Southern Lady Code: Essays(31)

She says, “Right, right, but what are you doing, writing a book?”

I keep walking. And I think, if she or any of the reporters had stayed in the courtroom, she would have seen me wait in my seat until everyone except the attorneys had exited; then as Meredith passed, she would have seen me take her hand and say, “Good job.”

I was there for Meredith. That’s friendship. I’m serious.





THAT KIND OF WOMAN





I am the kind of woman who gay men call Auntie; who passes along compliments and saves news to tell you in person; who gifts the most useless item on a wedding registry and sings “Happy Birthday” into your voice mail; who looks like she’s photobombing her own photos; who does not have children, but says, “Mama like!”

I am the kind of woman who brings plants into her home and then—with only the best intentions—murders those plants; who empties her dryer lint trap and finds three pennies and a googly eye; who has a lazy Susan for sprinkles and keeps Coke cans in her vegetable crisper; who writes something on her to-do list after she’s done it.

I am the kind of woman who spends more money on a bottle of shampoo than a bottle of wine; who adds three capfuls when the instructions read one; who writes self-affirmations in shower steam; who blow-dries her hair an inch from a wall instead of untangling the cord; who looks at a sunscreen display like other women look at a Tiffany’s window—and then applies that sunscreen like a meringue pie to the face.

I am the kind of woman who enjoys the mystery of a manila envelope; who has bouquets of pens instead of flowers and never runs out of stamps; who uses a piggy bank and index cards; who is polite to wrong numbers and flips through a Vermont Country Store catalog like it’s from Sotheby’s; who buys diaries but doesn’t write in those diaries.

I am the kind of woman who giggles when she writes the word erect on a crossword; who listens to the radio and listens for the mail; who watches the National Spelling Bee and enjoys sitcom plots about bowling; who likes reruns about four ladies talking on a couch, followed by reruns of four older ladies talking on a couch; who still misses Oprah at four p.m.

I am the kind of woman who walks through TSA like a bride; who strangers warn not to go into certain neighborhoods; who points out subway rats to children; who buys postcards and sends them when she gets back from vacation.

I am the kind of woman who hangs her head out a window to see what the heck is going on out there; who will give you a look instead of giving the person who is annoying her a look; who is more interesting because of what she doesn’t do; who does not appreciate being told what kind of woman she is.





· ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ·


Mama said: “Helen Michelle, I’ve always told you: if you worry about what your mama will think, you’ll never be a writer.”

She also said: “If you ever want to write about a dead body, I’ll drive you to a funeral home, crawl inside an open casket, and hold my breath.”

Thank you to Mama and Papa, who will do anything to support me.

Thank you to my writing wives, Ann and Hannah, who pushed me to share secrets that they already knew.

Thank you to my friends, the cast of characters in this book, who inspired me and approved the use of their real names: Bernard, Carmine, Martin, Jason, Carolyn, Terri, Patti, Megan, Elizabeth, Stefan, Katy Belle, Vicki, Laura, Laurie, Ellen, Liz, Karen, Nicho, Erica, and Meredith. And a special thanks to Dani, who texted: “My life is yours to write.”

Thank you to my friends and family who don’t appear in these pages but are a constant presence in my life. Classic Trashy Book Clubbers: Michelle, Lori, and Kay. Bridge Ladies: Jean and Val. The Virtual Porch: J.T., Ariel, Laura, Paige, and Amy. The Game Night Group: Jeremy, Jon, Kevin, Scott, and Tal. Southern Lady Kathleen and Gentleman Bryant. Heather from PCB18, Camille from Puzzle Posse, Koula from Chanel, Doug from Team Tito, and Ellis from Team Lawrence.

Thank you to those who encouraged me to write true stories. About tidying: Emmy and Susanna from Spine Out, Kate from Vintage/Anchor, Dan from The New York Times, and Courtney, my mentor. About partying: Shaun from EatingWell. About guesting: Elizabeth, formerly of Simon & Schuster UK, and Neil, from Financial Times. About being happily married: Alyssa from Paper Darts. And about being thankful: Amanda from Garden & Gun. I’m especially thankful for her editorial note: “Just let it rip.”

Thank you to Bill, Suzanne, and the entire Doubleday and Vintage/Anchor teams and sales force who make a publishing house a home. To Jenny, my stellar editor who has a unique way of enforcing a deadline. To John, who makes my books beautiful. To Julianna, who makes me sound good. To Nora, who catches my mistakes (like when I misspell two of my favorite things: Pet Semetary and Froot Loops). To Victoria, a superstar who’s now a shooting star. To Zakiya, who holds down the fort. To Judy! Judy! Judy!, who puts me in the best light and my work in the best hands. And to Todd, who sends me out into the world but keeps me grounded. You are the Charlene to my Julia. MWAH!

Thank you to my friend, champion, and agent Brettne, who speaks fluent Southern Lady Code. I’m proud to be part of The Book Group, which is entirely woman run.

Thank you to the New York Society Library, where I wrote most of this book in the stacks. And thank you to the librarians who greeted me every day with: “Good morning, Mrs. Haris!”