Same Old Truths (The Reluctant Avenger)

by Delora Dennis

  Ruth let out a big laugh. “I think your sister may just be right.”

  “But all’s well that ends well,” Kay said with a sigh. “At the very end the judge told Dave, “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, Mr. Noland, but your first family comes first.”

  “That’s very true,” Ruth said. “It really needed to be said.”

  Yeah,” Kay sneered, “But, I’m not holding my breath. Dave’s got a big handicap that’ll always make it difficult for him to comply.”

  “You’re referring to his wife, right?” Ruth asked.

  Kay rolled her eyes.

  “Damn it, Leo. You got glaze all over the door knob.” Uncle Owen could be heard swearing from down the hallway. “You couldn’t wait five minutes ‘til we got back, could you?”

  “Don’t sweat it. I’ll wipe it off.” Leo griped back at him. The two men came into the room and Leo thrust the white bakery bag in Ruth’s direction. The top of the bag was rolled so far down she worried she’d find the donuts smashed into a doughy blob at the bottom.

  “Does the trip to the bakery count toward our break,” Leo groused, “or does it start now?”

  “Hey Leo,” Uncle O butted in, “I think you’re in the wrong job. You should work at the bakery. You could be their head loafer.”

  Leo pinched his lips against his teeth and said, “Hardee har har. I’d tell you to act your age, O, but you’re so old you’d die.”

  These two usually went for the jugular with their insult slinging, but were obviously keeping it PG-rated in respectful deference to the females in the room. But Kay knew, first hand, how down and dirty they could get. All insults aside, though, it was evident the two men were best of friends.

  “So what’d I miss?” Ed said, bounding into the room, eager to join the conversation.

  “Not much,” Ruth said, glad to put an end to the juvenile sparing. “But the donuts are here,” she said, holding up the plate where she’d emptied the sugary contents of the bakery bag. She carried it from person to person like a server at a cocktail party.

  Ed selected then dug into a blueberry, sour cream glazed beauty, and in between noisy sucks of icing off his fingers said, “By the way, O, it looks like we’ve got one on deck. Are you gonna be available later for a pick up?”

  Owen looked down at the table, tapping his fingers while he thought. Then he looked up. “Well, I promised Addie we’d go to the casino tonight. There’s a slots tournament she’s been wanting to get into. Did they give you any idea how soon?”

  “Nah. The hospice nurse said she was just giving us a heads up; it could be as late as tomorrow,” Ed said.

  “I’d be happy to be on call, Ed, but you know how loud the casino is. It’ll be hard to hear the phone,” Uncle O said.

  ‘You’ve got “vibrate” on your cell,’ everyone around the table thought at the same time.

  “Don’t worry about it, O,” Ed said. “You and Aunt Adelaide go and have fun. We’ve got it covered.”

  Owen looked around the table, grateful no one had pointed out the obvious solution to the casino noise problem. He slurped the last few drops of coffee from his styro-foam cup, before bringing it down hard on the table. “Well, I’m gonna go finish the pews,” he said as he rose from his chair. “I still have the whole left side of the aisle to do and they’re not going to do themselves.”

  As he headed out the door, Ed kiddingly called after him. “Aren’t you worried we’re gonna talk about you?”

  Uncle O just kept walking. “It’s when people stop talking that you gotta worry,” he said. “Thanks for the goodies, Ruth.”

  Ed turned his attention to Leo, and inexplicably, brought up an old topic of conversation.

  ”Hey, Leo. Whaddya think of the job Kay did on the limo for the McNab service? Pretty good, huh. I bet you’d like her to be your permanent assistant.”

  The condom!

  Kay looked over at Leo, who deliberately avoided her gaze. Kay figured Leo assumed she’d forgotten all about pursuing the answer to his closely-guarded secret. But thanks to Ed’s weirdly-timed question, her curiosity had just received a reinvigorating boost.

  “Hey, Leo, the Sigma truck just pulled up,” Uncle O called, coming back into the hallway to announce the arrival of the weekly casket delivery. “I’ll get the church truck and meet you outside.”

  Ed jumped up, almost knocking his chair over. “I got this, Leo. There’s only one casket on the truck and I have to talk to the driver anyway. You just sit there and enjoy your break.” Before he left the room, he snatched a can of soda, most likely to offer to the Sigma delivery driver.

  Kay was unsettled by Ed’s squirrelly behavior. His usual smooth, suave persona had been replaced by a nervous, hyperactive kid.

  It’s probably all the sugar in the donuts and soda.

  Kay looked at Leo who had just helped himself to a third donut. If he was effected by the sugar, he didn’t show it.

  “So, Leo,” Kay said with a Snidely Whiplash-tone in her voice. If she’d had a mustache, she’d have been twirling the ends. “I bet you were hoping I’d forget about our little conversation.”

  Leo swallowed the bite of donut he had just put in his mouth without chewing. He hurried to finish his soda and wipe off the crumbs from his place at the table.

  “No. I haven’t forgotten. But like Owen said, the chapel isn’t going to clean itself. The sooner I finish shampooing the carpet, the sooner it’s gonna dry. Thanks, Ruth.”

  He ran out of the room before Kay had a chance to say one more word.

  “What was that all about?” Ruth asked watching Leo speed down the hallway. “It’s not like him to cut his break short.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Kay sighed. “It’s just a little private joke between us.”

  Ruth slowly leaned against the backrest of her chair, folded her arms across her chest, and studied Kay’s face.

  “By any chance does it have something to do with a condom?”

  Kay almost fell off her chair.

  “You know?” she gasped. “I mean, how?…When?”

  “Leo came to me not long after you found it in the car. He was worried you’d go to Ed. He thought you might have misinterpreted his silence as guilt,” Ruth said.

  Kay was insulted Leo thought she could be a snitch. Instead, she protested. “I never thought it was his…well…maybe just for a second; but he was being so mysterious, my curiosity got the better of me.”

  But something about Ruth’s explanation didn’t make sense. “If he isn’t guilty, Ruth, why not go to Ed? Why come to you?” Kay asked.

  Just then the light bulb clicked on in Kay’s head. She locked eyes with Ruth and knew they were having the same thought.

  “Oh my god,” Kay said,”he’s protecting Uncle O!”

  Ruth poured out her anguish over trying to decide if she should talk to Uncle Owen; without solid proof the condom was his, a confrontation could put the mortuary in an untenable position.

  “Owen isn’t a paid employee,” she said. “There’s no formal disciplinary action Ed could take against him.”

  Nevertheless, if he was guilty, he had to be prevented from jeopardizing the propriety and reputation of Salinger’s.

  “It’s an awful betrayal of Ed’s trust,” Ruth lamented.

  “Ed’s trust?” Kay shot back. She was indignant. “How about Aunt Adelaide’s? If you ask me, in this scenario, I think the boss should be in the back seat, not the wife.”

  Ruth burst out laughing at Kay’s unintended backseat reference. Kay joined her the moment she realized what she’d said. But despite her laughter, Kay couldn’t help feeling angry for Adelaide, given her own devastating experience with marital infidelity. Kay had only been around Adelaide a couple of times, but it was apparent the woman’s world revolved around her husband - something to which Kay could relate.

  “What I don’t understand is what kind of woman would be attracted to an old fart whose nose and ear hair are so long you could braid th
em together?” Kay asked. “And what’s the deal with the limousine? I mean, I’m all for status symbol sex, but this is ridiculous.”

  Ruth started to say something, then stopped. For a moment she debated the wisdom of spreading office gossip. But ever since Kay’s pot intervention, the two had formed a bond that Ruth believed, supported the discreet discussion of delicate matters. Ruth looked at Kay, held up her index finger, while checking behind her to make sure no one was walking up the hallway.

  “I have a pretty good hunch who O’s paramour is,” Ruth said in a hushed tone.

  Kay wasn’t sure she wanted to know - especially if it was someone she was acquainted with. It was going to be hard enough to face Uncle O from now on, without having to worry about how she’d act if she ran into the conniving tramp.

  “Do the words “dehydrated chili okra” ring a bell?” Ruth said.

  Kay thought for a moment, then gasped. “Oh no! You don’t mean Mrs. Dash?”

  Ruth made a pained expression and nodded slowly.

  Having the name of a well-known salt substitute was the least of this woman’s problems. Dorothy Dash - or Dot - as she preferred to be called, was a sixty-something, grossly-overweight, fashion-challenged woman who sported the worst blond dye job Kay had ever seen. Instead of trying to minimize its harshness, she teased it into a giant, bouffant page boy which framed a face made up with heavy amounts of blue eyeshadow and black eyeliner. Garish red lipstick was her finishing touch of choice.

  At least once a month Dot Dash would bring in a large Tupperware container filled with her “famous” dehydrated chili okra. Kay had to admit it was one of the most amazing snacks she had ever tasted.

  “Were you aware she brings the okra specifically for Owen?” Ruth asked.

  “No. I assumed it was for all of us - you know, because we handled her husband’s funeral last year.” Kay said.

  Receiving edible goodies from grateful clients was quite common. In fact, it was unusual Leo had to go out for donuts earlier, considering that most days there was usually some home-made yummy waiting to be had in the break-room.

  “From the first time she came in with that Tupperware container, she’s always made it clear the okra is for O. She waits for me to page him so she can hand it to him personally. I feel like I’m speaking in Morse Code when I page him. “Dot Dash is here to see you.” “Then she wiggles and giggles and bats those mascara-clumped eyelashes at him. It’s embarrassing, but O really seems to eat it up.”

  Kay recalled seeing Mrs. Dash the previous week in the front office, rolls of fat bubbling over the sides of a turquoise and brown tie-dyed halter top, pulled tightly over a turquoise mini skirt whose hem flounced over a pair of brown biking shorts. Kay assumed the flamboyant woman was probably going for a Cyndi Lauper-sort-of-look but missed and ended up looking like a gay sumo wrestler.

  Then she thought of Aunt Adelaide - slim, well-groomed and looking nice in one of those jogging suits that seemed to be the fashion for women her age. Not exactly exciting, but certainly not screaming at you like Dot Dash’s crazy togs.

  “I blame myself,” Ruth said. “I was the one who asked him to return the container to her that first time. I pushed him into that women’s pudgy arms. If Addie finds out I’ll never forgive myself.” Ruth was on the verge of crying.

  Kay thought Ruth was getting way ahead of herself. “Look, Ruth. We don’t even know if it’s a for-sure thing. Maybe it’s time to talk to Ed. Owen is his uncle and it just might be easier for him to broach the topic with him, man-to-man.”

  “I think you may be right. I really don’t think I could handle having that conversation.”

  Kay laughed and said, “Well, I happen to know someone who has the perfect remedy for getting through unpleasant chats.”

  Ruth gave Kay a fake look of disapproval and said, “Don’t you have some light fixtures that need cleaning?”

  Kay left Ruth to tidy up the break-room and made her way back to the main chapel, worried she may have unintentionally opened up a sticky can of worms.

  13

  Mediation/Schmediation

  The representative from the family court directed Kay to the room where the orientation video was going to be shown. The room was small and stuffy and was set up with four rows of eight chairs, accessed by a narrow aisle down the middle, and two narrower aisles on either side.

  Kay wondered if it was designed that way to accommodate warring parties. But she really didn’t care. Without thinking she took a seat in the front row - a habit she’d developed in college to avoid being distracted by her weakness for people watching. She credited this practice with helping her through college with a 3.8 GPA.

  Of all the days for her car to break down, this had to be one of the worst. Not only did she hate having to take more time off work to attend to these annoying legal issues with Dave, now, instead of heading straight to the mortuary from here, she’d have to let Ed know she might be out the entire day. Fortunately, she had managed to hold on to (create?) some good luck by getting an early start. The tow truck driver had honored her mom’s automobile club membership number, and since the court house was on his way, he graciously dropped Kay off at the front steps with time to spare. But now she was going to have to figure out who she could call to give her a ride home.

  As the room slowly filled up, Kay fought the urge to turn around to see if Dave had arrived. She trained her eyes on the family court seal projected on the large screen facing the audience, and challenged herself to pick out all the images crammed into the little circle.

  The first thing she saw was a horse-drawn stagecoach emerging from behind a lighthouse, heading at a full-gallop toward a blind-folded Lady Justice, scales in hand. She was lost in trying to figure out the meaning of the odd representation when she heard a voice say, “Is this seat taken?”

  Kay turned and was stupefied to see her ex-husband smiling, affably, down at her. For a moment she thought she was hallucinating - so good was her little attention-focusing game. A quick over-the-shoulder scan of the room revealed numerous empty chairs, scattered here and there; she couldn’t imagine why he had chosen the seat next to hers.

  Danger, danger, Will Robinson!

  The impulse to move (run) to another chair nearly overwhelmed her, but that would have been too awkward; so she just squeaked out, “No. Go ahead.”

  “Can you believe the parking in this place?” Dave asked, jostling her a couple of times as he tried to make himself comfortable on the under-sized, metal folding chair. She was offended by his physical touch - offended because it felt so pleasantly familiar after all these years but was no longer hers to relish or return. She wondered if he knew and bumped her on purpose.

  God, I HATE second-guessing everything this guy does.

  But that’s exactly what experience had taught her. And she’d learned it the hard way.

  Does he expect me to answer?

  This jolly Dave was a far cry from the man who had almost knocked her down storming out of the hearing room after getting his hat handed to him by the judge. After that horrible day Kay assumed he would never speak to her again - save for today’s court-ordered mediation. Given his unexpected good mood, Kay couldn’t help wonder if Sandy hadn’t sent him off for the day with a confidence-boosting blow job.

  Dave’s attempt at friendly chatter didn’t stop - not even through the 17 minutes of the video. Yes, it was old times for Kay, as she listened to Dave make hilarious comments at the amateurly-produced instructional video.This was the old Dave - the one with a natural sense of humor who knew how to make her laugh. And laugh, she did. But despite the hilarity Kay couldn’t help resenting how easily he slipped back into that persona she had fallen for so long ago - the one that brought out the best in her. She hated him for taking that away from her. Most of all she hated him for wasting it on the humorless, wet-washrag that was Sandy - the old-before-her-time hag who disapproved of watching Seinfeld and insisted they sit through mind-numbing episodes of “Mur
der She Wrote” and “Matlock.”

  If you gave her another million years, Kay would never be able to understand why Dave had sold his soul to this musty, uninteresting, dull, controlling shrew of a wife.

  Why, why, why? I mean, even blow jobs have their limits.

  The video ended, and a representative from the family court stood at the front of the room and asked if there were any questions. There weren’t any and most of the people had already begun filing out of the cramped room. Dave stood and hung back apparently waiting for Kay. She bent her head over her purse pretending to look for some badly-needed, but elusive item hiding at the bottom. She didn’t want to walk out with him, or take a seat next to him in the waiting room. The faux twosome-ness was unnatural and painful. Fortunately, Dave took the hint, and walked away without saying anything.

  Out in the waiting room, people nervously milled around waiting for their cases to be called. With her own sad and confused feelings reflected back at her, Kay knew she fit right in. She recognized the inner struggle of trying to come to grips with being a divorced person.

  Even though it had been seven years, Dave’s loathsome actions made it seem like seven days. And while she was happy today’s session was aimed at settling things with the girls, she wished there was some sort of mediation that could help her move forward, once and for all.

  Kay watched Dave on the other side of the room, pacing nervously while he talked on his cell phone.

  Probably reporting in to the warden.

  Kay pictured Sandy on the other end of the line, demanding a thorough accounting of the morning’s events. As soon as he finished he searched the room for Kay and headed straight for the bench where she was sitting. She wanted to wave him off before he came in for a landing but just sat there helplessly as he wedged himself into the breath of a space separating Kay and a petite, foreign-looking woman praying the rosary. Kay wanted to lean over and request a couple of Hail Marys for herself.