The Existential Musings of Peggy and Inez

                                                          Tuesday Evening

“Whoever this is, I’m cookin’.”

“You always have time to talk to me, woman.” Peggy’s voice sounded thin and reedy over the phone, as if she were five hundred miles away  instead of five.

“Hey Peggy. Yeah, I just don’t wanna talk to that idiot Beverly. She been callin’ me up three times a day, moanin’ about one thing or another.” Inez’ voice cut through the static, overpowering the crackling telephone lines.

“She calls me, too. Yesterday, it was about Henrietta and how she sneaks her makeup out of Bev’s bedroom and puts it on before school in the car.”

Inez sucked her teeth. “That girl’s a tramp.”

“Inez! She’s only in high school. We used to use berry juice on our lips back then, remember?”

“’Course I remember. Berry juice ain’t the same.”

Peggy sighed, sounding like a frog hiccupping. “Anyway, what’s doin’?”

“Nothin’ much. Harley’s down at the Black Bull with Oren. They drinkin’ and cryin’ over the dog-ass Cowboys losin ‘ to the dog-ass Giants. How ‘bout you?”

“Rick’s done gone to the Black Bull, too. I think he’s havin’ an affair with Janis Pool.”

Inez sat at the telephone desk, leaning back and lighting a cigarette. “That man is too lazy to be snakin’ another woman. ‘Sides all that, she’s sweet on Bo Henson. Seriously, would you be in the same bed with Rick if you had a Bo?”

“Hey!” Peggy sounded offended, but she wasn’t.

“Rick done let hisself go, Peg. He got a beer belly, as well as a biscuits ‘n gravy belly.”

“Don’t I know it. And Harley ain’t exactly slim anymore.”

“I think men think it’s okay to get fat after marriage. It’s revenge for us getting’ fat and havin’ babies.”

“That’s crazy talk, Ina.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Inez wasn’t one to let the truth get in the way of her views.

“My Lisa says that men get fat because they want their women fat, even though we get attracted to each other when we’re skinny. She calls it ironin’.”

“I think she means irony.”

“I dunno, Ina. It sounded like ‘ironin’.”

“Well, the phone lines to Abilene ain’t good, but still. Trust me, it’s irony.”

“They teach ‘em big words like that at Abilene Christian, you reckon?”

“It’s a college, Peg. They chock full of Liberals and agitators.”

“She’s gonna be a math teacher. Why does she need to know other stuff?”

“Beats the hell-o outta me. Listen, I gotta get off the phone. I got rabbits that ain’t gonna skin themselves.”

                                                       ______________

                                                    Wednesday Evening

“Oh, hey Ina. Hold on a sec. Gotta turn off the stove.” Clatters and thumps and swear words came over the line.

“You cuss like a drunk heathen, Peg.”

“Burnt my fingers a grabbin’ the pot without a potholder.”

“Dang!”

“Yeah, I know. But Rick’s got me upset. He came home last night and expected some lovin’. I told him that he was too drunk for that, and he gets all mad and sleeps on the couch. First night we ever spent apart. Wasn’t so bad, though. I missed the snorin’ but I didn’t miss the fartin’.”

“Well, don’t that tell ya’ that he ain’t doin’ any sheet tanglin’ with Janis?”

Peg thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose so. Hell, maybe I’ll throw him some tonight, make up for it.”

“Language! Anywho, my Randy’s goin’ to college next fall. Stepehen F. Austin. Gonna major in Agricultural Studies.”

“I bet you’re proud of that boy, Ina.”

“You know, he’s always been a smart-ass, but I never figured him for smart.”

Peggy laughed. “I remember one day we was all playin’ horseshoes and he got a leaner instead of a ringer, and he says ‘Damn, missed it by a centimeter.’ You ‘bout fell outta your boots.”

“I recall that day. I told his dad to whup his ass, but all he did was laugh and put his arm around the boy. Says that any kid who uses centimeter in a sentence shouldn’t oughta get whupped.”

“Listen, I called because I was down at the beauty parlor this mornin’ and Ella Jean was talkin’ about how you’re losin’ your figure.”

Inez opened a beer and sat down. “Ella Jean better hold her tongue.”

“I been puttin’ on some pounds myself, Ina. Rick says it’s more cushion for the pushin’.”

Inez’ voice lightened. “And that’s the mark of a good man, Peg, to say that to his lovin’ wife. We got curves, you and me. Ella Jean’s got lumps.”

“Hey, guess what? I saw a picture of Rod Barkley in the paper. He’s a Ag teacher over to Borger. That man is still all kinds of delicious lookin’. Why didn’t you marry him?”

“My daddy and his daddy didn’t get along. It was because Rod wore a leather jacket back in high school.”

“Still does, Ina.”

                                                          ______________

                                                        Thursday Evening

“Hey Peg…yeah, I can talk. Harley’s outside drinkin’ beer and messin’ with his guns.”

“He didn’t want to do it,” Peg sniffed.

“Who? And do what?”

“Rick. Do the dirty.”

“Ok, so?”

“I think the magic is gone.”

Inez laughed. “That ain’t what it is, Peg. You gotta tease him a little. Get a skimpy lace thing to wear, put on some perfume, walk around in heels.”

“I did all that! Except for the heels.”

“Was he drunk?”

“A little.”

“There ya’ go, Peg. Get him before he pops a top.”

Peg paused a moment before speaking again. “It ain’t the pickle-tickle I miss so much as the closeness after.”

“Listen, Peg. You got a man who don’t believe in beatin’ or cheatin.’ You got food and a roof over your head and a good kid. What the hell-o do you want out of life?”

“I dunno. I guess I want Rick to drop his drawers and want me like he used to.”

“You been readin’ those magazines down to the beauty parlor?”

“Yeah. They got some good articles in ‘em, Ina. Makes a woman think.”

Ina didn’t hear all of what Peggy said because she was busy untangling the phone cord.

“Stop readin’ that trash. Them articles are for city gals who ain’t got the good sense God gave ‘em. They eat tofu and work out at gyms.”

“Well, them gals on the covers all have nice boobs. Maybe we should eat tofu.”

“Red meat and taters is good enough for me, Peg. I may sag a little, but I got my self-respect.”

“Listen, I hear Henrietta’s pregnant. I bet Beverly’s hittin’ the roof.”

“See what I mean? She shoulda just used berry juice, like us.”

Peggy paused, gathering her thoughts.

“Yeah, I guess I’m pretty lucky, take it all around.”

“We are, Peg. We are.”

“Yeah.”

“Gotta go. Harley just shot the pickup truck again.”