ࡱ> Z]YU NSbjbjnn 4naa3KJ J 8DV,mmm$>!^;mmmmm;Pmfm8 /Ff0!p!!xmmmmmmm;;mmmmmmm!mmmmmmmmmJ B :  CLOSET WARS By Pat Donohoe 2020 West Virginia Fiction Competition, 3rd-Place Winner Selected by Dorothy Allison As Dorothy Allison selected this story for 3rd place honors in the WV Fiction Competition, she offered Pat Donohoe, a writer living in the Eastern Panhandle of the state, the following review and encouragement: If this story is about your people, then your people are related to my peopleScots-Irish and stubborn and resistant to being bossed aroundoh yes, I recognize them. And I know all too well that struggle to organize a wardrobe that will get you through the week without embarrassing yourself. Not till I had some of my own money and discovered thrift stores did I have the luxury of a closet of enough clothes to wear something different everydaynever mind something that actually fit and didnt look pitiful. Two skirts and two blouses, could have described me for most of my school years. Mix and match and make do. And I had sisters; my sister two years younger than I was by-god beautifulblond, blue-eyed, slender and sweet-natured. Somehow she always had more clothes than I did, and that struggle to go to school in something that would let me blend in and look respectable seemed no effort for her at all. We did not get alongand our closet wars were endless and painfulso much so that we could forget we were family and united in the same struggles. I was a hard-headed, hard-hearted child and took deep satisfaction from the fact that my sister was pretty but not very bright. There is a god, I used to tell myself. And not till we were grown and each had our own homes and closets did we work our way around to some kind of family feeling. Your story took me right out of myself and reminded me what I love in seeing something so familiar in a new guisea story that feels true and strong. There is no question but these women love each other, even as they are different enough to compete and sometimes resent each other. May Dean and Ida are alive on the page, their competition and grudging sympathies right there and beautifully realized. They are on each others side even when they are not. They get on each others nerves and forgive each other, though they would never say so. When we get to the quilts, I was reminded of a story by Alice Walker that in memory feels as if it edges on the same notionthe competition and resentments between sisters that all in all does not sidestep the fact that in the face of the worlds meanness we are on each others sideat least some of the time. And the way you render that is truly lovely. I look forward to other stories you are going to write. Dorothy Allison May Dean Dunnavant hated it when people told her what she should do with her life. Especially when they were right. Shed always harbored a tight little knot of resistance to being bossed around, no matter how well-meaning or kindly put. She blamed it on her Scots-Irish ancestors. For them, the bottom line was dont mess with me, or youll get it. A good fight was all in a days workor fun. It was just healthy competition. Once upon a time, back in the old country, it may even have served a purposesharpening the wit, wiliness, and strength needed to protect ones home from horde after horde of invaders. At least, thats what shed always been told. Regardless of whether it was true or not, the old days were gone, and May Dean was all for debunking (her favorite new word) what was no longer useful. Who needed armed chieftains and blue-painted warriors in the era of FaceTime and facial recognition? So why on earth had she let her older sister, Ida, talk her into wearing a tortuous relic on this particular day. A frickin pair of pantyhose. Jesus Christ. You have nice legs and ankles. Why not show them off, Ida had said when she and May Deans daughter, Ellie, were helping her decide what to wear. Now here she was, waiting to be interviewed for a new job at Adena State University, one of the few decent places to work in the scabby remnant of Two Rivers, Ohio, and her ankles were the problem. Or at least one of them was. She looked down at her right ankle again to make sure. Hell! It was still there. Ida saw it too. She had come into town that morning to make sure her younger sister went through with the interview and was sitting next to May Dean in the outer office where candidates waited to be called in. Crap almighty, what can I do? May Dean whispered, looking around to make sure no one else was in the room. She glared at the dark curly hair stuck underneath her panty hose. It looked like a big black S curve right on top of her pale ankle, and May Dean knew it wasnt from any public place on her body. Wheres the restroom? Ida asked. Way over on the other side of the building. I dont have time, May Dean said, looking at her watch. She could feel her blouse beginning to stick to her armpits. Had she used enough deodorant? Dont worry, Ida said. Youll be sitting with your feet under the table. No one will notice. Her voice was low and calm, as if it were nothing. But May Dean knew if persnickety Miss Ida were in her place, shed be hyperventilating by now. The interview is in a lounge area. There isnt any table. May Dean said, bending over. Maybe I can scoot it down into my shoe. She pulled the panty hose away from her ankle and blew on the spot. The hair fluttered but didnt move. She tried again. One end lifteda tad. It only moved a hair, Ida said. Hardy har har, May Dean said. Its neither hair nor there, Ida tittered. You should talk, May Dean said, remembering how Ida had thrown a hissy fit that past summer when she found a few stray hairs the cleaners missed in the bathroom of their vacation rental. Maybe theyll think its a tattoo. Ida covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her giggles. Very funny, May Dean said. Idas knit dress rippled as her laughter gained momentum. May Dean didnt know whether to laugh or cry. But one thing was certain. She needed to show some dignity if she wanted to be administrative assistant to the dean of continuing education. DH, DH! Ida croaked. It was code for Dunnavant Humor, which was usually irreverent and earthy. Gross, really. And May Dean was a sucker for it. She tried to hold it in, but no use. She and Ida had just managed to stop cackling when a trim young woman came in and called her name. May Dean stood, pulled her navy blue skirt down as far as it would go, and stepped into the interview room, willing herself not to look down at her right ankle when she sat and crossed her other leg over it. She concentrated on making eye contact with the seven people on the screening committee and remembering their names. Ida had coached her on how to give a good interview, and afterwards, she thought she did fairly well. But she was afraid her lingering embarrassment at finding a private part of herself so visibly exposed had undermined her self-confidence. Well, so much for that, she said when she got home. She ripped her panty hose off, grabbed every other pair she owned, and tossed them all in the trash. Good riddance to one of the cruelest jokes ever played on Woman! * * * When the dean called a few days later to offer her the position, May Dean could hardly believe it. A whole new world opened up for her. She no longer had a job. She had a career, a word she would never use to describe her first real job at a vinyl factory that made condoms or, years later, her work at the nursing home. She had started there as a nurses aide but soon landed in the front office because of her skills in working with people and computers. She was also a good problem-solver and quick learner. Plus, shed been taking evening courses at Adena State to improve her marketability. For the first time in her life, shed have her own office. As the deans scheduler and office manager, shed funnel inquiries to the right program directors and assist them in developing offerings for the business community, life-long learners, and general population. In other words, shed be on the front line. People would associate her with the dean and the whole continuing education division. She would actually be somebodya visible presence. A bit scary now that she thought about it. Better to focus on the significant increase in income and status shed have, in addition to free tuition for her and her daughter, Ellie. Maybe they could even take some evening courses together. But first things first. Which meant her wardrobe. The smocks and knit tops she wore at the nursing home were too casualand cheap. She hardly ever dressed up and couldnt afford new clothes yet without jacking up her credit cards. And she didnt want to drain her savings, which were nearly depleted after her modest kitchen renovation and the trip to the lake with Ellie and Ida. So it was back to the closet. She needed enough professional-looking outfits to get through one week at her new jober, position. She thought she could come up with three, which was one more than her grandma had in the 1940s when she clerked at the Kresges five and dime on Main Street. I had two skirts and two blouses, her grandma would say when May Dean and Ida were teenagers and griped about having nothing to wear. Two? May Dean asked, thinking her grandma was telling tales. It was all I could afford on $8.50 a week. Warshed and arned em on weekends and switched em out during the week. That way, looked like I had four, she said. Whatd you do on Fridays? Ida asked. Why what d ya think, Miss Smarty Pants! Picked the one least rumpled, their grandma said, planting her hands on apron-clad hips that reminded May Dean of stuffed laundry bags. May Dean untied her own apron and threw it in the dirty clothes basket. She pulled her best outfits from the closet and tossed them on the bed. One. Two. Three. Paltry, really. But what could she do. Shed just have to mix and matchlike her grandma. Except the outfits she had didnt mix well. And, well, they were a little lackluster. May Dean felt her new position called for a little flareespecially if she ever wanted to do more than be an administrative assistant someday. Hey, Mama! Ellie shouted from the hall. Aunt Idas here! Ida clambered up the stairs with two big shopping bags. She set them down and sat in the tufted armchair beside the big dresser they called Grandmas chiffarobe. May Dean and Ida had shared it growing up. Theyd also shared the same small room, tiny closet, and lumpy bed. They really never had much of anything of their own except for underwear. Their different tastes in how to decorate their room often meant they were at war with each other. Sometimes May Dean came out on topas in the case of the rosy pink dcor Ida hated. And sometimes Ida wonlike getting a chiffarobe drawer that didnt stick. When Ida glanced at the Jenny Lind bed theyd shared, May Dean remembered how they would string a clothesline down the center, tying it on a spindle at each end. Yet no matter how fierce they were in daring the other to cross it, they always ended up jammed together in the middle of the sunken mattress. May Dean had finally bought a new mattress set and painted the room a cheerful spring green, but she kept one of their grandmas quilted coverlets on the bed. Ellie lifted her moms three outfits and draped them over the footboard before plopping down on the coverlet. She propped her chin on her knees, and May Dean knew her daughter was waiting for the sister show to begin. Ida set her new Coach handbag down, pushed her owlish glasses back up her nose, and reached over to finger May Deans outfits. Those look nice together, she said, letting go of the black knit pants and matching jacket May Dean had paired with a pinstriped shirt. Is that what youre wearing the first day? Yep. May Dean said. What about these? She pointed to her two other outfits, including the crisp white over-blouse and navy-blue skirt she had worn for the interview. Ida picked a pair of pantyhose out of the trash. Whatre you wearing with that skirt? Tights, May Dean said. I got me some black ones. Theyre opaque. Ohhh, I see. May Dean turned her back on the smug little smile beginning to take shape on Idas face. She didnt want Ellie to hear about the stray hair debacle, so she plucked a scarf out of a small, top drawer in the chiffarobe. Plus I have this scarf to dress it up a little more. Thats pretty, Mom. All you need now is a blazer or vest to go with the blouse and skirt. Think I got it covered, Ida said. She pulled a blazer out from one of the shopping bags. Look, Mom! A perfect match! And I know just the lapel pin to top it off. Before May Dean could stop her, she ran out of the room and was back in a minute with an antique brooch from her great-grandmothers collection. She pinned the sterling silver bar on the blazer and tucked the scarf around the blazers neckline. The pins rose-colored rhinestones leapt to life. Thats nice, but I cant wear the blazer, May Dean said. Why not, Mom? Ellie sat back down on the bed. Your mom doesnt like hand-me-downs. Except when its something she really wants. Ida eased a long, loose sweater out from the bag like it was a newborn infant. May Dean couldnt believe her eyes. You kept that? All these years? You never know what you might need, Ida said. But I dont want it anymore. Here, take it. She handed it to May Dean. No one said a word as May Dean slowly unfolded the blue silky cashmere, lifted it to her face, and nuzzled it. Still smells new, she said, looking up. Did you ever wear it? No. Dont you remember? Mother took it away after what we did. What? Whatd you do? Ellie was fidgeting like she had to pee, which she probably did, and May Dean knew they wouldnt have any peace until they told her the whole story, so she laid the sweater on the bed. I just wanted to borrow it one timefor a special date. May Dean said. But Ida said no. I was saving it for our high school awards banquet. Ellie turned toward her aunt. You won an award? Ida took her glasses off and started cleaning them with a tissue. Most Likely to Succeed, she said, avoiding Ellies gaze. Wow. Did you win anything, Mom? May Dean looked at the tiny closet that was nearly empty. No, doll, I was always just ordinary. Thats not true, Ida said, her glasses back on. You had a beautiful voice and did all those old ballads and bluegrass jigs. Really, Mom? Why dont you sing anymore? Thats a story for another time, May Dean said. She started to put her few outfits back in the closet. Wait, Ellie said. You didnt finish the sweater story. May Dean sighed and sat down on the bed. Ida wouldnt let me borrow the sweater, so I decided to get even. I took her last clean pair of underpants and wore them on a day she had gym class. Ida cut up my best blouse in return, and the sweater disappeared. After our mother died, Ida said, I found the sweater in the bottom of her hope chest and took it home. Dont know why I kept it all these years. Stubborn, I expect. She glanced out the window and then back at her sister. That color always did look better on you. May Dean didnt know what to say. Was this an apology? Ida started pulling more clothes out of the bags. Theres some good things here that would look nice on you. Were not that different in build. I appreciate the sweater, May Dean said, eyeing Idas elegant surplus. But I cant take all of this. It wouldnt feel like me in them. I know you like things that are more girlie and less structured, but youll be working in a business environment. These are just what the doctor ordered. May Dean hated accepting charity, especially from her sister, whose beautiful, tailored garments had labels from places well beyond May Deans budget. Its too much, she said, running out of the room. Hells bells, Ida said, turning to Ellie. I really screwed things up, didnt I? Shes just nervous, thats all. Ellie went after her mom and found her in the bathroom dabbing her eyes with a washrag. When May Dean saw her daughters freckled face pop up in the mirror, she smiled. Sorry, she said. I just wanna be somebody on my own. Not the younger sister of Ida Rose Heisler. Ellies gray eyes clouded over. How about the mother of Ellie May Dunnavant? Oh darlin, May Dean said, turning around. Ill always be that! She hugged her daughter. When they got back to the bedroom, Ida had everything back in the bags except for the blue sweater. She picked the bags up and stood to go. Wait, May Dean said. Let me see those things again. Ida set the bags down. Slowly. I didnt mean to, she started to say. You didnt, May Dean said before her sister could finish. Things were slippery enough. She didnt want to slobber them up with more feelings. Ellie stood up on the bed in a wide-legged stance like a military dog trainer. Sit! she said in a tone that brooked no refusal. Ida sat back down in the tufted chair, and May Dean sat on the edge of the bed as Ellie bounced down beside her and crossed her legs in a lotus position. Lets all take a deep breath, she said, in the soothing cadence May Dean had heard her use with small children. The sound of breathing filled the room. Okay. Good. Lets get to work, she said after a bit. Ida reached in her handbag for a notepad and pencil. May Dean didnt think they needed to make a list of all the outfits they came up with, but Ida had always been a list-maker. On the other hand, maybe the list would keep her from buying things she didnt needwhen she did have some extra cash. For now, she was relieved to have four new outfits in the closet, along with the three she already had. Her closet was full. Ellie and Ida headed downstairs to make lunch while she tidied up. May Dean started to straighten the quilt on her bed but stopped as a ray of sun lit up the pinwheels of color across the quilts white background. Her grandmother had made the quilt from the favorite dresses of her four daughters. Each daughter had her signature color. There were petals of pink gingham for Lovetta, yellow calico for Florie, blue plaid for Ilona, and green paisley for Ida and May Deans mother, Mary Ellenor Murrellun, as her family called her. The aunts and her mother were all gone now. But May Dean remembered how they would gather around the kitchen table and squabble. Politics, religion, recipes, or remediesanything was fair game. If, on rare occasion they actually agreed on something, theyd argue about their last argumentwho said what, who was right, and when that person would be proved wrong. Just wait, theyd say. Youll see. Of course, when one of them needed help, theyd come together tighter than the stitching on their mothers wedding quilt. The quilt that Ida got. Now worth a lot of money. According to Ida. May Dean smiled and ran her hand across the puckered scraps of her own quilt. No amount of smoothing would ever get all the wrinkles out.     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