Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Serial Fiction: Mistake 4

Come Fly With Me

I went through the motions of crying, but I guess I must have been too dehydrated to create many tears. Oh Momma. I miss you so much. Just when we finally understood one another. Oh I hope, God please let Momma understand that I love her and she was a good Momma. To me and to Daddy’s son Perry and to Tammy, the chosen one. The little girl they adopted. Even if they are arrogant, greedy, ungrateful, manipulative conniving so and so’s. It’s not Momma’s fault. They learned that from Daddy.
It occurred to me that my siblings weren’t crying. Didn’t they believe me? Were they in denial? No, then they would’ve asked who had called and for all the details. “Why aren’t you guys crying? Our mother just died. Aren’t you even curious what happened to her? I mean she could’ve been beheaded in Iraq for all you know.” I eyed them suspiciously. My grief was morphing into seething anger.
Tammy screamed, “Ohmagod! What was she doing in Iraq? I’m gonna be sick.” She clutched her taught stomach.
At least Tammy has some sort of feelings, even if it’s just she’s grossed out.
Perry asked, “Oh-Donna, who was that on the phone?”
“That was Momma’s friend, Mike.”
He questioned, “Mike who?”
“Mike Taurus. They used to work in the Secret Service together. That’s where she went the first week of August every year. To spend time with him.”
“While she was married to my Dad? That ‘hoe. Right there, grounds she shouldn’t inherit his estate.”
I smiled. Good for you, Momma. Having a real boyfriend. Someone who treasured you. Not like that sociopath you married in his hideous plot of convenience. Perry’s father.
“So where is the body?” Perry questioned.
“As if you care. And as if I’d tell you.”
“Oh-Donna. Where is Chloe’s corpse?”
Tammy blurted out, “Al Qaeda operatives are in Florida? Ohmagod!”
Perry said, “So you sent us to California on a wild goose chase. Thanks a lot little sister.”
I said, “Oh no! Norma Jean!”
Tammy asked, “Who’s Norma Jean?”
“My dog. That’s her name. I can’t go to Florida and leave her alone. Will you take care of her?” I sized up my brother, begging with my expression.
Perry said, “No. We’re all going. Toss her in a kennel or something.”
“No! I’m not locking her in a cage. Her first incarnation was just horrible.”
Tammy said, “Honey, no, you shouldn’t give her Carnation evaporated milk. Too many sugars in it. She needs Purina—”
“No, I meant her first life. Oh never mind.” These two would never believe that this beautiful Great Dane is the reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe. And I’d better not slip, or they’ll have some good ammo toward getting me committed to the loony house.
Perry dialed his cell phone. “Judge Payne here. Is Roddy available? Right.” He unzipped his black judge’s robe. “Listen, I just got word that Chloe died...in Florida...thanks...I appreciate it...hold on.” He tugged his robe over his head, revealing a huge pair of black sweat pants and a white undershirt covering his portly highness. “Oh-Donna, are you going to have a service for your mother?”
“Of course.” I noticed how the cold ungrateful step-son addressed the woman who lovingly raised him. “She’s being buried in the Florida Keys.”
“That’s what she wanted.”
“Where? Key Largo? Can they even bury people there? Isn’t it below sea level?”
“It’s on a little uncharted island.”
“What? How in the hell can we find it? What am I supposed to tell Meddlestein?”
“Give me the phone.”
He huffed and then handed it to me.

I told my mother’s neighbor what had happened and he insisted on attending the service with his wife, Gloria. She and Momma were close friends. I instructed him about the Fontainebleau Hotel and we agreed to meet there.

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