A Texas Jubilee: Thirteen Stories from the Lone Star State

Six: The Pink Petticoat (1938)

S I X The Pink Petticoat 1 9 3 8 At six thirty on a cold, blue, drizzling East Texas Monday morning, Grady Dell pulled into his parking space beside the Bodark Springs Post Office. He wanted to be early so Melvin Spruille, the postmaster, and Charlie Stone, the window clerk, would be so busy working the weekend mail that they wouldn’t have any time to notice how hung over he was. Charlie was a deacon in the Primitive Baptist Church, and Melvin preached every third Sunday at the Baptist Church over in Dodd City in Fannin County. They both hated whiskey. They also hated other people’s sin. Grady hoped to get his weekend mail sorted so he could run across the square to the Busy Bee Cafe for a quick cup of coffee and a piece of dry toast before the morning mail came in on Number 31. Grady had his mail sorted and sacked and was headed out the side door when Melvin called to him, “You might as well take your time, Grady. Number 31 is going to be an hour late according to Max over at the T&P. Maybe you ought to try eating a little something.” “Yeah, I guess I might as well.” 73 Damn, Grady thought, I hoped he wouldn’t notice. If my job wasn’t civil service, Melvin would’ve got rid of me the day Hoover left office and Melvin took over as postmaster from Jack Hurst. Not a single one of them Spruilles ever took a drink. I guess that’s what makes ’em so damned mean. I guess I could stay as sober as Melvin and Charlie if I didn’t need a little something to steady my nerves once in a while. I’d probably be a heap better off if I didn’t, but hell, I might wind up as sour as old Melvin. Damn, if Franklin D. runs for a third term in 1940, I may be working for Melvin till I retire. Grady held Friday’s copy of the Dallas Morning News over his head as he crossed the square to the Busy Bee. He tried to see who was inside, but the windows were all fogged, so he squared his shoulders, opened the door, and went in. He walked the length of the counter to sit on the end stool and be away from the early regulars up at the front. He nodded and spoke to six or seven people, but kept moving to avoid small talk. He sat on the last stool in front of the window that opened into the kitchen and nodded to Modell Floyd, the cook. Modell grinned and said, “How you, Mr. Grady?” “Fine, Modell, how’s your momma?” “She about to get well. Dr. Clayton first said she gonna have to have that gall bladder took out. But Momma say she ain’t lettin ’ nobody at her with a knife without he slip up on her. Then Dr. Clayton decide Momma just have some kind of infection. She gonna be fine, I guess. How Miss Mamie? She still sick all the time?” “Most of the time. If it ain’t one thing, it’s another.” Modell sighed, “Yeah, it be that way sometime.” Bernice Mayes, the waitress, slid a cup of coffee in front of Grady and said, “You look like you could use some of this. Want anything to eat?” 74 A Texas Jubilee “I guess so. You reckon you got anything I can keep down?” Grady had known Bernice a long time—some people even thought he might know her a little better than he was supposed to. Bernice looked sympathetic and said, “I’ll have Modell scramble you a couple of hen eggs and fix you a slice of dry toast.” She turned around and gave the order to Modell. Then she leaned over the counter toward Grady and said, “You feel as bad as you look?” Grady, with a Lucky Strike in one hand and his chin cupped in the other, said, “I don’t know how bad I look, Bernice, but I’d have to get better to die.” Bernice laughed, but she kept it low so as not to add a jolt to Grady’s throbbing head. “You looked like you felt good Saturday night when I seen you and Mamie up at the Briar Patch. I thought Mamie...