Combining Riches (Riches to Rags Book 2)

by Mairsile Leabhair

  As I changed into the street clothes, Melinda told me the route we would be canvassing, starting at the apartment building we once lived in, and the last place we saw Richard at. Her thought was that maybe Richard had returned, and we’d find him back in the laundry room, where he would go to get warm and sleep it off.

  I made the mistake of looking at myself in the floor-length mirror and what looked back at me was my nightmare reflection of a wheelchair and a whiskey bottle. I shook my head to fling the memories from my mind. Melinda thought I was reacting to the clothes I was wearing, and she laughed. She couldn’t know that my heart was quaking in fear at the reflection that I saw. She couldn’t know because I couldn’t tell her.

  Grabbing the moth-eaten coats that Melinda had also found at the thrift shop, we bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. I had asked our new cook to fix up some sandwiches, enough to feed a small army and brown bag them, along with chips and fruits.

  “Aloha, Konani,” I said, finding Konani busy filling a bag with food.

  “Good morning, Ms. Christine.” She did a double take at the clothes I was wearing, but said nothing.

  Looking around the kitchen, I couldn’t help but smile at the multitude of brown bags covering every available surface.

  “Konani, you must have been working on this for hours. Let me finish up, and you go take a break, okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll help out, too,” Melinda said.

  “Thank you, but I’m almost finished. Your breakfast is waiting for you, don’t let it get cold.”

  I patted her shoulder. “You’re amazing, Konani. Thank you.”

  We joined Norma, who as usual, had woken early and was sitting at the table, finishing her breakfast. She also looked at what we were wearing, and asked if we needed to borrow some money. We laughed, and then I explained to her what we were doing.

  Charlotte walked into the nook, followed by George Kirk, Melinda’s friend and biographer.

  She looked at Melinda. “Madame, there is a Mr. Kirk to see you.”

  “Thank you, Charlotte,” Melinda said and then looked at him. “George, what kept you?”

  “We’re about to have breakfast. Would you like to join us, George?” I asked as I scooted closer to Norma to make room for him.

  “Twist my arm,” he said jokingly. “The peanuts on the flight over didn’t do much for my hunger.”

  After a quick breakfast where we explained to George that he had just been recruited to help our cause, Melinda and I kissed Norma on the cheek and carried our goodies out to the car. And this wasn’t just any car, it was an authentic, 1970s Volkswagen van, and it even had the peace symbol on the spare tire cover. Again, it was Melinda who had thought of everything. The van, which she paid cash for, would hold all of us, and all of our lunches, and be less intimidating to people.

  On the ride back to the apartment building, Melinda asked George why he was visiting, unannounced. She wasn’t snide about it, in fact I could tell she was playing with him, and he accepted it as such.

  “After talking with you yesterday, I had to come to see for myself, the great Blackie Blackstone in the ghetto,” said George with a smile.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought when I saw you this morning. I had a feeling you’d be on the first plane out here. Well too bad, because you can’t come with us. Not dressed like that, you’ll scare them away,” Melinda retorted.

  George looked at her, trying to decide if she was kidding. Then I think he must have lost his mind because he ripped a tear in his trousers, pulled off his coat and poured his coffee all over his white shirt. He tussled his hair about and then turned his coat inside out and put it back on. I thought Melinda was going to drive the van right off the road, she was laughing so hard.

  I was confused, so I asked, “Why do you want to come with us so bad, George?”

  He smiled at me, pleased that I had asked. “A couple of reasons, actually. One, it will be a great way to help the less fortunate, even if it is with your money and food. And two, it will make a wonderful addition to Blackie’s biography, plus, by tomorrow, I will have it on my blog, telling the world that Blackie has a heart after all.”

  “All right, now, don’t go ruining my stellar reputation,” Melinda laughed. “Wouldn’t want folks to think I have a heart, now would we?”

  “But, Melinda,” I looked at her, surprised, “that’s exactly what we want. George, can you help us set up a blog for Melinda? And maybe write it too? I know Melinda doesn’t have the patience to sit down and write it herself.”

  “Absolutely!” George said, his mind already racing with ideas. “We could call it Blackie’s Blog, and I could post stories and pictures of you helping the poor, and—”

  Melinda threw up her hands. “Reel it in, George. It’s not going to happen, and before either of you ask, I’ll tell you why it’s not going to happen. To begin with, and you’re the one who said it first, Chris, it would be wrong of me to profit off the poor, even if it is just to improve my reputation. And then there’s the whole pay it forward but keep it quiet while we do it thing. We can’t have it both ways, right?”

  “Well, you are right about the pay it forward program, but I’m not so sure about the other,” I told her as I tried to rationalize what it would mean to write about it. “Yes, I can see how it would look bad to hand out a few sandwiches and call it helping the poor. But I also think that maybe if George wrote about it as part of his blog, he could compare Blackie of the past to the new Blackie and word it so that it shows that you are genuinely trying to help people now.”

  Melinda tapped her fingers on the steering wheel while she thought about her answer. “I appreciate what you guys are trying to do for me. I really do. But, I think we’ll get enough public exposure when we launch the scholarship program next month. Not to mention that your mother intends to invite everyone in the whole southern region to the fundraising party, which means that we’ll be in all the society magazines and on television, I’m sure.”

  “She’s right,” George added. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you two didn’t do some local and national talk shows as well.”

  “Oh no.” I was horror stricken. “No, I can’t go on TV. No, I won’t!” I was shaking I was so blindsided by that.

  “It’s okay, babe. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Melinda took my hand and squeezed it. “I am curious though, why are you so against it?”

  “Because, they’ll ask questions that I don’t want to answer.”

  I could tell that Melinda understood what I was talking about, but George didn’t, and unfortunately for him, I wasn’t going to tell him. It took a long time before I told Melinda that I hit someone with my car while drinking, and then I only told her because I was in love with her. I’m not in love with George. I barely know the man. Melinda let me off the hook when she told George that we had arrived.

  George had not been to our apartment in that old building before, but he had been to the barbeque restaurant we both worked at during Melinda’s test. In fact, the picture now hanging in our vestibule was taken by him at that restaurant. I had to have the picture enlarged and framed, but it turned out very well. I thought it rather ingenious to have that portrait of Melinda and I, where we’re dressed in our barbeque uniforms, wearing hairnets and holding trays, greet our guests as they walked into our mansion. It was certainly a lot better than that scary old portrait of Melinda’s ancestor, and made a poignant statement as well.

  “Melinda, there are still some tenants who haven’t moved out yet.” I looked at my clothes. “What do we tell them when they see us dressed like this?”

  “Oh shit. I hadn’t thought about that.” Melinda put the van in park and turned off the engine. “Well, why can’t we just tell them the truth? That we’re on a mission to find Richard.”

  “Doesn’t that kind of bypass the anonymity rule?” I grinned when I asked because I knew it would get a rise out of Melinda.

  “Damn woman,” Melinda gro
wled. “How can we get anything done if we can’t tell people what we’re doing? It’s like we have to wear the cloak of invisibility every time we step outside.”

  “Oh, nice reference to Harry Potter, Melinda. And actually, I was just teasing you. Of course we can tell people that we’re looking for Richard. We just can’t brag about why we’re looking for him.”

  “Well, all right then, let’s do this.” Melinda popped open the door.

  The three of us got out of the van and entered the apartment building, now approximately forty-five percent empty. We canvassed the building, knocking on doors, asking people about Richard. From the storage room, to the laundry room, to the empty apartments, we checked every space we could think of. We even checked Norma’s old apartment, thinking maybe he had finally found his way in to the room after trying for so many years. But he was nowhere to be found. Before we left, George insisted that we show him my apartment, and he took several pictures of it, although we refused to pose for any of them. Wearing the rags we had on would set a bad impression in people’s minds.

  “So this is where you two shacked up for a month?” George said playfully. “I’m impressed that you lasted a week in this tiny hovel, Blackie.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t all that bad,” Melinda replied. “Toward the end of the month I was really enjoying it. Chris found ways to keep me entertained, so I didn’t get too claustrophobic.”

  “Oh, do tell?” George flickered his tongue, and I wanted to slap him. He was perverting something beautiful. But before I could box his ears, Melinda called him on the carpet.

  “It was something special, George, so stick your tongue up your own ass,” George raised an eyebrow and sneered, but Melinda cut him off, “and before you go there, don’t. You’re upsetting Chris.”

  He straightened up immediately. “Oh, I am sorry, Chris. I was just acting foolish.”

  I could tell he was sincere, so I let him off the hook. “I accept your apology.”

  I walked over to the wall where Melinda had drawn a calendar, and I asked George to take a picture of it and send to me. Of everything about that apartment that I want to remember the most, that was one of my favorite memories. I explained to George how each day Melinda would mark off the day before, eagerly counting down to graduation day. I was so proud of her when she marked off the final day.

  It wasn’t easy for her, being cooped up with no money, no privacy and no sex. I don’t know which part of the test was harder on her, no money, or no sex. But we did have fun in spite of all that, like when we’d huddle under a blanket tent for warmth, while we teased the kitten with a string, and I secretly stole a glance at Melinda’s smiling face, every chance I got. Or when she got frustrated with me for flushing the toilet while she was showering, and she came running out of that shower and mooned me.

  “Is it getting hot in here?” I said without thinking.

  Melinda laughed. “In here? Are you kidding? That’s not possible.”

  We grabbed up some lunch bags from the back of the van and headed toward the main alley two blocks down, where we knew there were some homeless people living. Melinda walked around calling for Richard, saying she was ready to sleep with him now. A reference to him offering to sleep with her for money a couple of months ago. Surprisingly, although he didn’t show, several of the men vulgarly offered to take his place. She stopped joking around after that.

  We scoured every alley within a six-block radius and did not find him. We climbed back into the van and widened our search downtown. It was getting late in the day, and we were about to run out of food, so we decided to check one more alley before heading home. By then we were all pretty tired and our minds had wandered from the task at hand, to relaxing in the sauna after eating whatever delicious supper our chef prepared.

  We were walking down a garbage-strewn back alley when suddenly I couldn’t move. It was like my feet were encased in cement, and I couldn’t lift them.

  “What is it, Chris?” Melinda asked, but I couldn’t respond. I intended to, but no words came from my mouth. I was trapped in memories that tortured me with their vicious reality. Flashes of memories so intense that I crumbled to my knees. It’s not that I had forgotten my memories, it’s that I had chosen not to remember them because they caused such an overwhelming feeling of dread that I thought I would drown in them.

  “Chris?” Melinda knelt beside me and timidly put her hand on my arm. “You’re shaking. What is it, what’s wrong?”

  “Get… get me out of here. Please.”

  I was shaking so bad, my knees threatened to give out from under me. Melinda had to almost carry me to the van and it took both of them to help me climb inside. Melinda stayed by my side and George drove us home.

  Chapter Eight

  After Effect — Melinda Blackstone and Norma Shelby

  “How did she sleep last night, dear?” Norma asked.

  I shook my head. “She didn’t. Not until just a few minutes ago. Ever since I’ve known her, she hasn’t slept well. But last night, every time I woke up, she was already awake. She said she wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t sleep. She asked that George and I continue the search for Richard today, but I don’t think I should leave her alone right now.”

  For a change, I got up before Chris did, so it was just Norma and I in the nook having coffee. Konani served us breakfast, but I wasn’t very hungry. I asked her to prepare something special, to cheer Chris up.

  Konani smiled. “Ms. Christine loves my Hawaiian pancakes.” Then she went back into the kitchen.

  When we got in late yesterday afternoon, Chris went right to bed, telling Konani that she would not be needing supper. After I explained to Norma that we had not found Richard yet, and Chris wasn’t feeling well, I asked Konani to bring us both something to eat in our room, regardless of what Chris had said. Even after Konani brought a tray of food, I still couldn’t get Chris to eat, and she refused to talk about whatever was bothering her. It reminded me of when we first met. Chris had a deep dark secret that she refused to tell me at first, but she finally came to trust me, and told me about the accident. I knew the story of how she woke up in the alley, laying on top of a drunkard. But I knew nothing of the time between getting kicked out of her parents’ house and waking up in there. Still, I knew that when Chris was ready, she would tell me what was wrong. So I left her alone for a while and went down to the game room and shot some pool with George. But although I wanted to give her some space, I couldn’t bear to be away from her too long.

  “What do you think the problem was?” Norma asked between bites of sausage.

  “I’ve been trying figure that out myself. We had walked through half the alleys in Memphis yesterday, maybe the last one was just one too many.”

  Norma stopped eating and looked at me. “And this alley was in the same area as our apartment?”

  “No, it was downtown. Why?”

  “Could it be?” Norma said, more to herself than to me.

  “Could what be?” I asked.

  “Could it have been the alley where she woke up next to a man who was still sleeping it off?”

  A chill ran down my back, as anger rose up my throat. “How could I have been so fucking stupid!” A moment passed before I calmed down enough to apologize to Norma for my foul language.

  “Why do you think you were so fucking stupid, Melinda?” She winked at me as if to say she’d heard that word before.

  “I should have thought how it would feel to Chris, to be back in that alley.”

  “That alley is what sobered her up,” Norma said. “It’s what brought her to her senses and set her on the path she’s on now. No, there’s something else she’s not telling us. Something she’d rather forget than face.”

  “What can we do to help her, Norma?”

  “Be patient with her, and let her come to us,” Norma said decisively.

  “I hope she will, because it’s killing me not being able to help her. Did you know that she refuses to drive the ca
r she was driving when she hit that guy, and yet she refuses to sell it? It’s like she wants to punish herself. If I had known that was the car she hit the pedestrian with when her folks brought it over, I would have stuffed it in a car crusher and turned it into a metal cube, so it couldn’t haunt her anymore.”

  “That would make you feel better, dear, but it would still haunt Chris. I’m afraid until she faces her victim, it will always haunt her. But, she will also have to face these memories that she’s afraid of.”

  “Do you think she’ll be able to, Norma?”

  Norma nodded. “Yes, I do, in time. I believe she is approaching things in stages, and perhaps she feels that meeting her victim and apologizing will be the catalyst she need to begin healing. And once she has completed that monumental accomplishment, she will be stronger for it and more willing to face her other demons. And after yesterday’s incident, it’s only a matter of time before she has no choice but to allow all her memories to surface.”

  I looked at her with a sly grin. “Let me guess. You played a psychiatrist in one of your movies? That’s why you know so much about the psyche, right?”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong, dear. I learned that from years of lying on the psychiatrist’s couch.”

  “Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to uh… I mean I’m glad you were able to get help.” I don’t know why I was stuttering. My own mother is seeing a shrink and there’s nothing wrong with her mind, especially when it comes to finding fault with me.

  For the first time since I’ve known her, Norma chastised me and meant it. “Melinda, you mustn’t respond that way if Chris decides to seek counseling.”

  “I know. You’re right, Norma, I’m sorry. I guess I acted that way because it’s such a private thing, and I felt like I was intruding.”

  Norma softened her brow and smiled at me. “That’s a very nice way of putting it, dear. And I assure you, you would not be intruding with me. I have nothing to hide anymore. All my sins were absolved years ago. It’s one of the perks of old age.”