Working with Dolly Parton

Jackie, the big-haired innkeeperin Johnson City, Tennessee, sings “Jolene”to piped-in music while she runs the phones:“I’m beggin of you please don’t take my man”—Don’t you just love Dolly?She’s been through it, honey,I swear she’s my patron saint.She wears chunks of hematite aroundher neck, singing loud but melodicat the front desk barwood register, thenfans herself with a Tennessee Whiskey Menu.She has spirit all around her—vibrating.I’m flighty, she says,I need me some grounding.C’mon darlin, let me check you inbefore things get any worse.Blue eyeshadow running so highand she’s crying, telling me I’ve gota king room with one bed, telling meher ex-husband beat her, kidnapped her kids.I’m sorry, she says, I can’t stop crying.I’ve read over 2,600 books, she says.Do you know why women can’t sleep?Because we have so many stories in our heads.I’m waitin for a time when I can writea few hours a day, she says.I have to wait until he’s dead.That’s the only way.He used to laugh at me for my body—It started there—made fun of mein front of our friends.When I left I took the kidsand the back roads to Florida, but withinan hour the truckers were on me—he knew a lot of people.When he went to prison it stopped.He got saved and I forgave him, but hestill doesn’t remember the kids’ birthdays.Laughing now, talking louder:Her bright red lips working hard:I’m a strong woman.How did I let that happen to me?I’ve lost friends over it—my sisterand niece are in abusive relationships.They seem angry that I got out,they chose money over freedom.Not me—I don’t give a damn about money.I have a lot to say.I’ve lived many lifetimes.A woman in Florida wanted to help me,signed me up for school, but when shedropped me off, it was a women’s center.They gave me a survey, I got 8 out of 10—they said if you answer 1, you were being abused.I didn’t really get it until I saw it on that paper.Tears rolling down her cheeks as sheanswered the phone: Yes, the 21st, sure thing,can’t wait to see you!In one motion, back to me at the front desk:I have a good man now—I’m a Christian butI drop the F-bomb all over the place.Sometimes you just have to get things out.