thanksgiving on my lips, when I heard the
siren. I pulled in anyway and stopped. A moment later Zelda was rapping at my window.
Taking a cue from one of Susannah's many stories, I rolled the window down slowly and smiled. I did not, however,
bat my eyelashes or purse my lips like a howling monkey.
"Good afternoon, Officer."
"Clocked you going thirty-five in a twenty-five-mile per hour speed zone," Zelda said, and whipped out a pad.
That did it. That hiked my hackles for sure. Not only do I believe that speeding is wrong, I believe it is a sin. The good
Lord made it clear that we are to obey the laws of man as long as they do not interfere with his divine law, and nowhere
does the Bible require us to speed. Okay, so it does say to "make haste" a couple of times, but I assure you those
references have nothing to do with speed limits.
Because I believe this strongly, I refuse to drive a mile over the speed limit, even when there are trucks barreling
down on top of me. Aaron thinks this is foolish and has warned me that I could get killed. So be it. I will not stoop to break
the law just because someone else does.
My point is, I was so mad at Zelda for her false accusation that I rolled up my window. She rapped I again, this time
using the notepad to cushion her knuckles.
"Roll that down, Magdalena."
"I wasn't speeding!"
"Okay, you're weren't. That was just an excuse. But I need to talk to you."
I rolled it down an inch. "Make it snappy, Zelda."
"Magdalena, I need your help."
The window came down. I may not be much of a fashion statement (Susannah claims I will never be until I stop
wearing opaque hose), but even I could benefit someone like Zelda. Since she's almost always in uniform, her problem
isn't a matter of dress, so much as it is grooming and hygiene. Zelda cuts her short dark hair herself with a pinking shears
and then plasters it against her head with an inch of grease. She has tweezed away her natural eyebrows and replaced
them with penciled arches. If she used a gold pencil instead of brown, she would be an advertisement for hamburgers.
Now, it is no shame to be born with lips no fuller than a chicken's, but Zelda uses a fuchsia liner to extend her hen's mouth
from just above her chin to the base of her nose. When she talks only part of her "mouth" moves, so who is she trying to
kid?"
"Scrub it all off and start again," I said gently. "Work with what the Good Lord gave you. If you grew your hair long
you could wear it in a nice attractive bun. And let those eyebrows grow, they were meant to keep bugs out of our eyes.
Unfortunately there's not much you can do about those lips, dear - "
"Magdalena! I'm talking about Melvin."
I sighed. A few makeover tips were not going to be enough for him.
"I'm afraid he's a lost cause," I said gently.
She nodded. "That's what I think. I thought he loved me as much as I love him, but I was wrong. It's not me he loves
at all, but Susannah."
"What?"
She raked her fingers through the jelled do, and they emerged glistening. "Oh, yeah. He admitted it last night. He's
been in love with her ever since high school. The day they started going together last year was the happiest day of his life.
Then when they broke up, it nearly killed him."
"You don't say." I was grateful to be sitting in an old car that didn't have bucket seats. If I fainted and fell sideways I
wouldn't hit a console.
"He asked me out on the rewind."
"You mean 'rebound,' dear."
"No, rewind. I went over to his house one day after work to help him with his VCR. It wouldn't rewind. I fixed it for him,
and while it was rewinding he asked me out. That was the happiest day of my life."
"How romantic." I noticed that her large, hazel eyes were brimming with tears. "I'm so sorry for you, dear. Is there
anything I can do to help?"
She nodded vigorously. "Yeah. Get my studmuffins what he wants."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Get him your sister. Reunite him with Susannah."
I tried to faint -