Interview for a Wife by Ruth Ann Nordin
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Deanne made sure to take Vernon out to the backyard so he could relieve his bladder in the outhouse. He tried to go by the tree, but she insisted he go in the little building instead.
“Pa doesn’t do it,” Vernon protested.
“Your pa can’t do it,” she said, keeping her voice low in case anyone over the fence could hear them. The fence was tall enough where she couldn’t see into the yards of the neighbors, but she had learned from experience that just because you couldn’t see someone, it didn’t mean they weren’t listening. “Your pa is in a wheelchair because he can’t walk. You have to be able to walk to get into that small privy.”
Vernon stared at her for a moment then asked, “Can he pee?”
She was caught off guard by the innocent question, but she supposed if she was a child who didn’t understand how the human body worked, she’d wonder about it, too. After all, if someone couldn’t walk, what else weren’t they able to do?
“Yes, he can do that,” she softly said. “He just uses a chamber pot. We have a couple of them. Would you like to use one instead of going to the privy?”
He furrowed his eyebrows so seriously that she found it cute. It made him look much older than his four years. He glanced at the privy then said, “I don’t like the pot. It stinks.”
Well, he was right about that. Having lived in an apartment, she had learned to tolerate the smell when she had to clean the chamber pots. Looking back, she was glad for it since it had prepared her for taking care of Bill’s chamber pot. At the farm and here, she used the privy only because it saved her time in cleaning them. Bill had been cleaning his own, but she’d insisted on doing it for him since she could do it in far less time than he could.
And that’s why he had married her, wasn’t it? To help him out? Her duties as a wife didn’t stop when they left the general store. Given how much better things were with him than they’d been with Terry, she didn’t mind. If she could make Bill’s life easier by helping him with anything, she would do it simply out of gratitude.
Vernon went to the privy and opened the door. He stood there for a long moment. She watched him in interest. Just what was he looking for?
He looked back at her. “I’ll go in here.”
He said it in such a matter-of-fact way that she couldn’t help but chuckle.
She waited until he was done and led him back into the house. “We’ll have breakfast soon.”
“What will we eat?”
“I was thinking of making eggs and seasoned potatoes this morning.”
His nose wrinkled.
“Do you want something else?” she asked.
“Pie,” he replied.
“I can’t give you pie this early in the day.”
“Why not?”
“Pie isn’t something people eat in the mornings,” she said. “They eat things like eggs, seasoned potatoes, pancakes, oatmeal, bacon, ham.” Out of ideas, she added, “Do you want pancakes? We can put some syrup on them to sweeten them up. That’s a little bit like a pie.”
“I never thought of pancakes that way before, but I suppose they are like having dessert in the morning,” Bill called out.
She went to the kitchen and peered into it. “I didn’t know you were listening to us.”
He grinned as he put ground coffee beans into the coffee pot. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind.” He wasn’t someone she wanted to keep things from. “Do you want pancakes?”
“I’ll eat anything. I’m easy to please. Just make whatever you want,” he told her.
She turned her gaze to Vernon.
“I want morning pie,” he said. “Pancakes with syrup.”
“Well, they aren’t really a pie, Vernon,” she said.
“You just said they were,” Vernon replied, his eyes wide with shock.
“I said they were a little bit like pie when you put syrup on them,” she corrected.
“Pies are sweet,” he said. “I want sweet.”
Bill laughed. “It’s alright with me if we call them morning pies.”
She felt herself relax. It probably didn’t matter how Vernon chose to think of them. The important thing was he was willing to eat them. “I’ll be happy to make them,” she finally told Vernon.
He let out a cheer and ran into the parlor where he jumped up on the couch and peered out the window. She hoped he didn’t leave the house, but if he did, at least she knew he wasn’t going to upset that grouchy woman across the street by using the front yard as a privy.
Bill put the coffee pot on the table. “I’ll go out there and watch him while you make pancakes. If he goes outside, I’ll be there in case someone complains about something he’s doing.”
“You mean you’ll be there in case that woman complains.”
“It’s possible she’ll find something else she doesn’t want him doing.”
“I hope she doesn’t come back here. I hate dealing with difficult people.”
“You handle yourself well when people bother you.”
“I know how to keep my mouth shut, but it’s not easy.”
“It’s never easy.”
She hesitated to say what was on her mind, but since he had a gentle way about him, she admitted, “I noticed that you remained pleasant even though you were upset yesterday morning.”
“In my experience of working at the store, it’s people who make it a point to complain that are miserable deep inside. I was angry, but I also decided that just because she’s miserable, it doesn’t mean I have to be. To be honest, I feel sorry for her. It would be terrible to spend each and every day finding reasons to complain about something.”
Deanne hadn’t thought of things that way before, but he was probably right. People who had a tendency to complain were probably miserable. Terry did a lot of complaining, and he never seemed to be happy, no matter what people did for him.
“Life is too short to waste it on things you don’t like,” Bill said. “You might as well focus on things that bring you joy.”
She watched him as he wheeled himself into the parlor. He was right. If more people spent time thinking on things that were pleasant, they would be better off for it. And that included her.
“Will you help me with my hair again?” came a girl’s voice from behind her.
Deanne turned and saw Amber holding a brush and the same orange and white ribbons they had used yesterday. She glanced at the clock and saw they were doing good on time. “Sure.”
She called out to Bill and Vernon that she would start the pancakes after she finished with Amber’s hair then followed the girl to her bedroom.
Amber hopped into the chair. “I looked pretty yesterday.”
“Of course, you did.”
“I look like my ma.”
Deanne glanced at the photograph. “Yes, and she was a pretty woman. I’m not surprised you’re pretty, too.” Deanne set the ribbons aside then started to brush her hair. “I’ll try to be careful not to hurt you as I go through the tangles. Your hair is so thick. Maybe we should put your hair in a braid at night so that it’s not tangled in the morning.”
“Are braids pretty?”
Amused by the question, Deanne said, “I’m not sure if they’re pretty, but they are practical. They keep the hair smooth and soft during the night. When you wake up and brush your hair, it won’t hurt your poor scalp.” Deanne winced as she worked her way through a tangle. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you’re not hurting me on purpose,” Amber said.
“I’d still feel better if we tried the braid. Just for tonight. If you don’t like it, we won’t have to do it again.”
“Alright.” After a few seconds of silence passed, Amber asked, “Do you wear a braid at night?”
“I do. Then I brush my hair in the morning and pull it back into a bun at the nape of my neck. A bun is another way to prevent the hair from getting tangled. It also helps you keep cool when it’s hot and you need to do a lot of work.”
Amber turned to face her in interest. “How long is your hair?”
Deanne thought for a moment and then put her hand on the midpoint of her back.
Amber’s eyes grew wide. “That long?”
Deanne nodded.
“Why don’t you wear it down?” the girl asked.
“Like I said, it gets hot. Maybe when winter comes, I’ll wear it down. It has to be cool enough so I don’t end up sweating all the time. When a man sweats, no one thinks anything of it. But women aren’t supposed to sweat. It’s not ladylike.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s an unspoken thing. No one would publicly say it.”
“What other things don’t people publicly say?”
Deanne picked up the two ribbons as she thought of some more examples. After a moment, she said, “Well, it’s impolite for a woman to burp, but if a man does it, it’s just one of those things men do.”
“Vernon burps a lot,” Amber replied. “It’s gross.”
Deanne smiled at the disgusted look on the girl’s face.
“If I had a sister instead of a brother, it wouldn’t be like that,” Amber added.
“That’s not true. Girls and women do the same thing. We just learn how to hide it so no one notices. Though, I don’t think it’s possible for a woman to burp as loud as some men do.”
“I’ve never heard Pa burp.”
Deanne had noticed that, too. Bill was nothing like Terry. “Your pa is a gentleman.”
A pitter-patter of footsteps echoed through the house, followed by Bill telling Vernon to get back into the parlor. However, Vernon kept running and came into the room.
“I’m starving,” Vernon said, clutching his stomach. “When can I eat morning pie?”
“I’ll start them in five minutes,” Deanne promised the boy.
“Get back in here,” Bill called out.
“It won’t be long,” Deanne assured Vernon.
Vernon ran back to the parlor, and his feet made the same pitter-patter sound off the hard floor.
“We can’t have pie in the morning,” Amber said as Deanne put the ribbons in the girl’s hair.
“We’re having pancakes,” Deanne replied. “I told your brother that they are sweet like a pie when you add syrup to them. He’s decided to call them morning pie.”
Amber rolled her eyes. “That must be another silly thing men do that women don’t.”
Though Deanne was sure that doing something silly like calling pancakes a morning pie wasn’t restricted to men, she found the girl’s comment so funny that she ended up agreeing with her.
When Deanne was finished, Amber ran to check her reflection in the mirror, and Deanne hurried to go to the kitchen so Vernon wouldn’t have to wait much longer for breakfast.