My
Retirement Account
By
Nancy
Strickland Hawkins
I'm so mad. I just entered my Desiree in another pageant – this is a big one. My snotty sister, the one with the big brain
and the college degree, says beauty pageants for children are child abuse. I couldn't believe it. We had a screaming
match over the phone.
“Child
abuse?" I said. Why that’s crazy! I
just want Desiree to have what I ain't never had. That's sure not child abuse.”
“Mary, putting a
four-year-old child in makeup—and torturing her, making her stand under those
hot lights, just because you want her to." “Desiree loves pageants! She just lights up when she goes on stage!”
Louise made that
snorting sound she does when she thinks I've said something stupid again. “Have
you asked her opinion? I’ll bet she gets
tired of all that practicing and prancing around in front of a bunch of creepy
old men who get their kicks from—"
"Now you
listen here, Louise," I said.
"You just quit actin' so superior.
I only put Desiree in natural
pageants. No makeup.”
“Then why is she
made up in the pictures?”
“Maybe just a
touch – some lipstick, some mascara – “
“And that flipper
thing you put in her mouth to hide the fact that she's lost a tooth. She's four!
She's lost a tooth! But we have to make it look like she has all her
teeth. We can't have a snaggle-tooth child on stage. That would be too natural.”
That damn flipper had cost me a lot of money. I missed two car payments trying to pay for
it, and still had to break down and ask Mama for a loan. I told her it was for the rent on my trailer
since Justin hadn’t be been paying child support no more. (That part was true).
When she said
that, I slammed down the phone as hard as I could. I ain’t talked to Louise since, and I won’t
until she apologizes or one of us is dead, which will probably happen first.
Louise has always been bossy because she’s
the oldest. She thinks her shit don't stink because she's smart. I'm not as smart as Louise, and my brother
Kent ain't neither, but so what? I
dropped out of school when I got pregnant, and Kent was expelled. He's in jail now, for writin’ bad checks. Mama
says Kent went bad because he didn’t have no father. I think he’s just made that way. When we was little I had to keep my purse hid
if I had any money, or it would just vanish.
I know it was him that took it.
And when I accused him of it, he’d just lie and lie. He's too lazy to
work, but he’s always wanted a fancy car, fancy clothes, you know-so he can get
a flashy, trashy girlfriend. He always
said he wasn't gonna live in this damn trailer all his life. Well, he ain't livin' here no more. He's a guest of the county.
He swears he
didn't do it, and he wanted to borrow
money to pay for a lawyer. "These
lawyers you get for free," he said, "ain't no good." I told him
no. I didn’t give a reason, and he
cussed me out. I need money for
Desiree's career. Now that she's in a
fancy pageant, I need to get her a
pageant coach. Her first pageant, the
Beautiful Baby pageant – only cost thirty dollars to enter. These big-time pageants cost hundreds of
dollars. And it's hard to come up with
the money. I ain't gonna get rich
working at the Get 'n' Go. And that bastard boss of mine, Harley, is so cheap
he won’t give me a raise, even though I’ve been working for him for twelve
years, standing behind that counter, waiting on those mean drunks and hearing
all those pick-up lines, or what those losers call pick-up lines. “When do you get off, honey?” Then they grin. I don't get off soon enough to suit me, I
say, but I’m thinking When I do get off,
I ain't gonna waste my time with a loser like you. I almost said it out loud
once. So far I ain't said that to anybody.
Harley'd fire me, and there ain't a lot of jobs around here for somebody
who quit high school. I mean, what could
I do? I was pregnant, and throwin' up
all over the place, and I never did good in school anyway. So I just went home to have my baby.
When she was born
and I wanted to name her Desiree, my mama about had a fit. She said it sounded like a two-bit
whore. She named me Mary, for the mother
of Christ, of course. See, my mom is
real religious. She goes to Mass every day.
I’m not religious anymore, myself, once I got old enough to tell Mama I
wouldn't go to church no more. Mama says
I’m goin’ to hell. So be it. I'll have
plenty of company down there.
I said I was gonna give my baby a pretty
name, not a plain name like mine. I think Desiree will be the girl I could have
been, if I'd had the chance. I always
wanted to be a star, you know. I wanted
to wear sexy clothes and have everyone adore me. Mama wouldn’t hear of it. She
wouldn’t even let me be a majorette at school because she said their costumes
weren’t modest. Hell, I didn’t want to
be modest. Modest ain't no fun.
So I’ve given Desiree everything.
Many a time I’ve gone without to buy her those pageant dresses and outfits. Levi, her father, is the world's biggest
loser. He wouldn't marry me, and it's
just as well. Now I can raise my child
like I want to. He wouldn't want me
spending money on pageants. He'd rather
drink it up.
Desiree's had all
them lessons – dance, voice, gymnastics, whatever I can get for her. It’s paid off, too. Desiree has won ten pageants now; we’re out
of the small-town stuff.
My Desiree loves
the pageants, but she gets tired of practicing.
She practices for two hours every day on modeling, dancing, whatever she
needs to win the crown. Sometimes she
gets fussy about rehearsing, but I won’t let her get away with slacking
off. My snotty sister just don’t get
it; Desiree is learning to stick with
something until it’s done. She’s learning
to go after her dreams. She's going to
be Miss America. She's going to take
care of her mama someday. I think of it
as a what-cha-call-it, an investment.
End