by V. M. Burns
He pulled at the neck of his shirt. “Well, I had to come up with a reason, and this seemed like a good way to explain things.” He hemmed and hawed and stuttered. “I mean, what difference does it make to you what my family thinks? You weren’t planning on seeing them again. Plus, you’re the one who’s all equal rights for everyone.” He used air quotes. “I don’t see why you’re so upset.”
I hadn’t realized my mouth was open until I got a look at myself in the bureau mirror. “Do you really not get why I’m upset?” I took several deep breaths. “I’m not gay.”
“So?” He sat down on the bed. “I don’t get why it matters.”
“It matters because you’re not taking ownership for your adulterous relationship, and instead you’re shifting blame for the dissolution of our marriage onto me. This is not about equality or gay rights, which, by the way, I support. This is about you not being man enough to tell your mother the truth. You cheated on me with that skinny bimbo. You broke your marriage vows. And you are shifting the responsibility for the divorce onto me.” I was practically screaming.
“Shush. Keep your voice down.”
“I will not be shushed in my own house.” I picked up a bottle of perfume on the bureau and flung it as hard as I could at Albert’s head. Unfortunately, he ducked and the bottle hit the wall and shattered.
“You’re crazy. You could have killed me.”
“You’re right. I am crazy.” There was a line of perfume bottles, jewelry boxes, and other objects atop the bureau, and I picked up each one and flung it at Albert, who was now standing against the bedroom wall, dodging flying objects. “I was crazy to have married you. I was crazy to have stayed married to you for twenty-five years. I was crazy to have believed you when you said you were working late at the office all of those nights.” I flung the last object, which missed Albert but went flying through the window.
The bedroom door opened, and Stephanie and Dixie rushed inside.
“Mom, are you okay?”
The anger that had fueled my screaming, object-flinging tirade was spent, and I suddenly felt tired. I slumped down onto the bed. “Get out.”
Albert didn’t budge. He looked at me and then looked at Dixie. “This is all your fault. She was perfectly fine until you came up here with your killer poodles and your guns and started putting ideas in her head.”
“Why, you lily-livered, bald-faced, two-timing sleazeball. I have half a mind to—”
We never found out what Dixie had half a mind to do, because, at that moment, the bimbo walked in.
“Al, are you going to be much longer? There’s a weird man downstairs in a wheelchair who’s giving me the creeps.”
“That’s Mr. Hurston. He lives next door,” Stephanie said. “He doesn’t get out much, so we always invite him over whenever we have parties.” She looked from Bambi to me. “Why am I explaining this to her?”
Bambi walked into the bedroom and frowned at the smell from all of the broken perfume bottles. “We’re going to have to redecorate. I hate all this. It looks like old people furniture. We’re going to need new carpet in this room.”
Stephanie looked as though she wanted to strangle Bambi, but I held up a hand to stop her.
“Get out.” My words were steel. Firm, cold, and solid.
Whether it was the look in my eyes or the tone of my voice, I don’t know. Whatever it was, Albert didn’t argue. He grabbed Bambi by the arm and propelled her toward the door. He stopped only to reach into his jacket and pull out an envelope, which he placed in my purse, which was open and sitting on the dresser. Then they left.
Albert always thought money could buy him out of all of his problems, but I wasn’t in the mood to fight. Miss Florrie was right. You had to pick your battles, and teaching my soon-to-be ex-husband that money couldn’t buy everything was a lesson that would have to wait until another day. I was a limp dishcloth. I sat slumped over on the edge of the bed, all my energy spent.
I could feel the looks Dixie and Stephanie exchanged. Both of them sat down on either side of me and engulfed me in their arms. I felt their love and support surrounding and supporting me. I had no idea how long we sat like that—moments or hours, I couldn’t say. I felt hollow inside. Mentally, I drifted through the last twenty-five years. I acknowledged the good times, along with the not-so-good ones. Then I closed the door on that part of my life. No tears. Miss Florrie was right; those were too precious to waste on the likes of Albert.
My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten since the early morning.
Stephanie laughed. “You okay, Mom?”
I reached over and gave her a squeeze. “I’m going to be just fine.” I stood up. “Now, let’s go downstairs and get some food before those vultures devour everything.”
We went downstairs. Most of the people were gone, along with the majority of the food. There were red stains on the carpet, which looked a lot like blood, but were most likely lasagna and red wine. For a brief moment, I was tempted to get the hydrogen peroxide and begin the process of treating the stains. Then I remembered Bambi’s comments about redecorating and new carpet and stopped myself. No way was I cleaning the carpet for her.
Two of Albert’s brothers, along with one nephew, were watching a baseball game on the television. Their wives were sitting in the kitchen, and children were running around everywhere.
I walked into the living room, picked up the remote, and turned off the television.
Their faces reflected confusion and thunderous clouds of rage. How dare I turn off the television in the middle of a game! Never mind the fact that it was my television, my remote, and my home, at least for a few more weeks anyway.
I held up a hand and announced loud enough for the wives in the other room to hear. “I have an announcement to make.”
Gino, Albert’s youngest brother, said, “Can it wait until after the game?” Gino was short but worked out, so he was very muscular. He liked to wear tight shirts, which emphasized his physique, and tight pants, to emphasize other areas of his anatomy. He had thick dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark complexion. He was a rogue. He enjoyed looking at himself and believed he was irresistible to women. Unfortunately, he also liked to wear a lot of cologne, which brought tears to my eyes.
“No, it cannot wait.”
He rolled his eyes and waved his hand in a royal gesture. “Alright, get on with it. We’re missing the game.”
The wives came into the living room and stood by, looking at me, waiting for my announcement.
“Albert is having an affair with that twenty-year-old child he brought to the party. We’re getting a divorce. I don’t know what he’s told you, and frankly, I don’t really care. This party was a farce, and it’s over.” I walked to the front door and opened it. “So, I want all of you to leave now.”
The room was silent, and no one moved for several seconds.
Eventually, Gino stood up. “Look, I’m real sorry things didn’t work out between you and Albert, and if what you say is true, then that’s really bad. But this is the playoffs. Why don’t you go in the kitchen and take a load off?” He looked around for his wife, Angela. “Angela, take Lilly into the kitchen.” He reached for the remote.
I snatched the remote from his hand. “I don’t need to ‘sit down and take a load off.’ What I need is for you”—I looked around—“all of you, to leave my house right now.” I marched back to the door. “Get out.”
Gino stared for a few seconds, but then walked to the door. “Come on. We can watch the game at my house.” He walked to the door, stopped in front of me, as if he was going to speak, but then apparently thought better of it and left.
The others followed and, within seconds, my house was empty, except for Dixie, Stephanie, and me. When the last guest left, I closed the door and heaved a heavy sigh of relief.
“Wow.” Awe was reflected in Dixie’s eyes
. “That was amazing.”
I chuckled, slightly embarrassed.
“That really was amazing, Mom.” Stephanie kissed my cheek. “You’re a lot stronger than I thought.”
“I’m stronger than I thought I was too.” I stared at the mess. “Now, let’s eat.”
Dixie went out to check on the dogs. She’d left them in the RV while we shopped and prepared for the party. I’d checked out her RV earlier, and it was actually nicer than my house. This was no ordinary RV. There was satellite television, granite countertops, air-conditioning, a shower, and every amenity known to man. Her RV was spacious and well-appointed. Aggie would be fine in that RV. My only question was if she’d want to lower her standards to living in whatever quarters I found for us.
I knew my in-laws well enough to realize there wouldn’t be much food, if any left. Like buzzards, they’d picked clean everything that was placed out for public consumption. Not an olive or celery stick did they leave. While I hadn’t seen them do it, I suspected they had wrapped up plates of food and taken it home with them. Twenty-five years had taught me to be prepared. I went downstairs and came back with a small tray of untouched food. I had held back lasagna, salad, chicken parmesan, and wine.
“You’re a magician. Where were you hiding that?”
I smiled. “Stephanie’s dorm refrigerator from when she was in college is downstairs.”
Stephanie grabbed plates, glasses, and silverware. “Mom made this ingenious front that conceals the fridge. It looks like a wood file cabinet, but it’s really hiding a fridge.”
I smiled. “I found it on Pinterest.”
We sat down and enjoyed a good meal with good food, good wine, and good company. The only spoiler came when my cell phone rang. I looked at the phone. “It’s Albert.”
“Don’t answer it,” Dixie said.
I was sure Albert had heard about the announcement I’d made to Gino and his other family members. He would be angry I didn’t support his lies and hadn’t allowed him to shift the responsibility for our divorce to me. However, that was something he’d have to deal with on his own. I let the call roll to voice mail and turned off my phone.
I went to bed and slept well. All of the tension and pent-up emotion of the past few months drifted away, like sand washed away by the tide.
I awoke refreshed and energized. After a shower, I felt ready to leave everything behind and start my new life. In fact, I even brought my suitcase upstairs from the basement. I was determined that when Dixie left at the end of the week, I would go with her.
I shared my thoughts with Dixie and Stephanie at breakfast, and they both agreed it sounded like a good plan.
“I have some boxes downstairs.” I turned to Dixie.
“I’ll bring them up.” She hopped up and went downstairs.
Stephanie sat at the table for several minutes and stared into her cup of coffee.
“What’s bothering you?”
Stephanie shook her head. “What makes you think…” She turned and stared at me.
The look on my face was one I’d honed over two decades of motherhood. It said, “I’m your mother.” It stopped her protest without me speaking a single word.
“Okay, something is bothering me, but I don’t know what it means. It may not mean anything.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She hesitated, but eventually took a deep breath. “It’s just something that happened with Mr. Nelson.” She looked down. “How well do you know him?”
I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head to the side. I had suspected her concern was related to her father bringing his girlfriend to her office, so this question took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting anything to do with Albert’s attorney, Charles Nelson. I thought for a moment. “We’ve known Charles and his wife, Marilyn, for years. You know that.”
She nodded. “I know they went to St. Adalbert’s Parish and that he’s been Dad’s attorney for several years, but I mean, how well do you know him?”
I thought about the question. “We weren’t what you would call ‘close’ friends, if that’s what you mean. We never hung in the same circles. They were way out of our league. Custom-made clothes, and they lived in that big house on Lake Michigan. They traveled to Monte Carlo, Paris, and the Riviera, and spent winters in south Florida. They were the jet-set crowd.”
“That’s what I remember too. They had one son.”
“Charles Nelson the III.”
“Chip.” Stephanie smiled. “He used to drive a Porsche in high school and had pool parties I heard were alcohol and drug buffets.”
“I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Mom, I didn’t go to those parties. He was out of my league too, but just because I didn’t go to the parties didn’t mean I was going to rat on him.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Besides, I think the Nelsons knew about it.” She hesitated for several seconds. “Doesn’t it seem odd that Charles Nelson is now Dad’s attorney?”
I hadn’t given the matter much thought, but I didn’t have any answers. I shrugged. “I guess. When your dad expanded his business to include imports, Chip started working at the dealership. Maybe he convinced his dad to represent your father.” I thought for a few minutes. “I know Charles went through some difficult times for a while. Gossip around town said he had financial problems. He nearly lost everything a while back, but then he was okay again and back at the yacht club and country club and flying around the world.”
“Do you remember when that was?”
I pondered. “About a year ago, I think.” I stared closely at my daughter. “What’s really going on?”
Stephanie looked thoughtful. “He’s a big, well-known attorney. He graduated from Yale. It’s just that he’s made some rookie mistakes I wouldn’t have expected of someone who’s been a lawyer for as long as he has.”
“Maybe it’s old age.”
“Maybe.” Stephanie shrugged. “Come on. We have work to do.”
* * * *
We sorted through the million items accumulated over the years. As far as I was concerned, Albert could have the furniture, appliances, and the things. Most of the items were his taste and not my own anyway. Stephanie argued it would be expensive to start over from scratch, but I didn’t care. Paying to haul items across the country I didn’t love was a price greater than any amount of money.
By lunchtime we had created pretty decent piles of items for charity, items for trash, and items that would remain with the house. The things that mattered most to me were pictures of the children, homemade cards, and other items given for Mother’s Day, Christmas, and birthdays. I spent a great deal of time reading through those cards and reliving the moments that mattered most in my life. The doorbell pulled me away from memory lane.
When I opened the door and saw two policemen standing on my porch, my legs turned to Jell-O, and my heart raced. I gripped the doorknob to keep from falling.
“Mrs. Albert Echosby?” the uniformed officer with piercing blue eyes and a five-o’clock shadow asked.
“Oh God, please don’t let it be David.”
“Who’s David?” The short, stout officer with curly red hair, light gray eyes, and freckles exchanged glances with the first officer.
“My son,” I whispered.
“May we come in?” Blue Eyes asked.
I moved aside and they entered, but I couldn’t walk and stayed rooted to the spot, my grip tight on the doorknob.
“Mrs. Echosby, we’re sorry to inform you that your husband, Albert Echosby, is dead.”
CHAPTER 3
Relief at not hearing my son’s name come out of their mouths superseded all other emotions, common sense, and propriety. The pounding of my heart slowed, and the blood that rushed to my ears stopped. I released the breath I had been holding and slid down. I would have collapsed onto the floor if
Blue Eyes hadn’t rushed to my side and caught me before I hit the ground.
“Mom!” Stephanie chose that moment to walk into the living room and saw me supported by the police. She rushed to me. “Mom, what happened?”
Something rose inside me and erupted. Before I realized what was happening, I was laughing hysterically.
“I think we should call for an ambulance,” the redheaded policeman said.
“Why? What have you done to my mom?”
“Nothing,” Blue Eyes said. “I think she’s in shock.”
I shook my head but couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how hard I tried. Nevertheless, I pointed at the sofa.
Blue Eyes helped me to the sofa and I sat down.
Stephanie, normally so cool, calm, and collected, looked frazzled. Her eyes darted, and her skin looked pale. There was a slight tremor in her voice when she spoke, and her voice was a couple of octaves higher than normal. She was scared, and why wouldn’t she be? Two uniformed policemen were standing in the living room and her mom was hysterical. For an instant, she swayed as though she might fall, and Blue Eyes instinctively reached out for her. But Stephanie was tough. She waved off Blue Eyes and yelled, “Aunt Dixie!”
Dixie came into the room and, in pure Dixie-like fashion, quickly assessed the situation. After a moment, she walked to the sofa where I sat, still laughing uncontrollably, reached back, and slapped me hard across the face.
Whether due to the shock of being hit or the pain of the blow, it worked, and I stopped laughing.
“Put your head down between your legs.” Dixie didn’t bother waiting for compliance but pushed my head down so the blood rushed to my head. She held the back of my head down.
After a few moments, I swatted away her hand and sat up. “I’m okay.”
Stephanie collapsed onto the sofa next to me.
I wrapped my arms around my daughter and gave her a tight squeeze. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
The two officers stood awkwardly and watched for several seconds.