The Man in the Wooden Hat - Carol Arnold

Johnny decided we should take the train up to Seattle. We had a car, a 1981 Datsun truck, but at near 200,000 miles, it was on its last legs. He said we’d need to dress up for the train trip. He got out his limp old lime green leisure suit and took it to the cleaners to “spruce it up.” He chose the polyester shirt with the biggest flowers, and a pair of pointy boots he’d had for years. He went down to Sammy’s Shear Shop and had his hair cut, kind of a mullet, with a poof on top held in place with some sticky goo. It was all stiff and squared off, like he was wearing a wooden hat

Myself, I didn’t like 70’s clothes much so I wasn’t about to mix and match. I’ve always been independent that way, doing my own thing when it comes to clothes. I did go in style though, in my Granny’s old fox stole, and a scooped neck yellow dress I’d had around a while. Johnny said I looked real sexy and I have to say I was feeling that way too. He was coming around, organ-wise, if you know what I mean. We spent a few pretty wild nights before we left. He could definitely hold his own, just like the old days. Maybe it’s not too late, I was thinking, maybe we’d have that family after all.

All I remember from the trip north was a gradual graying down of the sky. The rivers and creeks got bigger, the lakes wider. After we were out about a day it started to rain and from then on never stopped once. By the time we arrived in Seattle, Johnny’s poof had collapsed. His leisure suit had wilted right along with his hair, and the big blossoms on his shirt looked like they had shriveled up and died. He was sullen and quiet too, as if the droopiness had gone bored right down to his very soul.

I was no sight for sore eyes either. My mink stole resembled a dog bed, and my scooped-neck dress was riding crooked, making one boob look bigger than the other. I wasn’t too worried about it though. I just wanted to get to the house and get on with it. We caught a taxi but Johnny made the driver stop at a Mobile so we could “freshen up.” I straightened out my dress a little and put on my new Fire Down Below lipstick I had saved for the trip, combed my hair and patted a little powder on my nose, which was shiny from the train ride. That’s about all I could do with myself. Johnny spent about ten minutes in the men’s room, but when he came out he looked even worse. The poof was completely flat by now, no matter how much he had tried to push it back into place. The suit was its old limp self.

“Why are you so worried about how you look?” I asked him as we got back in the taxi. Peering at himself in the mirror had evidently cheered him up, his coal eyes shiny with the old fire.

“Why? You know, babe. I’m a man with responsibilities now, gotta look that way.”

I couldn’t quite see what the responsibilities were other than selling the house and taking the money and run.