Rich White Americans

by Virginia Dale

  Andronicus stared at Mrs. Johnson’s lovely oval face, her perfect features set in satiny white skin. To hear her speak with such an authoritarian tone shocked, even scared, him. There was a side to her that he hadn’t realized existed. Women are such unpredictable bitches.

  “I thought you’d agreed to take care of this problem over the weekend,” she continued, gathering steam in her Southern veins, where many a civil rights issue was being fought at this very moment with Bobby Kennedy at the helm as attorney general.

  The woman at the table next to them turned around and gave them a suspicious look. Andronicus didn’t know if it was because of their age difference or what Iris had said. Iris. She was Mrs. Johnson. Enough of this Iris bullshit.

  “I thought you didn’t want to attract any attention,” Andronicus lowered his head and pursed his lips with irritation. He also managed to down about half a glass of his whisky soda.

  Mrs. Johnson looked over her shoulder just in time to see the curious woman turn her head away.

  “Well, I never. You know how discreet I am.” She looked at Andronicus. “Why don’t we eat lunch?”

  “A capital idea,” he sneered.

  The waiter arrived, perfectly attired in formal black pants and white jacket, took their order, and vanished, as he’d been taught to do.

  They waited for what seemed like an eternity to Andronicus. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand Inny or her mother. What the fuck am I doing getting involved with these people? My dad could buy and sell them.

  “How is your father, um, stepfather?” asked Mrs. Johnson to fill the time.

  “He’s my father! I’m legally adopted.”

  Mrs. Johnson recoiled at Andronicus’ admonition. She looked at the crystal chandeliers overhead and they seemed to spin. She felt ill. She excused herself and went to the ladies’ room to regain her composure. As she sat at the vanity, she wondered what she had gotten herself into. If only Inny would have married that nice Jim, none of this would have happened.

  She dabbed at her eyes, which had teared up a bit. Then, she straightened herself and marched back to the Biltmore Hotel dining room where Andronicus was sitting. The waiter was already serving lunch, and Andronicus had already started eating. No manners whatsoever.

  After Andronicus picked up the check, signing his father’s name, they made their way towards one of the Biltmore bungalows. Andronicus unlocked the door and made a sweeping gesture with his arm. Mrs. Johnson caught the sarcasm in his gesture but walked in and admired the gilt-framed mirrors, the plush carpeting, and small chandelier hanging over the bed. The bed. She looked at it and then at Andronicus. He no longer seemed like the dashing young scion of a state senator, but a soft-bellied lout with a beat-up face. She wondered what had really happened at Berkeley. Remorse began to tinge her feelings.

  Andronicus stripped off his button-down shirt and trousers that had cost nearly a thousand dollars, jumping onto the bed with relish. He looked like a beached whale in his underwear, only whales were beautiful and Andronicus was not.

  “Well, Iris?” He looked at Iris Johnson, dressed to the nines in a navy-blue suit with a frilly white blouse underneath.

  She looked like she was about to bolt out the door, so he stood up and grabbed her by the waist. “You look lovely, my lovely,” he crooned.

  Mrs. Johnson was at a crossroads. The night her oldest daughter had come to her bedroom door and said she’d been raped flashed before her eyes. By this time, Andronicus had relieved her of her jacket and was undoing the buttons on her frilly white blouse. She thought of the money they needed to send their younger daughter through college. The daughter that made straight As and was the apple of her father’s eyes. He called her ‘Daddy’s Little Helper.’

  “My husband has lost his job,” she announced, as if speaking to a firing squad.

  “Tsk, tsk,” said Andronicus, walking around towards the back of her to unzip her skirt.

  “We desperately need financial help. How much can you give us?” She couldn’t believe her own words, but she was terrified by her husband’s unemployment and saw no way out.

  “Let’s talk about that next time,” whispered Andronicus blowing on her neck as he took her slip off.

  Thoughts reeled through her mind like fish in a net. She felt trapped. She turned to face the fat slug and shoved him away.

  Andronicus reeled, stepping backwards. Then, he lunged at her. She began to scream.

  “Shut up, Bitch!”

  He tried to cover her mouth, but she had a good scream and wouldn’t stop. That’s when he slugged her, squarely in the jaw, cutting her lip. Mrs. Johnson went down, unconscious. Andronicus laughed. He couldn’t stop laughing as he mounted her and came, copiously.

  “They’re all bitches!” he repeated his mantra.

  After lying next to her inert body for a few breathless minutes, it occurred to him that he might have killed her. He checked her pulse; she was still breathing and had a pulse. He ran to the ornate bathroom of the Biltmore cottage and got a glass of water, which he threw on her face. Her fingers moved and she began to stir. Andronicus breathed a sigh of relief. He’d make it up to her. He’d give her a thousand dollars, he’d…

  Mrs. Johnson lifted her head groggily. “Where am I?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m here. Here. Have a sip of water. You passed out. It must have been something you ate.”

  He dressed her as quickly as possible, which was difficult, as she was like a lump of clay. This could mean trouble, and he knew it as he struggled to button the tiny buttons on her frilly blouse.

  He drove Mrs. Johnson to her home on Cima Linda Lane in her car. She was conscious, but her jaw and even her teeth hurt from where he’d punched her. She wasn’t sure what had happened. “Inny can’t have a black boyfriend…” she mumbled as Andronicus took her by the arm and helped her to the front door, hoping her husband wasn’t at home. She slumped onto the chintz-covered living room sofa. Andronicus beat a safe retreat, not noticing that the pearl necklace had broken, leaving strands of pearls on the sofa.

  Mr. Johnson was applying for another engineering job in Santa Barbara and filling out application forms for almost any job, in case they didn’t accept him. He was worried sick. He said a silent prayer as he waited to be called in for the interview, during which he’d stammered and blushed, for he was deeply ashamed of being such a poor provider for his family.

  Andronicus ran all the way back to the Biltmore to retrieve his own car and drive home. He was panicked. Guilt was written on his face as he got out and ran into his mother.

  “I can’t find my pearl necklace!”

  “Mom, you have a million pearl necklaces. I don’t know how you keep them straight.”

  “I’m quite well-organized, and it’s thanks to me that you’ve got a rich daddy,” she turned on him, coldly. “When are you going to enroll at USC?”

  “Right away, Mom! Right away!” Andronicus ran to his bedroom and threw himself on his bed. He’d flunked out of Amherst and couldn’t get a girl his age. He was overweight and unattractive, and he knew it. He started to cry in his pillow.

  Mr. Johnson pulled into his eucalyptus and fern-lined driveway with a heavy heart. He missed the Navy, captaining a destroyer with sailors saluting him. He loved the roll of the ship on the open ocean. He loved cutting all ties from civilization except for the radio contacts he made with his superiors. To him, the ocean was a constant, always there, a beautiful deep-blue without limits. He had felt free on the ocean. Now, he felt like he was a prisoner of society, unable to do its bidding. He firmed his lower jaw and got out of the car, a slight man of graceful bearing. He looked more like a ballet dancer than a ship’s captain. Maybe that’s why they’d passed him over for captain. He’d never know and always blamed himself. Now, he had to face his wife with the worst news of all. He was out of work. He scratched his blond head, looking down at the driveway, suddenly finding cracks in it that needed to be paved over. Silent for a few minutes, he took a dee
p breath and resolved to tell his wife the truth, face-to-face. He knew she suspected it, but he had to say it and hung his head in chagrin.

  He unlocked the front door and walked into the vestibule, which had a shelf decorated with seashells on one side. Then, he looked into the living room.

  “Hello, Craig,” said Mrs. Johnson.

  “Hello, Honey,” he replied. He pulled on one of his ears, a nervous habit he’d developed of late. “How was your day?”

  Mrs. Johnson rubbed her chin where Andronicus had socked her. “Just fine, dear. I left Kendra off at school and did some grocery shopping.”

  He sat down next to her. They stared at one another for a minute.

  Mrs. Johnson was so groggy from the blow to her chin that she couldn’t think straight. She felt like she was looking at a stranger, but she knew it was her husband.

  “I’m… well… I’m…” Mr. Johnson couldn’t find the nerve to tell her he’d lost his job, right off the bat. Instead, he felt around the sofa for his Scientific American, which he’d stuffed in it somewhere. Instead, he came up with a pearl, a lovely pearl. He stared at the pearl as if he’d never seen one before. Then, he turned to his beleaguered wife and said, “Iris, you’ve broken your pearl necklace, the one I got for you while on shore duty in Japan.” He couldn’t believe someone as careful as his wife had broken her favorite pearl necklace. A look of shock came over his face.

  “Oh, yes, how careless of me,” said Mrs. Johnson, looking desperately at the sofa to see if the rest of the necklace Andronicus had given her was visible. She found a few other pearls, which she grasped in a tight fist. I… I can’t let Craig find out about… Andronicus. She gulped down air and breathed very fast, as if someone were about to hurt her.

  Mr. Johnson looked at his wife’s lovely oval face, her hair mussed and her lipstick smeared. He saw a fairly large bruise starting to form on her jaw. He gasped, “Iris, what’s happened to you?”

  Mrs. Johnson stood up and smoothed her dress. Mr. Johnson noticed she was wearing heels.

  “Why are you wearing high heels in the afternoon?”

  “Oh, I had to meet with one of Kendra’s teachers…”

  “Is there anything wrong?” Mr. Johnson blinked his eyes, partly to hold back tears and partly out of concern for his youngest daughter, his favorite. In all fairness, he’d never really gotten to know Inny, since he was either fighting a war or had sea duty. So he considered Kendra his real daughter. He didn’t understand his rather brazen older daughter at all. She rather frightened him with her ready laughter and confidence… and all those wealthy boys running after her. She wasn’t at all like his sisters in Salt Lake City, nice girls who married right out of high school or shortly thereafter.

  Mrs. Johnson felt her neck to make sure the necklace was completely gone. “No, everything’s fine, dear.” She smiled with a look of contrition. “Guess I’d better start dinner now.”

  “But… but it’s only three in the afternoon.” Mr. Johnson couldn’t comprehend why his wife would dress up in the middle of the day. “Did you fall down? Where did you get that bruise on your jaw?” He floundered in a sea of doubt. She always wore a simple house dress and flat shoes during the day. The world was too complicated for him.

  “Um. I want to put a roast on to simmer,” said Mrs. Johnson, blinking hard, flummoxed. What had happened at the cottage in the Biltmore? She felt a tingling between her legs, so she knew Andronicus had made love to her. But she couldn’t remember anything, except… then she fainted.

  Mr. Johnson took her in his arms and placed her on the sofa. Then, he ran to get some water. When he came back from the kitchen with a glassful of water, his wife stirred slightly. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was alive. What had she done to get so upset? As he doused her forehead with water and then held her head up so she could take a sip, she moaned. Is she in pain? Should I call a doctor? Craig Johnson was beside himself. He took her in his arms again and walked slowly back to their bedroom, with its beautiful view over their backyard garden, and lay her down on his twin bed.

  The family dog was on her bed, as usual. He couldn’t stand the way she spoiled the dog, a Labrador mix… Treated him better than she treated her own husband, who was doing his best to… support the family. Thinking of his rejections at job interviews, Mr. Johnson put his head on his wife’s chest and sobbed like a child. The broken pearl necklace, the high heels in the middle of the day, and the bruise on his wife’s jaw were too much for a simple engineer from Salt Lake City.

  When Kendra came home from school, that’s how she found them. “Mother, Daddy! What’s wrong!”

  Mr. Johnson raised his tear-streaked face and looked at his favorite daughter, dressed in a sweater set and skirt. Her breasts had become shapely as she matured; he couldn’t help but stare at them.

  “Daddy, why are you staring at me like that?” Kendra felt scared. Her parents had never acted like this before. She’d never seen her father with tears in his eyes or her mother slumped onto her father’s bed like this.

  Her mother was always bright, alert, and in full command of her senses. Kendra felt a bit dizzy herself.

  “Why don’t you take Sox for a walk?” Mr. Johnson asked.

  “If that’s what you want me to do, but what’s wrong with Mother?”

  “I… I don’t know. She fainted in the living room.”

  “Fainted? Aren’t you going to call a doctor?”

  Mr. Johnson looked at his daughter with sorrow in his eyes. “We can’t afford a doctor.”

  “What?”

  “I just lost my job, Kendra!”

  A look of surprise and then sympathy crossed Kendra’s naïve fifteen-year-old face. She had platinum-blond hair and a sweet smile, a reassuring smile. Only now she was frowning.

  “Can’t you get another one? Will we have to move?” She stepped towards him and offered him her hand. He took it and put his face against it.

  Kendra felt out of place in her parents’ bedroom with her father and mother acting in a way she’d never seen them act before. She withdrew her hand slowly. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She knew something was terribly wrong.

  “Daddy, I’ll take Sox for a walk. Will you be all right?” She looked directly into his gray-blue eyes, which were clouded over, and his tear-streaked face.

  “Yes, yes, of course.” He continued to stare at her young breasts bulging through her cashmere sweater set, wondering how much it had cost. He was scared to death. He managed to stand up. Taking a deep breath, he said, “You don’t have to worry, as long as you have me. I’ll do whatever it takes to support my family.”

  Kendra looked at her mother, who started to cry. Her father sat down next to her on the twin bed and stroked her hair. “Don’t cry, Iris. You have me. Don’t worry.” He took a deep breath to calm his emotions. He’d gone to Annapolis and loved the Navy. He thought he’d be a naval officer his entire life, until he was passed over for captain. That rocked his boat – the family’s boat. He had to retire after twenty years of service on a partial pension and seek employment as an engineer or be looked down upon for the rest of his life for not making captain. Rank meant everything to an Annapolis graduate and his colleagues. He didn’t even know why he’d been passed over, except that his class standing was in the bottom half due to his bad grades in Spanish. Foreign languages didn’t make sense to him. Now his wife was dressed for a fancy party in the middle of the day and had fainted. He knew something unusual had happened – that bruise on her jaw. He shook his head in wonderment. And he’d been turned down for a job. His whole world shattered before his eyes, he could only stare dully at his daughter’s breasts. He was in shock.

  The dog had wandered over to Kendra and looked up at her. Kendra petted Sox, the pet she’d always loved. She looked at her parents. Confused by the flood of emotions, she turned and ran out of the house with Sox.

  They ran to the grassy hillside at the end of Cima Linda Lane that overlooked the ocea
n. The Channel Islands stood out like sentinels, sharply outlined by the cloudless day. Kendra and Sox sat and stared at the gorgeous view, the ocean so vast and calm which contrasted so sharply with what she had just seen. She took a deep breath and hugged Sox, who put his head in her lap. The serenity of the view of the calm ocean filled her with a sense that all was as it should be.

  Chapter 16

  I had to go home for Christmas. My mind wandered to my mother telling me I was disinherited. Surely she didn’t mean it. Christmas was always spent with family; I had to go home. Yet, here I sat in a hospital, with a friend who might not recover from an illegal abortion, waiting for her mother to arrive. I was scared stiff.

  Sally’s mother arrived alone; her husband had stayed at work. Besides, the fact that Sally was not his biological daughter ran through my mind. I wondered if he cared for her as one of his own. Her mother resembled Sally somewhat, in that she had a longish face, but she was far heavier than Sally. She looked every bit the comfortable, sweet-faced mother from middle-class America in the early sixties. Except that her eyes were red from crying.

  “How could this happen?” she asked. “Sally is a nice girl. Things like this don’t happen to nice girls like my daughter.” She opened her vinyl purse and took out a Kleenex, which she dabbed at her eyes with.

  “It shouldn’t have happened,” I agreed with her. “But…” I was at a loss for words.

  “But what?”

  I took a deep breath and said, “Sally was having a relationship with a man.”

  “What kind of a man? Where is he?” Her mother’s voice became shrill and angry.

  “He’s in the hospital, too.” I was in over my head.

  The double doors to Sally’s Intensive Care Unit opened. Out stepped a doctor. We both stood up and ran to him. “How is she?” I felt my head spin. Sally couldn’t die. I’d die if Sally died. It would be partly my fault.

  “She’s hemorrhaged a lot of blood. We’ve given her a transfusion and taken tests. It doesn’t look like there is any brain damage.”