Page 30 - Demo

We went as far as the car would take us. You’d think we would get out when the car broke down, but my sister Joyce refused to budge from the backseat until she got an apology from Nancy who was just as stubborn as Joyce, so the three of us just sat there in that hot car until I thought we’d all die from the heat and the tension. That lasted about two minutes.
“Let me borrow your phone,” said Nancy.
“When you say you’re sorry,” said Joyce, refusing to look her in the eye.
I couldn’t stand the blistering heat another minute, so I opened the driver’s side door, stepped out onto
the asphalt and sucked in a mouthful of hot air that wasn’t much relief. We were at least seven miles from town and the sun was rising behind us like an enor- mous fireball coming up out of the road. “I’m getting out, too,” said Nancy, climbing over the fuming Joyce and out the door.
“Great Uncle John’s ball sack! It’s hot!” Nancy stum- bled out on the dusty, litter strewn shoulder of the highway and brushed off her pants as she called back inside the car window to Joyce. “If you want to sit there and get heat stroke, then that’s fine with me.” Joyce’s mouth twisted. She pulled out her phone and began clicking furiously.
“Lemme see that.” Nancy stuck a hand inside the car and Joyce slapped it away.
“Are you calling him? He is NOT up to talking to any- body,” Nancy yelled.
Joyce said nothing but kept punching at the phone. “You’d better not be texting him!”
“Oh shut it,” said Joyce. “I’m tweeting Pastor Twinkles and putting you on the prayer line.”
“What are you—? You’re tweeting to the pastor about what happened?”
“I’m putting your name on the prayer line at church.”
“The prayer line?” sputtered Nancy. “Are you fu—” She threw up her hands and let the thought drop.
“It’s on the church website,” I said, attempting an explanation. “You just click on ‘prayer request’ and
type in what you want people to pray for. If they like it then they click ‘pray’ if they want to pray for it.” I usually wasn’t on Joyce’s side of anything, but Nancy had put her foot in it this time.
“What happens if they don’t click ‘pray’?” asked Nancy.
“Then I guess you’re going to hell,” said Joyce, making a face and then returning to her texting.
“You two ought to forget all about that silliness and worry about us getting a ride to a gas station or something,” I said.
“I don’t call her flirting with my ex-husband ‘silli- ness,’” said Joyce, leaning out the window of the back- seat. “There, it’s done.” She waved the phone out the window and then quickly pulled it back inside and shoved it into her jean pocket.
“That’s just it, Joyce,” said Nancy. “He’s your ex-hus- band. And when my divorce comes through I’ll be your ex-sister-in-law, so you don’t have anything to say about it.”
Joyce bounded out the back door of the car finally and yelled at Nancy. “That’s just it, Nancy,” mocked Joyce. “You’re still married to my brother, and until those divorce papers come through, flipping your boobs in Vince’s face at the church barbeque is off limits.”
“Boob flipping is not even allowed at church picnics. We were just talking.”
“Talking? You call that talking? When did those things grow a mouth?”
“It was six weeks ago, Joyce,” I muttered. “Can we not do this now?”
23
Three Ladies in Distress
CaThy adams