“We do that at your house every Sunday,” Darla said as she drove down Broadway Street, turned right onto Main, and headed to the Baptist church fellowship hall on the corner of Main and Byrd Streets.
“Yep, but that’s not the way I grew up. My mama and daddy had ten sons. I was the youngest. My daddy came from a family with eight boys and two girls. We were those wild Marshall kids from the backwoods up around Powderly. They called us Marshall cousins ‘river rats’ because we lived on the Red River, and we weren’t real smart like your granny’s folks.
“Accordin’ to your great-grandma, I wasn’t good enough for Roxie. She had a scholarship to go to college and was going to make something out of herself. But she said she would marry me, so I bought us a marriage license, and we was going to have us a weddin’ in my folks’ front yard.” He chuckled. “My mama used to say that when you make plans, God just laughs and throws monkey wrenches into the ideas to show you who’s boss.”
Amen to that, Darla thought as she snagged a parking spot close to the fellowship hall. God has sure been laughing at my plans lately.
“Didn’t you invite Granny’s folks?” she asked.
“You’ll have to hear the rest of this story later.” Roxie sighed. “Look at all the cars. Folks are already here, so we’d best get on in there and get this over with.”
“You know you love a party.” Claud got out of the back seat and opened the door for Roxie. “Even after we got married and made it to my mama’s place, you loved the party she had ready for us in the front yard.”
“I thought you couldn’t remember anything that far back.” Roxie got out of the vehicle and headed toward the fellowship hall with Claud right beside her.
“I told you we were going to be late,” Claud fussed when he opened the door and everyone applauded.
“Mama told me not to bring y’all until this time so that everyone could greet you when we got here,” Darla whispered.
“They’re here!” Gloria’s voice filled the whole place when she announced their arrival over the microphone. “Happy sixtieth to the best parents Kevin and I could ever ask for!”
“Sweet Jesus!” Roxie gasped.
“It’s okay. They’re all your friends,” Darla said.
“It’s not that, honey,” Roxie whispered. “I just blew a hole in my pantyhose. A glob of fat has snuck out, and it feels like I’ve got a chunk of salt pork between my legs. It’s sweating and sticking to my other thigh.”
“We’ll make our way to the bathroom.” Darla looped her arm into Roxie’s. “You can take them off and throw them in the trash. Nobody wears those things anymore anyway.”
They hadn’t gone two steps before a whole group of gray-haired ladies circled around Roxie. “You deserve a medal for staying with one man for sixty years,” Violet Parsons said. “I’m ten years younger than you, and I’ve already had three husbands.”
“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” Rosalee Davis sighed. “My poor Frank died just before our fortieth. I wish we would have had twenty more years together.”
“Ladies,” Darla whispered, “Granny needs to make a quick trip through the bathroom. We’ll be right back, but y’all could claim one of those tables for us.”
Violet nodded. “We understand, darlin’. When you get to be our age, the bladder has a mind of its own, and if you don’t listen, it retaliates. We’ll get some punch and cookies ready for you while you’re gone.”
“If I’ve got to listen to Violet tell stories about her three husbands and Rosalee whine about her husband that cheated on her the last ten years of their marriage, I’ll be ready to go to Florida all by myself.” Roxie opened the door and stopped in the sitting room right outside the bathroom. Darla locked the door and then eased down onto a rose-colored velvet sofa.
When Roxie jerked the tail of her dress up, Darla’s eyes widened, and her finger shot up to point at her grandmother. “What is that thing you are wearing? It looks painful.”
“Do you mean my girdle? A woman is only as well dressed as her undergarments,” Roxie said.
“Have you always worn those things? And if so, why?” Darla frowned.
“Ahhh,” Roxie said as she pulled it and the pantyhose off at the same time. “Freedom.” She sighed. “Now you know why I hate to go to these things. You girls today have life so much easier. Ladies of my generation wear girdles because it’s the proper thing to do, like hose or, in today’s world, pantyhose. See those little loops on the back and front of the girdle? Those used to hold hooks that kept our nylons up.”
“Throw that thing in the trash with the hose,” Darla said. “And if that slip is hot, take it off and throw it away too.”
“My mama would claw her way up out of her grave and fuss at me if I did that.” Roxie shivered. “She always preached that decent women don’t go half-naked under their clothing except at home.”
“I’ll protect you if Great-Granny comes gunnin’ for you,” Darla said, giggling. “Turn around and let me unzip you. When we leave here, all you’ll have on is your granny panties, your bra, and that pretty dress.”
“Honey, I just couldn’t,” Roxie said. “I carry an extra pair of hose in my purse. If you’ll get them out for me, I’ll put them on.”
“Yes, you can, Granny. Violet and Rosalee won’t ever know or even suspect. As thin as you are, I don’t know why you’d ever torture yourself with a girdle and hose anyway. Besides, you’ve always been full of spit and vinegar. Why are you letting society tell you to wear something that’s painful to even look at it?” Darla picked up the girdle and pantyhose and tossed them in the trash.
Roxie inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “I don’t suppose it would be proper for me to go barefoot too, would it?”
“This is your party, Granny,” Darla said. “You can do whatever you want. I’m going barefoot and wearing toe rings to my wedding instead of shoes. I’m so clumsy, I’d fall if I tried to walk in high heels like the ones you’re wearing. Besides, my dress covers my feet.”
“Well, mine don’t.” Roxie removed her dress completely and pulled off the slip. “I feel downright rebellious.” She put the slip into the trash can.
“Granny, you’ve been rebellious your whole life. You eloped with a bad boy, got married on the side of the road, and then had a reception in the front yard of your shady in-laws’ place. Throwing away those torturous undergarments is nothing compared to that,” Darla assured her, wishing that she had half of her grandmother’s spunk.
Roxie laughed out loud. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this. That girdle is at least forty years old. They don’t even make them anymore.”
“That’s because they made women cranky, and probably caused hernias and fainting spells and all kinds of other ugly things. I bet they were the first birth control ever invented. By the time a guy got that thing off his woman, he was too tired for sex,” Darla told her.
Roxie threw back her head and roared with laughter as she turned around for Darla to zip her up. “My mama and my mother-in-law would have both dropped graveyard dead if they’d heard me say the word sex. And, honey, I do feel better with just the bare essentials under my dress, but”—Roxie shook her finger at her youngest granddaughter—“don’t try to talk me into wearing those thong things you girls call underpants. There’s not enough material in a pair of those to sag a clothesline.”