Little Lies

Chapter 10: Mama's Gold Evening Gown

It was early morning, and we were taking a day trip to the beach. Mama and Papa sat in the front seat of the car, staring straight ahead without talking. Bessie and I sat in the back seat.

"This is a really dumb idea," I whispered to Bessie.

She nodded her head.

"Papa, why didn"t we stay home?"

"Because it's too hot in town, and your mama and I thought it would be cooler at the beach."

Without turning her head, Mama said, "Bessie, please ask my husband if he locked the doors before we left."

I looked at Bessie. She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Miss Jo. Mr. Michael--"

Papa's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. "Bessie, please tell my wife that I always lock the doors. I wouldn't want anyone to steal her ridiculous gold evening gown."

"Yes, Mr. Michael. Miss Jo, Mr. Michael always--"

"Bessie," Mama said, "Please ask my husband why he thinks my gold evening gown is ridiculous."

"Because you look stupid in it, Mama."

"Clara!" Mama, Papa, and Bessie said. But Papa and Bessie were laughing.

Mama didn't laugh. "Bessie, please ask my husband why I look stupid in my beautiful gold evening gown. That is, my beautiful gold evening gown that everyone in town raves about."

"Yes, Miss Jo. Mr. Michael--"

"Bessie," Papa said. "Please tell my wife that everyone in town is raving about what a lunatic I was for spending a fortune on a dress that makes my wife look like a gaudy Christmas table centerpiece."

"What, they said that?" Mama sputtered. "How dare they…. Why, I… Oh, never mind."

Mama and Papa stopped talking and stared straight ahead.

"You could freeze a cow in this car," Bessie whispered to me.

I giggled.

The sun rose in the sky and the car windows were still up. I looked at Bessie. Beads of sweat dotted her face.

I whispered to Bessie, "I think that cow is melting now. I wish Mama or Papa could roll the window down."

"Oh no, Miss Clara. That would only start another argument that I don't want to be in the middle of." Bessie whispered. She fanned herself with her hat. "You know how your mama hates the wind in her hair."

"She could just brush it back into place," I whispered. I put both my hands around my neck and stuck out my tongue when Papa looked in the rearview mirror. He chuckled.

"Bessie," Mama said, "Please ask my husband what's so funny."

"Yes, Miss Jo. Mr. Michael--"

"Bessie," Papa said, “Please tell my wife that our daughter is suffering from heatstroke in the back seat.”

"Yes, Mr. Michael. And Miss Jo, it is awful hot back here."

"Bessie," Mama said. "Please tell my husband to tell his daughter that she'll have to suffer a little while longer."

"Mama, please roll down your window just a little!"

"And ruin my hair?"

"Mama!"

"No, Clara."

"Bessie, please?" I tugged on her sleeve.

"Yes, Miss Clara." She wiped the sweat off her forehead with her hand. "Either I die now or get fired later." She reached over the front seat and rolled down Mama's window. A blast of warm air hit my face.

"Thank you, thank you! I can breathe again!" I stretched my arms up.

The wind picked up the brim and carried Mama's hat out the window.

"Bessie, you saved our lives!" Papa rolled down his window and howled.

Bessie held onto the arm rest with one hand and crossed herself with her rosary with the other hand.

"Oh, Bessie, it's ok." I hugged her. "Papa has both hands on the steering wheel."

"But does he have both eyes on the road?" She kissed her rosary. "Our Father…"

"Honestly, you're all incorrigible! Indecent!" Mama slouched down in her seat.