Still, hearing the phrase Auntie Munch gave Munch a small, unexpected thrill.
"Let me talk to her," Lisa said in the background.
"My mom is being a bitch on wheels," Charlotte confided.
Teenagers, Munch thought. Some things never change.
Asia and Jasper came running back in the house. Munch pointed to the water bowl. Asia got on her hands and knees over the dog’s dish and mimed lapping at the water. At least Munch hoped she was miming. Jasper dunked his face in the bowl and came up with an ice cube. He trotted off with it as though he’d found a piece of steak.
Lisa came on the line. "Hey, how the hell are you?"
"You’re not back in town, are you?" Munch asked.
"Yeah, missed you, too."
"What about that thing?" Munch asked, referring to the dope-smuggling bikers Lisa had snitched out. That judicious piece of confidential informing had earned Lisa and family a one-way ticket out of Dodge, courtesy of the Feds.
"That blew over a long time ago. Those guys are all dead or in the joint. We’re cool. I hear you’re doing good. All Miss Straight and Narrow. "
Was this a prelude to getting hit up for money? "We get by," Munch said cautiously, wincing at using we instead of I. "How’re the girls? Jill and Charlotte?"
"Rea1 good, getting straight A’s. Growing up fast, think they know everything about everything."
Munch laughed. It sounded familiar.
"They want to see their cousin." Lisa said. "They got a right."
Munch looked at Asia, who was petting the dog, but obviously listening to Munch’s half of the conversation. "How you figure?" she asked, responding to Lisa’s defensiveness with some of her own.
"We’re blood."
"Lisa, let me make this real clear. I’m eight, damn near nine, years sober. Asia is well adjusted and happy. I work hard to give us a good life. I’m not letting anyone into it who’s going to mess up any part of that."
"Hey, hey—"
"I don’t give a damn what you think ties us together. I am not getting dragged down any slippery slopes because you suddenly show up and—"
"Fucking A, hold on a minute, will you? I just want the kids to meet. I don’t even have to be there. It wasn’t my idea anyway. Ain’t no call for you to go freaking out on me."
Munch looked down to see Asia and Jasper staring at her. Iasper was shivering and looking unhappy. Was this an omen or did angry voices upset him? Maybe his last family had broken up because they couldn’t get along and that was why he’d been abandoned. Asia’s big brown eyes, her daddy’s eyes, were wide and solemn.
"You want to meet your cousins?" Munch asked.
Asia nodded carefully as if not sure whether a yes would offend her mother. Munch hugged her, then ruffled Jasper’s ears to reassure him.
"Okay Lisa. Let’s meet at the park on Seventh and Wilshire. Can you be there in an hour?" Might as well get it over with.
"Yeah, we're on the West Side."
"I figured," Munch said. "See you."
"Happy day" Munch said after hanging up.
Picking a public place was no accident. Munch wasn’t about to invite trouble to her home. She could always step up the relationship if this first reunion went well. It would be much harder to step back if she offered too much. Starting next year, she vowed, their phone number would be unlisted.
***
On the weekends Munch usually left her hair loose to give her scalp a break from the tight braid she wore when working on cars. It also felt more feminine to let her light brown hair fall unencumbered across her shoulders and down her back. Feeling feminine, however, was the last thing on her mind as she got ready to meet Lisa. If anything, she had gone into warrior mode: jeans and boots, a ponytail that could easily be tucked in the collar of her sweatshirt if the need arose, and an attitude of deep suspicion.
Munch, Asia, and Jasper got to the park first. It was early enough in the afternoon that the bums were either still begging at the 7-Eleven or sifting through the alley Dumpsters. They hadn’t yet migrated with their shopping carts full of bedding and keepsakes to surround the concrete restrooms and stake their claims for the night.
Homeless, she corrected herself, that’s what they’re calling themselves now, especially in the People’s Republic of Santa Monica. There hadn’t been such a polite name for it when she was living the life of a street person. She’d just been a junkie and maybe worse than that if she’d ever paused long enough in her self-destruction to worry about labels.
Lisa arrived twenty minutes late in a creaking Dodge Dart. Charlotte and Jill piled out first. If Munch hadn’t been expecting Lisa, she wouldn’t have recognized her. The years had been downright brutal.
At five-five or five-six, Lisa had a few inches on Munch height-wise, but she had yards on her everywhere else. Never svelte, Lisa had bloated to twice her previous girth since Munch had last seen her. Most of her newfound weight appeared unhealthy; her flesh was pale and without tone. Her facial features looked as if they’d been transposed onto a lump of Silly Putty. The excess of her bilious cheeks distorted her eyes, nose, and mouth—until they seemed compressed upon themselves, Multiple chins gave way to a sagging throat. The hair that had once been brown and as long as Munch’s was now gray and cut close to the scalp.
Asia’s little face scrunched in disbelief. "Is that her?"
"Afraid so."
The short walk from the parking lot to the wooden bench where Asia and Munch waited left Lisa short of breath and sweating. Jill skipped ahead of her mother, lithe and unconcerned, incongruously stunny dressed in pink stretch capris and a flowered blouse. Charlotte, the second, older daughter, shuffled behind. If Jill was the sunshine, then Charlotte was permanent midnight. Dressed all in black, her hair was long and straight and dyed Morticia Addams black with the exception of the last two inches, which were pumpkin orange. Face pale. Eyes dead. As the teenage kid of a loser like Lisa, Charlotte appeared to be appropriately morose.
"When you turn fourteen," Munch said sotto voce to her daughter, "I’m locking you up."
"I know, I know, until I hit twenty."
"Maybe longer. Depends."
“Don’t worry Mom, I’ll be a perfect angel always."
"Uh-huh. We’ll see."
Lisa plopped down on the bench beside them with a force that bounced Asia an inch in the air. She covered her mouth with her hand and, to her credit, successfully fought off a giggle.
"Made it," Lisa announced, fanning herself with pudgy, unjeweled fingers. They looked like raw sausages. Her nails were gnawed to nothing, the cuticles red and angry from constant assault.
"What happened to James?" Munch asked.
"James is history."
"Is that right?"
"He split after the first year. We had to spend all this time around each other and got to fighting nonstop. Finally he just took off."
"Yeah," Asia said, sneaking looks at her cousins, "we haven't had much luck holding on to a man either."
Munch laughed, amused even though it was true, maybe because it was true. They’d both thought Rico was going to be a keeper. Encouraged, Asia nodded knowingly. "All the good ones are taken."
What Munch actually thought was that when guys got to be thirty-five, forty, and were still single, there was usually a good reason for that. Her best bet at this point was to catch a guy right after a divorce or breakup, but not too soon. And there would be a reason for his newly single status, too.
Jill performed a perfect cartwheel on the grass in front of them. Asia looked impressed, but made a big point out of petting Jasper’s head and saying loudly "Stay. Good boy." Jasper K didn’t look as if he had any intention of going anywhere. It was a safe command.
Charlotte remained standing, her mouth half-open.
"Sit down," Lisa told her. The teenager sat with all the emotion of an amoeba. Munch remembered exactly what it felt like to be fifteen. Too bad the elevator had to stop on that floor. It was an ugly age.
Lisa then turned her attention to Asia. "How about a kiss for your auntie?"
"I’m shy" Asia said, looking her aunt directly in the face.
Munch swallowed a smile. "Why don’t you and Jill take Jasper for a run?" She watched the two girls skip off to the monkey bars, then turned back to Lisa. "So what’s the plan?"
"What d’ya mean?"
"Are you staying? Are the kids in school? Do you have a job?"
"When did you get so fucking nosy?"
"Which question don’t you want to answer?"
"Hey, you know, I don’t need this shit. Here I am, trying to make nice, and you’re treating me like some second-class citizen. Maybe this was a mistake." Lisa attempted a pout, but even that came across as duplicitous.
Munch glanced over to where Jill and Asia were teaching Jasper how to shake hands, then turned back to Charlotte and Lisa. Charlotte had not yet spoken word one. On closer inspection Munch realized that her eyebrows were drawn on, two nihilist black chevrons punctuating her white death mask.
"Charlotte? Do you remember me?"
"Yeah."
"Last time I saw you, you were Asia’s age and Asia was a little baby. "
"They grow up fast." Lisa said. "Enjoy ’em while you can. Show your aunt Munch what you did."
Charlotte cracked a sheepish smile, showing off braces. The orthodontia surprised Munch. Maybe Lisa wasn’t doing a totally terrible job. Charlotte lifted her long hair to reveal a scalp shaved clean from the ears down.
"Nice, huh?" Lisa said.
Munch wondered where Lisa found the room to judge, but said nothing. She looked at her watch.
"I’m cleaning houses," Lisa said. "Char’s in high school and picks up spare change babysitting, not that I ever see any of that. Jill is in fifth grade at Palm Elementary. Happy?"
"Ecstatic." Ecstatic had been one of the words on this month's "Word Power," the Reader’s Digest vocabulary quiz. Limpid, bucolic, and didactic had also been on the test, but Munch had yet to come across a suitable context to put them to use.
"What about you?" Lisa asked, pointing vaguely north. "We drove by your old gas station. It wasn’t even there anymore."
"They bulldozed that place six years ago. I’m in Brentwood now, at a Texaco station." Munch didn’t mention her limousine business. Lisa would only think she had deep pockets to plumb. And she couldn’t be more wrong about that. Munch’s refurbished stretch limo barely paid for itself. Munch had started A&M Limousine thinking she would cash in on the ’84 Olympics when they came to Los Angeles last year. Who knew that in anticipation of the crowds so many other wannabe entrepreneurs in the city would have the same idea? Or that so many residents of the city would exit en masse and that traffic would be the lightest in recent history? Now she was stuck with the car, the insurance, a Yellow Page ad, and a too short client list. Not to mention the competition of gypsy services who didn’t bother with the legalities and subsequent overhead of the proper insurance.
The "You’re at a Texaco station?" Lisa asked. "Which one?" As if there were hundreds of Texaco stations in Brentwood.
They spent the next fifteen minutes listening to Lisa bring up stories of what she thought of as the glory years. Munch remembered the names and none of the stories as Lisa remembered them. Charlotte kept looking at Munch with an unmistakable hunger. Occasionally her mouth would open as if she wanted to speak, then her thin shoulders would fold forward and she’d let that unnaturally black hair fall over her face.
If Munch had had an aunt to go to, anyone, in her teen years, it might have made all the difference. Hadn’t Lisa said this meeting wasn’t her idea?
Jasper broke free from the girls and came bounding over to sit at Munch’s feet. Lisa reached out to pat his head, but he pulled away.
"Your dog shy too?" she asked.
Munch saw the hurt in her face before the sarcasm took hold. She reached a hand out and laid it on Lisa’s fleshy shoulder. Lisa flinched as if unused to human contact. Munch found a smile for her.
"We just got him. This is all new for him. Don’t take it personal."
"We should be going anyway" Lisa said, using both hands to hoist herself. "I got stuff in the Laundromat. I don’t want nobody ripping us off."
"We’ll have to do this again sometime," Munch said, sounding as vague as possible. This visit definitely counted as one of the three good deeds she tried to perform each day maybe all three, although the good deed should really be anonymous.
Charlotte hung back and petted Jasper, her Halloween hair falling down over her face. "We had a pact."
Munch wasn’t sure if she heard Charlotte right. "What?"
"I guess you forgot."
Munch was suddenly flooded with memories. Lisa's cruddy little clapboard house in Inglewood, 1977, eight long years ago. Jets taking off overhead, drowning out the television that was always running. Lisa smoking and drinking beers, in over her I head with bad guys on both sides of the law. Sleaze John newly dead. Munch sitting on the floor of the kids’ bedroom, trying to bring some order to the mess they lived in. Charlotte was only seven then, and Jill was three. Munch had the two little girls hold out their right hands and pledge to meet again on that very spot, ten years from the day. It was all she could think to do for them. She promised herself that on that future date she would explain to them the facts of their lives. That their parents were assholes and to let it go because it wasn’t going to do them any good to feel sorry for themselves. They only had themselves to count on and account to. Maybe they’d figured that out already. You didn’t get straight A’s without a good work ethic and study habits.
Munch fished a Bel Air Texaco business card out of her wallet and gave it to Charlotte. "No, I didn’t forget. We said ten years, right? We’re early."
The card disappeared with sleight-of-hand speed, then Charlotte turned and followed her mother and sister.
Munch started to call for Asia, but the girl was already beside her instead of pushing her boundaries as usual. Asia slipped a hand into her mother’s, and Munch wondered if she was going through one of her clingy stages again.
"Oh, no," Asia said as they got in their GTO for the drive home.
"What?"
"Jasper's tags are gone."
Munch cast one last backward glance at the park. Strange, she thought. "Don’t worry Asia. We’ll get him some more."
Chapter 3
Charlotte knew it was her fault. Not that she had pulled the trigger, but if she had left things alone, hadn’t gotten involved, Steve might still be alive. Not might. Would be alive. Who was she kidding?
He was just a kid. Now he’d always be a tenth-grader. His framed yearbook picture atop his closed coffin would be her last memory of him. They’d closed the coffin because the body had been burned. Standing there for the service, touching the bronze box that would carry him into the earth, she thought she smelled the cooked flesh. Her mother said she was crazy.
Her mother said that a lot.
Charlotte knew what she knew, though. She knew right from wrong.
Steve’s life would not be in vain. His death would not be forgotten. That was her pledge to him. He had wanted out, not dead. She had gone about it all wrong. She might as well have painted a big target on both their backs. It was all her fault. Everything was so screwed up. She banged her fist against her head. She wanted to use the wall, but that would make too much noise, and her mother was in the living room. No doubt cooking up one of her schemes.
Charlotte didn’t care about herself, but Steve had wanted to live. He cared. He cared. Look where it got him. She twirled her hair around her finger, around and around, tighter and tighter. She needed something to focus on besides her unbearable guilt. She should have stopped him, should have asked him what he was going to do. She should have known what would happen.
As she thought, she paced. Eight steps, turn, eight steps. Worry wart, her mother said, you worry about things that are none of your business.
But it was her business. Her mother never asked enough questions. She was happy in her ignorance. Charlotte wished she didn’t know what she knew. Jill needed looking after every second, always had. So many things around to cause pain, to make her sick. Poisons, broken glass, a door left open, unattended pools where she could drown. Brakes failed, fires started, there were diseases with no cures. It was all real and it was all around them.
Pace and pull. Her scalp itched. Crazy as it sounded, she wished she could reach up inside her skin and attack the follicles from within. Instead, she wrapped just a few strands from the back around her finger and yanked them loose. The tingling relief was short-lived before the shame at her weakness set in.
She needed to get out, but she couldn’t leave her room until she had everything in order. What else hadn’t she thought of? How much worse could one person feel? If only she could trade places with Steve, but then who would look after her mom and sister?
She realized she had lost count of her steps. That was just the kind of inattention to detail that let people get hurt. What kind of a monster was she? The more she tried to be a good, decent person, the worse things went. There were times she’d love to give up, but she didn’t have that luxury and she certainly didn’t deserve an easy way out.
***
Monday morning, two days after meeting Lisa and the girls at the park, Munch was paged over the gas station’s loud-speaker. A call on line two. She punched the appropriate button.
"Munch speaking."
"Has Charlotte called you?"
It took Munch a second to recognize Lisa’s voice. Munch’s boss, Lou, stuck his head out of his office and asked her if she’d heard yet from the alternator shop. She shook her head no, then covered her free ear to block out the sounds of revving engines and compressed air escaping the tire machine.
"No, why?"
"She’s gone."
"What are you talking about?"
"Her bed was empty this morning. She never made it to school."
Munch looked at the clock. It was only ten. "Maybe you’re overreacting."
"That’s what the cops said."
Unwilling Accomplice - Barbara Seranella Page 2
