by Liz Crowe
“Oh god! Oh no! Oh, Leona, I’m so sorry! Was it an accident? Had he been sick?”
There’s a choking sound before she continues. “Abdominal aortic aneurysm. Just dropped dead.”
“That’s horrible! I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?” I really don’t know why she called me, but I guess it makes sense that she’d want me to know.
“No, no. Nothing you can do. I just wanted you to know in case, you know, you wanted to come for the service or something.”
She wants me to come – that’s why she called me. I’ll have to think about that. “Tell you what. Give me the address and the day and time and I’ll talk to my fiancé. If he doesn’t mind, I’ll try to come. How’s that?”
“Oh, would you, Kimberly? Oh, I’d really, really appreciate that. I know Mama would love to see you.” Their mother is a kind, sweet soul. She’s the person I’d most likely do this for. I make up my mind that if Jaz says it’s okay, I’ll go.
“I’ll talk to Jaz and ask him if it’s okay. I’m sure he won’t mind. So when’s the service?”
“Seven tomorrow evening.”
Wow. They aren’t wasting any time getting him in the ground. “Um, I’ll try to be there, Leona, but that doesn’t leave me much time.”
“I know. But please, if you can . . . Here’s the address.” She rattles off an address in Los Angeles and in a few minutes, with a handful of pleasantries behind us, we hang up. I immediately call Jaz.
“Hey, baby! What’s up?”
“I just got a call from Phil’s sister. He died.”
“Oh, god! Oh, I’m so sorry, Kimmie.”
“Don’t be. I mean, I hate it for his family, but I don’t really care one way or another. But they’re hoping I’ll come for the funeral.”
“When is it?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I don’t think I can be back by then . . .”
“I’ll just go by myself and come right back.”
I don’t have to see his face; I can hear the strain in his voice. “I really don’t like the idea of you traveling alone. Where is this?”
“Los Angeles.”
“No. I don’t like that one bit. I’d rather that you didn’t.”
I sigh – loudly, I’m sure. “Babe, it would just be one night. And I wouldn’t stay with them. But I feel like I should go and pay my respects for his family’s sake. They were my family for years, and they never did anything against me. Matter of fact, they supported me when he, well, you know. I really feel like it would be the right thing to do.”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone before he asks, “Are you sure you want to do this? Because I really don’t like it.”
“I know. I really don’t like it either, but I do feel that I need to go. Look, I’ll leave and be back before you get here. You won’t even know I’m gone,” I laugh.
“Yes I will. Book your flight and let me know your flight schedule. I mean it, Kimmie. I want to know where you are and when.”
“Okay, okay. I promise I’ll stay in touch. I love you, Jaz.”
“I love you too, babe.”
“I feel like this will give me complete closure.”
“Well, then, by all means, do it. But please, be careful.”
“Always, babe. I’ll let you know my plans as soon as I know.”
“Okay.” His tone has changed from indignation to worry. “Please do.”
“You’ll know every step of the way.” As soon as we hang up, I call around and get a flight, then start packing. While I’m packing, I grab my planner and start calling clients I had scheduled for the next two days. Before bedtime, I’ve got my plane tickets, my clients have been notified, and I’m packed. I head off to bed, knowing tomorrow will be a difficult day.
*****
God, what a horrible flight. I got stuck in a seat beside a guy who could double as an elephant for the circus, and he honked like one too. I hope his problem is allergies or I’ll be sick before I can get back home.
I booked a cheap motel near the funeral parlor and I manage to get checked in by six so I can fix my makeup and freshen up a bit. It’s not the Ritz-Carlton, but it’s a place to sleep. I took a rental car with a navigation system, so I have no trouble finding the funeral home.
The sight in front of me is beyond my imagination. There are camera crews everywhere and TV station vans, and people are lined up out the front door of the funeral parlor, waiting to get in. I ask one of the women in line, “Is this the line for the Hendricks funeral?”
“Yeah. Sure is,” a little blond tells me.
I see a side door and head that way, but the man standing beside it stops me. “Sorry. You can’t enter there.”
“But I need to see Leona.”
“Are you family?”
I think about that. Technically, I’m not. “Uh, no, I guess not.”
He points back to the back of the line. “Then you’ll have to go to the back of the line and wait like everybody else.” The stern look he gives me makes me decide that I’d be best off to just do what he says.
So I go back to the back of the line. What are all of these people doing here for Phil? He hasn’t lived in Los Angeles all that long, maybe a couple of years, so he can’t know very many people. I stand and wait, stand and wait, stand and wait. While I’m standing there, I hear conversations all around me, just snippets of them anyway. I hear “hasn’t worked since she left the show” and “met through a friend” and “what he saw in her except dollar signs.” I really don’t know what to make of it.
It takes almost an hour before I make it far enough up the line to get into the actual chapel where the family is gathered. There are photographers trying to snap pictures everywhere, and a reporter with a microphone and a notepad talks with people standing in line. There are so many people that I can’t see up to the front to see his wife and to see if Leona is there, so I just entertain myself watching the people I can see from my little pocket of space. My eyes sweep the room when I see something that puzzles me.
There’s a girl across the room and close to the front, and she looks a lot like Melissa. I’m marveling at their similarities when the girl turns, scans the room, and then looks right at me. And then I know for sure.
It is Melissa.
What the hell? Why is she here? It doesn’t make any sense. As soon as her eyes land on me, she stands and makes her way across the room to me. The first thing out of her mouth is, “Kim! What are you doing here?”
“The dead guy is my ex-husband.” A weird look passes over her face, so I ask, “What are you doing here?”
“The dead guy is my stepfather.” Her eyes search my face. Even as we speak, I’m moving forward in the line, and I finally get a glimpse of the woman at the center of everything.
Meredith. Meredith Renzada, the soap opera star; well, former soap opera star. Meredith Renzada is Jaz’s ex-wife. I’m still having trouble grasping it when I choke out, “Meredith Renzada is your mother?”
“Yes. I thought you knew that.”
“No. I had no . . .” In one blinding flash, it hits me in the gut.
Jaz. His ex-wife was married to my ex-husband. And then I remember. He lived in Hollywood. And Phil moved out here because his wife worked out here. Phil married Meredith Renzada, Jaz’s ex-wife. They’ve been together about a year.
Something in my chest tightens and it’s hard to breathe. I manage to stammer out, “Your dad. He came to Illinois because . . .”
“Because he needed a job. Kim, are you okay?” I can’t imagine the expression I’m wearing when she says, “Maybe you should sit down. You don’t look too . . .”
“No. I have to leave. I have to get out of here. Please tell Leona that I was here and that I, I had to leave. I have to go.” I’ve already turned and I’m heading toward the door, toward fresh air and the night sky and anything and everything that’ll make my head stop spinning and my stomach stop churning. Somewhere behind me I can hear Meliss
a calling after me, but I’m not going to stop. I can’t.
Jaz came to Illinois looking for me. Was this some kind of weird revenge thing for him? Find his ex-wife’s husband’s ex and . . . and what? Marry me? And then divorce me? Hurt me? Maybe cut me up like she’d cut him up? What? What was he trying to do? To prove?
I knew it was too good to be true. I couldn’t understand why a man like Jasper Givens would want to be with me, and now I know he didn’t. This was all some kind of weird plot, some twisted, convoluted shit that he dreamed up. I make it to my rental car, gasping for breath. Once I’m inside it, I lock the doors and sit for a few seconds, but when I see Melissa coming out the doors, looking around for me, I start the car and pull out. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing, but I can’t stay here.
I drive for hours, not knowing where I am, just driving and thinking, barely able to see for crying. I wander into some pretty dicey areas of town, but I look around at the people standing on street corners, hooking and dealing drugs, and all I can think is, So what if they shoot me? Kill me? Pull me out of the car and beat me or rape me? Nothing can be worse than this. Nothing. I keep driving and realize I’m out in the suburbs or something. I’d turned off my phone out of respect, so I turn it on and turn on my navigation system, then put in the motel address which, of course, I have to look up on the internet because I have no idea what it is. And sure enough, I’ve got about a dozen voicemails. The trip back to the little budget motel is a blur as I turn whenever and wherever the nav system tells me to. I don’t look around. I don’t know where I am, where I’ve been, or where I’m going.
I don’t know anything anymore. Finally in their parking lot, I park and turn off the car. As I start to get out, I put my hand on the wheel and there it is: The ring.
That’s when I dissolve. How could anyone play such a horrible trick on me? How could he use me so carelessly to prove whatever point he’s trying to prove? Was there no concern at all for my feelings? And I realize that there wasn’t. This wasn’t about me at all. I was just lonely enough and trusting enough to play the game. All the things he said to me, all the ways he touched me, all a lie, just a big, nasty lie.
Stumbling through the motel room door, I manage to make it to the bed before I collapse. My whole world is crumbling around me, and in this moment, in the silence and unfamiliarity of the ugly little room, I just want to die. What did I ever do to deserve this? Was I so horrible in a past life that this is my comeuppance? And what do I do now? We’ve linked our lives together with a home and other financial things. I have nowhere to go but back to my tiny little house and my tiny little life. The life I thought I had with Jasper Givens?
It’s gone. It’s all over. How long did he think he could keep this a secret from me? Was he planning to slash me in the night some night, drive me into subspace and then mutilate me? Running ninety miles a minute, my brain is throbbing with all of the hideous things rolling through it like tumbleweed in Death Valley. I don’t know what to do or who to call. I’m trying to figure out what my next move should be when my phone rings.
It’s him. I can’t. But I have to. I answer the phone and I don’t say anything. “Hey! Hi, sweetie.” I can’t make my mouth form words. After what I’m sure is only a few seconds but seems like hours, he asks, “Kimmie? Are you okay, baby? Kimmie? I’ve called you like ten times.”
All I can do is growl out, “I know.”
There’s silence, followed by, “Then why didn’t you call me back?”
“No, Jaz. I know. I know all about it.”
“About what?”
“Jaz, I’m in California.”
I hear him chuckle. “I know! I was worried about you. I haven’t talked to you all day. You okay?”
“No. I know, Jaz. Quit pretending.”
The silence comes back, followed by, “Pretending about what? Kimmie, you aren’t making any sense.”
“No, let me tell you what doesn’t make any sense. Why would you do this? You told me you loved me. I love you. You let me fall in love with you. Why would you do this, Jaz? I don’t understand.”
His voice is stern when he says, “Kimmie, what the hell are you talking about? I have no idea what you’re . . .”
“Oh, stop it! How stupid do you think I am?” I’m shrieking into the phone and I’m sure I’m waking up the people in the room next door, but I don’t care. “You’re one helluva actor, I’ll give you that. So what was the plan? Find me, woo me, and do what? Kill me? Cut me up? What was the plan, Jaz? I want to know before I say goodbye for the last time.”
Now he starts shrieking into the phone. “Kimmie, what the hell? What are you talking about? What’s going on out there? Kill you? Cut you up? That’s insane! Where would you get that idea?”
He doesn’t have to know that I didn’t meet his ex-wife. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Meredith?”
He just sounds pissed when he asks, “You talked to Meredith? How in the hell did that happen?”
“Gee, Jaz, why don’t you tell me that, huh? Is that why you didn’t want me to come out here? Are you back there packing up to disappear before I get back?” I’m growing more agitated by the minute. “And the worst part? I might’ve never figured it all out if it hadn’t been for Melissa.”
“What the hell does Melissa have to do with anything?”
“Because she’s here, Jaz. She’s how I found out.”
“Found out WHAT? Good god, Kimmie, you’re talking in circles. I can’t make heads or tails out of anything you’re saying. Where is Melissa and what is she doing there?”
“She was there, Jaz. She was at the funeral parlor when I got there.”
“I don’t understand . . .”
“She was there for her mother.”
“Kimmie, I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about. You went to your ex-husband’s visitation. What does that have to do with Melissa or Meredith?”
“Really? This is how you’re going to play this?”
“Look, I’m really confused here. You’re screaming into the phone at me, and you’re talking about Meredith and Melissa and I don’t know what either of them have to do with why you’re in California. I’m sorry. I must’ve missed something important in this conversation. And by the way, little girl, those are some pretty serious accusations you’re leveling at me, whatever the hell they are. I’m not even sure about that.”
“Stop it, Jaz. I know. I went to my ex-husband’s visitation.” There’s silence. “And his wife was there.” Still silence. “You know, his wife. The soap opera star. Meredith Renzada.”
“Whaaaa . . .”
“You’re going to tell me that you didn’t know my ex-husband was married to your ex-wife?”
“Uhhh, yeah. That’s exactly what I’m going to tell you because it would be true. Are you sure? Phil and Meredith? Seriously?”
A blind fury passes over me. “Stop it. Just stop. What was this about, Jaz? Some kind of weird retaliation? Revenge? What? Why would you do this to me?”
“Kimmie, I haven’t done anything to you. I’m as surprised about this as you were. I had no idea . . .”
“I’m sorry. I don’t believe you.”
There’s dead silence on the other end of the phone. Minutes tick by, and he still says nothing. Finally, I can’t stand it. “Well?”
“Well what? What do you want me to say? Do you want me to confess to some kind of strange plot against you or Meredith or Phil or, hell, I don’t know who? Because I can’t. It’s not true. I’m still trying to process the fact that they were married.”
“You’re going to tell me that Melissa hadn’t told you?”
“No. We don’t talk about her mother. I don’t want to. I told her a long time ago that she could do whatever she wanted, but I didn’t want to see Meredith, talk to her, hear her voice on the phone, even hear her damn name. I’m surprised Melissa’s there. They haven’t spoken in years, as far as I knew. And besides, I doubt she knew Phil was your ex-husband.
How could she?”
“So you expect me to . . .”
“I expect you to come home. I expect you to remember that I love you and I’ve never lied to you about anything – anything. I’ve always been straight with you, Kimmie, you know that.”
“I thought you had been.”
“What would make you doubt me?”
I’m so beyond furious that I don’t even know what to call what I’m feeling. “Because there is no way this is a coincidence. Absolutely not. It couldn’t possibly be.” My phone starts to beep. “I’ve got to go. Someone else is calling me. I’ll get my things when I get back. And I don’t want you there while I’m doing it.”
“But Kimmie, please –”
I just hang up and look at the phone, then hit ACCEPT. “Hello?”
“Kimberly?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Leona, honey. Phil’s stepdaughter told me you’d been there. Why didn’t you stay to see me? I was hoping you’d come – Davis was too. And James was looking forward to seeing you.”
“I couldn’t stay. Did you know I was engaged?”
“Yes. I remember you said you’d check with your fiancé. Congratulations, by the way.”
I wait to drop the bomb. “I was engaged to Meredith’s ex-husband. Melissa’s dad.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I didn’t know until I saw Melissa there. And Jasper never told me anything except Meredith’s first name. He never told me that she was married to Phil.”
“Wuh, uh, well, is it possible that he didn’t know?”
Now I’m really suspicious. “Are you in on this too?”
“In on what?”
“Leona, I can’t believe that he had no idea his ex-wife was married to my ex-husband. Can’t believe it. Just can’t.”
I hear her snort before she says, “Now listen here, Kimberly. I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I don’t have anything to do with it, whatever it is. I’ve never wanted anything bad to happen to you. Matter of fact, I was pretty pissed off at my brother for a long time after he left you. And I certainly wouldn’t conspire to hurt you in any way.”
