Chapter 23
Carla called to say she was packed and on the road, and that Mary Louise should be expecting some shipping boxes for things that didn't fit in her car. When the doorbell rang the following day, Mary Louise initially hoped it was Carla, but it was too soon and Carla wouldn’t ring the doorbell. Then she figured it might be the shipping boxes. Then she hoped it would be Dan.
None of those things were it. When she opened the door, it was a woman. Mary Louise smiled a polite smile thinking it might be a new neighbor and said, “Hello. Can I help you?”
The woman pursed her lips and then said, “Hello, Mary Louise,” like they were old acquaintances.
Mary Louise’s mouth dropped open and she blinked hard with surprise. There was no mistaking that voice.
“Hello, Rhonda. What are you doing here?”
“You blocked my number, so I had no choice but to come in person.”
Mary Louise sized up what had once been her competition for her husband's affections. Rhonda wore a dated skirt and jacket set with a white silk blouse underneath. She wore heels with no stockings and looked like she had been asked to appear in court, possibly to dispute a traffic violation.
Mary Louise heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head. She stared intently at Rhonda, barely able to make eye contact through the fake lashes and heavy mascara. They were the eyes of a desperate woman, but not dangerous in Mary Louise’s estimation. Rhonda’s mouth twitched and tears welled up in those desperate eyes. Mary Louise sighed again and stepped aside.
“Come on in,” she said and opened the door wide. “I’ll fix us some coffee.”
Rhonda’s eyebrows rose in surprise but she stepped into the foyer. Mary Louise closed the door and then led her to the kitchen.
“Have a seat,” she said to Rhonda and nodded her head to the breakfast nook.
Rhonda settled herself into one of the chairs, tugged at her skirt and then smoothed it over her thighs, not making eye contact with Mary Louise. Fixing the coffee gave Mary Louise time to assess the situation. Rhonda was here to ask for money. Mary Louise didn’t have any money to give her.
“Milk and sugar?” Mary Louise asked.
“Yes, please,” said Rhonda.
Mary Louise filled a small pitcher with milk and grabbed the sugar bowl off the counter. She set these on the breakfast table with spoons and napkins, and then filled two mugs with the steaming coffee. She set one in front of Rhonda and then settled herself across from the anxious woman on the other side of the table.
Mary Louise poured some milk in her cup and then waited patiently as Rhonda put two heaping spoonfuls of sugar in her cup, added milk, and then began stirring it vigorously.
“So what brings you to the Austin area?’ Mary Louise finally asked.
“I’ve got friends here,” Rhonda said defensively.
“That’s nice,” said Mary Louise. “And what brings you out here to my house?”
“I think you know the answer to that question.”
Mary Louise studied the woman in front of her. She was attractive, and would have been more attractive, in Mary Louise’s opinion, if she held back a bit on the makeup. She had pretty hazel eyes that were lost behind the lashes and eyeliner.
“How old are you?” asked Mary Louise.
“Thirty-two,” came the quick response alongside a defiant look.
Mary Louise raised an eyebrow. Rhonda let out a breath and looked down at her coffee.
“Oh, hell,” Rhonda said. “I’m forty-two, okay?”
“That’s better. Let’s at least be honest with each other. Tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”
Rhonda looked at her with pursed lips and furrowed brow. Honesty was one thing. Trust, something completely different. She finally let out a small breath and said, “I was born in Louisiana, but I’ve been around.”
Mary Louise considered this for a moment and then asked, “Kids?”
“Hell, no. I saw what my mom went through. I never needed any kids.”
“Job?”
“I’m self-employed,” Rhonda responded automatically. She tugged at her skirt again, choosing to look into her coffee cup and not at Mary Louise.
“How long did you know Albert?”
Rhonda clamped her mouth shut, as if to physically prevent something stupid or dangerous to come out.
“A while,” she finally answered.
“So the night he died. That wasn’t the first time you’d been with him?”
“We saw each other every time he came to New Orleans, and sometimes I’d meet him other places.”
Mary Louise felt like Rhonda was telling the truth. There was no reason for her to hide the fact she’d been sleeping with Albert. In fact, establishing that they had a long term relationship would help in her quest for money.
“Did you have a lot of friends like Albert?”
“That’s none of your business.”
That question had certainly hit a sore spot.
“It is my business if you’re trying to shake me down for money.”
She almost laughed out loud at herself. Did she think she was in a gangster movie or something? Ever since going to Cheyenne, more and more crazy things slipped out of her mouth. Shake down, indeed.
“I’m not trying to ‘shake you down,’” said Rhonda, mimicking Mary Louise. “I told you, I just want what Albert promised me.”
“Remind me again what that was?”
“He promised that I would be taken care of.”
“So at some point in time the two of you had a conversation and Albert told you that in the unlikely event he died from a heart attack while having sex with you, you should come to me so that you could be ‘taken care of?’” It was Mary Louise’s turn to mimic with a side of sarcasm.
Rhonda was silent. She took another long drink of her coffee, fingers firmly wrapped around the mug. Her red nail polish was chipped, another indication of a woman trying to keep body and soul together and not quite making it.
“Would you like some more coffee?” asked Mary Louise.
Rhonda set the mug on the table and slid it over. Mary Louise picked it up and went to the coffee pot. She looked out the kitchen window to the driveway where a sad old silver Toyota Camry with Louisiana license plates and rhumy headlights waited patiently. Mary Louise had no doubt that the only thing Albert had promised this lady was always a “see ya next time” before parting ways. He would have treated her well when they were together. Nice dinners, plenty of drinks, and maybe a cheap trinket or two. Just enough to grease the wheels for what he wanted. Mary Louise knew Albert had no intentions of any relationship beyond their trysts while he was on business trips, or any intentions to be sure that Rhonda was taken care of. He had never given a thought to taking care of his own wife.
Mary Louise set the freshly filled mug down on the table and sat back in her chair. She watched Rhonda stir in milk and sugar. She wanted to hate this woman. She should hate this woman. But compassion, as usual, got the best of her. It’s not like she corrupted Albert. That would be like blaming heroin for the addict’s use. Rhonda didn’t cause the addiction, she was just what Albert sought out to quench it.
It’s not like she killed him. Mary Louise had more to do with that than Rhonda. If anyone should be blamed for Albert’s death, it was Mary Louise. She’d spent so many nights laying awake, her old friends, guilt and shame, taking turns torturing her. At the beginning, fear would come in to go a few rounds with her as well. That gradually subsided as everyone - the police, friends, family - saw no reason to believe his death was anything other than what it was. A man with a sketchy heart dying from having sex when he shouldn’t have been. Was this Albert reaching out from the great beyond, pushing this woman to badger Mary Louise so that she could never have final closure on his death?
“Rhonda, at the end of the day it really doesn’t matter what Albert did or didn’t say to you. It doesn’t matter what he did or did not promise you. There is no money. He had a small life insurance policy we got years ago that was gone six months after he was. It all went to funeral expenses, paying back the loans he’d taken out of his 401K, and paying down on credit cards I didn’t even know he had. I’m still paying on them thanks to Texas being a community property state. He told me that he’d bought a separate life insurance policy through work, but it was a lie. There is no money.”
What Mary Louise didn’t tell her was that she had her own 401K that she’d been contributing to, but that was her money for retirement, not a handout to some floosy Albert had been messing around with.
Rhonda put her forehead in her hands. There was a very distinct quarter inch line of salt and pepper hair at her part giving way to a deep but dull auburn color on the rest. The vortex began to swirl. A woman at work had once told her she was an empath. Mary Louise had to look it up to see what it meant. She wasn’t an empath. She was just an observant person with a heart who happened to get sucked into other people’s neediness.
Rhonda looked up at her, tears welling in her eyes.
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” she said.
Oh yes, she was being sucked in. Cheyenne’s gentle words echoed in her head. But that was progress, wasn’t it? At least she was aware of what was happening.
“Rhonda, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
**Please leave a comment below. Your information will not be saved or added to an email list. It just prevents the bots from bashing me.
You can also use the Contact form to message me direct.**