Nobody's Sorry You're Dead

13

"That's a terrible thing to say, Hadley."

"I know that. But it's the truth," Hadley said.

"Yes, it probably is," said Maury, "but it's still awful."

Hadley crunched the phone under her neck and opened the lid of the bowl. The smell of all that sugar-glazed goodness was divine. She pushed the lid back down, hearing the 'pop', and knew the bowl was closed tightly. It would keep a little while longer.

Maury had not skipped a beat.

"Breathe," Hadley said. "You really will pass out. I have a college degree, Maury. It's not like these jobs are above my intellectual capabilities. Some of them are rather interesting.

Maybe I feel guilty. I don't know. Dad shelled out all that dough just so I could go to school, and how did I repay him? I married Harry right after graduation. I became a housewife. A college-educated housewife-slash-widow who now volunteers occasionally at a wildlife rehab center!

I feel like I've wasted it. Not my life. Don't get me wrong. We've been happy. But certainly, my education should count for something. Maybe cleaning out Eustian's rat hole is my way of doing atonement for that.

And no, I don't care what anyone says. Friends or neighbors.

If they talk about me, then they are leaving somebody else alone. Besides, it's not like I'm totally incapable of doing these jobs. And you're right. I'll give you that. A lot of them are manual labor. I come home dirty, greasy, smelly, and tired. Really tired. But I like to be able to say that I'm not too proud to get my hands dirty. It's honest work. Good hard honest labor."

"But Hadley," Maury said.

"Don't 'but Hadley' me, Mary Maureen. You don't have to rattle around in an empty house with a mean, old bean-kiss-your-foot-I-don't-care-if-you're-alive crazy cat like Onus. When Harry was here, staying at home and taking care of him and the house kept me busy. It was enough. But, not now.

Our occasional volunteering at the shelter is gratifying, I'll admit, but Ruth doesn't need us every day. And don't say 'get a hobby,' Maury. I have plenty of hobbies. But I can only stomach so many quilting bees, ladies' meetings, and bridge parties.

You know how I love bread crusts.

Ethel Banks ate me up the last time I dropped in early to help her get ready for the card game.

I was in the kitchen, just lending a hand. She looked like she needed two or three, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, she was making her little finger sandwiches to serve to the gals. Using a cookie cutter and aiming it smack-dab in the middle of the bread. Wasting the best part, if you ask me. Nothing left when Ethel got through but snow-white cute little shapes of cottony blandness.

I was only trying to be helpful, mind you. I told her to bag up all that bread she was wasting and give it to me. I could make stuffing or something out of it. She just looked at me like I'd peed on her kitchen floor.

She threw those perfectly good crusts right in the trash can so fast, it would make your head spin. She eyed me like I'd asked her to put honest-to-goodness toilet water in the punch bowl.

Then, she served those dainty, pale cucumber sandwiches, in those ridiculous heart and diamond shapes, like they were royal delights. Pooh! Little cardboard cereal boxes, if you ask me. A mud pie would be tastier! And more filling!

Why is it such a social crime to serve something edible at those things, Maury?

I always go away so hungry, I can't stand myself.

I wish those ladies would unlace their girdles and quit trying to prove they are prim and proper and the star pupil of Miss Manners. I want to laugh out loud at all those little pinky fingers waving in the air when those women drink tea.

Those are the same pinky fingers that clean toilets, scrub out bathtubs, and wipe their kids' runny noses. We're just down-to-earth country people.

Why can't those women be happy in the skin they are in instead of trying to pretend they are some posh country club set?

I'd never do it because I'd never hear the end of it from you, Mary Maureen. But do you know what I'd like to do at the next card club party?"

"No," said Maury. "And I'm afraid to ask. But I will. What?"

"I'd like to serve some sloppy Joes," Hadley said, "meatloaf sandwiches, fried potatoes with onions, or gravy and homemade biscuits. Anything that would stick to my ribs."