Nancy Bartholomew - Your Cheatin Heart

I tried to stay busy and let Vernell and Jimmy do the talking, but I became aware that Jimmy was watching my every move, and pitching his voice so it would carry to me. I started to get a bad feeling about Jimmy's engagement, especially in light of the facts as they began to emerge.

"Her name's Roxanne," I heard Jimmy say. "She's a widow-lady. I met her out at Mama's Country Showplace." Great place to meet women, I thought, in a honky tonk made famous for the quality of its Saturday night bar fights.

"She used to skate derby for the Rockettes, but she blew out her knee. Got tripped up by a rival."

"How long have you known her, Jimmy?" I couldn't help asking.

"Four weeks. That was long enough for me. I know, you're thinking four weeks ain't much of a time to know no one, but I know all I need to know. She's it."

Vernell snickered and Jimmy just sat there. Any other time, Jimmy'd have been at his throat for insinuating, Jimmy didn't seem to care.

"Do you love her? Have you met her folks?" I couldn't help myself.

"Maggie," he sighed, "it's time. I can't wait forever, and it's time." The remark flew right over Vernell's head. Jimmy was getting married on account of desperation and loneliness. He was giving up on the notion of waiting for me to leave Vernell and marry him.

I did everything I could that night to bring my foolish brother-in-law to his senses, but with Vernell there, I couldn't speak directly. I tried all that week to hunt Jimmy down, because he was avoiding me. He knew I'd talk him out of marrying Roxanne, the twice-before married, ex-roller derby queen.

I didn't see Jimmy again until the night before the wedding. That's when all the trouble broke lose, and that's when I knew for certain that Roxanne and I would never have a sisterly relationship.

The rehearsal dinner, hastily arranged by Mrs. Spivey, was held at the Twilight Supper Club out off Route 29 on the way to Reidsville, It was held there for two reasons. It was the elder Spiveys' favorite place to spend Saturday night. And because they were regulars, it was the only place in town where they could secure affordable accommodations on such short notice.

The Twilight was a Greensboro institution. Set up shortly after World War II as a dance club to entertain the returning young Greensboro natives, it had not changed in the intervening forty-odd years. The house band that played all the big band favorites was still there, with most of the original members. The front door was padded with quilted leather and a big "T" adorn the door, traced out with large brass upholstery tacks.

Mrs. Spivey arranged the evening personally with Travis Dean, now an elderly man in his seventies. She rented a bus to pick us all up and had Flora's Bakery concoct a cake that she kept carefully concealed in a huge white box. She assured us that it was going to be an evening to remember.

The fact that Mrs. Spivey despised Roxanne on sight and principle made no difference in the evening's plan. Mrs. Spivey was just happy to be marrying Jimmy off. The way she seemed to figure it, a man in his early thirties, unmarried, was bound to be a reflection of his mother's shortcomings, and Mrs. Spivey was not a woman to have shortcomings. She had worked for Cone Mills for almost forty-three years, had risen to the rank of shift supervisor, and she did not take anything off anybody at any time. This included her sons and her weak-minded, passive little husband, Vernell Senior.

By the time the bus rumbled up our Oak Ridge driveway, forty minutes before the festivities were due to start at the Twilight, Mrs. Spivey had worked up a good head of steam. She was a large-boned woman with dyed auburn hair, rhinestone-rimmed, oversized glasses, and huge cubic zircon rings which she flashed at every opportunity. Because she had arranged for a bartender and a bar to come along with the bus, she and every other member of the wedding party were well on their way to being intoxicated.

When Vernell stepped up into the bus and saw that he was behind the others, he made a beeline for the bartender. I stood up by the driver and took stock of the situation.

The only person on the bus I could not identify was the woman who turned out to be Jimmy's intended, Roxanne. Roxanne five years ago was nothing like Roxanne today. In fact, when we saw her, Vernell and I each drew in a sharp breath, for what turned out to be different reasons. Vernell was impressed by Roxanne's cup size, while I was struck by the similarities between the two of us. Other than, of course, our physical measurements.

Roxanne was short, like me, only shorter, and she had bright red curly hair, the very same shade as mine. I looked from her to Jimmy and saw him smiling, a triumphant, what-do-you-think-of-that? smirk. I just shook my head. Now I knew for certain that something had to be done.

By the time the reconverted school bus rolled into the Twilight parking lot, there wasn't a sober Spivey in the lot. Mrs. Spivey led the parade down out of the bus and into the Twilight, her fake fur coat flapping wildly behind her, the big white cake box nearly obscuring her view of the pathway to the front door.

Roxanne and Jimmy followed the elder Spiveys down out of the bus. She clung to his arm, staring up at him through the lace of her veil which she had insisted upon wearing during the rehearsal, which had, by the way, been held on the bus. The preacher Mrs. Spivey had lured into performing the ceremony held the door for the happy couple. He clung to it more for support than as a gesture of good manners. He, too, had fallen from the wagon of faith and into the quagmire of intoxication.

We made such a loud and unruly entrance into the supper club that even the Two-Tones, who were slap in the middle of "Begin the Beguine," were forced to quit playing. At a signal from Mr. Dean, the band broke into a rousing version of "Here Comes The Bride."

Jimmy and Roxanne processed in a slow, weaving pace down the middle of the dance floor, their bodies bathed in the eerie red light of the dining room. For a moment, the Spivey family looked almost normal. Happy, laughing, barely weaving with the alcohol, the Spiveys had decided to put on a good show for their Jimmy.

The evening progressed at a rapid pace, or else the Mai Tais I swilled were working to collapse time in upon itself. The happy couple was toasted. The steaks arrived. And soon, people began to wander away from the table, heading for the dance floor or back to the bar. Mama Spivey's head was drooping over her empty plate. Pa Spivey had taken the opportunity to sneak onto the dance floor with one of the waitresses, and Roxanne left to go powder her nose. Jimmy, momentarily unaware of my presence, relaxed.

He was eating his steak, his dark hair falling over the side of his face, his jaws working with the concentrated effort of chewing. For a moment he looked just like what he really was, a sad little boy.

"I want to talk to you," I said, "and I'm not taking no for an answer." I didn't have to speak loudly, I was only four seats away, but still the sound of my voice startled him. He looked up, blushed, swallowed, and paused with his fork halfway to his lips.

"Maggie, don't." He had a determined look on his face, as if keeping me from speaking would save him from thinking about what he was about to do with Roxanne.

"We have to talk, Jimmy. You're doing this for the wrong reasons." I leaned closer and spoke a little louder as the bandleader soloed on his tenor sax.

"You're killing me!" Jimmy said, his voice carrying suddenly, as the bandleader brought the song to a close. Jimmy flushed and stuck the uneaten forkful of food in his mouth.

Mrs. Spivey, who'd been half asleep, jerked to attention and whipped her head around to see the cause of Jimmy's distress. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted me.