Tales (Masie Adams)

Now you know I’m not one to tell tales, but you would not believe what I saw at the Piggly Wiggly this morning. Yes ma’am, I am telling you the gospel truth and no lies. It was Masie Adams, back in town from who knows where, and let me tell you, she was a sight. Thank goodness her mama passed before she lived to see her daughter all trolloped up like a truck stop hooker in broad daylight. It couldn’t’ve been past ten in the morning, and she was wearing these sky-high stripper heels, no pantyhose, and a dress that like to been painted on her, cut down to here and up to there. And if she had a slick of lipstick on, she had the entire Estee Lauder counter on her face. That brassy hair was teased up higher than a nine-neck giraffe, and all she had in her cart was eggs, butter, and beer. It just goes to show . . . and she comes from such good people. I reckon Mary Elizabeth’s going to have to lock up her husband. He never could stay away from Masie.

That’s none of my business, but Mary Elizabeth keeps Joshua on such a short leash that all that’s left to do is lock him up. That poor man, I don’t know how he puts up with it. I’ve always said there was something wrong with Gracie’s baby, ever since she was in diapers. Lord, but that child was a terror if she didn’t get her way. I don’t suppose that’s changed. Joshua’s mother, God rest her soul, would—what do people who were cremated do?— get her ashes in an uproar if she knew her sweet Josh married a Catholic girl for his second wife.

And my goodness, you should have seen Mary Elizabeth come down that aisle like a trucker in a sequined gown. Strapless. With a train. And a veil. At her age. Registered for everything on God’s green earth, too. And then had the priest skip over the speak now or forever hold your peace. We all knew she was afraid Masie would show up and say that Josh loved her, not Mary Elizabeth.

But no one knew where Masie had gotten off to, and it was years before she came back. That’s one thing about Masie—she always comes back.