aces.”