Classy
"I tell you, Lil: they don't get a classy broad when they see her."
She taps her fingernails against the steering wheel. "Honey, they don't know what they're missing." The words are somewhat distracted as she merges into outgoing traffic.
"Fuck, they sure don't!" She slaps her knees and hoots, as Lillian smiled distantly. "That Chris...he's a fine young buck. You know who he reminds me of?"
"Jimmy Filmore."
"Jimmy Fil- Who told you to interrupt?" Her anger isn't at all real.
"You tell that story every time you have a new gentleman caller. It's older than General Lee's sword."
She laughs. "So's Jimmy Filmore!" She unscrews the cap from the shiny metal flask. The dents send flashes of light through the dark cabin of the truck.
That flask; it's been through all of the trouble Mae's made in her lifetime, but she polishes it every morning until it shines. She can remember a time when girls sashayed around with gin strapped to their thighs, two shakes ahead of Prohibition, absorbing little transgressions in a cloud of Midnight In Paris and cornstarch power.
"Want some?" the stench of gin gnaws away at Lilian's pensive mood, but she shakes her head and returns with a polite refusal. "They don't recognize a dame, and you don't recognize good booze." She teased.
"Not while I'm driving, Mae."
Silence rolls over them, like a cotton-white fog.
"Jimmy Filmore." Mae began again. "Now that boy had a pecker on him."
"Mmm.." Lilian returned. Whenever Mae starts talking about her gentlemen, Lilian clams up.
"And the control; oh my..." Her smile is lascivious, and the tongue pokes out between her dentures.
A heavy sigh this time. In all of the years she had known Mae, Lilian had never known her to go more than a few months without trying to acquire the attention of a man.
In the beginning, there had been fights; yelling and tears, and tequila chug-a-lugs just to forget it all. Eventually, she numbed herself to the scent of the other sex, learned to ignore the flavor of someone else on Mae's tongue. Her last lover had become somewhat of a friend, little Mark Henry. She thought of him that way, for in some things he had the vulnerability of a small child. He would spend his evenings with Mae and his mornings with Moolah, reading some bit of poetry that he'd just finished and wanted advice on. Lilian was a gracious southern lady at heart, the perfect hostess at all times. She had felt a strange sadness when Mark departed their life.
It was one life now, after all of these years. And with all of the broken ties between them, it had been a bumpy, bumpy ride. And if Lilian wasn't screaming, she just held on, he knuckles white.
The gin was turning Mae wistful, as well. "I suppose it's all for the best." The flask finds a resting home in her lap. "He looks nice with that blonde girl."
"Patricia?"
"Trish."
"Yes, Patricia." Her voice became reproachful as they pulled off the highway. "Mae, I don't want you fooling with him any more. He's in love with Patricia, and I understand that she's in love with him, too."
"Love? That girl doesn't even want to look at him. She treats him like he's got four heads. And not the best kind." Mae winked.
"That may be so. But I like them. They're a very handsome couple. Reminds me of you and I, when we were belles."
"How in the hell do you get that?" Mae wondered.
"Because, they're fighting themselves to get to each other. Scratching and clawing just to get to get that love from each other. Don't that sound like you and me, Mae?"
For once, Mae is speechless. Lilian takes advantage of the silence, the peace, parking the car, knowing what's coming next will just be something flip and raunchy.
But callused hands touch her rose-soft ones. "Honey, I may not say it enough, but I do love you."
Lilian's shoulders soften. "I know you do." It's true, but loving Mae felt like crawling on one's belly over broken glass on some days.
The kiss is erotic, comforting, and fitting, like a good twill skirt that's spent all summer hiding in the closet. All of those boys were just muslin dresses, cool and transparent, but not fit to bear the harsher times. And so, Lilian decides she will abide, revel in a love that could last.
As long as her heart can take it.