Chapter 55 Junie
Junie
Junie is glad to be back at June’s after seeing nothing but the inside of the toilet bowl for the past couple days. It turned
out the second chemo treatment wasn’t any easier than the first. Surprise, surprise.
She and Georgia are alone at the shop, setting up for the very first community Good Hair Days meeting they were lucky enough to squeeze in before the Fourth of July holiday tomorrow. Cece needed a little
bit of convincing, but it didn’t take long before it was made obvious that there was no choice but to fully embrace the people
willing to help. Georgia unloads drinks onto a table as Junie sets up the snack trays. This time the options are a little
more well-planned—purchased, in fact, rather than scraped from the pantry at the Clementine. Sparkling water, sodas, fruit
and veggie trays, some cookies and pretzels.
“While we’re here alone,” Georgia says, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about what the doctor meant—at the appointment we came
to—about the genetics. Is there some new technology or something?”
Junie’s hands stop, her eyes focusing on the tabletop before her.
She knew this moment was coming—should’ve known Georgia isn’t the type to let an offhand comment slip by—she’d just wanted to delay it as long as possible.
In the pause Junie considers her options.
Lying is an option, if not a great one, and honestly, she feels like she’s finally righted the big untruths she perpetrated.
The idea of going back there is heavy. But being truthful doesn’t feel right, not right now, not before this special meeting. Junie pulls in a breath.
“Yeah, it’s something I wanted to explain to you,” she says, turning to face Georgia. “It’s just— It’s kind of a lot. And
I don’t want to go into it right before this.”
Georgia glances back, a hint of worry in her eyes. “Ok. I get that. But is everything ok?”
Junie smiles to herself. “Oh, Peach. I am where I am with this illness, and I’m not sure anything is ‘ok.’ Genetics or not,
it doesn’t change the next steps, what happens going forward.”
The tightness in Georgia’s face releases. “Alright, well, I guess that makes sense. I do want to hear about it, though.”
Just as Junie nods, Tina waltzes in past the torn-up drywall like the queen of France and props her hands on her hips. “Y’all
want to know what I just told Randy?”
“Only because of the way you walked in here,” Georgia says.
Cece lopes in behind Tina looking weary, as though she already heard the story on the way over.
Junie cracks the top of the sparkling water bottle with a fizz and pours it into small plastic cups. It has a bold fruity
flavor that seems fun enough to rival wine. She holds one out to Tina. Tina’s bob is styled in beachy waves, and Junie wonders
if Tina finally gave in and bought one of those Beachwaver irons of which she’s been equal parts enthralled and suspicious.
Tina accepts the cup with a grateful smile. “I told him he needed to be out by the end of the week—or there’d be hell to pay.”
“‘Hell to pay,’ huh? Nice one,” Junie says. It’s definitely not the right time to ask about the Beachwaver.
“About time,” Cece adds.
Soon the community members trickle into the dusty bare-bones shop. First come the Silvers, all smiles, gray curls, and sweet
perfume. They hug and chat before visiting the refreshments and finding their seats. Michaela rushes in five minutes late,
her top covered in what might be the remnants of her toddler’s dinner. Daddy and a couple of well-dressed men arrive looking
the most nervous of the visitors. The Louise women welcome them intentionally.
Georgia stands, raises a glass, and calls the meeting to attention. “Thank you all for being here! We are thrilled that you’re
willing to help us get June’s Beauty Shop back up on her feet.” She goes on to discuss the branding deal with Goldilocks Haircare,
sparing no detail, and outlines the target numbers. “After the meeting we will email the renderings Junie has received from
the brand so y’all are fully aware of where your efforts are going.”
In the digital image, the floors are covered in a warm wood LVT—the most practical material for a hair salon and much grander
than any linoleum Mama dreamed up. The walls are painted a deep cream and the hair dryers are replaced with retro peach versions.
The hair chairs will be recovered to give them a new lease. The wig wall remains, but the rickety plastic shelving is gone
and chunky wood shelving is in its place. The pièce de résistance, the Dolly shrine, is intact—only by the grace of God and
not possibly anything else—because it’s gorgeous. Their precious Dolly clippings are framed in an assortment of textures and
thicknesses and composed into a gallery Mama would’ve fainted over. The place looks like the color pink come to life—once
it grew up and got a job and a mortgage.
Junie stands at Georgia’s signal. “Yes, and we’ve already undertaken our own fundraising endeavors. We have amassed a little over seven thousand dollars between our family garage sale and two fundraising evenings.”
A titter spreads among the group. Everyone knows about Cards—even if it feels safer to talk around it. Despite its local notoriety,
Junie wonders about pausing on more Cards nights now that Sheriff Mike’s new deputies are out on the roads.
Ms. Luanne from the Silvers raises her hand. “So as y’all know, we’ve got a bingo event planned at the church next week, and
all of our friends and their friends are coming. We’re also working on setting up a bounce house event for the kids in town.
Sherry has been chatting up the guy who runs the inflatable rentals.”
Ms. Sherry waves and pats her hair, as if acknowledging her wiles that give her sway. “I’m close to finishing the agreement,
but we might get as many as five inflatables for a few hours. I figure we can sell tickets and even do a snack bar if we have
the time.”
“What a fabulous idea,” Tina says.
Junie lights up on the inside at the idea. “We should also have a thirty-minute adult bounce. Just saying!”
The Silvers erupt in chatter and laughter and more than one mention of a broken hip.
Michaela chimes in. “I might only have one toddler, but I can assure you all the families around here would show up for that
event.”
“Assign us all a job,” Georgia says to the Silvers. “We’re all available as staff.”
“Even me,” Junie chimes in. “Unless it’s right after a treatment day.”
The looks that folks turn upon her surprise Junie. They look so sad and forlorn, so unlike how she feels on the inside. Georgia
let everyone know what was going on with her—well, the basics—apart from Michaela, whom Junie told herself. They worry, most
likely. Truly the treatments are a bump in the road—even if they are weighty, full-body-rattling bumps that put her down for
days.
“Don’t look so sad, y’all,” Junie says. “We’re going to save June’s!” She looks around at the group. “Who’s next?”
Georgia shakes out of the sad moment. “Oh. Yes. Dad?”
Daddy clears his throat. “Thank you for having us. I’m here with two reps, Darius and Lucinda, from Whitetail Bank. We are
already in the process of planning the pancake breakfast. Whitetail Bank has agreed to sponsor the event with an eighteen-thousand-dollar
check, thanks to their community enrichment program. June’s will be this year’s recipient. And many thanks to them for pushing
up the selection process by a month or so to accommodate our schedule.”
Everyone claps, and a few “oohs” escape at the generous amount.
“We’re so appreciative,” Georgia announces.
Michaela takes over next and describes the show. “Over three nights, we sometimes amass as much as ten thousand dollars in
ticket sales, depending on interest. And we have a donation box for our cause in the theater lobby. I don’t want to overshoot,
but this could really make a dent.”
Junie can’t help but squeal and clap in glee. The math is coming together despite the odds. This should be manageable. And
to think she wanted to do it alone.
Tina clears her throat. “And also, we’ll be selling my famous cherry pie at the county fair this weekend! We probably won’t
break into five figures like the rest of y’all, but it’s promising to be a successful event as well!” The pride that flushes
over Tina and out of her as she speaks is palpable. The same woman who at the first suggestion of this shrank like cotton
in a hot wash.
“I’ve got a commitment from the auto shop that they’ll run the oil change special, but we’ll have to wait and see what amount
it turns out. Already had a couple guys volunteer some free hours too,” Cece says.
The rest of the meeting includes the creation of a calendar of fundraising events, small breakout conversations to iron out details, and meetings set for each event’s planning.
Junie feels overwhelmingly taken care of; she doesn’t even have many follow-up tasks on her list, other than to attend the events and bask in them.
To laugh and enjoy and focus on getting better.
Letting everyone in was the best choice she has ever made.