by Beth Duke
“Sure, I love having you here.” I gave her a quick hug. “I have to run or I’ll be late. See you tonight.”
“Thank you. I’ll try to earn my keep by doing some housecleaning and cooking for you.”
“Oh, good,” I said. “I am extremely fond of having other people do both of those. Ooops, I forgot. Rick is supposed to come over for dinner. Would you mind if he joins us?”
“Don’t be silly,” she answered. “I’m the one who should be asking that. But I’d love to meet him, and I promise I’ll put together a nice meal for all of us.”
“Anything will be better than the usual salad for me and pizza delivery for him,” I grinned at her. “Thanks.”
Rick charmed Deanna with Really Funny Stories of the Highway Patrol while I sipped wine and watched them laugh. I’d heard them all before and was waiting for the grand finale in which a driver with an expired license says, “Do you mean my remit done collapsed?”
I gathered the dishes, shushing Deanna’s protests and carrying them to the kitchen. She’d cooked a delicious chicken casserole. I slipped Halle a plate to lick and began washing up, straining to hear as the conversation in the other room turned somber and much quieter. I wondered if she was telling Rick about her past.
By the time I returned the two of them were laughing again.
“Well,” Rick said, “it’s getting kinda late for me. I have an early shift tomorrow.” He grabbed Deanna’s hand and kissed it. I swear she blushed.
I walked him to his car. “Ronni, I need to tell you something,” he began, leaning on the driver’s door. He reached out and held my shoulders. “You know I love you. And I want what’s best for you.”
My stomach flipped like an Olympic gymnast. “And?”
“Well, I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but Victoria has left Professor Gasbag.” He looked at the asphalt, then the sky, anywhere but at me. “Apparently he was accused of improper behavior with a student.”
I stared at him, quietly waiting.
“She brought the boys and moved into the lakehouse. It’s only for a little while. She’s going to have to decide what to do about school and all.”
“When did this happen?” I asked.
He looked like a man with his privates in a vise. “A little over a week ago.”
“So this is why I haven’t heard from you.”
“Ronni, please, I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Have you been there with them?”
“A few times. I had to help move some stuff, make sure they were settled in. I’m not living there, Ronni.”
“You should have told me.”
“I didn’t because I knew you’d act like this.” He reached for my hand and I jerked it away.
“Act like this? Seriously? How should I act, Rick? Did you not think I deserved to know your ex and kids had come running home to you?”
“They didn’t Ronni, that’s not what happened. I’m just helping her out...”
“Don’t talk to me until this is settled, Rick. I am not going to be in the middle of it.” I turned and hurried back inside so he wouldn’t see me cry.
Deanna jumped up from the couch when she saw me. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”
I tried to force words out through my sobbing, but gave up and laid my head on her shoulder. When I could take a breath, I leaned back and said, “Rick’s ex-wife—the beautiful, exotic mother of his children who can have any man she wants—left her husband and has moved into Rick’s lakehouse. It’s only a matter of time before they’re back together. And I’d be a horrible person not to want those boys back with their dad, wouldn’t I?” I broke down all over again. Deanna dragged me to sit next to her.
“Ronni, I am sure Rick loves you. No matter what happens, remember that.”
“Oh, jeez, he told you, didn’t he?” I was horrified. “That’s what you were talking about while I washed dishes.”
Deanna’s semi-circular eyebrows knitted together. “No, not at all. I had no idea, I promise you. But talking to him assured me of his feelings for you.”
“I don’t understand.”
She drew a breath and took my hand. “I asked him how to find your mother. Rick and I both think you should meet with her.”
I buried my face in my hands and shook my head. “I don’t need to meet with her, Deanna, it’s a horrible idea. I’ve avoided her for so many years, and she certainly hasn’t reached out to me. Why should I do anything to help or comfort her? She doesn’t deserve one minute of my time.”
“But you deserve as many minutes of her time as you need, Ronni. This is for you, not her.” She hugged me. “Do this for your own peace of mind, sweet girl.”
“Peace of mind is not a concept I can relate to right now, Deanna. I can’t promise you I’ll go through with it.”
She smiled and yawned. “My brain is on Florida time and I’m exhausted. I’m going to sleep now unless you want to watch television.”
“Oh, no, I’ll go to my room and read.”
“Good night, Ronni. Everything will be fine. Fine for you and Rick and fine for you in general. Wait and see.”
“I hope so.”
I closed the bedroom door. I re-read the same six paragraphs of a stupid dystopian romance novel Kait had loaned me before I gave up on it. Then I spent two hours trying not to think, wishing Deanna wasn’t sleeping between me and the half-bottle of wine in the kitchen.
twenty-six
VIOLET
The mirror reflected a beautiful woman in a very expensive cream silk dress and pearls. Violet had never dared spend money the way she was spending it lately. It felt daring and powerful to hand Tolly’s credit card over in Rich’s and Parisian.
He was being so patient, so unbearably tolerant, it almost drove her insane. And she was pushing him, pressing on every sensitive place as hard as she could, toward...toward what? Violet needed to know if her reformed, teetotaler husband was capable of holding his fists in check.
“Dinner’s not ready. I gave Beatrice the day off. Let’s go to the club tonight.”
“Your shirt is wrinkled? I’m sorry. Why don’t you drop your shirts off at the dry cleaner’s to be pressed? Genny’s husband does.”
“I drove the Cadillac while you were golfing, and I opened the door into a wall and chipped the paint. Sorry.”
Best of all: “I have a headache, Tolly, go to sleep.” For as long as she’d been back home.
He smiled vaguely in response to her bait so often Violet was sure he was taking tranquilizers. She certainly didn’t want to be hit, but Tolly was fading into a wispy translucence; an insubstantial man with a placid facial expression she didn’t recognize.
Then she found out tranquilizers had nothing to do with it.
Violet invited Genny and three other women to join her at the club for lunch, something she’d only been allowed on the special occasions Tolly felt warranted the expense. She ordered champagne and toasted the afternoon of shopping they’d planned.
Juliet Horne, Junior League President, took a sip and told Violet, “You look more beautiful than ever. I don’t know quite what it is, but you’re lit up like a thousand dollar chandelier.” She eyed Violet carefully. “Oh my gosh, you’re not pregnant, are you?”
Genny shifted uncomfortably, aware that Violet couldn’t have children but unsure what to say.
“No,” Violet answered. “I’m just happy.” She smiled and emptied half her glass. No, but I have a daughter somewhere, just like you, Juliet. And I’m going to find her. Oh, and did I mention there’s a great-looking younger man who’s crazy about me? And my husband’s not beating me anymore. I’m pretty happy right now.
“Well, if you’re not pregnant I want the name of your face cream,” Juliet answered. “Now, let’s talk about shoes.” The women smiled and followed Juliet’s lead into more comfortable conversation.
After an hour of picking at salads and competitive dessert refusal, Violet wrote Tolly’s membership number on the
check. Each woman thanked her graciously. Violet knew some of them would write thank you notes and mail them as well.
Genny had once whispered to her, “Know why Junior Leaguers don’t go to orgies? Too many thank you notes to write.”
She told Genny she’d meet the rest of them at Parisian; she was going to stop in the ladies’ room. Genny kissed Violet’s cheek and walked out behind Juliet, carrying her imaginary train.
When Violet emerged ten minutes later she spotted Tolly’s white Corvette across the parking lot, as far from other vehicles as possible. He was terrified of real damage to the car she’d supposedly wrecked. Maybe he cleared his schedule to play golf. She sighed and climbed into the plush leather of the Cadillac, hoping he wasn’t making love to a glass of bourbon in the bar. Violet turned the ignition key and looked up to see her husband emerge from the woods, holding the hand of a woman she didn’t recognize. She was wearing a sleeveless pink golf shirt and capris, laughing and running her fingers through her long auburn hair. The woman stopped and tugged on Tolly’s hand to halt him. Violet saw him look around for people, then cradle her head and kiss her for what seemed to be three or four minutes. She stared in disbelief until the truth dawned into a smile on her face. Tolly had just handed her grounds for divorce. She could be rid of him and financially independent, too. Violet waited until they were seated in the Corvette and facing away. She shifted the car into drive and headed to join her friends and exercise Tolly’s BankAmericard until it was exhausted and begging to go home.
Violet heard Tolly drive into the garage and tried to remember exactly what she’d planned to say. She greeted him by pointing to a suitcase and a bag full of his toiletries on the polished wood floor. “I know about your affair, Tolly. I saw you at the club with that woman. All I ask is that you take your things and leave. I can’t have you here in this house.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “I don’t know what you think you saw, Violet, but there is no woman and no affair, and there is no way in hell I’m leaving my own home.”
“You were kissing her. I saw you with my own two eyes.” He made no response, just studied her face impassively. “What’s her name, Tolly? How long have you been with her?”
Tolly continued to stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Violet. You’re acting crazier than usual, and that’s saying a lot.”
She watched his jaw clench, saw the vein throbbing in his neck. Still, she pressed on. “Get out, Tolly. You can’t expect me to ignore another woman.”
“There is no other woman.” He started toward the liquor cabinet and Violet felt fear crawling up her back for the first time. If he was going to drink, she’d have to get upstairs, lock the door, and leave this until he sobered up tomorrow. She was relieved when he seemed to reconsider and walk back to her.
Violet extended her palm to his chest. “I don’t want you near me.” It took all her focus to keep her voice steady.
Tolly came closer and closer until his face was inches from hers. He shook his head and backed away. She allowed herself to close her eyes and exhale slowly. She didn’t even feel the pain in her cheek when his fist landed, not for several seconds. By then he had hit her stomach twice.
Violet did not open her eyes again.
The next morning there was no remorse, no begging for forgiveness, just Tolly’s undivided medical attention. He checked her vital signs and satisfied himself he’d caused no significant internal damage. He loomed over Violet’s face and said, “I fired Beatrice this morning. You neither need nor deserve help with this house.”
She watched him gather his things and close the bedroom draperies. “Get some sleep, Violet. I injected you with some medication to help. I’ll be home early.”
She lay in their bed for four days, heavily medicated and rising only to accept soup and water from Tolly or make her way to the bathroom. On the fifth day she woke to find him seated at her vanity, watching.
“You should have a clearer head now. I backed off the morphine.”
She nodded.
“Good. I left you a pill next to the bed with some water. You can take that if you need it for pain.” Tolly shrugged into his jacket. “I wish I hadn’t had to hit you, Violet. I think we both know I’ve worked hard to control my temper at every provocation from you. You became so outrageous I couldn’t ignore it.” He waved at the window. “There is no other woman out there. She lives only in your twisted, jealous imagination.” Her husband bent to kiss her forehead as though it wouldn’t thoroughly repulse her. “You’re all the woman I need. Enough trouble for one man, surely.”
Violet listened as he made his way out and started the Corvette. Then she let herself cry for poor Beatrice, and for her own complete loss of hope. How could she have forgotten that Tolly always won?
twenty-seven
RONNI
I clutched my stomach and shook my head at Deanna. “I can’t do this. You don’t understand. I don’t know her. I don’t want to know her.”
She turned from petting Halle and said, “Look, Ronni, if anyone in the world can understand your feelings, it’s me. But I’m afraid if you don’t at least try to reconcile with your mother you’ll regret it. Surely you see that.”
“No, I don’t. She shut me out of her life for over twenty years. She made no attempt to find me. She went her own way happily without her daughter...”
“All of those,” she interrupted, “are things I said about Violet before I knew better.”
I wished she didn’t feel it necessary to fix my life. It was broken enough with the loss of Rick. All I wanted to do was crawl in bed with a good book and a pizza. Instead, I had Florida’s preeminent amateur psychiatrist in a polyester pantsuit dragging me out the door to meet with a woman I’d been avoiding, mentally and physically, for years. For good reason. Deanna was the closest thing I had to Violet, though, and I felt like I should listen to her.
She swung open the door to my apartment and waved me through, clutching the address in her hand.
An hour later we drove up to a small, grayish-white cement block house with the thoroughly depressing remains of a flower garden sticking out of three tires in the yard. A shiny Buick SUV sat in the gravel driveway. At least her relationship with the used car dealer had paid off. I glanced at Deanna, who looked every bit as unimpressed as I was.
“We can still leave. It’s not too late,” I said.
She grabbed my hand and smiled, trying to pat away my fear. “Come on. How bad can it be?” Deanna opened her door and began walking up the narrow footpath to the tiny fake porch. I had no choice but to follow.
The front door opened before we got near it, revealing a very thin woman in faded jeans and—Lord help me—a red halter top. She looked far closer to seventy than forty-six. Jocelyn waved her cigarette-free left hand at us and took a deep hit of nicotine with her right. Her smile revealed yellowed teeth. I guess I should’ve been glad she had teeth at all. Her hair was a somewhat believable shade of blonde, but frizzy and twelve inches too long by any standard. My first emotion was relief that I looked nothing like her, no matter what Rick thought. My second was intense anger. I tried to stuff it down, but it was like attempting to put a king-sized pillow in a standard case. Anger was overflowing every-where and I couldn’t stop it. I stood back a few feet as Deanna shook Jocelyn’s left hand awkwardly. My opening line was, “Remember me, your daughter?”
The frozen smile melted into a layer of sagging skin. I almost felt sorry for her, for whatever illness she might be suffering. I couldn’t believe there was enough booze and pills in the world to age anyone this much.
My mother opened her mouth and released a voice that had passed gravelly years ago and conjured barbed wire and shattered glass instead. “Come on in, Ronni and Deanna. I’m glad y’all came.” She enveloped me in an awkward hug that felt like a straightjacket.
Jocelyn seemed to feel better than she looked; maybe she was not sick after all. Certainly not sick enough to stop her exaggerat
ed hip sway. I rolled my eyes at her back, watching carefully as she walked to her nubby brown sofa and sat, waving us into mismatched recliners. On my right was the biggest TV screen I’d ever seen, blaring “Wheel of Fortune.” She muted it with a flourish and settled into the worn cloth. I spotted two upholstery holes near her knees.
“Do y’all want a Coke or something?” It came out: Do y’all wont a Coke or sumpum?
“No, thank you,” I answered for both of us. “I’m here because Deanna thought I should meet with you, Mama.” I nearly choked on the word. “I’ve had a hard time over the years, but I’m grown now and doing fine. I wanted you to see that.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry. There’s not enough words I can say to tell you how sorry. I was a addict most all my life. Still am, have to remind myself,” she paused to locate an ashtray, “but I ain’t usin’. Haven’t for a long time. Don’t drink, neither. I got a six month chip at meetin’ last week.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked at her.
“You know,” she began and stopped to reconsider as she stubbed her cigarette. “Ronni, did it ever occur to you I let you go so you could have a decent life? I didn’t know anything about takin’ care of a kid. I was mostly a kid myself when you was little. You turned out all right. You still workin’ in some nursin’ home?”
“How do you know where I work?” I looked to Deanna, who shrugged.
“Your boyfriend, that’s how. Came by here in his cop car months ago, like he was checking up on me. Like he was seein’ if I was worthy of you findin’ and talkin’ to. I told him to please bring you, but he never did. Anyway, I’m real proud of you, bein’ a nurse and all.” She looked genuinely impressed.
I started babbling like I always do under the pressure of a compliment. “Well, I’m not an RN. I’m an LPN. I’m good at my job though, and I make a difference in the lives of lots of people.” Sheesh. It’s not like she asked you to look at a mole, Ronni.