The Longer The Fall

by Aviva Gat

  When the event was coming to a close and there weren’t many more hands to shake, Madeline pulled Jane aside. “I need you to find a Rhonda Williams,” she said to her chief of staff. “Tonight.”

  “Williams? As in Hunter Williams? I don’t understand…”

  “Jane, this must be kept secret. It’s his ex-wife, I don’t want him to know I’m looking for her. Surely the staff can find her easily.” Jane hesitated while nodding slowly. “Great, then I want you to notify me as soon as you have an address. No matter the time. Shall we keep going?” Madeline turned from Jane and continued to greet the event’s last parting attendees.

  It was an odd request from Madeline. Jane knew anyone could be easily located. They had directories, connections with local governments, it wouldn’t be a problem to find Rhonda. The question was why. Madeline had always been very professional with Jane. She had never so much as asked her for coffee, let alone ask her to find someone for an undisclosed reason. She wouldn’t ask though, she would never ask about Hunter’s hotel room, or why Madeline needed to find his wife in private. But she would complete the task discretely. She placed a call to one of her connections who promised her the information as soon as possible.

  When the event ended, Madeline shared a bottle of champagne with her staff and congratulated them all on a job well done. But the real work was just beginning, she told them. Now they had to focus on running the campaign and beating Officer Austin. There would be no rest until Election Day.

  Madeline took a car back home. When she arrived, she could see the light on in her and Brandon’s bedroom, but the rest of the house was dark. Not even the outside lights were on, like they weren’t expecting anyone. Madeline bade goodnight to her driver and walked to her door in the dim shine from the streetlamps. She pulled off her shoes, silently placed them in the closet and tiptoed upstairs to the master bedroom.

  When she opened the door, she saw Brandon lying in bed with his laptop open. His eyes were glued to the screen and he had his headphones over his ears. She stood silently for a moment, feeling like she was disturbing him, like she was entering his private space instead of their shared bedroom.

  “Hey,” she finally said. He gave a “hey” back without looking up from the screen. “How’s Noah?” she asked. Jane had updated her earlier that he had been released from the hospital.

  “He’s fine,” Brandon responded, his eyes still on the screen. “The doctors thought he should stay overnight, but he refused. Said he couldn’t sleep in that bed, even though he had been sleeping all afternoon. But the doctors agreed he could go home and gave us a prescription for pain medication. We’ll go in tomorrow so they can check him.”

  “I’m glad he is OK,” she said. She slipped out of her suit and walked toward Brandon wearing just her bra and underwear. Madeline had hardly ever walked around their room in her undergarments, maybe it had happened a handful of times at the beginning of their relationship when she was still trying to find her passion for her husband. But she was doing it now, because she felt like she should. In fact, the event had oddly reminded her that she and Brandon hadn’t had sex in a couple weeks and that was at least a week too long. It was true their sex wasn’t full of passion or fireworks or anything that could be used to describe sex in romance novels or movies, but if their sex life was one thing, it was consistent. And that, thought Madeline, was probably a lot better than most people at their stage in life. She sat down on his side of the bed and slowly started to push the top of his laptop down.

  “Madeline, what are you doing?” Brandon stopped her from closing his computer. “I need to get through these reports tonight.”

  “I’m sure they can wait,” she said, leaning forward toward him.

  “No, Madeline, they can’t. I’m tired. I didn’t work all day today, which means I’m way behind. I just want to finish this and go to sleep.” Madeline wasn’t sure what the thing she was feeling was called. Could it be rejection? She had never been rejected in any aspect of her life, most certainly not in her marriage with Brandon. She had expected Brandon to be delighted to see her coming to him in her underwear, to accept her with open arms and tell her how perfect she was and how much he loved her. It was what she needed after an evening with her supporters—just one more person to love and cherish her.

  “Did I do something wrong?” She asked without leaving her spot on the edge of the bed.

  “I don’t know, Madeline, did you?” Brandon himself now closed his laptop and looked at Madeline. “Do you want to tell me anything?”

  “Well, I missed you at the event tonight,” she said. “It felt weird without you by my side.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said sarcastically.

  “No, I know, you had to be with Noah.” She felt like she was tripping over her words, like she didn’t know what to say. If only she could have prepared a speech for this. “I’m just saying I missed you. Do you ever miss me?”

  “What was that guy doing at the event?” Brandon responded. Madeline remembered that Jane had showed Brandon the speeches from the event and she wondered if he had seen Hunter’s as well.

  “City councilman Hunter Williams?” She clarified.

  “Oh come on, Madeline, he’s your ex-boyfriend for Christ sake. And maybe even more than that.”

  “He was speaking because of the shooting in his district! It’s relevant for the SAVER Bill.” Madeline tried to snuggle down next to her husband. “You should have seen me tonight. I was wonderful.” She leaned over to kiss his neck.

  “So convenient that your ex-boyfriend came to help you win the election.” Brandon ignored Madeline’s nibbles on his collarbone. “I really can’t do this tonight.”

  Rejected, Madeline stood up from the bed as Brandon opened his laptop and continued to read on the screen. She covered herself with a bathrobe, feeling self-conscious of her body in a way she wasn’t used to. On her nightstand her phone lit up and Madeline jumped to see who it was. The top notification was a text message from Jane: Found Rhonda. Then next texts that came in included a phone number and an address. Then: Should I come get you?

  No. Thank you. See you tomorrow. Madeline responded. She stood up and walked to her closet, thinking of what to wear. What does one wear to meet the ex-wife of your ex-boyfriend who is blackmailing you? A suit seemed too formal. Jeans, too casual. She slipped into black slacks and headed out the bedroom door.

  “Where are you going now?” Brandon asked, this time with his attention on her. She could see how it looked. Hunter in town, she slipping out late at night.

  “I have an errand to run,” she responded. “Just trust me.”

  “Uh huh.” Brandon’s eyes focused back down on his laptop.

  Chapter 32

  The truth was that Rhonda had thought often about Madeline over the years. She was a constant shadow in her marriage. Not because Hunter had brought her there, but because Rhonda did. She often found herself comparing herself to Madeline—she would never be as skinny, have hair as soft and straight, skin as bright and smooth. But while she feared her looks were way behind Madeline’s, she was sure she could have been just as smart had she been given the same opportunities. But alas, she was born and raised in Harlem without a trust fund to pay for college, let alone someone who even spoke to her about higher education.

  She often wondered what Hunter had seen in her, how he could be with her after being with someone like Madeline. If he would have stayed with her had she not gotten pregnant. She had asked him that a million times and each time he promised her the answer was yes, baby or no baby, they would have gotten married. Maybe not as quickly. Rhonda was sure if she had asked him a million and one times, the answer could have been different. Because why would he tie himself to someone like Rhonda? When he had already tasted a life of privilege?

  These questions, Rhonda’s doubt, sprayed every fight the couple had had over their relationship. If Hunter came home late—was he cheating with somebody better than her? If he didn�
��t hold her hand in public—was it because he was embarrassed about her? When he once took her to dinner in Manhattan—was it because he was too good for Harlem?

  Objectively, Rhonda knew that she was the one comparing herself to Madeline. Whether or not Hunter thought about her, he never brought her up, never once mentioned her name. Rhonda wasn’t even sure if Hunter knew that Madeline had helped her those years ago. But still, Rhonda felt Madeline’s presence in every aspect of her marriage, and she was afraid that one day Madeline would come back and ruin it for her. And she did, even if she hadn’t known it.

  Rhonda and Hunter were married for 13 years when she filed for divorce. They were a full thirteen years. In that time Rhonda had also gotten her GED, and somewhere in the middle of their marriage, after her daughter needed less attention, she had gotten certified as a TSA agent and gotten a job at LaGuardia airport. When she received her certification, it was the first time she had been proud of herself. She had accomplished something and this proved that she was just as smart and as capable as Madeline. She hoped Hunter was proud of her, that she could finally be someone worthy of being with him.

  But the years rolled on. Rhonda worked hard and took her job seriously. Hunter also worked hard. When he purchased the landscaping company, Rhonda was proud to call her husband a businessman. She was even pleasantly surprised that Hunter owned a fancy Brooks Brothers suit that he wore to meet with the lawyers who finalized the purchase. He did look professional in that thing. But when he decided to run for city council, well, that was a different story.

  Rhonda had secretly followed what Madeline had been up to. It wasn’t hard since she had been involved in a very public career and had married a very public family that loved displaying their announcements in newspapers. Rhonda herself had celebrated when Madeline Clark became Madeline Thomas, after all, she was sure families like the Thomas’ didn’t believe in divorce, probably thought it was some mythical being like the tooth fairy or Santa Claus. She was sure people like the Thomases would never step in Harlem and that Madeline would never come in contact with Hunter again. Her fears of losing everything to Madeline were swept under the rug like dust that wouldn’t disappear, but could be temporary hidden under a delicately woven accessory.

  When Hunter announced that he would run for city council, it was like a gust of wind scattered the dust out from under the rug and all over the living room. All over the house, in fact. Why was Hunter going into politics? She railed at his decision, calling it selfish, even when Hunter tried to explain that his motives were about helping the neighborhood, the kids at the community center, where Hunter still volunteered. This was his chance to make a difference. But Rhonda wasn’t having it. In her mind, all politicians were in an elite club where they all knew each other and met together to laugh at the common-folk they served. The last thing Rhonda wanted was Hunter and Madeline in the same club, where they could stand around together in their fancy suits and laugh at people like her.

  But Hunter ran for city council anyway, even without Rhonda’s support. He thought she’d come around once he saw all the good things he was doing. He hadn’t really understood her resistance. This was the first big crack in their marriage. From then on, Rhonda questioned everything he did. City council meeting? She had to know exactly who was there. Why were all the meetings all the way down in Manhattan’s financial district? Wasn’t that prejudice against councilmembers from Harlem? Anytime he was invited for a local event—a new store opening, a recital for a dance academy—Rhonda went with him. Not because she was supportive, but because she had to see who else was there.

  She could see how much he loved his position. He came home with a gleam in his eyes, his heart pounding from adrenaline. He’d beam when telling her about obtaining funding to fix a few potholes that had caused problems on Fredrick Douglass Boulevard, or when he helped a local storeowner gain a liquor license. Couldn’t she see he was helping people?

  After his first year in office, Hunter started coming home later and later. Meetings ran late, events kept him into the night, he needed to schmooze with his colleagues. He became friendly with local developers and landlords and sometimes they did a favor or two for each other. That’s how city politics works. That’s how things were done. Hunter was helping people. Everyone was benefitting.

  After his second year in office, Rhonda had had enough. She didn’t like that he often came home smelling like expensive cigars or that he had a watch collection that was worth more than their apartment. He seemed like he was getting too close to being the kind of person Madeline would have wanted and that crossed a line for Rhonda. She began snooping in his office, going to the storefront late at night after Hunter had already locked up and left. She’d searched through his desk, and all the files on it with city ordinances, notes in his scribbly handwriting, and memos he wrote. She’d searched and searched until she found exactly what she needed to end it with him.

  She knew she’d been right not to trust him. And then she had proof. Proof so good, that she knew she could get whatever she wanted from Hunter. If he refused, well, jail would be like a spa holiday in comparison to where he could end up. She took her proof and their daughter and bought a one-way ticket to California. She’d never been on a plane before. Hell, she’d only left the state of New York once when Hunter took her on a vacation to the Jersey Shore. But she had heard great things about California. It was a place where dreams came true and she wanted to be there. She knew, of course, that Madeline lived there, but that was definitely not why Rhonda chose California. Definitely not, she told herself. But being able to vote against her wouldn’t hurt.

  That night she had watched Madeline’s reelection campaign launch speech live. She saw Hunter give his endorsement and whisper something in her ear. It made Rhonda livid. So livid that she couldn’t sleep that night. Which was why she was awake when Madeline parked in front of her house.

  Chapter 33

  It was a quiet neighborhood where cars slept at night before being woken up to commute in the morning. Rows of one-story houses with grass and shrubbery lined the street that was lit up by the tall overhead lamps. Madeline had never been in that neighborhood before. It was just a stone’s throw away from her own—where houses had at least two stories, balconies, and lawns that were manicured as fashionably as the women who lived there. If these houses were described in a real estate ad, they would have been called quaint, comfy, and homey. Madeline slowed her car as she searched the houses for numbers… 1214…1220…1226…1232.

  She parked right in front, noticing the porch light was on like someone had been expecting her. Before walking inside, she sat in her car and reviewed what she wanted to say to Rhonda. She had a few options, and she would decide the best once she came face to face with the woman. She knew Hunter wanted money to pay for his divorce. Madeline could try to convince Rhonda that an expensive divorce made everyone (except the lawyers) lose. Or she could try to see if Rhonda knew of her situation with Hunter. Was it possible she was behind it? If not, could she help Madeline end it?

  Madeline was sitting in the car when a figure opened the front door of the house and peered through. When Madeline saw the figure, she knew her time was up and she stepped out of the car. As she approached the door she noticed the figure had a gun held in her hand facing the floor. The sight made her heart skip, but she pretended not to notice.

  “Rhonda Williams?” Madeline asked quietly, as though afraid to wake the neighborhood up.

  “Madeline?” Rhonda said in surprise. She had never expected to see Madeline close up again. “Hunter ain’t here.”

  “I came to talk to you,” Madeline responded. When she was in front of the door, she smiled brightly at the shadowed face in front of her. The porch light was not enough for her to make out Rhonda’s large brown eyes and thin lips that may have triggered something in her memory. “You know who I am?”

  Rhonda scoffed. It almost felt like a joke, being asked that question. Of course she knew. Not only
was Madeline’s face all over the news, but she had been a constant figure in all of Rhonda’s dreams and nightmares. But Rhonda also knew how to play it cool. “You’re that senator lady. But I ain’t voting for you.”

  Madeline smiled. “Could I come inside?” Madeline said it more like a command than a question. The right tone could get you almost anything and Madeline needed to sit down with Rhonda. Rhonda opened the door and invited Madeline into her living room.

  “But shh, my daughter is asleep.” Rhonda led her to a blush red couch that had a knitted blanket draped over the back. It sat in front of an oversized TV and a coffee table covered in teen magazine and toy motorcycles. “I would have cleaned up if I knew I’d have company.” She said, unconvincingly, while shuffling the magazines into a pile.

  “I understand, I have two boys. They leave their stuff everywhere.” Of course Madeline didn’t mention that she had a fulltime nanny or a biweekly cleaning lady. There had never been toys left out at Madeline’s house.

  The house was still dark with only one lamp on in the corner, making it difficult for Madeline to get a good look at Hunter’s wife. She wasn’t sure how to read her yet. She seemed younger, tired, like she wasn’t impressed with anything.

  “How did you and Hunter meet?” she asked while Rhonda walked into the kitchen to grab two cups of water. Maybe the small talk would give Madeline a few more moments to decide what to say.

  Rhonda scoffed. “Oh you don’t remember?” She placed the waters on the coffee table in front of them and then turned on the lights in the living room. The flash made Madeline’s pupils narrow and an image flash through her mind. She saw girls at the community center dancing around an old boombox, stepping to the beat and moving their bodies in ways Madeline never could.