The Swinging Nail: Part 1

Three days ago I found myself at the corner of “You’re no longer in civilization” and “Howdy ya’ll.” I was having dinner with my mother, sister, my brother-in-law, a cowboy, two republicans and a waitress who tried so hard to be Daisy Duke.

We sat around, on small folding chairs, at a picnic like table with plastic silverware and for the first time I felt truly afraid. I couldn’t help but wonder, “Is there a Macy’s near here or are we lost forever?”

We were at a barbeque place, one that I’ve been to before the first time I came and visited my sister, and in the year since hasn’t changed. I, if I can be truthful, expected bibles to be thrown at me and my Ralph Lauren baby blue sweater and black Lauren shoes.

But first I’ll start with that morning.

My mother and sister left the apartment early to get nails done and their hair did. I had no earthly interest in going with them so I decided to stay at home and work on my new project.

My new project is a stage play called “(Color) Rose” and it’s about a woman who falls in love with a man who isn’t everything she wanted him to be. It plays on the idea of innocence and being a virgin and also plays around with the idea of love and how it’s not always “Happily ever after.”

I wrote some quick scenes down, a few lines of good dialogue and crafted my main characters when I got a phone call from my sister.

“Wanna go out?”

“Aren’t you getting your nails done?”

“They fucked them up so I have to go to the place by me and figured you would want some sort of food.”

I was hungry so I decided to go with them. They picked me up about ten minutes later my sister in the front seat with her sunglasses on staring at her nails.

“Look at they did,” she said as soon as I stepped into the car.

I, personally, didn’t see anything wrong with them nor did I see much of a change from her last set. “Oh yeah I see it. They really fucked up.” I decided to go with the safe route.

We drove to the nearest Walmart, her first mistake, and as we walked inside she said, “I love these bitches here. They’re funny, smart and real. I go to Tina all the time.”

And sure enough, as soon as we walked in, Tina saw my sister and exclaimed, “Well lookie lookie who showed up. Yes.” She led my sister to the back, chatting the whole way like old friends.

My mother and I sat outside on a bench.

“Why does she go to a Walmart for her nails?” I asked.

“Cheaper.”

“Its like that time I got my hair cut at Walmart. It was lopsided and cost five dollars remember,” I say.

“I don’t think she’ll go back to that place anymore though,” my mother said.

“Why?”

“They called her hairy.” 

And I laughed. A really good belly laugh.