Fannie Flagg - I Still Dream About You

“Well, I’m glad you’re so wonderful, but you almost worried me to death. I tried calling you all afternoon. I almost came out looking for you. Why did you have your cell phone turned off?”

“Oh, well, after we had lunch, Babs and I went to the movies, and I had to turn it off.”

There was a long silence on the other end. And then Brenda said, “Have you been drinking?”

Maggie laughed. “Why, yes… as a matter of fact… I have.”

“Well… I think you’d better take some aspirin and go to bed.”

Maggie said, “Yes, Mother, I will. Good night… Sleep tight… Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Brenda hung up the phone and said to Robbie, “I told you she sounded drunk. She’s loaded to the gills. She thinks she went to the movies with Babs Bingington.”

After the phone call, Maggie decided that ever telling Brenda what she had really been planning to do today would be far too upsetting for her. There was no need for her to ever know. She’d get to work early Monday morning and take the note out of Brenda’s desk. But for now, she was suddenly very thirsty. It must have been all that Easter ham she had eaten for lunch and the salty popcorn at the movie. Maggie had just poured herself a glass of water when she heard the sound of a fax coming in on her machine in the den. She wondered who could be faxing her this late, and on Easter, too. Oh God, she hoped it wasn’t her cousin Hector Smoote. She walked back to the den. Just another fax from Miss Pitcock. The woman was like a dog with a bone. She was still at it, and on a holiday, too. Miss Pitcock had now gone online and was searching all the English and Scottish newspapers and the Hall of Records for any information. But after all her digging, she had never been able to locate a birth or a death certificate for Edwina Crocker. She had just faxed over a picture of Edwina Crocker at some reception in a white dress and wearing three big white feathers in her hair. Well, whoever the woman was, she looked like she was happy. Good. Tonight, Maggie wanted everyone in the world, dead or alive, to be as happy as she was.

As Maggie kicked off her shoes and looked around the empty den, she now wished she hadn’t shredded all her photos and all her old press releases, but maybe it was for the best. She had spent far too much time dwelling on the past, and maybe it was a sign that she should concentrate on the future. What an odd thing. Just a few weeks ago, she’d had no future. And now, she had nothing but a future, with so many things to do. She sat down at her desk and started a new list.

Old Age, Pros and Cons

Pros

1. You are still alive!

2. Senior discounts up the kazoo

3. No more high heels

4. You don’t have to be nice

5. You can say what you think

6. You still don’t have to watch the news

7. You can watch Turner Classic Movies all night

8. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to

9. You are still alive!!!

Cons

When Maggie saw it all written down in black and white… no question about it, no matter what might be coming up in the future right now, there were no cons she could think of. She turned off the light and went to bed and realized for the first time in years, she was actually looking forward to another day.

THE FIRST THING the next morning, Maggie jumped up out of bed and fixed her tea and went outside to greet another beautiful spring day. It was so wonderful to look up and see Crestview. As she sat there, she reviewed her list; No. 4, “You don’t have to be nice,” stuck in her mind.

After she went back inside, she picked up the phone and did something she should have done years ago. When he answered, she said, “Hector? It’s your cousin, Maggie, from Birmingham, calling…” But before he could begin his usual greeting, she said, “I think you should know that it is extremely rude to make fun of someone’s home and their accent.”

“What?”

“Goodbye, Hector,” she said and then hung up and felt quite good about it. She had actually said what she had been thinking for years, and she didn’t seem to regret it one whit or even care what he thought. What a wonderful feeling that was. As she ate her waffles, she had another thought. While she was at it, she might just call that late-night television host and tell him she didn’t appreciate his ugly little remarks about beauty queens either.

But on second thought, she decided against it. She had the rest of her life to say exactly what she thought. There would be plenty of time for everything. How thrilling was that?

SEVERAL DAYS LATER, the most amazing thing happened. Maggie had run out to the cleaners to drop off a few things and was headed back to her car when she heard someone call her name. When she turned around to look, she saw that it was Jennifer Rudolph, who she had not seen since the fifth grade. After they hugged and chatted a moment, Jennifer said, “Oh, Maggie, I was always so proud of you. You are the most famous person I ever knew. I always brag and tell my kids I went to school with Miss America, and are they impressed.”

Maggie felt her old shame rising up and said, “Well, you know, honey, I wasn’t Miss America.”

Jennifer looked surprised. “You weren’t?”

“No, I wish I had been, but I was only the second runner-up.”

“Really? Oh well, who cares-you’ll always be Miss America as far as I’m concerned.” Then she laughed. “Honey, it’s like the Oscars; after so many years, nobody ever remembers who won, just who was nominated.”

After they said goodbye, Maggie was still amazed by what Jennifer had said. Jennifer clearly hadn’t cared, one way or the other, if she had won or not. Good Lord, had her not winning really been that unimportant? Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Wouldn’t it be a relief not to dread running into old friends again? She suddenly began toying with the idea of calling a few people just to say hello. A few years ago, the Miss Alabama people had asked her to be one of the judges in the state pageant, and she had declined; but maybe if they asked her again, she would reconsider. She might even go to the next ex-Miss Alabama reunion. Life was so odd; only two days ago, she had felt just like the last fox-trot on the Titanic … but today, it was full speed ahead!

T HE DAYS FLEW BY, AND SPRING BECAME PRETTIER AND PRETTIER. Ever since that Easter morning, something had shifted a little for Maggie; a small shift, but still a big one for her. It had happened so gradually that at first she hadn’t noticed, but then one day, it suddenly dawned on her. That old gray dread that she used to feel when she woke up was not there anymore, and as strange as it seemed (for her, at least), she hardly ever worried about things anymore. And what a relief that was. Of course, nothing was perfect; she still had all the same old shortcomings that she had been struggling with for years. But in the past few weeks, Maggie had realized something that had never occurred to her before. She didn’t have to be perfect. Yes, she had made a lot of mistakes in the past and she would probably make many more in the future, but it wasn’t the end of the world. And okay, so she was still just a little bit stuck in the fifties. She enjoyed seeing reruns of I Love Lucy and hearing a pretty song every now and then. She still cried when they played the national anthem. Maybe she was too old-fashioned, but she still loved celebrating the Fourth of July and seeing the Thanksgiving parade and watching the same old Christmas movies on television each year… but so what? As she had found out the hard way, life was too short to be unhappy about anything. Hazel had been right all along. She’d said, “I don’t have time to be unhappy; I’m having too much fun being alive.” And Maggie agreed. She wasn’t thrilled about having to go back to the gym two days a week, but she had signed up for a cooking class that she was enjoying very much. She had taken up her harp lessons again and was learning the song “Blue Skies” in honor of Hazel. With so many new things going on, Maggie had mostly forgotten about her quest to solve the mystery of the Scottish twins. Even the unstoppable Miss Pitcock had finally been stopped. She had just faxed Maggie and informed her that she had reached the end of all available information in the British archives, or anywhere else in the world for that matter. Maggie immediately faxed her back and thanked her profusely for all the good work she had done.