Karmann

Marlborough Thermos

###Five bucks, I decided, after eye-balling the red Thermos and pasted a yellow $5 sticker on the lid and tossed it on the kitchen wares table. It was the last item I had to price and just in time: a small crowd was already gathered at the door, ready to grab the best deals. I stood up, brushed off my knees, wiped my hands on my jeans and took my position behind my table just as the doors opened.
###“Good morning Staci,” breathed a soft low voice. I took a moment to paste an appropriate smile on my face before looking up from glasses I was arranging after the first wave of shoppers had buffeted them around. That was the voice I'd been dreading all morning, Cathy Harris, Queen of the PTO. She'd been president since long before I became involved when my son came here to kindergarten and she'd still be here long after my son moved on to middle school.
###Publicly, we all admired Cathy, widowed at 39 with the youngest child still in diapers, the oldest entering the years of rebellion and two in between yet she always managed to be organized, prepared and have the best hair in town. Privately, in groups of two or three, especially if the wine was washing our caution away, bitterness bubbled through our carefully made-up facades. “The controlling #$**%,” we called her, “she devil.” We pitied her kids, no father, perfectionist domineering mother. We bemoaned our permanent positions on the PTO as her minions. We speculated that her husband had really run out on her and who could blame him. So when Cathy strolled to my table I squared my shoulders, raised my head and prepared to defend my territory. In this flea market housewares were my responsibility. She was not going to come here and critique my hard work like I was one of her kids.
###At first she just smiled and it looked like she'd walk on to attack the display of children's clothes at the next table but then she paused, damn it, and her eyes narrowed and her elegant hand snatched up the old red thermos. “What's this?” she hissed as she examined it at arm's length like it was a dead squirrel one of her kids had brought to show her.
###“Ummmm, it's a thermos, it keeps drinks cold” I drawled as sarcastically as I dared.
###“Yes, I see that Staci,” she breathed in that irritatingly low voice, “but it's cigarette advertising.” The last two words were uttered with such disgust I thought the contents of her stomach were about to come up and end up amongst my housewares.
###“It's retro. It'll sell for sure,” I tried to say this with finality as I grabbed the handle to take back the Thermos.
###“No, it's cigarette advertising and it's not allowed on school property,” she said and this time the low voice was more like a growl. She tried to pull the Thermos away but I was reaching over the table holding tight to my side of the handle. Curious customers were pausing their bargain hunting to see what was worth fighting about and I was beginning to regret challenging Cathy over a stupid $5 item. I was about to let go of the Thermos but then Cathy barked “give it to me,” and yanked on the Thermos and something in me snapped. I'd had enough of this harridan running a small town PTO like a medieval kingdom, complete with slaves. I tugged back and raised my voice, “It's five dollars! Buy it or put it down!”
###“It goes in the trash,” she commanded with a stronger tug.
###“FIVE DOLLARS!” I commanded back fiercely and wrenched on the handle with all my strength. The old plastic of the handle was brittle and had never been designed to withstand the pressure of two egos at war. The handle gave way in the middle with a sharp snap that was quickly drowned out by Cathy's shriek as she flew backwards. In that instant shame and certainty filled me like some lethal mixture of concrete and acid. Cathy was sprawled on the ground, her hair messed her legs spread in a most unladylike fashion, the crowd gawking at her and I leaned forward and croaked, “What brand did he smoke, your husband?”
###“Marlborough.”