When Jeanie rose from her desk and approached them, the other women cleared a path for her.
“There’s Mamaw’s little sunshine!” she called, opening her arms to receive Mimi. “Benny Jack, your daddy’s out on the floor if you want to go get him. You can take Lily, too — show her the production
The production area of the Confederate Sock Mill hurt Lily’s ears and nose. The clicking and chugging of the machinery was deafening, and the smell of the textile fibers caused her to have a sneezing fit. The two dozen mill workers, engrossed in their repetitive tasks, didn’t seem to notice the sounds or smells at all.
Big Ben, who had been deep in conversation with a machine operator, spotted them and waved.
“Hey,” he yelled over the rumbling machinery “Y’all ready to go for a ride?”
As they walked to the parking lot, Big Ben said, “Well, I reckon we could go in Benny Jack’s car or my truck.” He grinned. “Or Lily, we could go in your car.”
“Excuse me?”
Big Ben cackled and nodded toward a long, shiny silver car parked in the rear of the lot. “That’s for you.” He pressed the keys into Lily’s hand. “A little wedding present from Jeanie and me.”
Lily’s vocabulary failed her. “Uh...I...uh ...”
“Now I know it ain’t as nice as Benny Jack’s Lexus,” Big Ben apologized. “But you really sprung this marriage thing on us, and a New Yorker was the best we could do on short notice. I tell you what, Lily. You stay married to this rascal a year, and we’ll get you any make of car you want!”
“Big Ben, it’s a beautiful car, I ... I just couldn’t accept it.”
“Of course you can,” Big Ben said. “It’s just our way of welcoming you into the family. This car’s a piece of shit compared to what we got Sheila and Tracee when they married our other boys. But we had a little more notice then, so we could go to Atlanta and pick out somethin’ nice, you understand.”
“Well, uh ... thank you.” Lily felt as though she were on some bizarre game show, an updated version of The Liar’s Club, where the gay person who put up the most convincing pretense of heterosexuality could win a snazzy new car.
“So, little lady,” Big Ben boomed, “how ’bout taking us for a ride?”
“Sure...okay.”
The plush interior of the Chrysler New Yorker had that unmistakable new-car smell. It was an undeniably gorgeous vehicle, and yet it wasn’t a car Lily would ever have picked out for herself, even if she had possessed the funds to buy it. While she was sure that in Big Ben’s eyes, the New Yorker’s roominess made it a good family car, to her, a big car meant nothing but bad gas mileage and more exhaust fumes to pollute the environment. Besides, weren’t gays supposed to be boycotting the Chrysler company?
Damn it, Lily warned herself, if you’re going to pull off the happy hetero bit, you’re going to have to start thinking less. She turned the key in the ignition. “Where to?” she asked brightly.
“Hang a left out of the parking lot,” Big Ben said from the backseat. He had insisted on sitting in the back so the “newlyweds” could sit in the front together.
