Norma looked at Macky. “That’s a very good point. They should have a copy of this in advance, so they can be familiar with it and not have to waste time to refer to it.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Macky said. “Why don’t we have them come over and practice while we’re at it.”
“Do they do things like that?”
“Norma, you are getting nuttier by the day. Let me see it.”
Norma handed him the list.
“What’s in the maroon hanging bag?”
“Your good coat, my good coat, my good hat, shoes . . . things like that. We don’t want to wind up in rags, having to wear whatever we have on. Oh, and I put all the home movies in the bottom, you can’t replace those. My jewelry, whatever I don’t have on, my dancing storks, your Kennedy half-dollar, Linda’s bronzed baby shoes, you don’t want to lose those, do you? Can you think of anything I’ve missed?”
Macky ran down the list again. “I notice you didn’t put down anything in my den.”
“Well, what’s in there that’s worth anything, except a bunch of old dead fish on the wall? What would you want out of there anyway?”
“I have a few pictures . . . and a couple of books . . . and my baseball.”
“Well, I don’t think they’ll have time to go in there, so whenever we leave, you just be sure and get what you want saved and put everything in the box under the bed. Here, as a matter of fact, I’m just not going to take a chance with Linda’s twirling trophies. I’m going to bring them downstairs and pack them . . . the firemen may not have time to go all the way upstairs. Now is there anything else you can think of? Speak now or forever hold your peace. Remember, all the paper goods go first . . . letters, cards, newspaper clippings, our Wayne Newton photo, all our pictures, they’re all gonna go in the first batch. So if you have anything like that, stick it in.”
“Why do you want that stupid cuckoo clock on the list? It’s a piece of junk.”
“Well, it’s old. And it was a wedding present. Put something down you want then.”
Macky got up and walked around the house, looking for things. A few minutes later he came back with the baseball Bobby had given him signed by Marty Marion.
“Well, put it in the box under the bed then. I’m not going to waste their time having them look for some old baseball when too many other important things are at stake.” She added it to the list and then said, “You know—I wonder how big a safety-deposit box is and are they fireproof?”
“Why?”
“Well . . . I think we’d be a lot better off when we left town if we just took everything we could down to the bank and put it in a safety-deposit box. Then I won’t have to worry about human error. That way we would know for sure.”
“What if the bank burned down?”
Norma looked at him. “Macky . . . why would you say something like that to me? Why would you want to put something like that in my head when you know how serious this is?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Norma. I was just kidding—the bank is not going to burn down. Neither is our house.”
“All I’m trying to do is preserve our memories, protect our family history so that Linda and our grandchildren won’t wind up without anything to look at after we are gone, and you make a joke out of it.”
“Norma, I was kidding.”
“I don’t think you appreciate the things I try and do for this family. Children should have a sense of continuity, it’s very important.”
“Honey, first of all, we don’t have any grandchildren.”
“But we might someday.”
“Even if we do, we can always have new pictures made if anything happens.”
“I am aware of that, Macky—that’s not the point. The point is, they would only see pictures of us when we were older and not when we were young . . . that’s what I’m talking about. I want them to get to see a picture of me when I was young and still had a figure, not some old middle-aged woman.”
“Oh, Norma, you’re only thirty-five years old, just stop it. You are better-looking now than you ever were.” There was a pause. Macky saw his chance and he took it. “You look better today than the day I married you.”
“Oh, you’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not. I was looking at you the other night, when you had on that pink thing . . . you know?”
“My nightgown?”
“Yeah. I said to myself just the other night, Norma gets better-looking every day.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You were a pretty girl but now you’re . . . a . . . sexy, mature woman. Just like a ripe juicy plum ready to pick off the tree . . . just right . . .”
“I’ve had that old pink thing for years.”
“Maybe so, but you look great in it.”
“It’s just an old nightgown I got over at Kmart.”
“Well, you don’t have a thing to worry about how you look now, that’s all I can say. You’re a good-looking old broad—and don’t you forget it.”
“It had a housecoat to match. I don’t know why I never wear it. I don’t even know if I still have it—I might have thrown it out or given it away by now.”
After Macky left the house, Norma went into the bedroom and took out her pink Kmart nightgown and held it up to her and looked at herself in the mirror. She turned to the left and then to the right and smiled.
Ten minutes later the phone at the store rang. Macky picked up. “Warren’s Hardware.”
“Macky, let me ask you something, and tell me the truth.”
“What?”
“You don’t discuss me with other men, do you?”
“What?”
“You don’t discuss what I look like in my nightgown with other men, do you?”
“Of course not.”
“Because I would be horrified if you did—”
“Honey, I promise I don’t discuss what you look like in anything with anybody, you know that.”
“I would just die if I thought while I was talking to some man he was trying to imagine what I looked like in my nightgown.”
“Norma, do you think I would take the chance of driving all the men in this town wild? I know better than that.”
“That’s not what I mean. I mean, oh, you know . . . I’d just feel funny if I thought somebody was looking at me funny.”
“No. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Good. I feel better. Guess what? I found that housecoat. I had put it up on the top shelf in that red box with those extra pillowcases we don’t use, but guess what else?”
“What?”
“I can’t wear it.”
“Why?”
“It doesn’t match anymore. It’s a much darker pink than my nightgown, so it’s not a matched set. I’m thinking about running out there and seeing if they still carry the same thing and that way I could just buy the gown if they would let me, they might not, but if they won’t . . . I thought that maybe if I ran it through the washing machine every time I did a load, it would fade sooner or later. What do you think . . . should I do it?”
“Do what?”
“See if I can get a new nightgown. I thought since you like the way it looks on me, I should try and get a new one. If they still carry the same line; they keep changing things, I wish they wouldn’t . . . don’t you?”
“What?”
“Keep changing things. When you buy something you like, it’s terrible to go there and they don’t sell it anymore. That’s something you should remember in your business. Don’t discontinue things or change the make or brand.”
“Okay, honey, I’ll remember that.”
“Macky, you’re not going to be mad at me for going to Kmart, are you?”
“No.”
“I’m not buying hardware. I might not be buying anything. If they have it I’ll just get this one thing and then that’s it, O.K.?”
“All right . . .”