“I sure will.” I smile after I say it, but she never smiles back. The urge to explain jumps up again, but I swallow it right back down.
As she’s walking away she says something about being away from her Grove party too long. She gets all the way to the front door, and I think I’m in the clear, but she turns back around. At first it looks as if she’ll head my way again, but instead she rushes through the kitchen door.
By now, I have worked myself into a state. Between Miss Lilith’s reaction and being so ticked off at Kadeesha for skipping out on housekeeping duty, I want to kick a soccer ball, or hit a punching bag—anything that might relieve this angst.
Checking both the downstairs restrooms, ladiesandgents, it gets worse. They look more like outside lavatories at an old nasty gas station, not powder rooms in a fine sorority house. Wastebaskets are overflowing with wadded up paper towels, holders are empty with no way to dry your hands. Soap dispensers are still okay, but there are black scuffmarks all over the tile floors. Miss Lilith was right. Two of the three stalls in the ladies’ are clean out of paper. With the close proximity to the Grove most of the alums and their husbands come here to use the toilet.
I debate whether or not to let Kadeesha have it right then and there, or just do it myself. After taking a deep breath and praying for the strength to calm myself down, I choose the latter. I’m the one who has to work with her every day. It is not worth the headache.
I’m reaching for the door when it jerks open from the other side. Miss Lilith is standing there with both Kadeesha and Mr. Marvelle. He has a bucket in one hand and a mop in the other. Kadeesha’s hands are empty. She’s just standing there smacking on a piece of gum.
“Where are the supplies kept?” Miss Lilith asks with an angry tongue.
“In my maintenance closet,” I say matter-of-factly.
She turns to my coworkers. “Please, one of you, go get the supplies. These powder rooms are atrocious.”
“Pearl has the key,” Kadeesha says as if that’s the reason for the mess. Before God, I want to strangle that woman.
Stretching out her hand, palm up, Miss Lilith asks, “May I have the key, please?” Upon which I remove the plastic bracelet around my wrist and hand it over. “Thank you. Please come with me,” she says to Kadeesha and Marvelle. Then that lady struts down the hall and enters my closet as if it’s hers.
Before long she emerges with an armload and practically shoves toilet paper and hand towels at both of them before kicking the door closed. Then she strolls back to me, holding the key away from her like its something nasty, drops it inside my hand, and never says another word to any of us. We all watch her swish toward the foyer and out the front door.
“Why did you have to do that?” I ask Kadeesha as soon as Miss Lilith is gone.
“Do what?”
“Ignore these washrooms. Do you hate me or something?”
With that gum rolling around inside her mouth, it appears Kadeesha is in no hurry to answer. “Why do you say that?” she finally asks, followed by two more smacks and a loud pop.
“Don’t you know my substituting for Mama Carla can only help us? This is about progress, Kadeesha. Not me having more seniority than you.”
“Pearl’s right.” Mr. Marvelle shakes his head in disgust. “Land sakes. I would have done it myself if you didn’t wanna do it. Now look what you’ve done. We’ll be lucky if all three of us don’t lose our jobs.”
The rest of our staff is off today. Sororities don’t serve meals on weekends.
“This ain’t my fault,” Kadeesha says, then sashays on past us, straight for the ladies’ room. Before she opens the door she stops. “I’m not sure I even want this job.”
Marvelle cuts his eyes my way without moving a muscle. Soon as the door closes behind her he shakes a finger toward the space where she last stood. “Well, take your junkie butt and get on outta here, then.”
TWENTY-FOUR
WILDA
“I can’t get over how much Oxford has changed,” I say, peering out my window as Haynes and I inch around the Square. “Thank goodness Square Books is still here. The way bookstores are dying, it’s a small miracle.” The traffic is backed up all the way from Highway 7. We left Memphis early to secure a good parking spot, and it seems the rest of the Rebel fans had the same idea. “Look at all the new restaurants and gift shops.”
“Who would have ever thought,” Haynes says, looking out his side, “the population of Oxford, Mississippi, would double. Actually, I think it’s tripled since we were in school.”
I reach over and mime holding a microphone under his chin. “So, Mr. Woodcock, to what do you attribute Oxford’s population explosion? I’m told it’s grown faster than any other city in Mississippi.”
He leans into the imaginary mic. “Well, Ms. Couric, that’s an easy one. Aside from the hundreds of baby boomers swarming here for retirement, Eli and Archie Manning are Oxford’s real stars. Football has turned our community into a gold rush.”
We look at each other and laugh. Then he leans over again like he wants to continue the interview. “There’s one more thing I’d like to add.”
Holding the “mic” back toward him I say, “Yes, Mr. Haynes Woodcock. Please do continue. You are very handsome, by the way.”
“Thank you, Ms. Katie Couric, you are extremely beautiful yourself.” Looking straight ahead at the car in front, he clears his throat, then leans in closer. “Oxford may have had its trials and controversies over the years, but I can assure you it’s one of the best small towns in America.”
