by Diane Munier
"What are you looking for?"
"My pie server," she says, no eye contact.
She finally seems to find it, throws it in the mixer's bowl.
"Does Marcus know you're here?" I say.
"What's it to you. I came for my stuff." She starts to scoop the heavy appliance off the counter then stops. "I'm not sorry about what I did. You're a little cheater."
"Better go now."
"I am." Then in a terrible voice, she screams, "I'm devastated! I'm crushed!"
I sniff, but it's just to buy time. "I'll get the door."
"We were going to get married."
I start to walk through the corner of the kitchen into the living room. I see the door.
Her hand is on my arm. When I turn she pulls it away, holds her hands up like she's proving she means no harm. "I shouldn't have gone for you, all right? But what do you expect? I leave home practically engaged, and I come home to him cheating on me."
"Get your stuff," I say going for the door again. I open it, stand there holding it. I hear her in the kitchen. Something breaks.
"Come on," I yell.
She comes out sniffing and carrying the heavy mixer. I make a note to stay out of its way.
"I have another load," she says.
"I'll get it," I say. As soon as she's out, I close and lock the door. I go in the kitchen, see a smashed bowl, carefully step around it and grab a couple of Tupperware things she has sitting there.
She can't get back in because I locked the door. She's already knocking, pounding. No way I'm reopening that door.
"You know," she yells through it, "this will come back to him. You're a cheater and a lying little bitch."
I lean on the door waiting for the sound of her car pulling out of the drive. But the next thing I hear is the tremendous crash of Marcus's picture window as her Kitchen-Aid comes flying through it to land and completely break through his coffee table.
Then I hear her crazy scream, the slam of her car door, the roar, the squeal, the dying charge as she drives away.
And over the mess, the silent print of the Indian holding the skull of the buffalo high above his head.
I let her Tupperware drop to the floor, and I kick at it a little.
Then I dig for my phone.
Chapter 41
The police intercept Jessica before she reaches the hair salon. Right in front of it in fact and her employees and customers come out wearing plastic aprons and foils and clips berating the arresting officer who happens to be Marcus.
Jessica goes off at the mouth, and that shuts everyone up because it sounds like a rant…from hell, Marcus says later.
But the highlight is this--Juney's bus happens to pass right at that moment, and there, plastered to the window is his familiar head of hair, Marcus will also note later. "Dad," Juney calls out as the bus grinds away.
So Juney is breathless when he gets off the bus ten minutes later. The house is still in its state of molestation. The window is empty, broken through with jagged pieces of glass evident in the frame. And inside, the scene of the crime, untouched, unphotographed as it awaits the next chapter; the flash from the insurance adjuster's camera for the claim and the extra set of photos Marcus will request for the judge, as well as the attack from Marcus's vacuum, broom, and dustpan.
So Juney gets to see it as it happened.
I stand at the door, pretty much where I'd been when it went down. Juney steps further into the room and beholds the pink mixer nestled in the crushed center of the dark wood like a big bald baby eagle lying croaked in its nest.
I watch his small Marcus head as he studies the scene. When he's over the shock and moving toward acceptance, he turns and looks at me. His mouth is wide open. I know his words are coming, rising to the top like a gusher pumping right out of the ground.
"He's got her," he says.
"Who's got what?" I say.
"Dad has Jessica," he says.
He tells me about the arrest then. I tell him about the mixer toss. It's a hoe-down for sure cause that ho is going down. I don't say that, though. Not to Juney. But later, I'm saving that one for Marcus.
Marcus comes home a few minutes after he's handed his prisoner off to his partner to be booked and caged.
So she's in the pokey, at least for the night. She is charged with destruction of property. She's waiting to go before the judge. Marcus told him to take his time getting there in the morning.
Juney and I are allowed to wait in the kitchen with Marcus for his insurance guy, who is also Artie's guy Drew. Mr. Drew shows up, and he's excited as he snaps some photos and assesses the damage.
Once he is gone, Marcus won't let Juney or I help clean the mess. He swears if Juney or I sustain one more injury connected to, 'that foul woman,' he's going to return to the jail and hang her by her thumbs. It's not great motivation for either one of us to stay out of the way, but we do.
After that, the boys from the hardware store come out. They've already heard the story about the mixer toss, and they whoop it up, and Marcus pretty much ignores them while he cleans up the glass and the rest of his coffee table and they board the window.
I clean up the broken bowl in the kitchen. Juney holds the trash can. I squat to do it and try not to bend my head much.
"And you picked her without alcohol," I say to Marcus the next morning after Officer Stover returns from court, and we are finally on the way to Elaine's.
He smirks, but he's totally demoralized even though he'd had his house locked up tight until I broke in with a key and left it unlocked hence allowing Crazy's safe and easy passage in.
If only my vagina were so cooperative.
Cause I've been reading the papers and apparently all I have to do is learn to relax the vaginal walls. I knew that, and I've tried that, but apparently I haven't tried hard or consistently enough.
"So every waking minute I'm supposed to do a Kegel, which exacerbates the problem in a way because it makes my vagina stronger than ever, but I do a Kegel and release," I say.
"It's the release that you want to focus on," he says.
"What are you focused on?" I ask.
"How hurt you could have gotten," he says. "How did I allow this psychotic…."
"Bitch," I fill in.
"…bitch," he continues, "into my life…all of our lives?"
"Juney knew," I can't help saying.
He closes his eyes briefly because he is driving. "Yes, he did."
"Marriage Marcus? Really? Would you have?"
He's shaking his head. "She didn't show this side of herself. But…not with Juney so against it. I couldn't have."
"But you would have gone ahead?"
"No. I didn't love her. She was just…I kept waiting to like her more, you know?"
Unfortunately, I did know. I kept waiting for the same thing with Myron.
"You can't really know someone in six months," I say.
"Not when they're hiding a complete lack of self-control," he says.
"I'm glad I could help," I say.
"Help?"
"Yeah. Provoke the dragon, get it to breathe fire."
He looks askance at me. "It's not funny. You could have been hurt."
He'd been there when she went before the judge. She had to have her business partner post bail. Since Marcus was prosecuting he looked forward to a stiff fine and some community service at least...something to put her in the orange jumpsuit and maybe break a nail or two. That's my guess.
Elaine's house is really nice. White split rail fences around acreage, a long winding driveway and a two-storied house that looks like it would sell for more than the ones in mine and Marcus's neighborhood.
Marcus says it wasn't like this until she married Don. Marcus's father had been a working stiff who died of liver disease when Marcus was seven. Then there were the lean years with just the two of them, then the extra job at the law firm, then marriage to one of the partners, Don.
Then things picked up. Marcus went to col
lege and law school. He had a little falling out with Don when he got married and didn't take the bar. Then he went into the dark years with Angela, took a job as deputy, for Artie, and the rest is his-story.
"You're my consolation prize," he says yanking on my braid.
"Oh, glad to know I have a purpose."
"You're also adorable."
"Okay, I'm an official stuffed animal."
"Just like one," he says squeezing my knee. "Soft little thing."
We are going to start kissing soon. He's been very respectable so far, all creepy because of the Jessica deal. I can't wait until the black-magic-woman forgets about us. She's going to be on the back page of the newspaper for her unfortunate display of deeply rooted psychosis. It's pretty embarrassing.
But enough about her.
"Did you have an awkward stage?" I ask, because just his mouth, it's like perfect.
He laughs. "I'm having one now," he says.
"Oh yeah? This is your awkward?"
"Yeah. I'm not sure you'll like my mother."
I crack up. "Oh. I thought you were going to say you were embarrassed because your insane ex threw her mixer…near me."
Now he laughs. "Nah. Nothing awkward about that. Now if she'd thrown it at you…."
He is smiling, and I almost squeeze his knee like he’s squeezing mine. I even entertain the idea of jumping on him and giving him a hickey.
But, we are about to meet his mother. I admit, I have these younger, or less mature ideas sometimes. I rarely act on them. If I did, I'd be Jessica.
So he kisses me, a stuffed animal kiss, then we're out the doors and through the garage and the highly functional cubicled mudroom, then into the palatial kitchen that is too pretty to make a mess in. Elaine is right there finishing these gorgeous fruit cups. "Oh hello Bedilia," she says like she's glad to see me. "I was just finishing up lunch. Marcus did tell you I hoped you could stay?"
She must think I have a ride home, like a pony up my sleeve or something? If Marcus is staying, so am I.
"Thank you," I say. "I'm looking forward to it." I don't know why I added that last. It's like I have to lie and then top my lie with another one. Even I don't know what I'm going to say most of the time. I start a sentence, and I'm like, gee I wonder how I'm going to finish this.
She's said something else, and I didn't hear it. "Excuse me?" I say.
"I said it must be terrible to have your father in the hospital when you just got home."
Oh, crap. I should have heard that. "No…I mean yes it's terrible, but no…it's okay."
What? Who says that? Yes and no in one sentence?
Marcus is going to give me a tour. He hurriedly pulls me up the stairs. He's a jogger, and I am huffing and puffing. "My head," I say weakly to hide the fact I can't keep up.
Of course, the mere mention of my concussion and he is apologizing profusely. I smile a small smile. "It's okay," I say.
"Oh baby," he says in this low throaty, raspy voice. I literally shiver.
He's got his arm around me, around my waist. He's holding my ribs. I hope he notices…everything. My waist goes in. I don't even watch what I eat. It just stays that way. I can't believe my luck. I hope it feels good to him.
"This is my old room," he says.
"Did you have sex in here?" I ask walking in.
"Just with myself," he answers, and I turn and he takes a quick step, and we are magnetized. I am kissing him, and he's holding me off the floor. It's stupendous as he walks me to his bed and we fall over and land there. "You're my fantasy girl. You're real…in my room," he says, his hands sweeping all over me.
I am on my back, but I stick my chest out, and he gets it, and rubs and I can sing like Grace Slick, Alanis Morissette, I mean hit the notes. His hand on me, it's explosive. Possible blindness could occur.
He is laughing and telling me to be quiet. He's nervous that way.
He kisses like…they should bottle it. He could give classes. Night school. Every girl lining up to experience this. I might have to kill people now to keep him to myself.
He is nibbling on me, my mouth. He nuzzles his face against my chest and groans. "That might carry," I say to get him back for always ragging on me.
He laughs. "I don't care. You drive me crazy."
He lifts his head, earnest eyes, "Here's what we're going to do. We're going downstairs, and I'm telling my mother that I got a call. We have to go, and I'll come back later. She'll understand. Then we're driving away from here, and we're getting a room. You know I love you, right? And I want to marry you. I want it all with you Bedilia. Everything."
"I'll bet you say that to all the psychotic girls."
He laughs a little bitty bit. "I'm not joking about this. You'll be it for me. I'll be a good husband. I'll be a great lover. I'll give it everything I've got. Everything I am." He takes my hand. He kisses it. "What do you say?"
"You lack confidence," I whisper.
He waits.
"I say yes. What do you think?" I say.
Just then his mother calls up the stairs, and we freeze, staring at one another.
"Yeah," he calls back.
"Don forgot his briefcase. I have to meet him in Litchfield at the courthouse. I'm afraid I won't be back for a couple of hours. I've left lunch in the frig so you and Bedilia help yourselves. We'll do this another day."
He looks at me. "She's good," he whispers. "Yeah, thanks," he calls.
"You mean she knows?" I say frantically.
"Probably," he says back, confident smile.
"This is so embarrassing. She's leaving her home so we can…."
"It's a gift-horse. Don't look," he says moving over me.
Chapter 42
Vaginismus sounds like a cold unclimbable mountain. The isthmus of Vaginismus. It sounds like a suicide-ascent.
But Marcus is undaunted. "Get everything off," he says. "I want to see you."
"What?" I say. It's my go-to word when I'm buying time. I really mean, 'what?'
"I look at that picture you sent me fifty times a day at least," he's saying as he rips his own shirt down his arms.
"You do?"
"Better believe it. And now I've got the real deal."
"I…what if…."
"Don't worry. I'll never get tired of looking at you baby. Not gonna happen."
His chest. My dear god. Tears spring to my eyes.
"You're beautiful," I say.
"You're the beauty," he says, shirts off and going for his pants. He remembers his boots, sits and pulls them off, and his socks then stands to work on the jeans.
He's in his boxers, and I'm still sitting there on his bed. "Oh Marcus," I say. He's so perfect. I make gimme-gimme hands, and he comes to me. I lay back again, and he stretches out beside me.
"You crying?" he asks softly.
I shake my head. Not like he thinks. I'm happy.
"I think about you…," he says.
"About…what?"
"What you say. How you look. What it would be like to take you, feel you."
"I'm not stopping you," I say.
"Can I unbutton your shirt?" he says.
I start it for him, and he nudges my hands away and works on the buttons with one hand. My shirt falls open notch by notch. Underneath is an undershirt. I sit up, discard the blouse and the shirt. I'm in my bra. "Take it off?" he asks, and I reach behind and slide it down my arms. And there they are, Sid and Gladys. I just named them that as in 'nothing special.' But Marcus seems grateful. I wish they were better.
"God," he says. We've sure gotten religious all of a sudden.
I lay back. The way he smooths his hand over me, one breast to another, my stomach, my shoulders, over and over, you'd think I was beautiful.
"Look how you turned out," he says, kind of hypnotized by my plainness. I realize I'm naked, and that's a very big deal, but Myron never seemed this impressed. Love must change the eye. Love must make me more.
I'm not bad, even pretty good. I am a goddess
. His eyes, there is no doubt. It’s old-fashioned I know, it’s how I was raised; right now? I wish I had waited for him. And my condition? God bless it.
"Bedilia do you know how…do you know you’re beautiful?"
I wasn’t until now. And I am catatonic. I am coma-tonic. I know I should participate, but I am held hostage by the sensation of…being loved.
This is big boy stuff, my eyes are crossed, rolling up in my head. I can see my own brain.
"Marcus," I say like the bride of Frankenstein.
Chapter 43
He is pulling me along Elaine's second story landing that leads from his old bedroom. I'm holding his hand with both of mine, and I follow him along with these irregular steps, like a couple of small then a couple big ones.
He pulls me along down the stairs, and I say, "I lurve you. I loive you. I lauve you."
He laughs at this. I am barely aware of my surroundings, Elaine's beautiful house.
"Do you want lunch," he says as he opens the fridge.
I'm against his back now, my arms locked around his waist, my cheek smooshed against his back. His heart sounds so strong. "No," I say.
I do want lunch. I'm starving. But I can't settle down and eat here and have her walk in and see me eating her food when we've been getting it on under her very roof.
"Juney," I try to say, but it's more like Jew-ey because I also can't pronounce my words right now.
"Yeah we still have plenty of time," he says closing the fridge. He turns and pretty soon I'm under his arm and still holding on to him and his arm is around me, and we're squeezing through the door from Elaine's laundry room, and we're heading into the garage. "We'll grab something on the way home," he says, and I'm thinking yeah, please grab something…. I'm jelly, I'm toast, but he's got all this energy, he radiates it. I think Sid and Gladys energized him.
We get in the garage and before we're out that door we're kissing. Man, he can kiss.
He asks if I had a good time.
“Yes,” I say with a southern accent no less, like yay-ess.
Did I like his room?
“Yes,” I say.
Do I like him?