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She reached over to squeeze my hand. “Glad I waited, ‘cause I get the feeling that this is the absolute right time for that.”
She sighed, looking out the window for a beat, a faraway look in her eyes. “I grew up in the South. To a Momma and Daddy who didn’t love each other. Barely even liked each other all that much. But they feared God enough to know that divorce was a sin, and they surely didn’t want to anger him by getting one. So they stayed together. Made each other angry and bitter. Even my Momma. She was a romantic. A former pageant queen. My God, she was beautiful. Always, absolutely always had her hair done. Makeup on. Heels, outfit, everything matching.”
She looked wistful, as if she were imagining her mother.
I was imagining her, too, thinking she might’ve looked like a different version of Laura Maye. Though that was hard to imagine. There was only one Laura Maye; she was one of a kind.
“We didn’t have the money for much, so she had to get creative,” she continued. “Would go to thrift shops. Altered things with her rusty old sewing machine, making them look good as new, original. She took so much pride in herself. But her and Daddy’s constant fighting, all the money problems, living in an environment she didn’t think she’d ever end up in... it chipped away at her. At her beauty. She started to drink to escape from all of it. The life she found herself in. Then she started to go to bars, looking for men who’d treat her like they wanted her. Daddy eventually found out, making things even worse. For all the fear he had about angering God with a divorce, he didn’t at all mind beating on his wife.”
She sipped her drink, and I did the same because the story was already breaking my heart, and I had a feeling she wasn’t even half done.
“My momma loved me. She wanted to give me a life that was different than hers. She told me the dangers of falling in love, taught me the value in looking beautiful. ‘No matter what kind of ugliness the world gives you, make sure you face it with your hair did and your lipstick on’, that’s what she used to say.” Laura Maye smiled. A sad smile, full of pain.
“She said that being beautiful was a gift. That it would get me places with men. That I could use it to my advantage, as long as I never got attached. Never let myself end up like her. My daddy wasn’t a bad man. Least I don’t like to think so. He’d been the same as Momma. Thought the world had more to offer him. Quarterback in high school, meant for big things. Then he blew his knee out, and his future went up in smoke. Momma’s too. He had to work in a factory. Back breaking, soul crushing work. Dawn till dusk for crappy pay. He was tired from work, tired from life, angry with everyone, most of all himself. Although he did love me in his own way.”
“Here you go, ladies,” Donny said with a smile, setting down two amazing looking plates of food. The smell reminded me that I’d had nothing but coffee and a bite of Lily’s oatmeal today.
Laura Maye grinned at the man. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
He winked at her and made his way back to the kitchen.
“Fried food and booze are the best ways to get through stories of a damaged past,” she said with a cheerfulness in her voice that amazed me. It was genuine, as was everything about Laura Maye. Except her nails, and her eyelashes.
I picked at the nachos while she continued.
“I wasn’t too great at school, except math. I liked numbers. Numbers are always reliable.” She smiled wistfully. “But people didn’t see much more than dumb, blonde trailer trash when they looked at me. And if people think that about you long enough, you start to believe them. Especially when the momma who used to tell you how beautiful you were is more concerned with a bottle than anything else.”
She popped a chip into her mouth.
I sipped my drink while I waited, watching the beautiful Laura Maye, sitting in the bar she built. The life she’d earned. As if I didn’t already have enough respect for the woman.
“I got out at eighteen, only ‘cause I had to. ‘Cause I knew that I’d fade away just like my momma if I stayed. Me and my boyfriend—I always had one of those—decided to up and leave. Decided to go to Dallas. Figure I’d wait tables while I tried to become an actress or model. Something like that. I hadn’t decided. Just needed the world to tell me I was beautiful because I didn’t believe it anymore.
