Mary peeked out from under her unruly mess of loose hair to look around the bedroom. The blanket was pushed to the foot of the large bed, which had stayed empty save for herself throughout the night. Still, the room was cold, and the absence of her husband beneath the covers beside her brought back memories of yesterday's events and emotions quickly.
Mary tiredly pushed herself up, and began to stifle a yawn that didn't quite make it into being. She paused looking at her hand in the clouded sunlight; then looked around at the room. The realization she was getting a strange feeling arose.
Deja vu... again? Mary sleepily wondered. It seemed to her as though she were forgetting something.
Without first looking, she hopped off the bed, and her feet met the wooden flooring. After mumbling a still half asleep complaint over how cold it felt, she then continued to start her morning. No morning light peeked through the windows today; as far as mornings went, it was shaping up to be a dismal one already.
Mary heard someone awake and already over in the kitchen, as well as the sizzle of bacon; the welcomed sound caused her to smile. Stan's cooking? she thought appreciatively. Even if neither of them deserved an apology from the other as she saw it, he seemed to be making one all the same; the man knew how to go about doing it, too.
Mary paused and called out to Stan from the bathroom door. "Good morning, you. Making breakfast in there?"
Sure enough, Stan's shaggy red head of hair and unshaven face popped around the corner. He replied to her with a brightened look. "Morning Mar, how'd..." He paused, oddly, and his expression became slightly surprised. "Uhm, how'd you... sleep?" His eyes were bagged, and made him look as though he'd had a restless night. He rubbed them both and blinked a few times after he finished responding.
Stan must still be tired, Mary thought. "I slept great. There was so much room last night I was thinking about making it the norm..." She gave him a coy smirk, and was glad when he began chuckling back, though it sounded a little nervous.
"I see..." Stan said simply.
Mary laughed in return. "I'll be in the shower, then!" It was early, but she was feeling energetic nonetheless. Probably from going to bed early, she mused.
"Uh, Mar, I have to ask you something..." Stan was frowning at her now, and squinted his eyes despite her joke to let him know she wasn't angry anymore.
Oh no. Is he about to say something stupid? This early and already? Mary sighed from knowing her husband so well. It's alright, dear. I'll save you from myself, this time. Rotating her hand in the air, she gave her most of the time too serious hubby a big smile, waving his question off. "No time, dear, I must hurry, shower, then wake up the hell raisers! I'll talk to you about it later..." Another smile replaced her first after she was done speaking. This one was calm, while her eyes were schooled to soothe over last night's bruises; she hoped, anyway.
"But Mar, you don't understa—" Stan began stepping out of the kitchen, one hand raising up slightly, as if to hold her there.
Mary frowned and began edging her way into the shower-room. Alright, now he's pushing it. "Stan! Later." She made a nervous laugh. "Please, at least let me shower first." The door clicked shut behind her, the sound of Stan speaking again became muffled.
"Honestly..." With her oddly behaving husband now evaded, Mary found herself free to perform her hygiene and shower in peace. She turned to the bathroom mirror and pulled one eye lid down before pulling up her tooth brush. "At least now I'm free to-"
There was a knock at the door, to which Mary looked over. Stan... I— Wait a second. She did a double take back towards the mirror standing before her. Her mind came to a full stop.
Stan's voice, muffled by the door, called out, "Mar, I think you're misunderstanding me, I wanted to ask you about... the..."
Before he could finish, the bathroom door flew open, where Mary found her husband standing outside, his broad arms crossed. She practically ran into him, her face drawn down in an eye twitching, frozen look of disbelief.
"Stan!" Mary paused, mouth agape before she managed to croak out anymore sound. "Wha... What. Is wrong. With my hair." Her hands each pointed up to her scalp, one index finger apiece extended.
Her husband's face took on a very rare look of surprise and confusion, looking at what she pointed to. Those two weren't common emotions that he wore at all. Most of the time, he kept himself stoic and quiet; the few exceptions to this usually did occur around his wife, admittedly.
Stan only managed to stutter, "I-I, uhm—" His eyes were glued to the bluish color and cream streak that now adorned his wife's head in place of her old, dark brown hair. "So, you didn't just dye your hair last night?" he finally managed to ask.
"No!" Mary's eyes hardened angrily, while her stare burrowed into him. The rage she felt building was quickly replacing her confusion. She took several deep breathes, shoulders heaving. "Stan, so help him, if Bobby did this—"
Stan bravely raised his hands in a calming motion, interrupting Mary. "Now, I really doubt Bobby has anything to do with..." He paused, then looked up at the ceiling in thought, before shutting his eyes and sighing. "Let me talk to him, I'll get to the bottom of this, Mar..."
Mary wasn't paying attention to her husband. Instead, she was holding up her undone hair in front of herself, wearing a scrutinizing look of consternation. She was certain her own eyes were themselves lying, that she was seeing things.
"Mar?" Stan asked her again. After a moment of waiting for a response, he decided it wise to simply step away and go find Bobby. He left, backing up the stairs quietly.
I need to wake up Bobby and Anna anyway. Stan concluded, shaking his head. That color didn't look that bad, though. It would be unwise on his part to let her know that first hand however, but he allowed himself a chuckle at his wife's plight.
With her husband gone, Mary let go of the length of hair she held onto and turned back into the bathroom. She felt as though she were in a daze. It's gotta be spray on. The unbelievable idea that she had slept through such a prank occurred to her, along with other ways it could have been possible. She knew she wasn't that deep of a sleeper...
Mary's eyes locked onto the mirror again. Oh my God, it's absolutely hideous. Disbelievingly, she picked up her hair from either side of her head while looking herself over. It fell in a multicolored wave, and every single strand was either a thick stripe of creamy beige, or the peculiar light blue that accompanied the warmer color. It's almost a sky blue I think, just a bit too pale for it- Mary shook her head and let the rest of the hair go.
"I need to wash this out, and quick!" Mary exclaimed, eyes wide. Her thoughts already shot to what others would say if they saw it. "I won't give that little monster the satisfaction of seeing his handy work..."
Pulling the curtain behind her open, Mary took a quick shower, during which, she cursed and scrubbed the offending mane of long hair. She had a great deal of pride for her hair and its health, as well as the care she put into it; that made her thankful for the fact that it did not seem to be at all bothered by the dye that had been used on it.
Split ends, frizzing and tangles were the least of Mary's worries now. She dwelled on the fact her family still had church to get to in less than an hour. They did not go often, something she had been trying hard to push them back towards doing regularly. In fact, the last two weekends they hadn't gone, something Mary decided to make a point of not allowing to happen again today.
"Come on..." Mary growled with ferocity. Her hands busily ran themselves over her hair again and again, determinedly working to rinse out the hair color, but after several minutes there was no change. What is this stuff!? Her eyes bulged, looking at the rich blue hair still in her hand. How!? A moment later, her wrist watch beeped, and drew her attention away.
Mary sagged back against the shower wall, looking in despair up at the ceiling; she was out of time, and the soap and water was doing nothing against whatever was in her hair. The shower, which had blessedly worked today, shut off. The steam's dispersion into the modest bathroom slowed as Mary stepped out, furious that the dye had persisted despite her best efforts.
Mary's face was scrunched in anger as she wrapped herself in a towel, then wiped furiously at the wall mirror with a washcloth in her other hand; the steam cleared away from the glass surface. She leaned back off of the countertop to look at the sopping mat of pale blue and cream hair that had simply appeared that morning, and still remained.
The color of her hair within the mirror was completely unchanged from before, not even a little faded.
Mary stared flatly at her reflection, then cheerfully said, "I'm gonna kill him!" all the while thinking fondly of her own flesh and blood.
Mary's hair still dried easily, and without the frizziness that accompanied dyed hair as she knew it, as well. For that at least, she was thankful. Stepping out in her bathrobe she spotted Stan at the kitchen table, the sounds of the shower upstairs once again working and being used came down the stairwell.
"Well?" Mary asked angrily.
Stan looked up from his breakfast, wide eyed, before relaxing to meet her furious gaze. "Oh, Bobby," he acknowledged in understanding, scratching the back of his head absently. "He swears he didn't do it Mar... Didn't sound as though he were lying, either... Odd as that sounds." He stuck another fork of eggs in his mouth while keeping his eyes on her.
Mary exhaled through her nose, scowling. "Hair doesn't just turn technicolor overnight for no reason, Stan! It just doesn't; it's impossible." Her fists planted themselves on her hips as she argued on. "Are you covering for him?"
Stan shook his head. "Of course not, and I'm aware hair doesn't, I'm not suggesting it did... I dunno, honey, you'll have to talk to him for yourself, but he seemed completely clueless to me." Shrugging, he reclined back some some in his seat, then slowly added, "...Hey, it looks good thou—"
Mary threw back her head, groaning, "Augh!" then stormed out of the room.
In her absence, Stan thought he heard her mutter about men this and men that, and couldn't help but smirk at her leaving; despite the fact she was already gone, he casually hid the amused look behind his cup of coffee.
Mary decided to hide her colorful new look since she couldn't fix it back the way it was. If this is a permanent dye, I'll need to buy some of my own to change it back tomorrow. Her hair was put up into the best bun she could manage. She was a little out of practice doing that, but it worked; she made further plans for a sunhat, as well.
Dressed and done with all the extra effort in her routine, Mary made for the breakfast that was prepared for her. At the stairway she found Bobby already heading there, as well. With everything that had happened, she had briefly forgotten why she was upset with him, but it came rushing back. At the same time, her son's eyes locked with her head full of bright, technicolor hair.
Bobby paused in his lazy descent of the stairs. "Woah," he exclaimed, using both hands to pull aside his long bangs. "Dad was serious? Nice hair, Mom." He let his disbelieving stare linger a second longer, then continued walking to the kitchen nonchalantly.
Mary, however, stood still and watched him go; it wasn't until he reached the fridge, grabbing orange juice from inside it, that he noticed she was still glaring his way.
"...What?" Bobby asked slowly. He watch warily as his mother approached from all the way in the living room.
Meanwhile, at the dining room table, Stan huddled lower to his plate the moment Mary entered the room. Bobby turned to his father to shrug, and raised a betraying eyebrow of worry as his mother drew closer.
Mary stopped just short of reaching Bobby. "What do you mean what? That's it? Is that all you have to say about... about this?" She pointed at the Easter themed hair bun for emphasis.
Bobby rolled his eyes and, striding past Mary, walked over to the dining table to sit by the plate set out for him. "What else do you want me to say? I kind of figured you were headed for a nervous breakdown sooner than later, Mom, or something like that?" His tone was easy-going and disinterested for the most part.
"Thin ice, Bobby..." Stan grumbled wearily across the table.
Mary's expression had darkened several more shades as her son spoke, and she gave Stan a warning glance after he spoke, too, as if to say "don't help him".
Bobby, however, did take the hint, and coughed. He schooled his voice to a more decent and apologetic tone. "I didn't do it, Mom, I swear. If that counts for anything right now. Also, I'm really sorry for yesterday, for sneaking out and swearing; I won't do it again." He even pulled his curtain of scraggly dark hair out of his eyes to speak to Mary face to face.
Mary's breath held, a little surprised by her son's apology, then relaxed after a moment. Calmed, she took her seat with her family and pulled her plate towards her. "Apology accepted, Bobby. I'm not going to pretend to know what might've caused you to act that way." For the moment, bringing up yesterday's drama took precedence over her bad hair day.
Mary continued. "But please, don't do it again? Especially not towards your sister; she's the only one you've got, you know?" While talking, she poured herself a glass of the orange juice Bobby had brought out. After a pause, she continued talking towards obtaining an explanation. "Are you really saying you had nothing to do with... this?"
Mary didn't make any move other than to point her son's very brief glance at her in the direction of her hair.
Stan took the opportunity during Mary's pause to voluntarily take the carton and put it away in the fridge.
Bobby answered his mother as he almost always did: with a monotone drawl. "Nope. It wasn't me at all. After last night I just stayed in my room."
The bacon was cold, Mary grimaced at that; it tasted a little funny, too. Stan must've used too much butter, she decided.
Tiredly leaning on one arm, stirring her own scrambled eggs with a fork, Mary looked across the table at her son. Is he telling the truth? No way, you gotta do better than that mister. To her mind there was no other explanation, as surely Anna couldn't have done it. Stan wouldn't dare, she knew, and no one else had keys to their home except...
Another explanation did, however, come to mind. Okay, Herbert would definitely do something like this, Mary concluded; he had once painted clown faces on herself and Stan at a reunion that got a little wild years ago. Still, it seemed doubtful that her father-in-law was the culprit she was after.
Mary came to a decision. If Bobby doesn't want to come clean, and it was him after all; I'll let it go... this time. My hair isn't ruined, after all.
"Uh, Mom?" Bobby asked, leaning back somewhat with a worried look.
Mary snapped out of her slight daze, realizing she'd been staring at her little miscreant son while in thought. "Hm? Oh, nothing. Now, make sure you're ready to go soon. We can't miss another day of church and still hope to save face with Father Conrad." Smirking, she inwardly relented and decided to let him win this round. Next time, though... she thought quietly, stirring her food slowly. Next time there will be baby pictures, she decided. No more getting angry. Just getting even.
Off towards the kitchen, Stan abruptly strode in, marching stiff-backed past the table, all the while adjusting his tie into its desired form. "Ready to go, you two?" he asked, trying to grab his family's attention. "Everything's settled?"
"Yes, yes," Mary answered, standing up. She smoothed her dress with two hands, and hoped that one of her sun hats would suffice to hide her newly colored hair.
Bobby shrugged in answer to his father, then rose and walked past them. His attire was a bit casual for church, not to mention his hair was always a sight, much like Mary's was now minus the odd colors. Still, both of his parents knew there was no use fighting him over that... Black slacks and a button up shirt were the best the couple could hope to stuff him into.
Mary blinked, picking up her purse, and noticing something was missing. "Oh, where's Anna, Stan?" She looked around quickly, expecting to see her daughter somewhere nearby and ready to go as they all were.
In response, Stan's eyes widened, then calmly, slowly shut. He hissed out a breath through his jaw, which was set rigidly.
Bobby started to laugh as his father jumped up to climb the stairs with surprising grace, obviously to fetch his overlooked daughter.
Mary sighed in exasperation. "I'll go start the car then, I suppose." Her thoughts did their best to say upbeat. I'm sure we won't be late... again.
The two trailing members of the family of four, Stan and Anna, piled into the car hastily. Anna had chosen that day to live up to her lineage by refusing to get out of bed.
The quick drive into the denser portion of Belsdale began without a hitch. They had gotten out onto the road a little later than Stan would have liked, admittedly, but there was no more delay in sight. One minor setback wasn't so bad for them.
The car ride was going by smoothly, quickly, and the day was looking up, as they weren't yet late.
In the passenger's side-seat, Mary began to fan herself. She waved her gardening hat rapidly, while beside her Stan continued to drive calmly towards the Church. It was oddly hot; she tried to get her mind off of what was certainly just nerves.
Mary thought briefly on the peculiarity of the religious shift in her life. Years ago when she was brought into the Morris family and married Stan, Mary had been an atheist for all intents and purposes. Her parents hadn't been deeply religious, and eventually the three of them had ceased attending. It hadn't been a big deal in the slightest as she had seen it.
For Stan's family it was sort of the same, but on the other side of the river as far as attending. It was likely that which had caused her to become a little devout again, that his family was so relaxed in their piety. Herbert had put Halloween decorations on his front lawn's crucifix for that holiday last year. Agnes had torn them off upon seeing them, however. Mary snickered under her breath as she recalled the incident.
Church was for her family if nothing else, it was a good way to spend time together. At least as she saw it. It worked just as well to get her two kids out of bed at a decent time on the weekend too. To a lesser degree, it also offered her a bit of calm. Mary never really bought the whole idea of an unseen all powerful creator. But, it didn't hurt to enjoy the comforts and friendliness of organized religion in the slightest. Though doubtful, she also held out hope that some vestige of the Catholic Church would instill Bobby with something positive.
So far, she thought all he had learned was how to sleep with his eyes open. She wiped a hand across her forehead, surprisingly there was a slight dampness there. The cause of which she realized was sweat. "Ooh..."
"Mar? You okay?" Stan glanced over from steering their car down the side road which lead to the church.
Mary looked up from where she now sat fanning herself with her hat. "Yes, I feel fine... It is a little hot in here, though, isn't it?" The power windows rolled down as she spoke, letting in a wind that felt too warm to her.
In the backseat, the kids shivered and loudly stated complaint, both immediately whining together against the apparent cold.
Bobby groaned in protest, "Geez, Mom come on. It's like, fifty degrees out."
"Mooooom, close the windooooow," Anna cried, then made a mock brrr sound for emphasis.
"Kids," Stan began sternly. "Leave your mother alone, a little cold won't kill you." He gave his wife another glance, then refocused back on the road.
Mary frowned slightly, feeling guilty. "Sorry kids, uhm, hooow about I make it up to you both? If you behave and pay attention, we'll get something for lunch. How does that sound?"
"Deal," Bobby offered quickly, while his sister had a louder, more excited reaction.
"Gasp!" Anna said aloud; the promise of an unhealthy meal immediately got her chattering about any number of fast-food places out in town.
Mary had to smile from the one-eighty shift in their demeanor over the obvious bribe. Still that was a bit of a cop out on my part, parenting wise. It was just the heat getting to her, she decided.
The family's car pulled into the parking lot of the church quickly.
Stan didn't have to make use of his emergency vehicle driver's training to get them there on time, but he had been pushing the speed limit a twinge. "Alright, everyone inside quick, but don't run." Arriving late, he also had to park the car on the street, rather than the already full parking lot.
"Do you want us to be quick or not, then?" Bobby asked sarcastically, chuckling.
Stan grunted back at his son, but focused for the most part on keeping Anna under control, and Mary calm. Together, the quartet hustled out of the car and inside the Church, with only a brief shooing motion by the kids' parents to get them inside.
Mary sighed relief upon seeing the crowd of Church goers still hanging around outside the big double doors. Thank goodness, she thought, all but racing up the stone steps to the entrance. That means we won't have to embarrassingly walk to a pew in the middle of the eucharist; or worse, the homily. Still, I doubt Father Conrade would have started that so soon. The Church usually starts out with a few choir songs, a quick bible reading and then-
Mary stepped inside with her family, and her internal monologue was promptly interrupted by the jeering, amused voice of an older woman. "Oh my Looord, Mary! My stars, it is you. What have you done to your hair?"
Mary realized immediately that her hat wasn't covering her hair, the way she had planned it to. Oh no. She reacted swiftly and appropriately, thinking, Oh God, please kill me now, and hurriedly stuffed her sun hat back onto her head, then retied the shawl she'd brought with her around it.
Every eye that had been in hearing distance was staring at Mary and her family. The brim of her hat proved to be insufficient protection against the attention. Why me? Why me? Oh, why me...? Quietly, she pretended that she hadn't heard anything.
The speaker had been clear across the room. She was well known throughout the town, though not by virtue of a good reputation or her neighborly demeanor, no; Faith Johnson, was the leader town gossip. Just who I needed to spot me with my hat off, perfect. Mary thought acidly to herself.
Faith leaned in, smiling at Mary. "Come now, dear, you simply must offer us an explanation for that. It's so out of this world, after all..."
Condescending didn't even begin to describe the woman's tone, as Mary saw it; one of her eyes twitched slightly under the brim of her hat.
Beside Mary, Stan put a hand in front of Bobby, who'd looked like he was about to open his mouth. The county sheriff had a keen sixth sense when it came to his son and what was going on in his head. There was no telling what he had been going to say. So, he spoke up, instead. "It was just a prank gone wrong, Faith." Slowly, Stan ushered his family through the group of women, barring their way forward. "If you'll excuse us, thank you."
Mary breathed a sigh of relief, leading Anna into the now cleared double doors.
Stan went on. "Absolutely nothing worthy of note I assure you." He finished, already well passed them.
Behind herself, Mary could hear the hens, busily clucking already. I'm going to be hearing bout this for the next ten years now, great... It was things like this that made her hate living in what may as well be the countryside.
The main room of the Church had seats open everywhere, even in a town with only the three, a Baptist, Methodist and their own. It wasn't packed, and they were one of only a few families there as well. Mostly the elderly and a random smattering of others filled the pews.
Mary did spot Agnes though, towards the other side of the long rows of benches, seated at the left-most side. Waving to them, she smiled broadly; oddly, Herbert wasn't with her.
In truth it wasn't that odd, Mary admitted to herself. Herbert's preferred method of worship was, as he put it, to "make offerings for the great porcelain altar". She sighed, recollecting her goofy in-law's life style choices. How did Agnes put up with him for so long? At least Stan's quiet and mature... After a moment she adjusted the thought. Most of the time.
Mary sat on one side of her kids, smirking to herself, while Stan took a seat on the other side of them. There was less chance of either raising a fuss or disappearing that way. Playing hide and seek during the middle of a ceremony had been one of the least favorite activities from the younger days of Mary's motherhood.
As the Church began to go into session, the room was cold all of a sudden for Mary. She rubbed a hand over her forearms as she began shivering. Oh, come on, this is ridiculous, she thought, and saw Stan lean forward to raise one eyebrow at her from where he sat.
Mary rubbed her arms vigorously, then smiled back and waved casually, trying to play it off. Faltering however, her teeth chattered for a moment before she could stop; she made them stop quick. Am I sick? I feel fine though! Again, casually she played it off; by not looking in his direction at all. She turned away to study the stained glass windows instead. What is wrong with me...?
Abruptly, everyone in the hall stood. Her attention jumped back to the service and Mary followed suit, also standing. She did so after even her kids, who were anything but enthusiastic about participating. I need to pay more atten- A wave of dizziness overcame her, cutting even her thoughts short..
Someone called out her name... Then it happened again, she was certain she heard her name.
"Mar!"
"Hm, wha-? Hello, who's there? Kids we're going to be late for church I need you to.... I need to get dressed and go get ready and..." She felt a hand cup her face and abruptly, she shuddered. Her eyes fluttered open to take in the light of the Church's main hall.
"Mary, are you with me?" Stan was taking her pulse.
Mary sat up, feeling lucid now, and became aware of several onlookers, as well.
"Hey," Stan started to say, supporting her still with one arm. "How many fingers am I holding up? Are you okay? Any pain?" Behind him, Bobby wore a shocked expression and Anna was crying. Mary didn't recognize the elderly woman watching from over her daughter's shoulder, further down the row.
"I'm fine, yes, I'm just fine. What happened?" Mary asked, realizing she was seated in a pew still.
"You... passed out, can you walk?" Stan's face was full of worry as he spoke.
Mary studied him for a split second, uncertainty and confusion still running through her. She nodded in response, and Stan helped her to stand up.
"Where are we going?" Looking around the room, it was clear the entire service had come to a halt. She saw Father Conrad standing by the doorway with a phone in hand.
"We're going home, or to a hospital." Stan's voice was plain, but his expression still told a different story.
Mary shook her head at him; she didn't need a hospital, she felt great. "But..." She faltered. Did I really just pass out? Behind her, the elderly woman was walking with her kids.
The Father spoke to Stan as he and Mary strode by. "Do you need the ambulance, Mr. Morris? Is there anything else we can get for you two?"
Mary smiled gently and shook her head all the while be lead past him. Father Conrad wore an understandably worried expression, she supposed. "No, thank you, Father. I— Stan, slow down—" Behind her, she heard the distinctive sound of Faith's voice, nattering loudly already. It may have been her imagination, but she thought she heard the words “drug” and “abuse”, too.
They reached the front door, with Mary protesting the whole way. It was only just beginning to hit home that she was being taken outside. The door to outside opened, bathing them in the grey dismal day which had persisted into the later hours of the morning.
"Mom... Are you alright?" Anna's asked from behind Stan.
Mary turned to face her daughter, who had spoken and was still being ushered by the stran— She was shocked to realize it was actually Agnes. I didn't recognize her? The thought was more confusing than worrisome that she hadn't noticed something so mundane. I really did pass out...
Mary answered Anna in a rush to make up for her pause. "Yes, dear, I'm alright. I just got dizzy and... sat back down I guess. I-..." Unsure of what else she could really say, she just let herself be led to the car. Once there, she sat on the seat, with her door open to the sidewalk. Her husband knelt beside her.
Stan's eyes were filled with concern. He spoke low enough that he must have been trying to keep their kids from hearing. "Hey, do you need to be taken to the hospital?"
Mary understood why he was whispering, the last thing she ever wanted to do was scare her kids. Still, all she did was stand up too quickly, it seemed. "I feel fine, Stan! Really, I think... I just stood up too quick in there." Grinning at him, she leaned out and patted his cheek.
Mary turned to face her kids. "I'm sorry, you two. I really didn't mean to frighten you, but I'm fine, really."
Anna's cheeks were wet, but she stayed quiet, standing just in between Bobby and Agnes.
Mary looked up at Agnes next, and tried to give a reassuring smile. The older woman had a relieved look on her face, but her eyes still contained a fair measure of doubt.
"Are you okay, Agnes?" Mary added as a question.
Agnes shook herself, nodding. "Oh yes, don't mind me at all. I was just concerned... Are you sure you're alright?"
Mary nodded again, smiling, just as Anna jumped onto her for a hug. Amidst her oof of surprised, Agnes continued speaking.
"Well then, I'm going to head back in there and run damage control a little. I think I heard everyone's favorite mockingbird crowing nonsense already." Agnes gave Mary another quick smile, then turned to Stan. "Well, this was an eventful day at Church. Take care of her, Stan. I will call later to follow up and make sure you're both alright."
Stan looked up from where he was knelt beside Mary. "Oh, Mom, you don't need to-"
Agnes wagged a finger at him from where she stood, interrupting him. "I'll talk to you tonight!" She waved goodbye, and gave Bobby a pat on the head despite his being slightly taller than her. He scowled at that and tried to duck away from her hand.
Stan stood up, one hand resting comfortingly on his wife's shoulder. "Well... You sure you're alright, Mar?"
Still holding Anna, Mary leaned her back to wipe some tears off her daughter's face. "Yes Stan, I'm just peachy, I promise you. I can't say that enough. If I start feeling weird at all I'll speak up." She smiled at him, and he returned it just before circling to the other side of the car.
It wasn't lost on Mary that Stan was definitely going to be worried no matter what she said, even though all she'd done was faint. Her hat had also fallen off at some point, she noted agonizingly. Great, now everyone knows I look like Bozo the Clown... I should've stayed in bed. She sighed in defeat, shaking her head slightly over just how colossal of a bad day it was becoming.
Mary looked down at Anna, who was still clinging to her. "Come on, hop in the back with your brother, okay?"
Anna looked up warily. "So you're okay, Mom?" she asked, optimism in her tone.
Mary smirked and nodded, then booped her daughter's nose. "Yes, I'm definitely fine. I'm really sorry for trying to take a nap standing up like that." She laughed a little when her daughter rolled her eyes in response.
Bobby walked over to the back door but paused; he looked at his mother over the top of the car door. While grinning, he said, "Thanks for getting us out of Church by the way, Mom."
Mary looked over and frowned. "I could always let you stay and ride home with Nana, if you'd like that Bobby? Actually I think that's a good ide-" Beside her, Anna burst out giggling.
Bobby shook his head and sunk down into his seat. "Nooo, that's alright."
"Alright," Stan jumped in. "That's enough, guys. Your mom needs to get home and rest."
"Yes, yes." Mary said, and heard Bobby mutter further words to Anna as he got into the car. She stifled a laugh of her own, helping Anna into the car after him, then climbed in as well. Tiredly, she undid the up-do her hair had been put in and let it fall. Mussing the colorful hair with a hand, Mary brought it around herself and over one shoulder. She must look ridiculous, she decided, Stan was even staring at her out of the corner of his eye.
The car started, and Stan squeezed her hand briefly before starting the drive home. I'm sure I'm just fine... she reassured herself.
On the trip home, Bobby suggested that if Mary felt fine as she claimed, they still go to eat. Stan still insisted they should just head home, though; so, they did.
Anna, ever the diplomat, however, at least talked him into keeping to the promise of fast food. Mary regretted making that very promise only a little after hearing Anna's explanation for how well they'd behaved. Her reasoning sidestepped the fact they had only been in the church for perhaps fifteen minutes, of course. Her kids were vacuums, they were fine with eating junk food right after breakfast, especially Anna.
But, the hungriness was out of the ordinary for herself. Strangely, Mary felt absolutely famished, even with breakfast only a little while past. After eating her own meal, she was still starved, too. She didn't say anything alluding to the sort, though.
Stan, for his part, grumbled quietly over how stale his food tasted, placing it back in the bag.
"Well," Mary spoke up, seeing an opportunity. "If your high police standards don't like it, Stan, then give it here." With that, she fished a hand greedily across her husband's face and towards the food he'd stored away from her.
Stan, not looking away from driving, used his other arm and poked her in the side.
Mary's eyes widened and she squawked in protest. "Ah! No fair!" She cringed back in her seat, successfully fended off, for the moment. Behind her, the kids were taking interest in the adults.
Stan smirked, still without peeling his gaze from the road. "Hands off, don't distract the driver, honey."
Bobby leaned up front. "How come you guys can fight, but we just get yelled at whenever we do just that?"
"I'll tell you when you're older." Stan put on a smug look and Bobby sat back, harrumphing.
Mary's stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting the entire trade between the father and son.
Eyes widening, Mary looked over sheepishly at her husband, who had looked from the road this time. "Oh, uhm, excuse me." She slowly faced away and busied herself with looking out the window. "Ahem."
Mary changed as soon as she got home, convincing Stan that she had been healthy enough to manage on her own had been an exercise in irritating. Her kids had dispersed immediately; Bobby locked himself up and the banging of metal and guitar music streamed down the stairs, only barely muted by the walls, ceiling and his door. Anna asked if she could go down the road to play at her friend Megan's house. A phone call after, and she took off on her bike. Of course, she'd known enough to ask her father first when getting permission for something.
Another phone call, but this time calling in the other direction, bounced the receiver in Stan's office. The noise got the attention of one of the two adults near enough to hear it.
Stan leaned from his desk to grab the office phone, then answered it, just as Mary walked in; she had entered the living room from her own bedroom.
"Hello this is the Morris reside-" Stan was cut off by a cheerful voice, panged with worry in its tone. "Oh, hello Marge," he greeted.
Mary froze mid-step, hearing the name her husband had said aloud. He was now reaching to meet her gaze and get her attention.
"Yes, hold on. No she's fi- Right, one second." Leaning back in his office chair, Stan held the phone behind his head. "Mar, it's for you!" he called out. "It's the occult kook!"
Mary tossed her eyes at the ceiling and sighed at his lack of tact. "Stan, she can hear you. Honestly." She accepted the phone and pressed it up to her ear. "Hello, Margaret! How are you?" She cradled the phone and walked farther away from Stan, lest he think up any more comments.
"Mary! Oh my goodness, I heard about what happened. Are you okay? Are you still coming to the quilt meeting tonight? Oh please say you are, I still have that new pattern to show you. So are you okay? What happened?" Mary calmly waited for her older friend to finish her rant; she'd learned better than to try and cut her short from talking years ago. Stan still hadn't picked up on the futility of that, though, and mostly just got short with her.
In order, Mary answered the disorderly batch of questions, except for where Marge had repeated herself; that happened often. "Yes, yes, Margaret, I'm just fine. I simply fainted from standing up too quick, nothing terrible. I... Yes, I think I'll still make it. I know I've been skipping out on things too much lately. So how did you hear about it? I know you don't go to church except to tease the priests." She smirked to herself, pacing in the dining room absently; Marge had an interesting friendship with the pastors through their wives, and was known throughout the town.
Marge laughed at Mary's truthful joke, then went on. "Oh well, I heard from Lucile, but she'd heard it from Faith... The rumor's going around that you’re abusing drugs, Mary! As well as... well, you know that one about how old you were when you had your son. That's come up again it seems, too."
Tiredly, Mary sat down on the stairs leading to the second floor and sighed. She couldn't believe what counted as news these days to people. It was as remarkable as any of the nonsense that showed up on television having to do with pop-stars or politics.
"Well, is that it then? Nothing else to report, Marge?" Mary smirked, the thoughts of when she had Bobby stirred up memories of her short lived military career. It had been years since she had chosen to move from Canada to start a family with Stan, and his hometown still seemed to find it fascinating.
On the other end of the line, Margaret snickered. "No ma'am, nothing at all! Although... Well, I knew it was a lie as soon as I heard it, but, Lucile also said your hair had been a periwinkle blue! With a creamy stripe running through it. Now why would they make up something like that, honestly?" Marge burst out laughing on the other end, and Mary thought she heard something spill. "Oh, spirits be damned... Dropped my tea. Well, I need to go now, Mary, so glad to hear you're alright. Tah!"
The line clicked and Mary lowered the phone slowly.
Her hand picked up her hair again and she stared at it for several minutes. I have to get to the bottom of this... The hair couldn't be connected with everything else, could it? Mary realized she was still hungry, as well. This was the oddest string of symptoms she'd ever heard of for a sickness; that was for certain.
"Mar? What're you doing?" Stan's voice asked from nearby.
Mary looked up from where she was crawling on the floor around the dining room. She sighed, then stuck her head back underneath the furniture; the flashlight she held illuminated the underneath of the dining table and a nearby curio. Rotating the flashlight in her hand, she pointed it under a bookshelf as well. With a huff from her failure at spotting anything, she stood up and dusted off her knees and hands.
Stan walked over and folded his arms, before raising an eyebrow as she faced him. "Is something wrong?" he asked again. "Did you lose something?"
Mary cast an angry look around the room, then tossed the flashlight onto the kitchen table with a clatter. I've looked everywhere. Where in heaven's name could it have got to?
Stan was still waiting for an answer, and craned his neck to try and get in front of her gaze.
"Yes," Mary finally replied, impatience and frustration edging her voice. "I lost my stupid cell phone, Stan. Again. It's absolutely nowhere that it should be." Sighing, she ran a hand through her still regrettably technicolored hair. Her keys and everything else had been in her purse where they belonged, but her cellphone was unaccounted for. It was the only thing holding her up, as she had been about to go out and buy some hair dye; her hair couldn't stay the way it was.
"Ah, I see," Stan answered wryly. "Or rather, I don't see." He allowed himself a congratulatory smirk over his lost-phone humor.
Mary was quick to respond. "That was terrible, dear. Stick to your day job." She shook her head and gave the dining room one more once over. "Maybe the kids took it? I'll have to ask them..."
Stan's deep laugh started up. "Anna did take it once before. To use as a communicator, remember?" The laughter stopped after a moment though, sharply ending. "Hm, that had been an expensive month... I'm gonna call Megan's parents, be right back Mar."
Mary rolled her eyes at her husband's deductive reasoning. The phone bill incident had been when Anna was five, if she recalled correctly. She spoke after her husband, hoisting her purse up on her shoulder. "Alright you have fun then, I'm off!"
Stan turned around after reaching his desk, which was on the other side of the house, through the living room, and in his den. Wait a second, he thought to himself, then quickly strode back the way he came after Mary. He caught up to her at the backdoor, and placed one, big hand on the door knob. "Are you sure you're okay to drive, love?"
Mary looked up at Stan, surprised. His square face was creased with worry for her sake. Her surprised look melted into a warm smile, just before she kissed him smartly. "I'm fine, really! It was nothing, Stan." Her husband smiled back down at her, before hugging her tightly.
"Alright, if you say so," Stan trailed for a moment, then continued. "If by some chance what Faith is passing around is accurate, you should share some though." Mary shoved him off of her and smacked him on his shoulder, she swung again as he dodged away from her.
"Grow up, would you!? You big oaf." Mary groaned and swung the back door up, her feet placed just so she could swing at Stan again in case he got too close.
Resonating with his usual, deep chuckle, Stan kept backing further into the house to evade anymore attacks. His laugh's infectious nature got to Mary it seemed, finally and she smirked lightly back at him.
Mary exhaled, half out the door. "I'll be back soon, crazy, love you."
"I love you too Mar, I'll start a roast alright?" Stan grinned and waved her off.
The car ride Mary took was quick; the general store wasn't too far away from her countryside home. Pulling her vehicle into the parking lot, she abruptly recognized one big mistake which she had made already. Oh no... she thought regrettably, staring at her reflection. I forgot a hat. Her rear view and side mirrors insultingly reminded her of her multicolored plight.
Mary nervously began speaking to herself, fussing with her loose hair. "It'll be fine, Mary. They're just a bunch of strangers in there whom you likely won't know anyway." She took a deep breath and gave up, finding it impossible to hide her hair at all. "I mean, sure it's a small town where everyone recognizes everyone else at a mere glance." Her car booped at her, saying it was locked, and she made her way towards the store. "But you don't care at all what any of them think or say, do you? Nope, you don't, not even a little bit."
As soon as Mary walked through the automatic door, an elderly couple, just on their way out stopped in their tracks in front of her. Their eyes shot wide open, gawking at her and making no attempt to hide it.
Stay strong, Mary... Wincing, she continued to tell herself what she hoped she needed to hear to get her trip over with quickly. Your hair will soon be back to its proper shade! She set about finding the solitary item she had come to get: hair dye. Then, all your troubles will be over.
Unable to help herself, Mary laughed weakly at her own out-right lie. A cashier glanced over at the sound of her laughter, then began to stare openly in the direction of her hair. The man missed placing a bottle of salsa into a grocery bag, sending it careening to smash on the floor. A small crowd off people at the register all gasped at once.
Wincing, Mary picked up her pace and bee-lined for the hygiene and hair products aisle. "Oops..." she murmured, but kept going. As quickly as she could she found her holy grail. Nabbing the dyeing product, Mary hurried to the checkouts.
Mary noticed Margaret wasn't at the register as a cashier today. Thank gravy. For that matter, she didn't recognize any of the cashiers. They seemed to be high-schoolers working for the weekend. She was thankful for that, and offered up a quick prayer for her good luck to continue. She would have hated to have to explain her hair color before the quilt guild later tonight to her friend. The young girl that was manning the register, however....
"Oh woooow... Your hair's beautiful, miss." The girl stared star-eyed at Mary's locks. "What dye is that?" she asked breathlessly.
Mary coughed and muttered a thank you to her, but didn't respond otherwise. She slid the brown hair dye she had picked out towards the girl, then picked up a gardening magazine that caught her eye and tried to act distracted.
The girl picked up the hair product and began to ring it up, but stopped. "Oh no!" she exclaimed in despair. "Please don't tell me you're taking out that color? It's so beautiful!" The look of sadness the girl put on could have put an end to a war.
"O-Oh, uhm..." Mary hunched her shoulders up and tried her best to disappear, but smiled back nonetheless. Behind her in the grocery line, others were echoing what the cashier had said.
What a day... Mary thought glumly.
Mary's car cruised quietly to a stop in the driveway. She parked it in the open space outside the garage; which it usually occupied beside the beaten up rust red truck. She killed the engine, and right after the car seat fell back, with her in it. Her hands slapped over her face in shame and embarrassment. It'll be fine Mary, just go in there, dye the hair and you'll never have to wade through a sea of random strangers asking if they can touch your head ever again.
Of that, at least, Mary was certain she could be sure of.
Extremely exhausted from the emotional trauma of all the earlier, bizarre attention, Mary opened the car door and made her way inside. In a moment she would be safe within her kingdom of solace and privacy. I'm gonna dye this stuff as soon as I get in there... she reaffirmed to herself.
Sliding the key into the backdoor, Mary stepped inside, eager to just rest. She stopped before getting inside though, finding something odd and out of place.
Bobby was standing by the washing machines, folding laundry.
Mary stood, staring in disbelief at the boy who stared back blankly. After a moment, he turned back to what he was doing. The door stayed open as she struggled to find words.
Bobby spoke first, and in little more than a mumble, "Don't get too excited, Mom, Dad's just punishing me."
Mary let out the breath she was holding. Oh, well that makes sense, then. Still, she smiled and sidled up beside her son to kiss him on the cheek, catching him by complete surprise.
Bobby reacted in a flash of movement. "GAH! Gross, get away from me! Fold your own dam-... dang laundry." Her heavy-metal-shirt-clad son let the towel he'd been working on fall to the ground, then ran off, likely to his own sanctuary upstairs.
Mary couldn't help but smirk after him; she heard him start up the stairs, then Stan's voice stop him, and imagined the conversation was now going something like, "Hey, boy, did you finish doing what all I told you to?" and her son replying "Uuhh..." before Stan said, "Get back in there!"
Mary snickered as she saw her son's head poke around the corner in the dining room as she hung up her purse on a hook. It's good that things don't change around here. I wouldn't be able to handle it if anything really did change.
"Stan, no. No, no, and no. Also?" Mary paused, glaring back at Stan, then finished, "No!" Her husband sat in his leather chair in the living room, sulking with a flat look on his face. It was early yet in the year, but he had a fire going in the fireplace; a small one, anyway. Stan sighed and turned his sad look over to her. After a moment, he used what she was sure he considered his secret weapon at this point.
"Aw, but lass, yer hair do put the god's and their grandest creations to shame it do." Stan's voice held hints of sultriness and allure, not that it sounded convincing. "Surely... you could find it in yer heart of heart's to let yer poor ol' Scotsman bask in its radiant beauty for just a single night longer!" His shoddy act was given away by the snickering that followed.
Sighing, Mary turned away from her normally stoic husband, and started towards the bathroom. His accent followed her for a moment, but stopped after it was clear she was ignoring him.
Stan had been pestering her all afternoon and into the evening to leave her colorful hair the way it was. What started as just one more hour, turned into another, and then another... After Anna had come home it was dinner time, and they ate the roast he'd prepared. Cleaning up quickly, and getting ready to leave for her guild meeting, Mary had realized that she'd let Stan talk her into leaving her hair as is, far past when she needed to dye it.
Now, it was a case of going to her quilt guild looking as though a bucket of paint had been upended over her head, or just not to go at all... Regrettably, she had of course called Marge to relay that she wasn't going.
That was an hour ago, and it was getting late now. Bobby's music was booming overhead as usual, and somehow Anna was likely already asleep despite it, also as usual.
Mary flicked the bathroom light on, and began opening the dye box.
"You know it's not a bad look," Stan said from the doorway.
Collapsing into her arms on the bathroom counter, Mary let out an exasperated groan of anguish. The thoroughly badgered wife shot back upright to glare at her boorish husband, who was smiling warmly at her. Stan's eyes were relaxed, but his eyebrows waggled when she stuck him with her don't say it look for too long.
"Stan! I can't- I can't keep my hair like this. It's insane! It's weird! I look like... I look like I'm having a nervous breakdown." Mary let out another deep breath and wore a serious expression, despite lighthearted nature of the jabs at her.
"Ooh, I dunno about that... I think it's rather empowering for your image. Maybe you could try out a fire engine red next?" Stan grinned, taking a step forward.
Mary reached over and pulled on his thick arm hair for that.
"Hey, ouch, no fair." Chuckling, he entered the room and made as if to scoop her up, but was evaded.
Mary deftly side-stepped away from him, utilizing years of practice. She shook her head, dodging away further into the bathroom when he tried again. "Stan, this is serious! I hate it!" She realized that had been a mistake though, because now he was going to make a game out of chasing her. Widening her eyes and pointing at the hair in disgust, along with her statement did little to deter him, though. He simply glanced up to where her finger led and put on a thoughtful face.
"Not to belittle your prior 'do m'lady, but yer as gorgeous as ever if I do say so meh'self. More so, even."
Auugh here we go... Mary thought despairingly. Her husband's face broke into a broad grin. Ah, and he thinks that he's won already too, big mistake buster. He closed more distance with her, just before she socked him in his stomach.
Stan let out a decidedly surprised Oof!
Just as quickly though, he wrapped his arms around his wife, trapping her.
Mary let out an exasperated wail. "Aaaugh! Come on, Staaan. I've been in the midst of a dozen crises the last few days. Can't a girl just relax and color her hair how she wants?"
"Well of course." Stan paused and just held her there, half a foot off the ground. "You work with my parents though, what's the harm in keeping it a week? You've already shown it off to the world." Grinning, he nudged the offending hair with his cheek for emphasis. "I meant it when I said it looks beautiful on you, love."
Leaning her head on his chest, Mary wrapped her arms around him back, returning the embrace he'd trapped her in. She sighed defeatedly, relenting that he had a point. It's not a good enough point for me at all, but... If the nut likes it, who am I to argue? "Alright, fine. But just tonight, and only because it's too la-"
Mary was interrupted by the kiss that met her lips.
A strange thing happened that night. A warm violet glow pooled over the walls within the bedroom of Stan and Mary Morris. Neither awoke from the disturbance.