Twenty-Three
Trudy
With the election less than two months away, Haskel suggested perhaps Trudy could take a more visible role in the campaign. But Lucy Moody, Haskel’s sister-in-law, campaign manager, and Bailey Springs’ current first lady disagreed, citing Barbara Beaumont’s recent columns.
“No offense, Trudy,” she’d said.
Trudy hadn’t taken any and honestly, felt relieved.
Haskel, however, had taken offense and vowed to ignore Lucy’s advice by bringing Trudy onto the stage at the American Legion’s Peanuts and Politics event, where everyone ate boiled peanuts while listening to local candidates stump.
Typically, only Barbara Beaumont and her lackeys from the Beacon were there, but this year, strangely, reporters from other media outlets had shown up too, even radio and TV stations from Huntsville.
“Can I be honest, darling?” Trudy asked as Haskel pulled into a parking spot. “I agree with Lucy; I’m a liability, not to mention I’m terrible at this politics thing.”
“Oh, stop. You’re great at it.” Haskel patted her knee. “Just be charming. Shake a few hands and look pleasant. It’s easy.”
“For you , maybe,” Trudy said. “Look, your own brother doesn’t even like me.”
“Leon likes anyone who’s voting for me.”
“Well, maybe I am undecided,” she said.
Haskel rolled his eyes at her joke, got out, and walked around to open her door.
“It’s just all so unnecessary,” Trudy said, gathering her clutch, double-checking to ensure her lipstick was inside. “You’re winning by a landslide.”
Haskel shook his head. “Grigsby’s putting up a fight.” He shrugged. “And without the Beacon endorsement, there are no guarantees.”
Trudy had indeed seen a few more Go Grady Go! yard signs appear lately, but there were still many more asking for Another Moody Mayor!
“We’ll make it fun, okay?” Haskel took her hand and helped her out of the car. “We’ll do that thing where we both smile as if we’re having a delightful conversation, but we’ll actually be talking trash about people.”
Trudy saw Barbara Beaumont at the door greeting folks. “Perhaps we start now?” she said, laughing and tilting her head back as if Haskel had said something truly charming.
Haskel’s face burst with an overabundance of manufactured joy. “Why there’s that horrible, fat cow at the door now!” he said through a toothy grin.
Trudy oversmiled and nodded. “And the outdated hairdo of a real ... what’s the word?” Trudy pretended to ponder Haskel’s remark, with a glance toward the sky, a fingertip to the chin, like they were discussing something incredibly fascinating. “Rhymes with witch I believe!”
Haskel laughed uproariously as if Trudy had wildly amused him.
These moments when they connected, Haskel restored her faith in herself and showed her how to walk confidently through this world foreign to her.
Trudy had no inherent interest in being the first lady, but perhaps being at Haskel’s side through the campaign could give her a new perspective.
She was learning, for instance, how to set aside doubts and face her enemies with grace and ease.
“Well, there you are, dear,” Barbara said at the doorway. “I was worried you were missing again. You know, on Friday, I was this close to calling Eric to see if Senator Heflin could legally declare some sort of emergency and send out a search party for you and the cheerleaders.”
“Hello, Barbara.” Trudy allowed the corners of her lips to rise, the same way they did when she’d made fun of her seconds ago.
“You had everyone worried sick, Trudy. Missing the ballgame? And then today’s horrible protest while you were the lunchroom monitor, and your one job was to prevent exactly things like that from happening.”
“Protest?” Trudy asked.
“Oh dear, you must be beside yourself. What a terrible week you’re having, and it’s only Monday.
” Barbara, too—with her pleasant smile, her overdone empathetic gaze—could play the game very well.
It made Trudy want to spit nails: that masterful way Barbara acted like a close friend while addressing the very topics that made them foes.
And Trudy’s anger, most certainly, was Barbara’s intention.
Trudy played along, nonetheless. “My goodness.” She placed her hand on her heart in feigned sincerity.
“Has it been upgraded to a protest now? The last I heard it was simply a failed attempt at a food fight.” Trudy grinned and touched Barbara’s wrist. “Your daughter certainly has a knack for fiction, Barbara. Has she thought about a career as an author? This tale alone could become a bestseller.”
“Oh God.” Barbara shook her head slowly, letting her face move from a polite grin to earnest concern. “You’re still in shock. Poor thing.” She placed her palm on Trudy’s cheek and gazed at her lovingly. “I can’t imagine witnessing a protest.”
Trudy’s eyes slivered.
“Anyway ...” Barbara said. “This is for you.” She held out a pin with George Wallace’s face on it. Wallace for Governor in red, white, and blue. Stand up for Alabama. “We had George’s people send them. And look! Wallace matchbooks, too. Take as many as you want; there’s plenty.”
Trudy’s jaws clenched. “Thanks,” she said. “But I’m undecided.”
“Undecided?” Barbara guffawed as if that was the most outlandish thing anyone had ever told her. “Trudy, you now have me genuinely concerned. Today’s little gay rights uprising in the cafeteria did a number on you, didn’t it? I mean, I’ve heard those things can cause serious emotional problems.”
“Gay rights?” Trudy abandoned the smile-and-nod act, unable to fake it anymore. “What the hell are you—?”
“Good evening, Barbara,” Haskel said. “I thought this event was for local races.”
“Haskel! Nice to see you.” Barbara pushed a Wallace pin toward him. “You know, the Beacon believes that Alabama needs George now more than ever. And I’m certain as the superintendent, and a candidate for mayor, you must agree.”
“Barbara.” Haskel took her hand and gently closed her fingers around the pin. He kissed her knuckles and looked into her eyes. “You always say the most stunning things. And with spectacular confidence. It’s truly a gift.” He guided her fist back to her chest and let it go.
“Haskel! Trudy!” Verlaine Crump appeared out of the crowd from inside and took hold of Trudy’s hand. “There y’all are!” Verlaine grabbed Haskel’s arm with her other hand. “Leon’s looking for y’all.”
Inside, Trudy stood back as Haskel was pulled into a tight circle with Leon and Lucy who reviewed talking points: they’d highlight the community’s love for the Moody family and leverage June Bug’s popularity.
Trudy found all this strategic stuff fascinating, like she was peeking inside some secret society.
“Hey,” June Bug appeared beside her, apparently having just arrived.
“Oh, hey. You’re not at practice?” Trudy said; she’d still not apologized for the Field House Run mistake, but she also wanted to discuss today’s cafeteria incident.
But could she? Because who was she at this moment, June Bug’s teacher or his future Aunt Trudy?
Or were they something else entirely: cooperatives of the Moody for Mayor campaign?
“Showered and got here quick.” June Bug took a sip of punch and rolled his eyes. “Dad’s orders. I thought all this junk would be over once he termed out.” He looked at her and shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”
She gritted her teeth then sighed. “Look. June Bug. I’m sorry about the Field House Run. I was—”
“ Pffft ! Stop.” He looked at her. “Already forgot about it.”
She studied his face for sincerity.
“Seriously,” he said. “I don’t care.”
They stood, awkwardly, without speaking.
“Um, June Bug,” Trudy finally said. “You didn’t have anything to do with that thing in the cafeteria today, right?”
He looked at her and sniggered, confirming nothing.
“I mean, because you have to be careful with your uncle’s campaign and all.”
He rolled his eyes. “You sound like Daddy. Everything’s always about the next election, isn’t it?”
This wasn’t how she wanted the conversation to go, neither as his teacher nor his aunt.
He pointed to his dad, Leon, and said, “Would you believe he’s still angry that I’m the first Moody boy not elected senior class president?”
Trudy had to think about who was the president. “You lost to Mitch Graves?”
June Bug raised his eyebrows, sizing up her response. “I didn’t run. Because I hate politics and Daddy hates that about me. So please, stop sounding like him.”
“I didn’t mean to sound like him, but you still have to—”
“Do you have any idea, Miss Abernathy, what it’s like when no one in your life cares what you want?”
She wasn’t sure what to say; the conversation had grown very heavy, and very angry, very quickly.
“You think I want this?” He gestured at the scene around them. “You think I don’t have my own dreams for my life?”
“Well, I am definitely a big fan of following one’s dreams,” Trudy said.
“Really?” he asked with an eyebrow of disbelief. “You think Mayor Leon Moody’s son should follow his own dreams?”
“Yes,” she said emphatically. “Of course! Everyone should follow their heart’s destiny, or whatever you want to call it.”
June Bug turned to face her now, looking utterly confused. “You really mean that?”
“Yes,” she repeated, with more conviction this time. “Definitely.”
They let the conversation lull for a moment. June Bug gazed toward his parents, who waited with Haskel next to the metal steps that led up to the stage, their faces unsmiling.
“Good evening, Bailey Springs!” Leon Moody’s voice belted through the microphone. Lucy stood next to him with that frozen smile of hers.
“You know, just four years ago, Lucy and I stood here asking for your votes for reelection. As y’all know, we believe in family first, so just like four years ago, let’s bring our football star up here, can we? June Bug! Get up here!”
“Family first.” June Bug chuckled. “That’s my cue.” He placed his empty glass in Trudy’s hand then did little jazz hands next to his face as he mocked, “Showtime.” He put on a big cheesy smile and joined his parents, who greeted him with hugs.
After the applause died down, Leon continued. “Now you all know, Bear Bryant is looking in our direction. But we have an announcement, don’t we JB?” Leon slung his arm around June Bug’s shoulders.
June Bug smiled and shrugged.
“Ladies and gentlemen, on homecoming weekend, Coach Bear Bryant is coming to Bailey Springs for an official recruiting visit.”
For a moment, the crowd looked around at one another, unsure they’d heard correctly, the statement so unbelievable.
Barbara Beaumont scribbled on a notepad.
A reporter from Huntsville looked at his camera guy and snapped his fingers, ensuring they were getting this.
Some began calling out questions, and the entire room’s giddiness manifested tenfold.
“That’s right,” Leon said. “June Bug here’s getting an official visit on October 22!” At this, the crowd erupted.
The mayor nodded proudly, folks shouted and applauded and squeezed one another’s hands tightly to channel their excitement. “Now, citizens of Bailey Springs, it’s my honor to introduce y’all to the next mayor of Bailey Springs, my little brother, Haskel Moody!”
Haskel and Trudy looked at one another, eyes wide. “Here we go,” Haskel said, grabbing Trudy by the wrist.
“What?” Trudy said. “Lucy said—”
“Who cares!” Haskel said. “Come on!”
It felt like a bad dream, a thousand little things per second were happening yet time moved like a glacier.
Sounds were muddled. She noticed no particular person in the crowd, yet saw every single one of their eyes—blue ones, brown ones, green ones, blinking ones—all watching her walk on stage.
Verlaine hollered “Trudy! Go!” and pressed the small of her back nudging her along.
Then, as if by magic, it happened so fast, Trudy was next to Lucy Moody and behind Haskel who was speaking into the microphone.
She tried to smile, kept glancing at Lucy and trying to mimic her expression.
Why was she holding an empty punch glass?
A bead of sweat broke free and ran down her face.
She tried to wipe it discreetly. Her heart bounced and her bladder became instantly and impossibly full.
All her senses kicked into high gear, making it impossible to fully listen.
Haskel said something about progress. She heard the word, development .
Each photographer’s flash left her blind.
She looked to see if Lucy was also blinded, but the first lady’s face seemed sculpted from marble.
“Questions, sir?” Something about the reporter—from a Huntsville news station according to the logo on her microphone—snapped Trudy out of her stupor.
“Of course, ma’am,” Haskel said. “But I’m afraid I don’t have specifics about the new mall if that’s what you’re asking.”
The reporter grinned. “Is it true, Superintendent Moody, that a gay rights protest broke out and almost turned into a riot in your high school today?”
Another reporter shoved one of those little cassette recorders toward the stage.
“A what kind of protest?” Haskel asked.
A third reporter popped his head through the crowd. “Is it true that your fiancée, Trudy Abernathy, sided with the protesters, sir?”
“June Bug Moody! You were there! Is it true you stopped the riot?”
Haskel stammered and let go of Trudy’s hand. But not before a photographer snapped a photo and blinded her again.