by SE Reynolds
Chapter 51 – Virginia
I spent yesterday in bed taking doses of Benadryl every four hours, keeping me in forgetful land for most of the day. I told Robert I caught a bug. I wish it were a bug. A bug eventually goes away once you puke it all out, but not this type of bug. It just sits in my stomach, eating my insides out, sucking on every cell I have until I'm left empty. All the craziness I willingly participated in Friday night has brought me to one conclusion. I'm mad, not pissed off mad, but crazy mad. I dropped everything, even left Robert, to meet a married man at his wife's house. I was so desperate to see him; I lost all rationale and practically broke into his house. And now, disturbingly enough, I'm not sure if that was Josh on the other end of the phone or someone else pretending to be him. Maybe Stacie set me up. She could've found out Josh and I were together, that we made love. He could've told her out of guilt. They could've planned it together to scare me off. Well, it worked! If I ever see that man again, I will run in the opposite direction and never look back.
"Are you still feeling sick?" Robert asks. Poor kid. He is sitting on the top of the stairs waiting for me to come out of my bedroom.
I've been feeling sick a lot lately. He must think I'm terminal.
"No, I'm feeling much better, cutie, just a bit tired. What are you up to today?"
"It's Sunday, Mom, no school, no practice."
"Right, yes, of course."
I pull my phone out of my bathrobe pocket and see it's already 11:00 a.m."
"You must be starved, Cutie. I can make some breakfast."
"No thanks, I just ordered an extra-large cheese pizza and a liter of coke from Sbarro's."
"That actually sounds good. Will you share some with your pathetic old mother?"
"Yeah, okay. I'm gonna watch The Boys, though. Do you want to watch it?"
"The Boys? Oh, is that like 'N Sync, or what's that other boy band?"
"Uh no, Mom, it's a TV show. It's about superheroes that are bad guys and bad guys that are good like superheroes should be."
"Huh, interesting, okay, I'm in."
Robert and I ended up watching the entire first season. It was a great way to spend a cold Sunday; it was a sobering day, a nice normal day with my son.
After Robert retreated to his bedroom, I attempt to reengage slowly into the real world by turning on the Sunday evening news. Doreen Rieger is off today. Instead, I get the weekend anchor, Leon Holtz. He's a bit of a stiff shirt. I don't feel at home with Leon like I do with Doreen. He's a very distinguished black man, very professional. I like looking at him; he's easy on the eyes, with his shiny bald head and dark-rimmed glasses, but he's definitely not as warm and homey as Doreen. Leon lulls me to sleep as I rest my head on the corner of the couch, but his words suddenly jar me awake.
"We have some breaking news, albeit disturbing news. Jennifer London is live in Fairview, Virginia. Jennifer what's going on?"
"Well, Leon, I'm standing outside the gated, upscale community of Fairmont Estates where Mayor Joshua Steadman and his wife, Stacie Shewster-Steadman, reside. We got more clarification on the woman that was found dead in the mayor's home yesterday. The woman has been identified and in fact, it's his wife, Stacie Shewster-Steadman. The mayor released a statement just a few minutes ago. I will go ahead and read his statement: my wonderful wife and our city's first lady, Stacie, passed away yesterday afternoon. Our family is still in shock and in enormous pain. Please respect our privacy during this tragic, devastating time, and please say prayers for us all."
I pause the DVR and push rewind. I launch myself towards the TV and sit on the floor with my face only inches from the screen. I hit play. She's dead? Stacie is dead? Jennifer London continues.
"We don't know any of the details of what happened to his wife, but as they come in, we will pass them along. Back to you, Leon."
"Thank you, Jennifer. What a tragic loss for the city of Fairview. Stacie was not only the mayor's wife but a partner at Simon, Franklin, and Shewster Law Firm in the Old Town of Fairview. In her short time as the first lady of Fairview, Stacie bettered lives in the community by building safe houses for women and children …."
She died suddenly? Suddenly? That could mean anything. She could have fallen down her big staircase or had a heart attack. She is awfully young, though, but she isn't in the best shape. No, no, of course! Stacie killed herself. Joshua told Stacie about me, or she found out all on her own. It had to of devastated her. Maybe she was so uncontrollably upset Joshua had to spend Friday night consoling her. He probably had to stand vigil, making sure she didn't go over the edge, but eventually, she did. She could've easily told Joshua she needed to pee or take a shit, but instead, she downed a bottle of pills she found in the medicine cabinet or slit her wrists with Joshua's razor blades. I hope it wasn't the latter. What a bloody mess that would've been? With all that's going on, there's no way he'd be able to break away to call me, telling me not to come.
It's all falling into place, but that woman, Joshua's assistant, said he and Stacie weren't home. She could easily be covering for them. They could've been anywhere in that big house. Yes, it's all falling into place. Stacie called me enraged, knowing Joshua and I were together, telling me to back off. Joshua told her he wants me, not her. She couldn't bear being fat and alone again. And the picture I sent her, oh that sent her way over the edge. I'm sure she thought I posted it somewhere, somewhere that everyone could see. Oh no! I told her to go kill herself. I didn't mean it literally, but if she did take my advice, I hope she did it the clean way, a bottle of pills, and then off to sleep. I will reach out to Joshua once the dust settles. I'm sure he feels horrible. He did care for her, not like he cares for me, but he did care for her.
Chapter 52 – Joshua
There's a crowd of reporters standing in the little patch of grass in the City Hall parking lot this afternoon. They're waiting for me. They want to hear all the gory details about how my wife died so suddenly. They are vultures. They barely notice me when I do something good for this town, but man, they're all over me when tragedy hits. I'm wearing my black grieving suit with a white shirt and a yellow tie, Stacie's favorite color. It's an unusually warm day for this time of year. It feels like Indian summer. The sun is hotter than it should be, brighter than it should be. I watch from my office window, the vultures fighting one another for a closer shot and a better view. Sheriff Clayton will speak first. He will tell the facts, and then I'll be up next. I will give a statement and maybe answer a question or two. I'll play it by ear. I wanted to deliver my own bad news and convey it my way, but Sheriff Clayton wanted the facts to come out unemotionally. Sheriff Clayton is a friend of mine. He is an older gentleman and has a seen-it-all attitude; he certainly looks like he has. He's full of gray and deep facial lines. I hope I don't look like that one day.
"It's time, Joshua. Are you ready?"
"Yeah, got no choice."
"No one should have to go through this twice. I'm truly sorry. You don't have to say anything today if you don't want to."
"I want to."
"Okay, let's get this over with, Mr. Mayor."
I put on my dark sunglasses as Sheriff Clayton and I leave the building and walk to the little patch of grass. Sheriff Clayton walks up to the podium and raises the microphone. He's a tall, burly man. You definitely don't want to fuck with him. I stand to the right of him and listen as he feeds them my story.
"…the coroner's office has determined Stacie Shewster-Steadman died of anaphylaxis. Our forensics team is investigating the possible contamination of the face cream that was used on Mrs. Shewster-Steadman to see if it was contaminated with bee venom. Mrs. Shewster-Steadman had a severe allergy to bee venom. Bee venom is a common ingredient used in beauty products…."
The vultures are going crazy as they push and squawk over each other with questions.
"Are there any pending charges against the massage therapist or The Pampered Duchess, Sheriff, or anyone else that could be involved?"
"Was the m
assage therapist aware that Mrs. Steadman was allergic to bee venom?"
"I'm not going to answer any more questions as this is still an open investigation, but I can tell you no criminal charges have been filed at this time. Now, Mayor Steadman would like to say a few words."
Sheriff Clayton steps aside. I step up to the podium and clear my throat.
"This week has been a blur. I'm still in shock. Our family is still in shock. We are trying to come to terms with what happened. Many of you knew Stacie as a force to be reckoned with. She was always trying to fight the good fight. Do what is right. But, to me, she was my best friend, my confidant, my wife, my sweet Stacie."
Genuine tears form in my eyes as a small waive of real grief over takes me. I clear my throat again and continue.
"Right now, we are grieving and really need time to do that privately. I appreciate all the outpouring of love and prayers. Fairview is a city of fine people that care for one another, and I am comforted to be a recipient of your prayers and your love. Thank you."
"Mayor Steadman, are you going to sue the massage therapist or the company for wrong-doing?"
"I don't care about any of that right now. I care that my wife died tragically and way too soon."
I try to leave the podium, but the vultures are still hungry.
"Mayor Steadman, did you know your wife was allergic to bees?"
"No, I didn't."
I leave the press conference and drive straight home. I'm exhausted and in need of a safe place to decompress. As soon as I open the front door, I smell Easter. Stacie's mom is baking a ham. When I get to the kitchen, Mrs. Shewster is standing at the counter peeling potatoes. Tears are running down her cheeks.
"You don't have to cook. It's just JJ and me. We still have a couple of casseroles, mystery meat, pies. The neighbors have been very kind."
"I don't know what else to do, Joshua. I don't know what else to do."
Mrs. Shewster puts the knife and the potato down. She puts her head in her hands and sobs. I bring her a box of tissues.
"This doesn't make any sense, Joshua. It doesn't make any sense. You would think they'd ask her if she is allergic to something, even latex, something?"
"According to the police report, the massage therapist asked Stacie if she was allergic to anything. She said just bees. The face cream isn't supposed to have bee venom in it. They aren't doctor's, Mrs. Shewster. Honestly, I don't know what the protocol is."
Mrs. Shewster continues to sob again. I don't attempt to console her. My words wouldn't do any good. I should be crying with her, hugging her, but Stacie's mom hates me. She hates me for meeting Stacie and for ordering the massage that killed her. It's only a matter of moments when Mrs. Shewster's sobs will turn into words of disdain. So, I keep my distance.
"Why don't you lie down for a while. I can peel the potatoes. What time should I take the ham out?"
"No, no, I'm fine. I get these waves, horrible waves; they overtake me, knowing that I will never see my daughter again. It's overwhelming."
"Yes, I've had those feelings too many times," I say as I get a beer out of the fridge.
I hope Mrs. Shewster calms down before JJ gets back from school; although, JJ hasn't been too phased about Stacie's death. When I told him, he said she was a nice lady and then asked if we could stay in the house. I didn't know how to answer that. If Stacie's mom has it her way, we'd be kicked to the curb in no time. It was too soon to have that conversation with her mom or with anyone.
I turn on the TV in the family room and turn the volume up high to drown out Mrs. Shewster's periodic groans. The press conference is on the five o'clock news. It will run again at 5:30, 6:00, 6.30, and 11:00. People can't get enough of this shit…Mayor's second wife dies tragically of an allergic reaction to bee venom. What are the fucking odds of that? I'm sure I will be the topic of a Dateline episode before too long. I can see it now, Stacie's mom and sister whimpering in front of Keith Morrison.
Mrs. Shewster, when were you first suspicious of Mayor Steadman?
The first day I met him. What would a handsome mayor ever see in my plain dumpy Stacie?
Oh, but your daughter was more than that, Mrs. Shewster. You just never gave her enough credit; you never gave her a chance like I did. If you knew her like I did, you wouldn't have continued to tear her down, make her feel less than what she was. You even made her feel like she needed to have a kid to make up for what she lacked in other ways that just don't matter, and now you will have to live with the fact that Stacie never reached the potential you hoped she would. Damn, I'm exhausted! Mourning another one, I never thought I would have to do this again.
I watch as Sheriff Clayton gives the accounts of Stacie's death. He is a badass. I like his style. He just states the facts. He doesn't care if it offends or disturbs someone; they are just facts. Unlike me, I am always trying not to piss someone off, always trying to get votes or keep votes. Even today, I had to appeal to people's soft side, let them know I'm human too. I'm more human than the vultures that were out there today and more human than the woman in the kitchen baking a ham. I know what people are capable of and what they will never be. I watch as the Sheriff steps aside and allows me to speak. I sound sad but not broken.
"Mayor Steadman, did you know that your wife was allergic to bee venom?"
"No, no, I didn't."
"You didn't?" Mrs. Shewster says, standing over my chair, holding a knife and a potato.
Chapter 53 – Virginia
"Shit!"
Car horns honk as I swerve back in my lane. I can't hear the press conference playing on the radio with all the fucking horns honking at me! Shut up, geez. Bee venom? Really? Bee venom? I was certain she killed herself. Suicide explained everything perfectly, but no, some freakish accident. I turn up the volume on the radio and refocus on the press conference.
Mayor Steadman, did you know that your wife was allergic to bee venom? No, no, I didn't.
I pull into my garage, run upstairs, and turn on the TV. It's 5:55; I have to wait five more minutes until the six o'clock news comes on. I sit on the couch in the exact spot Joshua sat last Friday night, the exact spot where he and I made love. I stare at the TV, waiting patiently for the story to replay. I pick up a pillow where he laid his head while I was on top of him just the other day and hold it to my face trying to smell his smell. Joshua is a free man, thanks to bee venom. I close my eyes, searching for his smell. He was fed up with her, her mom, her obsession with yellow, her bears.
She has a birthday bear, graduation bear, bride bear, a bee bear…You know a bear for every event of her life…her mother gave it to her as a reminder that she is deathly allergic to bees.
I open my eyes as I watch the six o'clock news, now only playing snippets of the press conference.
The coroner's office has determined that Stacie Shewster-Steadman died of anaphylactic shock brought on by exposure to bee venom… Many of you knew Stacie as a force to be reckoned with. She was always trying to fight the good fight. Do what is right. But, to me, she was my best friend, my confidant, my wife, my sweet Stacie…Mayor Steadman, did you know that your wife was allergic to bee venom? No, no, I didn't.
But you did know, Joshua, you did know. I pull out my phone and text him.
We need to talk.
A few minutes later, I get his response.
Who's this?
It's Virginia. Did you delete my contact information?
∞∞∞
Last night, I dreamt I was walking down Main Street, and I see Joshua outside of Herbert Bank. I run towards the bank, yelling his name, but he doesn't see me and doesn't hear me. As I get closer to him, I see him looking at the palm of his hand. There is something in it. As I get closer and closer, I see he's holding a small black and yellow bee. He turns to me and holds out his hand, showing me the bee. He speaks, but it isn't his voice; it's a woman's voice, whiny and child-like; it's Stacie's voice.
"Be careful, Virginia. Bee's sting."
I gasp.
I wake up and look at my phone. It's 6:00 a.m., and no texts from Joshua. I still feel the unsettling effect of the dream in my stomach. It lingers with me as I get ready for work, as I get in my car, and as I drive. I pull into the small parking lot in front of the brown building modestly labeled City Hall. I notice a flagpole resurrected from a patch of dirt with its American Flag hanging at half-mast. I sit and watch the flag wave in the breeze while I wait. There are only a handful of cars in the parking lot, but the one reserved for Mayor Steadman is empty. Would Joshua even be here? It's only been five days since Stacie died. The funeral is scheduled for tomorrow. Would he show his face now or wait until after she's buried? I should let it go, but I need an explanation.
The parking lot is quickly filling up as it gets closer to 9:00 a.m., but Joshua's parking space is still empty. I take the last sip of my twenty-four-ounce coffee and suddenly have a strong urge to pee. I enter the lobby, where a guard stands on the other side of a metal detector.
"I just need to use the bathroom," I plead.
"You need to get through me to get to the bathroom, ma'am. Please empty your pockets and place your cell phone in this bowl."
The tiny woman in the uniform searches my purse.
"Thank you, next!"
She points me in the direction of the bathroom. Have I hit rock bottom yet? I think as I sit on a freezing toilet seat in a damp bathroom inside City Hall. I was really going to let him go, I swear. But now, the puzzle that I had put together in my head, Stacie's suicide, has been broken apart and thrown all over the place. Nothing is making sense. I pull my phone out of my purse. I need to text Jerry and let him know I'm running late again. Before I can, I recieve a text.
Are you following me?
I rush to the parking lot. Joshua is leaning against his car as if he's waiting for me.
