and report what they saw, they said they were handsomer than they really were and that their bodies looked better than they really did. Women reported the opposite. What was wrong with women? Why did they think there was something wrong with them? When did that happen? I supposed it was when the culture shifted from an agricultural base, when women were prized for ample hips and a wide birth canal so they could provide lots of hands to tend the farm.
One by one, each woman turned to face the sun. We sat down in a line like children, legs hanging over the rock where I had caught the fish, feet sloshing in the cool water. We swung our legs and grinned at each other.
“This is the best day I’ve ever had without a man,” said Charlene.
“Almost as good as sex. Maybe better. Don’t have to worry about…” This from Roz. After the stories about men I couldn’t help but ask.
“About what?”
“What I look like. What I’ll feel like when he’s gone. If he’ll call again. If he doesn’t, what I’ll do. If I even want him to.”
***
Before we pulled out again, I asked the women how they’d each decided to be on the council.
“I met Erica through a local save the animals fair,” said Hope. “My parents were Methodist missionaries in Ghana and then Sierra Leone. When they retired, I came back to Vermont. I got a job as church secretary, but I think being a nurse will suit me better. I still want to serve. It’s just that the missionary life is not right for me.”
Erica followed, “Well you all know how I got on it. Carter Cummings died and the other men on the council asked my husband, Will, to take his place. As an appointee. Just until the next election. What a joke. Will said he was too busy golfing so he asked me to do it instead. He had to talk those men into taking me on. But they made me promise not to suggest anything or go against any of their votes.”
“That’s disgusting,” said Charlene. “I wish you’d told me that before. I would have taken them to court.”
“Steady, Clarence Darrow,” Roz wisecracked.
“That was before they decided to bail on the town. And before our son, Matthew, was deployed. Now I’m glad I have something to occupy my mind,” Erica said. “He’s a lieutenant in the infantry, a communications specialist. I worry about him all the time. Constantly im-ing him & sending him care packages. He tells me not to worry but what can I do? Will’s way of dealing with it is not to talk about it. I blame him. All that be a man crap. It drives me crazy. I’m sixty-two, retired from a government job, and have a husband whose main interest in life is golf and trying to forget his son’s off fighting a war for who knows what. So that leaves the council.”
“Didn’t Will have something to do with developers when he was still practicing?” asked Charlene.
“He was a real estate lawyer. If that’s what you mean,” said Erica. “Like you. I mean the lawyer part. But, yes, he worked mostly for developers. He always said that’s where the money was. I suppose it still is.”
“Well at least Charlene does some pro bono work,” said Hope. “She helps people who really need it.”
“That’s how I got on the council,” Charlene turned to Katelyn. “My firm represents a green coalition and I suggested getting on the council would fit in nicely. So here we are.”
“How about you?” I asked Valerie.
“Me?” said Valerie, pointing to herself. “That’s simple. I was bored. And I guess I like anything that gets me in front of people. I get to buy a new outfit twelve times a year for the monthly public meetings. That’s about it. Oh, and my husband, Dr. Reconstruction,” she nodded at Charlene, “is against my doing it. So that’s a plus.”
“Val’s not being entirely honest about this,” said Erica. “She’s also a distant relative of the founder of Trout River Falls. The original mill owner I think. Isn’t that right?”
“So they’ve told
One by one, each woman turned to face the sun. We sat down in a line like children, legs hanging over the rock where I had caught the fish, feet sloshing in the cool water. We swung our legs and grinned at each other.
“This is the best day I’ve ever had without a man,” said Charlene.
“Almost as good as sex. Maybe better. Don’t have to worry about…” This from Roz. After the stories about men I couldn’t help but ask.
“About what?”
“What I look like. What I’ll feel like when he’s gone. If he’ll call again. If he doesn’t, what I’ll do. If I even want him to.”
***
Before we pulled out again, I asked the women how they’d each decided to be on the council.
“I met Erica through a local save the animals fair,” said Hope. “My parents were Methodist missionaries in Ghana and then Sierra Leone. When they retired, I came back to Vermont. I got a job as church secretary, but I think being a nurse will suit me better. I still want to serve. It’s just that the missionary life is not right for me.”
Erica followed, “Well you all know how I got on it. Carter Cummings died and the other men on the council asked my husband, Will, to take his place. As an appointee. Just until the next election. What a joke. Will said he was too busy golfing so he asked me to do it instead. He had to talk those men into taking me on. But they made me promise not to suggest anything or go against any of their votes.”
“That’s disgusting,” said Charlene. “I wish you’d told me that before. I would have taken them to court.”
“Steady, Clarence Darrow,” Roz wisecracked.
“That was before they decided to bail on the town. And before our son, Matthew, was deployed. Now I’m glad I have something to occupy my mind,” Erica said. “He’s a lieutenant in the infantry, a communications specialist. I worry about him all the time. Constantly im-ing him & sending him care packages. He tells me not to worry but what can I do? Will’s way of dealing with it is not to talk about it. I blame him. All that be a man crap. It drives me crazy. I’m sixty-two, retired from a government job, and have a husband whose main interest in life is golf and trying to forget his son’s off fighting a war for who knows what. So that leaves the council.”
“Didn’t Will have something to do with developers when he was still practicing?” asked Charlene.
“He was a real estate lawyer. If that’s what you mean,” said Erica. “Like you. I mean the lawyer part. But, yes, he worked mostly for developers. He always said that’s where the money was. I suppose it still is.”
“Well at least Charlene does some pro bono work,” said Hope. “She helps people who really need it.”
“That’s how I got on the council,” Charlene turned to Katelyn. “My firm represents a green coalition and I suggested getting on the council would fit in nicely. So here we are.”
“How about you?” I asked Valerie.
“Me?” said Valerie, pointing to herself. “That’s simple. I was bored. And I guess I like anything that gets me in front of people. I get to buy a new outfit twelve times a year for the monthly public meetings. That’s about it. Oh, and my husband, Dr. Reconstruction,” she nodded at Charlene, “is against my doing it. So that’s a plus.”
“Val’s not being entirely honest about this,” said Erica. “She’s also a distant relative of the founder of Trout River Falls. The original mill owner I think. Isn’t that right?”
“So they’ve told
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