“Dear God give me strength,” I mumbled, as Ed helped my husband to his feet and cuffed him.
“I'm sorry, baby,” Tom whispered, and I held him for a long moment. I touched his cheek and kissed him before he was led away. He plodded along between Ed and another officer, and his stride reminded me of a condemned man about to meet his executioner. I took comfort in knowing the use of deadly force against a plastic owl was not a crime punishable by death.
“Where's Robbie's phone number?” I yelled.
“He's in my cell, listed as Marilyn Monroe!” Tom hollered back, and I watched in horror as he was loaded into the police car, wearing only his underpants and the handcuffs.
Twenty-Four
If you plan to take a walk on the thin line between what is lawful
and what is not, you might want to think about wearing pants.
I stood in the yard until the cruiser's taillights had blinked from sight, then sprinted toward the house. I launched a search for Tom's cell phone and finally found it in the pocket of his jeans, which were half-shoved under the couch. I selected the entry for Marilyn, and held my breath while the call connected.
“Robbie!” I nearly yelled, and my voice disappeared into the booming of loud music. “Robbie?” I whimpered, and the call disconnected. “Shit.”
I stumbled down the hall, intent on dressing myself properly. Tom was headed to jail wearing only his underwear, and while it was his plight foremost in my mind, I was reminded that I wasn't wearing any. I intended to rectify that immediately.
I slipped off my jeans, pulled on pink panties, stepped back into the jeans, and took a deep breath to steady myself. I shrugged out of my sweatshirt, grabbed the zebra bra - thanked God and all the saints, my husband wasn't wearing it - made numerous attempts to hook it with trembling fingers, and slipped a sweater over it once I had. Just as I forced my feet into my shoes, Tom's cell rang. I answered it immediately.
“Robbie?” I whimpered, sounding panicked.
“Mona, what's wrong?”
“Tom's been arrested. Can you come home?”
“I'm twenty minutes away. I'll be there in twenty-one,” Robbie blurted, without asking for details. I relaxed, but only slightly.
While I waited for Robbie, I packed a bag for Tom. It was bad enough he'd been hauled off to jail in his underwear. I couldn't see him coming home that way. I grabbed his jeans, and stuffed them in his gym bag. I did the same with his sweatshirt, running shoes, and socks.
I carried the bag to the foyer, and grabbed Tom's coat from the rack. I could feel the velvet box in the pocket, and I took it out. Despite the dim lighting, I could clearly see the beautiful ring. I closed the box, hugged it to my chest, and then shoved it back into the pocket.
As I did, my fingers brushed an envelope.
It was addressed to me. Tucked inside was a letter and a scrap of purple paper.
My quote.
I reread it, and was again moved by its poignancy.
We are not invisible because the world does not see us. We become invisible when we can no longer see ourselves.
“Wow,” I whispered.
Although I felt like an intruder, I decided to read Tom's letter, and I moved into the living room, flipped on the light, and settled myself into the corner of the couch.
I opened the letter and moved it closer to the light.
Dear Mona,
I have carried this tiny piece of paper in my pocket for many days. Your words are branded into my heart, and I no longer need to read them to know what they say. There is such tremendous depth to you, depth you hide beneath your humor and the antics that equally delight me, and drive me to the brink of insanity. I know I could look forever, and never find anyone like my Mona Lisa. You are a rare jewel, a woman worthy to carry the name of a treasure. You are one of a kind, a pure soul, with an occasionally dirty mouth, and I am the luckiest man in the world, because you love me.
I think in a way we both became invisible, and we remained that way, until by some miracle we began to find our way back. We have rediscovered the love we once shared, and no matter what happens, I will never let this love go, never again. I intend to remind you, everyday, of how much I adore you. And, if there is one thing I would ask for, even though I have no right, I would ask that when we are old, and our bodies worn out, God would take me first, because I could never live without you.
You make me smile, and sometimes leave me wanting to scream, but always make me laugh. I know I will leave this world with laughter echoing in my head. I am a better man because I have shared my life with you, and you have shared yours with me. I wanted to find the right way to tell you this, at the right moment, and I think the day we renew our vows would be perfect. Although, and I say this gently, because I do love you more than my own life, you're reading this now, and it is likely not the day I intended, but the moment when you, my beautiful red-head, found it when you shouldn't have, and couldn't resist the urge to read it. Despite this, I love you more than words can say.
Forever;
Tom
I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, and put the letter back where I found it. I had read prose, poetry, words of love, but they had never been written for me. Not until now.
We'd never stopped loving each other, we'd just stopped working at it, and preserving something that, with proper care, would last a lifetime.
Despite my faults, my clumsiness, my ability to say the least appropriate thing at the least appropriate time, Tom loved me. I was the love of his life, the woman he chose above all others, and while he reveled in his good fortune, I knew I was the lucky one.
I checked my watch. Robbie would be home any minute. More than ever, I needed to be with my husband. I couldn't imagine him in jail, and I began to pace nervously as the minutes ticked by in slow motion. Finally, I heard the door. “Robbie?” I called, and someone who looked a little like Robbie, and a lot like Liza Minnelli, stepped into my kitchen. “Holy shit.” Robbie blushed, or at least I think he did. It was difficult to tell under the thick layer of makeup.
“I was at a party,” he said sheepishly, and I had the urge to scream. As much as I loved Robbie and accepted him for exactly who he was, I needed him to just be my brother-in-law tonight. My life had become a living hell. My neighbor wanted to kill me, my house was surrounded by a flock of feathered demons, my husband was in the clink, and all I had to comfort me was Liza?
I needed a shoulder to cry on, one without sequins or shoulder pads.
“Mona?” Robbie said, and I looked at him. “I was at a costume party. Let me change, and we'll go. You can explain everything on the way.”
Robbie was back in the kitchen in less than five minutes, sans the makeup, sequins, and gold pumps. We headed to my SUV. Once inside, and on the way to the police station, I filled Robbie in on my nightmarish evening.
“He's losing it,” I whispered.
“No he's not, Mona.”
“You didn't see the owl,” I said, and Robbie laughed weakly.
“You guys just have your hands full, and you both had a hell of a day. Admittedly, he could have handled tonight better.”
“You think so?”
“We all reach our breaking point. This business with Thurman has to stop. A hundred years ago, someone would have shot him just because he's an asshole.”
“Can I?” I asked, and Robbie chuckled.
“You wouldn't if you could.”
“The option would be nice.”
“We'll work it out,” Robbie said, reaching for my hand. I noticed he was still wearing an enormous cubic zirconia.
“Nice ring,” I said.
“Oops,” he remarked, slipping it off, and shoving into his pocket.
We pulled in front of the jail and I forced myself to leave the safety of my vehicle. I slogged along beside Robbie, who carried Tom's bag. Robbie held the door for me, and I hesitated, just long enough to get his attention. “It will be okay,” he said, putting his hand on my arm. “Let's
get him home and we'll figure everything else out from there. Okay?”
I stepped into the police station, and the entire place filled my senses. I felt the heaviness of fear and despair, and although it was the last place I wanted to be, I identified with the emotions of it. I'd created my own prison, and I'd locked myself away in it for five long years.
“I want to see my husband,” I demanded, when Ed Mulpepper came out to talk to me. “Now, Ed.”
“We're releasing him in a few minutes. Mr. Pippin was just here. He dropped the charges,” Ed said, and I relaxed.
“He did?” I asked, feeling gratitude and disgust for the idiot who had made my life hell for over ten years.
“He said he wanted to make a point,” the deputy explained.
“He did that, all right,” Robbie interjected.
“Your husband asked about mediation, and I mentioned it to Mr. Pippin. He said he's leaving for Florida next week and he'll be gone until after the first of the year, or thereabouts. If things haven't simmered by then, Mr. Pippin will consider it.”
“Thurman's going to Florida for the winter?” I asked, barely able to contain my excitement.
“It would appear as such, Mrs. Siggs,” Ed confirmed.
“But he's coming back?” I whined, and the deputy threw me a cautionary glance.
“He is, and I expect you two to behave yourselves once he does. No more mailbox destruction, strobe lights, drag queens, baseball bats, or unlicensed firearms, okay?” Ed said, and I gasped.
“You know about all that?” I asked.
“I do, but if you can stay out of trouble, I'm willing to forget I know it, and Mr. Pippin has agreed to misplace any evidence he might have of your petty crimes.”
“Evidence?” I squeaked.
“Evidently, he's got security cameras all over,” Ed advised me, and I felt myself go pale.
Sonovabitch!
“He has evidence?” I repeated.
“Yes, and he's agreed to destroy it all in six months if you can behave yourselves.”
“We'll behave,” I promised with little conviction, and Ed and Robbie both threw me a look that said they didn't believe that any more than I did.
Twenty-Five
A few hours in the clink will make you appreciate
anything that lies outside its walls.
By midnight we were home. Thurman's house was dark, and I had the urge to throw a fire bomb at it, but I was pretty sure that wasn't what anyone had in mind in terms of “mediation,” and I intended to try to keep the promise I'd made to Ed, at least for a few hours.
We strolled up the sidewalk, looking like we were returning from a three-day bender.
Robbie had traces of makeup in his hair, my granny panties were giving me the wedgie from hell, and Tom, well....., Tom was a story all in himself.
Robbie headed to the shower, and too wound up to sleep, Tom and I settled on the couch.
“Tom?” I asked.
“Yeah?”
“What the hell happened tonight?”
“I don't know. It was like an out-of-body experience, Mona. I looked down, and there was this lunatic in his boxers, beating the shit out of a plastic owl.”
“You should have seen it from the porch,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“Did Ed tell you Pippin dropped the charges?” Tom asked.
“He just wanted to make a point,” I said, and my husband groaned.
“Point taken,” he replied.
“So, how are we gonna fix all this?” I asked.
“We have got to find a way to get these birds to move on, but I don't know what we're gonna do about Thurman.”
“He's going to Florida for a while. At least that's what Ed said,” I told Tom.
“Good riddance,” he growled.
“When he comes back, maybe we can try this mediation thing. We'll just figure out a way to live this close to him and not drive each other nuts.”
“Why do you think he's like that?” Tom asked.
“I don't know. He's just mean, and angry, and frankly, I think he's a bit crazy.”
“A bit?” Tom said.
“Maybe he lives too close to a power line or something.”
“That would make us crazy, too,” Tom observed.
I just stared at him. “Spoken by the man who just got arrested for massacring a plastic owl.”
“Touche,” Tom said. “You know, Mona, as much as I detest that old coot, I think I understand why he is the way he is. In a way, he's got to be a bit like us.”
“How so?” I asked.
“He's so unhappy, and that would have eventually happened to us if things kept going the way they were.”
“You're probably right,” I said sadly.
“Think about it, Mona. We were miserable. It didn't happen overnight, but it happened. We were so unhappy we shut each other out.”
“We did that, didn't we?”
“We did. We're just luckier, because we found our way back. I bet a lot of people don't get that chance.” Tom kissed me, and I wrapped my arms around him.
“He must be lonely over there,” I said.
“Probably.”
“He has no one. That's so sad,” I whispered.
“You want to invite him over?” Tom asked.
“Who?” Robbie said, sticking his head in the doorway.
“My wife feels bad for Thurman,” Tom said.
“So do I,” Robbie said.
“I can't quite join in that sentiment. After all, he's the reason I got hauled off to jail in my underpants.”
“He's old, Tom, and your radical crow-removal methods must be driving him mad. Old people like things to be consistent. I don't mean to be judgmental, but you guys aren't the best neighbors when one enjoys consistency,” Robbie said.
“I suppose you're right,” Tom said.
“I am,” Robbie said. “I'm gonna hit the hay. I've been up for almost twenty-four hours, and those damn pumps were murder on my feet.”
“Should I ask?” Tom said.
“No,” Robbie replied. “ All right, I'm off. It's supposed to be nice tomorrow. I want to work on the kitchen and start on the roof. It has a hole in it the size of an oven, and that tarp isn't looking too healthy, either.”
Tom and I both laughed, and Robbie headed off to bed.
“Are you really okay?” I asked my husband.
“Well, going to jail was on my bucket list, so at least I've gotten it out of the way.”
“It was?”
“No.”
“What was it like?” I asked, and a shadow crossed Tom's face. Even in the dim lighting, I could see the pain there.
“It was horrible, Mona. I'd pretty much decided I was going to lie to you, if you asked, but I can't. We need to tell each other the truth. Ed was pretty decent, and he apologized about a hundred times, but once I got to the jail, they treated me like I was a piece of garbage. It was almost the worst moment of my life.”
“Oh, honey. I'm so sorry.” I paused for a moment. “What was the worst moment?”
“The worst one was the moment I thought you were sleeping with someone else.”
“Really?”
“Yes, babe. Really. Jail sucked, but I knew I was coming back home to you. Of course I wasn't sure when, and I had to sit there in my skivvies and wait, but I knew everything would be okay, as long as I could get back to you.”
I took a deep breath and reached for Tom's hand. “I read your letter.”
“I know. You put it back in my pocket upside down.”
“How did you know that?” I asked, and Tom leaned forward and gently touched his lips to mine.
“There was a little mark on the end of the envelope, and I put it in the pocket with the mark on the bottom. You put it back the other way.”
“Doesn't mean I read it,” I said, and he chuckled.
“You couldn't have stopped yourself.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Don't apologize, ba
be. I wanted you to see it. I wrote it for you. So, now that you've read it, what did you think?”
“I thought it was beautiful. Maybe you should be the writer, and I should sell used cars. I'd look hot in the deer car, although I'm not sure mustard yellow is my color.”
He chuckled, then looked serious. “It was what you wrote that inspired me to write the letter. That quote was one of the most incredible things I've ever read. If you could sustain that for more than two sentences, you could be a huge success.”
“You need to work on your compliments,” I said, and he kissed me again.
“I'd rather work on my kissing,” he replied, so we did. We worked on our kissing for a long time until I pulled away and started to cry.
“What's wrong?” Tom asked, and I wiped my face on my sleeve.
“It hurts.”
“What does?”
“Knowing you went through that.”
“I'm okay,” Tom assured.
“I know. That's not why I'm crying. It feels good to hurt, Tom. It feels good to feel something, anything but the numbness I felt for all those years.”
Tom pulled me to him and I sobbed into his shoulder. “It's all right, baby,” he soothed, as I clung to him.
“I was numb, Tom. We both were,” I whispered. “We couldn't take the disappointment, so we just went numb. I think we were like a couple of robots. No matter what happens to us, we can't let that happen again. I don't care how battered we get by this life, we have to feel.”
“I think you're right.”
“Promise me, Tom. Promise me we won't let it happen again.”
“I promise,” he said softly, leaning his face toward mine. He kissed me again, and I held tightly to his hand.
“It's very late,” I whispered.
“I know. Mona?” he said, looking into my eyes.
“What?”
“I want you to promise me something, too. If you ever feel yourself becoming invisible again, promise you'll tell me. I'll come find you, and I'll do everything I can to help you find your way back, and remind you that you're amazing.”
“You think I'm amazing?”
Becoming Mona Lisa Page 20
