Beverly, Right Here

Freddie copes with her reality by having far-fetched dreams. She tells Beverly, “I’m not going to end up like grumpy old Doris or broken Charles. I have dreams. I’m going to be somebody” (54). At present, however, Freddie is a waitress with a questionable modeling career. After informing Beverly that she could be a model, Beverly “bare[s] her teeth at Freddie” (55). She faces reality and doesn’t want to be part of Freddie’s fantasy. When Beverly tells Freddie she lacks a “personal dream,” Freddie replies, “That is dead-end, one-road thinking. You have to engage in open-ended, multi-road thinking” (46). Freddie’s formula is off. Beverly’s lack of a dream doesn’t make her hopeless or limited; it creates possibilities. Untethered to a single fantasy, Beverly stays open to the experiences in front of her. Stuck in a single dream, Freddie alienates the people in her reality and limits herself.

The humorous tone continues in Chapters 8-15. Freddie’s sincere summarization of her modeling career is also ironic. She doesn’t realize its dubiousness, and her snobbish character allows the reader to laugh at her delusions. Elmer’s claim that he could be “a ten-thousand-year-old rabbit hunter” (87) is outlandishly humorous. Beverly’s inability to accompany Iola inside the VFW for bingo is ironic, twisting the benign game into a transgressive activity. As Frank, the man in charge of bingo at the VFW, solemnly announces, “I ain’t defying the government” (61).

The theme of Presence Versus Absence reappears in Chapters 8-15. When Iola returns to the car after bingo, Beverly asks her, “Did you think that maybe I wouldn’t be here when you came out?” Iola replies, “Well, sure. But I also figured that there was a real good chance you would be right here” (64). Beverly remains a presence in Iola’s life and doesn’t cut the connection. Freddie wants to cut her connection with Mr. C’s and become a movie star. Sometimes, presences and absences elude control. Charles didn’t want to stop being a college football star, but a torn tendon took him away from athletics and made him a presence at Mr. C’s. Still, a person’s location or choice of job doesn’t define them. Doris’s job as a cook doesn’t make her inferior. The narrator observes, “Doris stood at the stove in her white dress and white shoes as if she were a queen and all of it belonged to her” (48). Doris’s presence in the kitchen is both regal and commanding.

Doris teaches Beverly to face the cruel but kind world. Doris spots Freddie giving her less than her fair share of the tip pool, and Doris alerts her. Thus, Doris undercuts her claim that “[n]obody watches out for you in this world” (74). She is kind and counters Freddie’s shady behavior by keeping an eye on Beverly.

Chapters 8-15 feature a few instances of foreshadowing—hints about what will happen in the story. Using imagery, DiCamillo’s narrator creates a cartoonishly sinister image of Jerome, declaring, “Jerome’s shoulders were hairy, and his nose was big. He looked like a wolf in a cartoon” (77). Mr. Denby states, “That boyfriend of hers is not good news” (78). Mr. Denby’s observation and the narrator’s tawdry image alert the reader that he could do something bad. At Mr. C’s, Doris complains, “We don’t get paid enough to make it work. But that’s how it works for now” (49). Her critique of Mr. C’s working conditions previews the strike.

The contentious dialogue between Beverly and Elmer indicates that neither of them is ready to acknowledge their need for connection and form a friendly bond. Spitefully, Beverly says Elmer reminds him of glue, connecting her to the bully Jerome, who calls Elmer “Elmer Fudd.” Beverly tells Elmer, “You pretend like you’re tough, but you’re not tough” (89). Arguably, Beverly is also talking about herself. She acts like she has thick skin, but she’s vulnerable and sensitive.

With her wig and big glasses, Iola can come across as cartoonish, but DiCamillo gives her depth via “blue spells.” Iola defines “blue spells” for Beverly: “It’s like somebody is setting right on top of my chest, to where I can’t breathe or hope” (67). Iola has complex emotions—she’s not only a happy-go-lucky, childlike older person.

The color imagery of “blue spells” recalls Truman Capote’s novella Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1958). The protagonist, Holly Golightly, explains her experience of the “mean reds,” a nameless but acute anxiety or dread. The story is for adults, and Holly, though only a few years older than Beverly, finds herself in adult situations. Holly and Beverly have much in common. Each character runs away from home and puts on a tough façade that conceals her need for connection. Neither the “mean reds” nor the “blue spells” refer to average sadness. Instead, the “blue spells” and “mean reds” indicate an elusive anguish that’s much worse than the regular blues.