by Mary Monroe
I was glad when Freddie hung up. She had given me a lot to think about. I was not in the mood to talk to James so I didn’t bother calling him that night. I needed more time to think things through anyway.
CHAPTER 40
Most of the people I knew hated for Monday morning to roll around because they didn’t want to go back to work. I was glad to return to work that Monday morning after the trip to Reno. The only thing I didn’t look forward to at the office was Ann’s return, which was supposed to be the following week. I was surprised when she didn’t return as scheduled. Wendy and Pam didn’t know any more about Ann’s absence than I did. “I even asked Lupe and she hasn’t heard from Ann either,” Pam informed me.
No matter how big of a thorn Ann was in my side, I didn’t want anything else bad to happen to her. But the mugging that she had survived would seem like a walk in the park compared to some of the things that could have happened to her during her trip to Greece. With all of the current terrorist activity, we all had some concerns when it involved travel. It was an especially sensitive subject with me. There was not a day in my life when I didn’t think about how my mother had died. Being the victim of a terrorist attack was something that I would not have wished on my worst enemy.
Around nine-thirty that Monday morning, Mr. Rydell fired off another one of his red-flagged e-mails to the whole staff. He advised us all to meet him immediately in the reception area for an announcement he had to make.
One thing I had learned was, when you become part of the criminal element, and if you have a conscience, paranoia becomes part of your everyday routine. As soon as I heard about the impromptu meeting, I suspected the worst. I thought that somehow I’d been found out. My heart was beating a mile a minute as I stood by the side of my desk behind Lupe, wondering what was so important for Mr. Rydell to call us all together. Wendy stood next to me, breathing like a seal. Apparently, I was not the only paranoid member of the team. Wendy looked downright frightened and so did Pam, for that matter. The three of us remained silent as the reps mumbled among themselves. My mind was such a ball of confusion that I didn’t try that hard to listen to the muffled conversations around me. I was just alert enough to determine that the reps’ speculations had nothing to do with me. But that didn’t mean anything. None of us really knew why the meeting had been called.
As urgent as he’d made it sound, Mr. Rydell was the last to arrive. Looking like a white-haired penguin in his black suit, he waddled into the reception area from the elevator, huffing and puffing like he had taken the stairs. The reps stopped mumbling and suddenly everyone stood ramrod straight.
Mr. Rydell looked around the room, his gaze settling on me. I held my breath as his rubbery lips began to quiver. I didn’t know if other Black folks realized it, but whenever a situation involved one of us, attention was focused on the rest of us. Not only was Mr. Rydell paying a lot of attention to me, but Dennis was, too. In less than one minute he’d adjusted his Harry Potter glasses twice and stared in my direction, looking me up and down in a way that made me feel like I’d come to work naked.
Mr. Rydell finally cleared his throat to get Dennis’s attention off me. All eyes were on Mr. Rydell as he began to talk in that low, steady voice that people used to deliver difficult news. “Ann . . . our dear sweet Ann, has suffered another blow.” He stopped to blow his nose into a large white handkerchief, making a face that upgraded his plain features to fiercely ugly. Joy patted his back, blinking rapidly as if to hold back her own tears until we found out exactly what had happened to Ann this time.
With his eyes shut, Mr. Rydell rubbed his nose with the back of his thick hand but that didn’t stop him from letting out a honk that sounded like the distress call of a goose. “Please excuse me,” he said, forcing a smile. After licking his lips and composing himself, he continued. “Ann’s . . . her sister was found dead last night,” Mr. Rydell stated, mopping his face with the same large white handkerchief that he’d just blown his nose with. I gasped along with everybody else.
“What happened?” I heard somebody ask.
Mr. Rydell blew his nose again and rubbed the back of his head before responding. “I don’t have all the details yet. But as some of us know, Ann’s younger sister was leading a troubled life. Drugs were part of her problem so something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. Anyone interested in attending the funeral services along with me is welcome to do so. Time off with pay, of course,” he added, looking from one face to another.
There were a few mumbled comments and a few choking sobs from the women. I looked at Wendy standing next to Pam with her arms folded and a bereaved look on her face. I didn’t know if Wendy’s sorrow was genuine or not, but mine was. I knew all too well what it was like to lose a loved one.
“So out of respect, we’ll close the office for the remainder of the day. That will be all,” Mr. Rydell croaked with a dismissive wave of his hand. He blew his nose one more time before he stumbled to the elevator.
Dennis Klein took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Joy muttered gibberish under her breath, shaking her head so violently her French twist came undone. And Lupe boo-hooed so hard and loud that people walking by outside on the street heard her. The three grieving reps walked behind Mr. Rydell in a single file with their heads bowed like convicts. It was a sight to behold. And it was all because of Ann.
As soon as we were alone, Wendy padded over to my desk. “If this doesn’t knock Ann off her high horse nothing will,” she said sharply, with a loose grin on her malicious face.
Wendy often said mean things about other people in my presence that rubbed me the wrong way. I always managed to hold my tongue. Until now.
“Show some respect for the dead, girl! You might be next,” I snapped. Wendy was so taken aback by my outburst she ran back to her workstation in tears.
CHAPTER 41
There had been some tension between James and me since I’d returned from Reno. He didn’t like the fact that my new job had already taken me away from him for two whole weekends. Chills ran up and down my spine when I tried to imagine what James would say if I told him the truth.
Especially the part about Freddie and LoBo going on a “retreat” to Reno with me. James had a problem with my choice of friends. That bothered me because I didn’t associate with just anybody. I chose my friends carefully, so the few I had meant a lot to me. James tolerated Freddie, but he looked down on LoBo. Not because LoBo hauled trash for a living, but because LoBo was on the shady side and had family members in prison. James took a lot of pride in the fact that nobody in his family had ever been in jail or purchased any of the hot merchandise that LoBo could get his hands on at the drop of a hat.
I had tried to reach James at home that evening after we’d heard about Ann’s sister, but his mother had answered his telephone. “I thought he was with you,” she muttered, sucking on her teeth and pausing long enough to annoy me. “But then, you been mighty scarce lately. Scarce as hens’ teeth. You the only person I know that got to go on retreats to keep a job . . .”
“I work for a travel agency, Mavis. We have to keep coming up with new ways to attract business to keep up with the competition,” I snapped, making up things as I went along. “At our retreats we create scenarios and do exercises to evaluate our public relations skills. Travelers, especially large groups from big corporations, want to feel that they are in good hands when they travel.”
“What is bein’ a secretary got to do with all that?” Mavis barked. It amazed me how ignorant most people were when it came to what a secretary did or did not do. Some people believed that secretaries had it as easy as housewives, another essential but unappreciated group in our society. I had to admit that there was a time when I thought that all secretaries did was answer phones, file, type, and flirt with their bosses. But the truth of the matter was, secretaries and other clerical employees had a lot of hidden talent and power. A few years ago a temp agency offered me a position with a company that had almost clos
ed after their three disgruntled secretaries walked off the job.
“I have to know what is going on at the company so I can do my job, Mavis. If my boss thinks that I should attend the retreats, I think so, too. And anyway, management people don’t know the first thing about arranging meetings, setting up conference calls, maintaining office equipment and supplies, filing—”
Mavis clicked her teeth and cut me off in midsentence. “Organizing potlucks, making coffee . . .”
“I do all of that, too. But in the future they will train me to do what the travel reps do, too,” I claimed.
One thing I knew I had to do soon was to organize my lies. At the rate I was going, it was just a matter of time before James or Daddy caught me in one of my own traps. If it could happen with them, there was no telling what kind of mess I could get myself into posing as Ann Oliver. I hung up before Mavis could annoy me further.
Before I could get comfortable and start dinner the telephone rang. It was Daddy calling from the liquor store. “James just got here. He’d already been by the house looking for you,” Daddy told me.
“I spent a little time at the mall this afternoon and then Freddie and I went out for a drink after she got off work,” I explained.
After Mr. Rydell had closed the office out of respect for Ann’s latest tragedy, I had taken a bus to the mall to get my nails done. Then I did do a few hours of windowshopping. I saw a lot of things that I wanted to buy, but couldn’t. Not because I didn’t have the credit cards with me; I never left home without them. But because of something so off-the-wall it would have been funny had it not been so serious to me at the time: I was superstitious.
For some reason the news of Ann’s sister’s death had given me such a creepy feeling that I couldn’t even bring myself to charge any of the lovely items I’d admired. But I hadn’t felt that morbid feeling until I reached for the credit card when it came time to pay for the lobster lunch I’d gobbled up. I didn’t know what Ann’s sister looked like, but my mind had suddenly flashed on a younger version of Ann lying in a coffin. The vision actually made my hand throb when I touched the credit card. With the impatient waiter glaring at me, I fished out a fistful of five-dollar bills instead. It was painful for me to have to pay for such a lavish meal out of my own funds.
I had drifted in and out of several stores until it was time for Freddie to get off. I was standing in front of her building when she left work. She had had a hard day and needed a drink as much as I did. Surprisingly, I didn’t have a problem paying for our drinks with the same credit card I had not been able to use at lunchtime. But my being slightly tipsy helped. I made a mental note that if there was ever another time when superstition interfered with my shopping plans, I’d take care of that worrisome condition with a few drinks.
“Gal, why you spendin’ good money on alcohol at a bar when I got enough here to light up Mount Rushmore ?” Daddy laughed, interrupting my thoughts.
“Uh, it’s not the same thing, Daddy. I . . . I heard some bad . . . bad news today,” I said, with a deliberate stutter.
“What?” Daddy asked, his own voice shaking.
“One of the ladies I work for, her sister was on drugs real bad. Well, they found her dead,” I stated with a sob.
“Hmmm.” Daddy let out a deep breath. “I’m glad I didn’t never have to worry about you doin’ nothin’ that stupid. You ain’t perfect but I’m real proud you my gal.”
“Thank you, Daddy. Anyway, I was feeling kind of down about it, so Freddie took me out to talk about it over drinks.”
“You all right? Did you know the dead girl?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Why don’t you come out to the store and relax till I close up, baby. I don’t like you bein’ by yourself when you got the blues. Besides, James is here and I’m sure he’d love to give you a hug.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll have to take a cab over there. But I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
Cab drivers didn’t like to come into my neighborhood after a certain hour. This was one time that I was glad they didn’t. I waited an hour before I called the liquor store.
To my everlasting horror, Mr. Clarke, the horny old man who worked for Daddy, answered the telephone. “Well, hello there, Miss America. I ain’t seen you in a while. With your sweet self.”
I had not been back to the store since the robbery, but I’d caught glimpses of Mr. Clarke every now and then. Usually from the living room window at Freddie’s apartment as Mr. Clarke made his way to the massage parlor near her place that he couldn’t seem to stay out of.
“Hello, Mr. Clarke. I know you are busy so I won’t take up your time. Will you put my daddy on the telephone ?” I said in a rush. The next voice I heard belonged to James.
“I thought you were on your way over here,” he said gruffly.
“I thought I was, too. I called for a cab an hour ago. I called to check on it and they didn’t even have a record of my call,” I said, sounding annoyed. I had called a cab but then I called back five minutes later to cancel it.
“It’s just as well, your daddy’s about to close up anyway. You want some company?”
“Did Daddy tell you about my coworker’s sister?”
“Uh-huh. And that’s a damn shame.”
“I’d like to just stay on home if you don’t mind. We’ll do something real nice in a day or so. Is that all right?”
“I guess it’ll have to be, won’t it? You’ve been doing what you wanted to lately anyway.”
“James, don’t you start that shit again,” I said through clenched teeth, rubbing my eyes with my knuckles. “I am not in the mood to fuss with you tonight. All I can think about is that poor girl dying. It makes me think about Mama and Gary . . .” I was prepared to release a few sobs if I had to.
“I’m sorry, sugar. Look, you get some rest and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” James hung up so abruptly I sat staring at the telephone until I could no longer feel it in my hand.
CHAPTER 42
Wendy and I were the only ones who didn’t go to Ann’s sister’s funeral before coming to the office that Thursday morning. I had sent flowers to the funeral home that I’d paid for out of my own pocket.
When Mr. Rydell and the rest of the staff returned to the office that afternoon, everybody was understandably in a dark mood. Mr. Rydell had on his black suit as usual. But it was strange to see the rest of my coworkers dressed in black from head to toe all at the same time. They filed in, heads bowed, right before lunch.
Pam, holding a crock pot that contained what was left of some mysterious stew she’d taken to Ann’s condo, burst into tears and ran for the elevator as soon as Wendy asked about the funeral. Pam sobbed off and on for the next two hours. Finally, Mr. Rydell gave her a hug and sent her home.
There had been a lot of tension between Wendy and me since I’d scolded her about making light of Ann’s misfortune. She’d been unusually quiet for a change and I liked that. She only addressed me when she had to, and always about business matters.
Somehow we made it through that miserable day. The next morning when Wendy arrived, I was already at my desk finishing up my coffee. A recently divorced woman with a notion to take a cruise to an exotic land to celebrate, had come in and snatched a fistful of brochures from the rack. Wendy stumbled past my desk, almost colliding with the recently divorced woman on her way out.
“Wendy, are you all right?” Pam yelled, concluding a lengthy, loud telephone conversation with one of her out-of-state friends. She got her hair tangled in the telephone cord trying to get off the telephone so fast. I was surprised at how fast Pam had bounced back to normal after her crying fit the day before.
“I’m fine,” Wendy said quickly, pausing by the side of my desk. Her hair was askew and her makeup was smeared, which was unusual for so early in the morning. Even for a crude woman like Wendy. “Trudy, I need to talk to you about something in private.” She plucked a tissue from the box on my desk and blew her nose. It was then that I noticed
that she had also been crying. Her nose was red and her eyes were red and swollen.
I shrugged. “Sure.” I glanced at Pam who sat listening. I turned my attention back to Wendy. “You want to take our breaks together in a couple of hours?”
She gave me a hot look, staring way too long for my tastes. I stared back, with one eyebrow raised. That shook her up enough to soften her face and even offer me a smile. “I’ll need more than a fifteen minute break. How about lunch? My treat. We can go to the deli next door.” Wendy’s smile didn’t hide the fact that something was bothering her. She was distracted and nervous. She stumbled and dropped her purse twice.
I nodded. “That sounds fine. Do you . . . do you want to tell me what this is about?” I asked. I had already assumed that it had something to do with the way I had yelled at Wendy. She wanted to clear the air, make peace. I was all for that.
“I had a long conversation with Daryl last night,” she said in a voice that was similar to a growl.
I looked from Wendy to Pam. Pam widened her eyes and shrugged. I turned back to Wendy. “And?” I said, more than a little curious now. I couldn’t imagine what a conversation with a fool like Daryl had to do with me. Then it dawned on me. Like a lot of White women I’d worked with, Wendy wanted to use me as a sounding board—like a mammy. This was something that a lot of Black women experienced. Freddie worked with a lot of White women who would get hysterical over just about anything. They often took her, or one of her Black female coworkers, aside to weep on their shoulders. Just the thought brought a smile to my face. My own mother, as Black as she had tried to be, had been the type of White woman to cry on the nearest Black woman’s shoulder.
“And this is rather sensitive and urgent so we have to talk about it today. Lunchtime,” Wendy told me. She whirled around and rushed back into her cubicle.
