“And me and Carla Jean started a support group for grievin’ families. I used to believe that bein’ a man meant holdin’ it all in, but it helps to talk it out. We’re always on call and anyone sufferin’ is welcome.”
Daddy found God and started a support group? He must have switched bodies with someone else, too. He’s a blur as the congregation stands and praises the Lord. I stay seated because I’m afraid if I get up, my legs won’t support me.
Momma moves into the aisle and waits for Daddy. She’s wearing a pink dress that I’ve never seen before, and the congregation praises Jesus when they hug each other tight.
The choir sings “Our God,” and I take that as my cue to slip out the door. The minivan is near the same spot where I parked Momma’s Town and Country eight months ago. I climb inside and stare out the window, seeing nothing.
This whole time, I thought I’d come back home and everything would be the same. Momma would live in our house and Daddy would live with Floozy Face and his dog, Scooter. I thought everything would be exactly as it was the day I left. Lida would work at the Dollar General, and I could get cinnamon milk in my horchata latte.
Folks might come and go around here, but the population always hovers around two thousand. Artists might put up new installations, and Hollywood might make movies just outside of town, but Marfa stays stuck in time.
Until now. I never thought my death would bond my folks together. I never thought it would change them so much. I never thought I’d be like the kid with her nose pressed against the window, watching everything from outside.
I knew some things were bound to be different. I don’t look like my old self. Everyone thinks I’m dead and all, but I thought for sure Momma’s heart would recognize me. It still might, but now she lives with Daddy and they have each other. They don’t need anyone else. If there was ever a chance of getting her out of Marfa so she could help me with Shear Elegance, it’s never going to happen now. I know that might have always been a pipe dream, but now it’s not even that.
When Ingrid offered me a new life that day in her tulip office, I pictured me and Momma drinking Dr Pepper on the front porch of a brand-new ranch house. I’d come visit her, and she’d kick her feet up after her bunion surgery. I saw Daddy in a new truck and pull trailer, bagging wild boar with his pocketknife and sleeping in a deluxe camper at night.
I grab a Kleenex from my Chloé bag and blow my nose. My eyes are red and swollen from crying. I think about the last time I got a big hug from Daddy and a tight squeeze from my momma. I want to feel that kind of love again.
Someone raps on my driver’s-side window and startles an “Aaahh!” out of me. It’s Momma, and I wonder how she noticed me in my incognito van.
“I thought I recognized ya.” She’s wearing her same old quilted coat, and now it swallows her up.
“Yes, ma’am. I never miss church.”
“You must have been raised right.”
I smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“How’d that custom do work out for ya? Were ya happy with it?”
“Happier than a dead pig in sunshine. Thank you.”
She nods her head, then suddenly stops. “Good God almighty, your eyes are cried out. No man is worth that kind of ugly.”
I don’t take offense because it’s something I’ve heard all my life. “No man trouble today. I was moved by the spirit. Your husband’s faith story touched my heart. I could have listened to more.”
She puts her hands together like she’s praying. “He’s a changed man and a witness for Christ.” She turns away and waves both hands over her head. “Pudge. Pudge! Get over here!” Then she turns back to me and says, “Ya might be interested in our Bible study meetin’. I’m the group leader, and we’re studyin’ the book of Matthew this month. Our goal is a better understandin’ of t
he Lord’s teachin’s and applyin’ them in our daily lives. I’d introduce ya, but I won’t be attendin’ today’s meetin’ due to Pudge’s baptism barbecue.”
Baptism barbecue? What’s Daddy bagged and tagged lately?
“What’er ya hollerin’ about?” Daddy asks as he stands next to the van. He’s wearing the same work coat he always wore to court, and he is a sight for my ugly eyes. My heart swells with love and joy and I struggle with a new flood of tears.
“This young woman came into the shop for a custom do on Friday. I showed you the picture. It took pert near three hours to pin and curl her hair, not to mention—”
“Is there a reason ya hollered at me?” Daddy interrupts Momma’s flow.
“Your faith story moved Edie’s heart and she’s cryin’ her eyes out.”
He dips his head to look at me. “If I helped ya, that’s God workin’ through me.”
I don’t pay much attention to his words; I’m too busy looking at his face in my window. Except for the glasses, he’s the same. Same blue eyes and crow’s feet baked into his skin. “Yes, sir.”
He pulls back. “Ya take care, now.”
Don’t go, Daddy! It’s me. Your baby girl! “What do y’all grill for a baptism?” I ask so they won’t leave me.