Mabel Maney - The Case Of The Good-For-Nothing Girlfriend

Cherry peeked in the rearview mirror. Why, everyone’s asleep, she realized with a start. “They’re going to miss this glorious morning,” she thought. Using the car horn, she merrily tapped out the first verse of the Wyoming State Song. That did the trick! “They’ll thank me for this later,” Cherry told herself as her sleepy chums jumped awake.

“Cherry wants a cup of coffee,” Midge muttered to Velma as she suddenly sat up. Velma was sitting in the back seat behind Midge, and the box containing the thermos, paper cups, and a sack of oranges—a gift from that nice mechanic, Mel—was at her feet.

“And an orange, too, if you don’t mind. Peeled and split into sections. You’ll find a clean handkerchief in my purse right next to you on the seat, Midge. You can put the orange on that,” Cherry added.

“And an orange, too,” Midge crabbed. “Peeled and split into sections. You’ll find a clean handkerchief in her purse. You can—”

Velma pinched her girlfriend. “Perhaps I’d better sit up front and let old sleepyhead stay back here,” Velma proposed.

Midge readily agreed. “You come up here first,” she said, as she rubbed the sore spot on her arm.

Before Cherry could stop the car so the two girls could trade places safely, Velma tossed the thermos of coffee over the seat, then hiked up her skirt and slip, too, straddled the seat, and swung right into Midge’s lap.

Midge put her arms around her girl and buried her face in the bosom of Velma’s soft sweater. “Can I just stay like this until we get to Illinois?” she murmured happily.

Velma smiled and ran a hand through Midge’s hair. “That would suit me just fine,” she answered dreamily. She gave Midge a long, lingering kiss. Midge moaned.

Cherry turned bright red. “Golly, Midge, in some states, it’s against the law for three adults to ride in the front seat of a car,” she explained. “And I haven’t my Road Guide to State Motoring Laws with me. We don’t want to call any attention to ourselves, remember?” Cherry reminded them. “Besides,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Do you think it’s good for children to see people kissing?” She peeked in her rearview mirror. Lauren was sitting straight up and staring at the cooing couple with big bug eyes and the queerest expression on her face.

Midge groaned and gave her girlfriend one last kiss before taking her place in the back seat. “Wake me when we get to Illinois,” she said miserably as she tried to make herself comfortable between Nancy, who was leaning on the car door and staring off into space with a sad look in her eyes, and Lauren, who was taking up more than her share of the seat. “I’ll just sleep until then,” Midge announced.

“That’s silly, Midge,” Cherry scolded in a light tone. “Why, there’s plenty to do until then. We could see how many meadowlarks we could spot; I’ve already seen one so far. Or we could play the license plate game. That’s where you try to spot cars from different states. Whoever spots the most variety wins,” she explained eagerly.

“But there aren’t many cars on the road,” Lauren pointed out.

Cherry realized Lauren was right. Except for that brown car that had been keeping a steady distance behind them since they had left Pocatello, she had seen no other automobiles that morning.

“We could sing songs,” Cherry proposed brightly. “When I was a Girl Scout, we always sang songs to pass the time. I could teach you one,” she offered eagerly. “Does that sound like fun, Nancy?” Cherry asked her chum.

But Nancy said nothing. She just gave a great big sigh and turned her head toward the car door.

“I think that sounds like a grand idea, Cherry!” Velma cried when she saw how crestfallen Cherry was by Nancy’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Teach us a song, Cherry,” Midge chimed in. “But first, pass me that thermos, babe,” she said to Velma. She filled a paper cup with the steamy, hot liquid, took a big sip, and said, “Okay, Cherry. Let’s hear it.”

In a clear, high voice, Cherry began singing a traveling tune. Soon her chums were singing merrily as they sped through western Wyoming. Everyone, that is, except Nancy who sat silently as if she were in another world—a world far removed from the gay little group.

“That’s funny,” Cherry frowned as she hung up the telephone receiver and stepped out of the booth. “That’s the second time I’ve called home this morning, and there’s still no answer.”

Cherry had felt sure she’d catch her mother at home. After all, Saturday was her mother’s wash day, and Mrs. Aimless always did everything on the right day. Mondays she baked. Tuesdays she canned fresh fruits and vegetables. Wednesdays she puttered in the garden and attended her ladies’ club luncheon. Thursdays she dusted, swept, and turned the mattresses, and Fridays she washed windows, scrubbed the front steps, and changed the shelf paper in her kitchen cabinets.

“And today she should be home doing the wash,” Cherry thought as she wrinkled her pretty brow, wondering where her mother could have possibly gone. “Perhaps she’s in the basement starching Father’s shirts and didn’t hear the telephone,” Cherry reasoned. “That must be it. Where else could Mother be?”

She forgot her mother’s puzzling absence once she took her seat at the table and had a chance to peruse the menu, which was chock full of tempting treats. They hadn’t had a real breakfast, only coffee and oranges in the car, and Cherry had been forced to abandon her plan of reaching the Rocky Mountains before stopping to dine when even Nancy admitted she was willing to lose a little travel time in order to stop for a snack.

“Besides, if we eat quickly; but not too quickly as to cause stomach-aches, we’ll only be a half hour off schedule,” Cherry realized. She took out her little red spiral notebook and neatly changed the estimated time of their arrival in the Rockies to 12:30 p.m.

Cherry had to admit she could use a bite to eat as well. When it was her turn to order, she was hard-pressed to choose between the special of the day, liver loaf sandwich, or a clear broth soup and raw-vegetable salad served with an assortment of crackers. She knew she should opt for the lighter lunch. Since she had already driven four hours that morning, she would no doubt spend the afternoon napping. A clear broth would be easier to digest, and she’d awake refreshed for her next driving shift.

“But who could sleep with all these beautiful peaks and valleys and ridges and canyons around her?” she thought, as she looked out the large picture window and spied the Rocky Mountains in the distance. It was a clear summer day, the blue sky stretched for miles, and even Nancy looked like she was beginning to perk up. Cherry threw caution to the wind and ordered the yummy liver loaf sandwich, creamed spinach, and an extra side of gravy.

The girls hungrily devoured their lunch. Cherry noted with approval that Lauren was taking bites of Velma’s plate of mixed-vegetable salad. “All my lecturing about the essential food groups is finally beginning to sink in,” she smiled to herself. “Now, if I can just do something about her table manners,” Cherry thought in alarm as she watched Lauren wipe her mouth on her shirt sleeve.

“Lauren, that’s what your napkin is intended for,” Cherry told her nicely, pointing to the red-checkered cloth folded by the side of the girl’s plate. “And, please take off your baseball cap when eating indoors. I could see wearing a hat if this were a picnic,” she added, so the girl wouldn’t think her hopelessly rigid. “You wish to be both pleasing and pleasant to others, don’t you?” Cherry asked.