Have Mercy

by Siobhán Béabhar

  "However," I added, "I think the others might mind if there are guests this evening. Maybe we should make some ground rules about how to address guests and all."

  "Let's vote," Red said, interrupting my serious speech. "All those in favor of visitors, raise your hand." Her hand shot up, as did Melia's. Albertine peeked at me, but her hand rose.

  Penelope sat there, glaring at Red. Her hands remained in her lap. I didn't want Penelope to be the lone dissenter of the group, so I kept my hands on the table.

  "Looks like that's settled then," Red said, gloating at Penelope.

  I decided the responsible landlady act wasn't going to work with Red. Maybe the stern teacher would. "Carol, in the future, I think it would be best to give more notice when inviting guests. I think we all should have the option of declining visitors when we aren't up to playing hostess."

  She looked at me and then at Penelope. She nodded in acquiescence. "Fair enough. I'll keep that in mind for the next time."

  "Okay. Next time," I said, smiling, hoping to resolve any tension. I glanced at Penelope, who nodded.

  "Tell us about the friends," Albertine said. She seemed to approve of this impromptu house party. She must be excited to meet new people.

  "I've invited my friends Admiral Baxter and Admiral Craft, whom Mercy has met. They'll also be bringing along some other old friends of mine. I think you'll like them," she said, folding the empty paper bags.

  "How many will there be?" Penelope asked.

  Red walked over to the pantry to put the bags away. "Maybe four or five," she said. She grabbed an apron from the hook and returned to the kitchen. "I promised to make a cheese ball. I've never made one before." She glanced at the table, genuine dismay on her face. She reached into her purse and pulled out a glasses holder. Popping her black-rimmed glasses onto her face, she placed the ingredients before her. "It better not be complicated."

  Cooking. Yeah, that was my cue to leave. "I think I'm going to take a short nap before your friends arrive."

  "Didn't get much sleep last night, Mercy?" Melia said in a singsong voice. There was a shrewd look in her eyes and a small smirk on her lips.

  "I got a decent amount."

  "No. Don't you dare go anywhere, Mercy! You still need to tell us about your date," Penelope said, her chin on her fist. She wiggled in her seat, excited to hear the details.

  "A date's a date, Penelope. Nothing special happened."

  "I don't believe that," she said. "You were gone all night. I'm guessing something special happened."

  "Yes, well, damn," I muttered. "It's not really how you dirty-minded wenches are thinking. Not you, Albertine. I mean these others," I said, sweeping my finger between Penelope and Melia. "The General and I..."

  They waited, but I didn't finish my thought. Albertine puckered her lips and narrowed her eyes. She said, "I hope you didn't call him 'the General' when you were making love!"

  "We didn't make love!" I exclaimed in outrage.

  "Bullshit," Melia retorted. "Stop playing coy, Mercy. It doesn't suit your personality."

  "We didn't have sex."

  "What's his name?" Albertine interjected.

  "Truman," I said. I felt like I was being interrogated.

  "Did you toss his salad?" Melia threw out.

  "What the hell?" Well, that shattered my image of the prissy church-going matron.

  Albertine's gaze darted between me and Melia, confusion on her face.

  Melia laughed, enjoying my discomfort and Albertine's confusion. "You want us to believe that you were out all night with a man and you two didn't sleep together?"

  "We slept together."

  "I knew it," Penelope said, slapping her hand on the table.

  "But we didn't have sex."

  "Someone get this bitch before I choke the shit out of her," Melia muttered.

  I threw my hands up, as if surrendering to their questions. "Truman and I didn't have sex. We had a lovely dinner and then we spent the night talking. I swear to you guys. If we had sex, I wouldn't be afraid to tell you."

  Melia looked disappointed. "He couldn't get it up, huh?"

  "That's not it."

  I guess my face gave away the real truth. Melia shared a look with Red, who nodded. Shaking her head, Melia looked at me with pity. "That's a damn shame."

  "Oh, oh, oh. How could I forget? Didn't you and Albertine have your own little date last night?" I asked, trying to switch the subject away from me. "Did you go to someplace new?"

  "You two are dating?" Red teased. She was reading a package of cream cheese, a mixing bowl and measuring cup in front of her.

  Albertine laughed. "No," she said in an exaggerated tone. "Melia and I met her pastor for dinner."

  "She has a crush on the pastor," I said, snitching on the wren.

  She swatted her hand in my direction. She looked a little annoyed at me for sharing her secret. I could deal with that. It was her turn for the hot seat.

  "Ya know, I was beginning to wonder that," Melia said. "But I didn't know if nuns were capable of having dirty thoughts."

  "I don't have dirty thoughts about him, Melia," Albertine sniffed.

  "What's a nun's crush like?" Penelope asked, leaning into Albertine.

  An ornery look flashed in Red's eyes. "Do you compare him to God?"

  "Jesus!" I exclaimed. I flushed, realizing that Jesus was probably the wrong word. "I'm sorry, Albertine. I didn't mean to take His name in vain." I wasn't overly religious, but I figured there were only so many buttons you could push with a former nun.

  "Do you think about kissing him?" Red asked Albertine.

  The wren's little lips puckered. "That isn't any of your business!"

  "Oh!" Penelope and Red said in unison. They looked at each other, shared a mutual sneer, and looked away.

  Laughing, Melia tapped Albertine's hand and said, "You do, don't you. No shame in that, Albie."

  "I'm not ashamed of my feelings," Albertine said. "I might not be as experienced as the rest of you, but I don't want my feelings to be mocked."

  "You're right, Albertine. What I said was uncalled for. I won't tease you anymore. I promise," Red said. Her eyes were serious and she watched Albertine with a contrite expression.

  Albertine sighed. I assumed that she forgave Red. Albertine looked at us and stated, "I think he's a nice man. He has a nice smile and a very gentle demeanor."

  "Would you ever consider marrying?" Penelope asked.

  It was a good question. "I wonder the same thing, Albertine," I said, throwing my two cents into the conversation.

  Albertine moved her head from side to side as she considered the question. Her nose wrinkled and her eyes closed tightly. Her lips were moving, and I thought I heard her mutter in Spanish. I hid a laugh. I bet she was praying for patience.

  Her eyes opened and her hands opened wide on the table. "I wouldn't mind marrying if I ever met someone that I wanted to marry."

  "What about sex?" I asked.

  She stared at me, patience written on her face. "As I explained yesterday, you don't miss what you have never had."

  "Yes. I understand that, but have you ever thought about it?" I pressed.

  "To be truthful, I did briefly, right after I left the convent. I cataloged all of the things that I could do, but I immediately removed it from the list. I think I'm far too old for that," she answered.

  "Too old for sex?" Red asked, stirring the contents of her bowl.

  "What are you putting in the cheese ball?" Melia questioned.

  "Cream cheese, some green onion, and cheddar cheese," Red answered.

  "Is that all?" Melia asked.

  "Uh huh. That's all the recipe called for," Red said. "Why? Am I missing something?"

  Melia shook her head, but there was suppressed amusement in her eyes. "Nah. There's plenty of ways to make a cheese ball." She looked at me and made a gagging expression.

  "Good," Red said. "Now about the sex thing, Albertine... You think you're too old for sex?"<
br />
  I watched the wren. She looked deflated, as if she'd hoped the questions about her private life were over. "I'm fifty-three years old. I think my time has come and gone," she muttered.

  "You mean like menopause?" Red asked.

  "Well, yes, of course," Albertine asked.

  "You can still have sex after menopause," Red said.

  "Do you actually want to?" Penelope asked, interrupting Albertine's response.

  "Have sex?" Albertine returned.

  "No, not you. Carol," Penelope said, pointing at Red.

  "I can't think of much else," Red stated. She winked at me and continued to blend her ingredients. Suddenly, she clapped her hands. "Melia, when was the last time you had sex?"

  "About six months ago," she stated.

  "Wow, that recently," I said.

  Her eyebrows wiggled. "Well, you know," she said.

  "Actually, I don't, you old tart."

  "How long ago did your husband die?" Penelope asked.

  "Hm. It's been twenty-eight months now," Melia chirped. "Before you ask, I waited a year before I slept with someone."

  "Who was he?" I asked, grinning at her forthright nature.

  Her eyes slid over to Albertine. She beamed and said, "Pastor."

  Albertine's mouth dropped open in surprise. The rest of us burst out in loud laughter.

  "I can tell you this, Albie, he'd treat you right," Melia said, squeezing her friend's hand.

  Albertine was silent. Taking a deep breath she said, "I forget that he's not Catholic. Well, that's that."

  "Why? Because I've slept with him?" Melia asked.

  "How could a pastor take advantage of a grieving widow?" Albertine asked, seeming truly unnerved.

  Melia's eyebrows shot up. Incredulous, she said, "He didn't take advantage of me. No way. He wasn't like the first man I slept with after my husband died."

  Hell. Even my eyes widened over that. I knew many widows had relationships after their husband died, but I imagined Melia to be more like me.

  There was pity in Melia's eyes when she gazed at me and said, "It's been a long time for you, hasn't it?"

  I rolled my eyes. Jumping to my feet, I proclaimed, "Nap time."

  "We live in the same house, Mercy. Eventually, I'll catch up with you," Melia grinned, a threatening tone in her voice.

  "Keep at it and there might be a rent increase," I said, glaring at Melia.

  Albertine popped out of her seat and walked out of the kitchen, surprising us all.

  "Where are you going?" Red asked.

  "Prayer," said the wren.

  Red's back went erect. Her eyes focused on a spot outside the window, as if God had sent her a silent message to shut the hell up. I looked through the kitchen doorway and saw Albertine standing at the bottom of the stairs. Her finger was lifted to her mouth, telling me to be quiet. Her face blossomed into a wicked smile. She winked and began to climb the stairs.

  I turned to Red and said, "Oh, you've done it now, babe." Laughing at her confusion, I left the kitchen and made my way upstairs.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I pointed in Red's direction. "You. Yeah, you. The redhead. C'mere."

  Red sashayed across the foyer and stood in front of me. Leaning forward, she arched an eyebrow and asked, "What?"

  "Do your friends understand the set-up? Do they know that it's just you and me in the business?" I asked her.

  She glanced around the foyer. Across the room, the other girls were huddled together. Melia threw back her head, laughing at something Albertine had said. Penelope's face was pinched and she twirled the pearls at her neck. Red turned back to me and smiled. "I told Johnny what to expect. I'm sure he warned the others. Don't worry about it." She waved her hand, dismissing my worries. She moved across the foyer and placed her arms around Albertine and Penelope's shoulders. Albertine beamed at Red. Penelope shrugged Red's arm off and moved away from the group. Poor Penny. I tried to warn her that this wasn't like The Golden Girls.

  Once these gentlemen entered my home, would they forever associate it with prostitution? Surely not. It wasn't as if I was serving my clients out of the home. This was just an informal gathering with a group of single men and women.

  For some odd reason, it felt dangerous and exciting. I liked knowing this secret even though it jeopardized the stability of my home. It was a new mood to experience, and I gloried in it.

  We all looked quite impressive. Albertine, the little wren, had abandoned her usual subdued attire for something more lively. She wore a navy blue shift dress and a pair of sapphire earrings. Her hair was pulled back in its usual bun, but a few tendrils waved loosely around her ears.

  Melia, the lady of many surprises, had abandoned her usual frumpy attire. She wore a high-waisted lavender dress that was sleeveless, and its hem fell just above her knees. She had applied a blend of pinks and purples around her eyes, and her lips were shaded a deeper, richer pink color. Her hair was pinned back, with loose curls falling around her shoulders.

  Our politician's wife was also dressed in blue, but a lighter shade than Albertine. She wore a light blue blouson dress with a rose patterned lace overlay. When she walked by me in the foyer, I noticed her dress matched the blue of her eyes. Her golden bob hung loosely around her face, but I could see pearls dangling from her ears.

  Red was the only one not in a dress. She wore a pair of light brown, wide-legged trousers that were fitted around her small waist. Her black poplin shirt had several buttons undone, and I could see the lace trim of her bra whenever her arms moved. Her red hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she wore no jewelry.

  Then there was me. Tonight, I had on a white tunic dress with a black belt cinched around my waist. I wore black leggings, and in a split-second decision, I had decided to add a splash of color by donning a pair of red flats. I felt rather trendy.

  My hands were sweaty. I rubbed them against my dress, hoping that I wouldn't wrinkle the fabric. Should I have gone with a different dress? Something flashier? Red told me to dress casually, as if this was a social call but, to me, it wasn't. This was a networking event, a way to expand my client list.

  Our guests were supposed to have arrived ten minutes before. Maybe they decided not to come? Maybe some terrorist attack had gone down and their presence was needed at the Pentagon? Okay. That might have been a stretch, but it had to have been unusual for military men to arrive late to a function.

  "I think you should call them, Carol," I said, walking up the stairs. I sat down in one of the armchairs located on the landing and glanced up at the grandfather clock, watching the seconds tick by.

  "It's only been ten minutes," Red said, scoffing at my idea. Smiling, she sat down on the stairs and glanced up at me. "Impatient, are we?"

  "Yes, we are."

  "Why is that? It's not like your General Washington will be here tonight," said Melia. She went to the window, pulled back the curtain, and peered outside. "No cars, no lights. Nothing."

  Albertine folded her hands before her. Looking down at Red, she said, "Do you think they're lost?"

  "That's what I think," I threw out before Red could answer.

  "No. I don't think they are lost," Red stated. "Relax, ladies. They will be here."

  Penelope threw her hands up and left the foyer. Entering the living room, she disappeared from my view. Abandoning her post at the window, Melia followed Penelope. Albertine peeked over her shoulder, watching their escape.

  A few more minutes passed before there was a brief knock at the door. It startled Albertine, causing her to jump. Placing her hand over her stomach, she approached the door and looked through the peephole. Turning the lock, she slowly pulled the door open.

  Melia came rushing back into the foyer while Penelope hung back, leaning against the column that separated the foyer from the living room. Red didn't budge from the stairs, and I remained sitting in the armchair.

  Albertine stepped aside, allowing our guests to enter. "Hello, are you the Genera
l?" she asked the man at the door.

  Admiral Craft stepped through the doorway. Grinning at Red, he slipped his arm around Albertine's waist and twirled her around the small foyer. She shrieked and pushed at his arms. "Hi, sugar," he said to Red, placing Albertine down in front of the stairs. She stood, adjusting her glasses. She sent a blistering glare in Craft's direction.

  There was an abrupt knock before the front door swung open. Baxter stepped into the foyer and nodded in my direction. I gave him a small, regal wave as two more gentlemen followed. These men were new to me. One looked in his mid-sixties and his hair was stylishly trimmed. His dark brown eyes were heavy-lidded, giving him a stern look. His gaze roamed over the foyer before settling on Penelope. Recognition flashed in his eyes as she retreated into living room. The fourth man stood behind Admiral Baxter. He was short and compact with a slight paunch. His olive-toned complexion was an attractive complement to his white hair. I judged him to be the oldest of the group.

  I looked around the foyer and my eyes locked with Melia's. She mouthed, "Where's the women?" I shrugged my shoulders and left my seat on the landing.

  Taking a deep breath, I smoothed the waist of my dress. I Walked down the stairs and reached my hand out to the closest man. "Hello. Welcome to our home. I'm Mercy."

  The gray-haired gentleman looked at my hand and ignored it. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he analyzed each of my body parts. "John told us about you." He must have found me lacking because he turned away. He said nothing else to give me an impression that John's comments were either kind or offensive. He moved to stand with the other members of his party.

  "I thought they were going to be younger," whispered the swarthy man. Perhaps his hearing was bad, because his voice carried through the foyer. I noticed Melia bristle as the swarthy man's gaze landed on her body.

  She took a threatening step in his direction, and I wrapped my arm around her waist. I held her still as we listened to the men's conversation.

  "C'mon, don't be an idiot, Hector. These women know what they are about," said Craft. His eyes locked with mine, and he smiled. There wasn't any hint of lecherous intent on his face. There really was a first time for everything.