Read Online The Orange Blossom Special by Betsy Carter - Free Book Online Page B

asked.
    â€œMaybe Mr. Landy is doing what he wants to do,” said Jésus.
    â€œWell, what about me? When do I get to do what I want to do? Charlie’s off to college in the fall. That leaves Crystal, who right now can’t stand the sight of me. Maynard’s never home. I’m not getting any younger.”
    â€œMrs. Landy, you don’t look . . .”
    â€œCut the crap, Jésus. You know what I mean. It’s lonely, just me and Ella rattling around that monster of a house.”
    Jésus rubbed her shoulders. “Sonia will be back next week,” he said. Victoria patted his hand. “You’re so good to me, even when I mouth off like a witch.”
    â€œI’ve been thinking about your hair.”
    Victoria perked up.
    â€œMaybe it’s time for a change. Something young and fresh like a bouffant.”
    Right after they were married, Maynard made her promise to keep her hair long. “How it flows on the pillow,” he’d said, staring down at her. “Like ripples in the ocean.” It was an uncharacteristically romantic sentiment from Maynard and Victoria never forgot it. She wore the same flip for the next twenty-two years. Now, Jésus piled her hair on top of her head and pulled a few tendrils around her face. “It would be very Ann-Margret,” he said.
    â€œAnn-Margret? My goodness.” Victoria giggled. “Shucks. Why the hell not?”
    As Jésus trimmed the hair around her face—graduating the hair, he called it—she could see her younger self emerge: she began telling him about Victoria, the president of Kappa Delta. Victoria, with the loud mouth and beautiful smile. “Miss Pearly Whites,” of the University of Georgia, 1935. Got put on suspension when she was found kissing Nora White, a freshman pledge, on the lips one night behind the sorority house. Got turned in by Sandra Beasely, some ugly small-minded girl from Asheville, who said that Victoria had unhealthytendencies and was a threat to the other girls of Kappa Delta. Just like that, Victoria turned around and found herself a steady boyfriend. The first girl in her year to get pinned, the first to go all the way. Married before graduation. Donald Pierson. Football player, president of his fraternity, great dancer. Took her back to the family farm in Hawthorne, Florida, where his daddy raised cattle. Away from the razzmatazz of college and frat parties, Donald’s drinking took on an ugly desperation. One night she found a handful of hairpins in his night-table drawer.
    â€œWhere’d these come from?” she asked him.
    â€œWhat the hell you doin’ going through my things?” he shouted. His face turned gray.
    She told him she was looking for the nail clippers.
    â€œDon’t you ever, ever go through my stuff again,” he said. “Do you get that?”
    â€œWhat’ve you got to hide, anyway?” she asked
    â€œNothin’,” he said.
    â€œSure doesn’t sound like it.” Her voice was playful, taunting if you wanted to hear it that way.
    â€œJust stay the fuck out of my things,” he said.
    Out of nowhere, a fist slammed into her right jaw. It was as sudden as a bad dream. Before the pain, she felt a gap where her bottom incisor used to be. The tooth was floating in a pool of blood. The blood tasted bitter, metallic. The two of them put their hands to their mouths in disbelief.
    â€œOh my God, honey, I am so sorry.” He reached for her, but she slapped his hand away.
    â€œYou touch me and I’ll kill you,” she said, then ran inside the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She rinsed her mouth, ran water over the tooth, wrapped it in a piece of toilet paper and tucked it inside her pants pocket, just in case.
    Donald was mewling at the other side of the door. “Sweetie, I didn’t mean anything. You know what a hothead I am. I swear, this will never happen again.”
    She opened the