The following are excerpts from Divas on the Move, a short story based on Bill Davis's Diva painting of the same name...

Divas on the Move 

Excerpt (1)

Norma Joe stared out the window, her daddy’s corn field expanded for many acres; silky ears just days away from needing to be pulled. Oh how she dreaded dirtying up her blue denim gown, her elbow length cotton work gloves and matching designer sneakers for the sake of keeping her daddy happy and harvesting that corn. Divas weren’t put on this earth to perform sweaty manual labor. A greater calling awaited her. She was clearly emancipated and old enough to take charge of her own destiny; that is, if daddy and mama would let her.

Her parents had kept tight reins on her ambitious dreams. Daddy didn’t even allow mention of the ‘D’ word in his house. Mama was a tad more understanding but abided by daddy’s wishes. Men of the old south ruled the household. Norma Joe had not had an opportunity to distance herself from a generation still intent on making an honest living off land that had been in the family since the beginning of time.

Propped on the windowsill, she daydreamed. Divas are excellent daydreamers. Even diva rookies can accomplish much while reaching for the stars in a world fabricated from their unique imagination. Uniqueness is the essence of Divaness. She wished she had brothers but sadly she was an only child. Daddy would have sent the boys out into the fields instead of her if she had male siblings. Visions of the lesser of the two evils seeped into the outer boundaries of her daydreaming. Mama would have surely focused on honing her domestic skills. While cooking, sewing, washing clothes and dishes, cleaning house was part of the wilderness woman regime, there was no place in a divas world for symbolic frontier womanly tasks. Divas would have other people in their employment to take care of the rigorous chores of the day. Blistered hands, broken nails, bad hair and displays of perspiration were prohibited flaws. Daddy hadn’t undergone the learning curve yet, stressing Norma Joe to the brink of desperation.

Thunderheads were forming in the distance. Unfortunately rain showers didn’t guarantee farm chores could be ignored. Sure, trampling about in the garden might possibly be off the agenda, but other more despicable chores loomed in her future. Just thinking about them plunged her into the pits of homespun housewife hell. Mere nonsensical demeaning exercises served no purpose in the life of a diva. How would she ever break away from her southern upbringing and seek a world she knew she was destined to live in?

There was college of course, an out she kept in her hope chest. College, yuck, commoners competing for careers, a life of co-eds, despicable cheerleaders and aspiring homecoming queens, a shallow world she wanted no part of but an escape pod just the same. Her grades were outstanding so seeking an appropriate affordable college, as her parents pointed out, should pose no obstacles. Divas were not just mere dumb blondes. Some were actually redheads or brunettes. Mama called hers dirty blonde. She cringed at the mere description of her hair color and mama prohibited her changing it. Emancipation offered promise and a glimmer of hope, if her parents didn’t roadblock her path.

A flash of lightening, followed four seconds later by a crack of thunder caused Norma Joe to blink and return to her world of non- diva support.  She heard footfalls on the steps, recognizable as her mother’s. What trivial demeaning household task would she divvy out this time? Norma Joe wanted to scream at the top of her lungs and did just that from in the inside. Never let them see you perspire, diva mantra. Even symbolic perspiration was a no-no. The image must be upheld 24/7, even in the confines of country bumpkin world. She almost regretted thinking that, almost. She shouldn’t depict her parents in such light or her life. Reality spoke volumes unfortunately. Living off the land, as her daddy so proudly put it, had gotten them this far, without government handouts or charity from neighbors. He stood tall, knowing he had provided for his family and had never failed to put food on the tale and clothes on their backs.   

Excerpt (2) we join Norma Joe, Mavis and Wanda on the court square...

 

Maneuvering the uneven brick laden pattern on the square’s street was not easily negotiated, not even with those possessing diva prowesses. The trio, while wobbly at times, made it to their destination, regaining their composure before making a grand entrance inside the Rough House. They opted for bar side stools instead of a table or booth, preferring to stage the perfect diva pose for the afternoon patrons. Each was served up a world famous hot dog, no onions, and Coke Cola in an authentic glass bottle. Food and beverage was consumed with the utmost poise and caution, ensuring that their gowns and gloves remained stain free. A true diva has the ability to pull this off while wearing silken gloves.

The trio passed with flying colors, afterwards, standing and smoothing out any wrinkles before heading to their next stop, Uptown Girls. Henry passed by the frontage window and gave them a courteous hat tip. Still, they paused for a moment to allow him free passage and some distance before leaving. Photo opts were officially off the table even though Norma Joe would have welcomed one. She honored her companions’ wishes though, not wanting to banish them to the rural outskirts for an undetermined amount of time if busted by their parents.

As predicted, they found themselves in the afterglow of accessory heaven; Uptown Girls exceeding their diva expectations. After numerous trips down the imaginary runway, each picking at least one item, the trio exited, and pondered what to do with the rest of their afternoon. Still at hand, they hadn’t sealed their escape strategy. A world belonging to divas existed out there somewhere, seemingly out of gloved reach for now, but obtainable once a plan evolved. The three made the loop, cutting the square on foot. They paused at the steps leading to the Belmont Inn lobby, picturing themselves as traveling diva celebrities, met with open arms by the patrons of the inn, joyous with the knowledge of actual diva’s gracing the walls of the Belmont for an overnight stay. From there, they then graced the presence of the Abbeville Opera House, perusing the marquee for coming attractions. Annie was on slate next. A sign on the theater indicate that a rehearsal was in progress. The historical 110 year old Opera House is listed on the National Register of Historical Places; somewhat of a grand old diva as buildings go.

Excerpt (3) The three Divas make their rounds...

“What are we going to do,” asked Norma Joe.

“What do you want to do” asked Wanda. “We’ve had a hotdog, are sporting new accessories and have all but heeled our way around the square.”

“No, I mean, when are we leaving and where will we go when we do?”

“You’re serious, aren’t you,” commented Mavis.

“As serious as a diva drinking wine from a glass slipper…”

“We’re underage and can’t do that just yet,” added Wanda.

“A diva may aspire to do anything she wishes,” Norma Joe reminded them. ‘There are absolutely no limitations.”

“All we need then is a glass slipper and bottle of wine,” laughed Mavis.

“My brother and his pals drink Mad Dog 20-20,” added Wanda.

“Dime store wine, my dear; a diva sets her sights much higher, vintage only,” proclaimed Norma Joe.

“I suppose we can discount Boone Farm’s Apple then,” said Mavis.

“Nothing in a screw cap will suffice,” stated Norma Joe. “Uncorked is our destiny.”

“Obviously we’ll not be partaking of wine this afternoon, unscrewed or uncorked, so back to your original questions, how, when and where,” asked Wanda.

Walking down Trinity Street, they paused in front of Natty’s, a fairly new bar and hang out.

“They have wine in there and every beer you can name so I’ve been told,” said Mavis.

“And we’re still underage,” Wanda reminded her.

“We look older and refined in these gowns, don’t we?”

“Forget it, they know us and our parents,” said Norma Joe. “Let’s try to stay focused. To become full-fledged, out of the bathroom, dressed to the nines divas, we must leave Abbeville. We’ll never be accepted for who we are until we do.”

They waved at one of the owners. She smiled and cordially waved back, mouthing how she thought they looked fabulous.  Of course they did; they were divas after all. Still, it lifted their spirits and inflated their egos somewhat for someone in town to recognize that fact. Actually, divas were quite egotistical without reinforcement. Others should always be appreciative of their presence. It was their gift to society; even when, in their eyes society didn’t exist in their hometown; at least not a society that recognized the diva movement. Three strong, it was time for those frozen in time folks to move aside, sit down and shut up; the new world order had arrived.