Title: Lonesome
Characters: Perry Mason and Della Street owned by CBS, Erle Stanley Gardner or someone besides me. No profits. Just for fun.
Rating: PG-13.
Thanks to KDM for advice. Viva Perry!
Lonesome. That's how he was feeling, just plain lonesome. Not a desolate kind of loneliness, but a loneliness that comes from missing familiarity. Everything seemed different since she'd been gone and she'd only been gone a week. He leaned back in his desk chair and sighed. She'd be back in another seven days. Perry wished now that he'd tried harder to talk her into letting him go with her. He didn't want her to go alone, but she insisted.
Two weeks, she agreed, was a long time to go back East, especially since she wasn't too keen to see any of her family. But, Della had to go – no matter how difficult her mother had been to live with she was still her mother – and her passing marked the end of estrangements; she hoped. The news of her mother's death wasn't easy to hear; the situation was sad for all of Ellen Street's children. But, Della was relieved that her mother no longer suffered. Still, she was sad that they'd not had a chance to reconcile their differences. She'd tried over the years to bridge the gap between her and her mother, but all her mother wanted was for her to return home and give up "that unseemly life." The woman had never wanted to understand her daughter's decision to move away. She refused to understand it. So, an accepted silence existed between the two that lasted for years. That was until now, now her mother was gone and all there would be was silence. She was sorry for that.
Perry was sorry, too. He was sorry that Della's mother deliberately excluded her daughter, sad that their relationship was so miserable. He was sad, too, that Della hadn't met his mother – she would have loved Della, and Della her. Perry was fifteen when his father died and, though he'd been close to his mother, it brought them closer. He knew Lillian Dufresne Mason and Della would have liked each other immediately. And, now, he wished she was still here, she could really help Della through this; she knew what it was like. His mother's family was against her marriage to the much older John Mason, and when Lillian married him anyway, her family disowned her. As far as Perry knew, his mother never spoke to any of them. He'd never met any of his mother's relatives. When he was old enough to really understand what being disowned meant, he realized how much his parents loved one another. Did he love Della that much? Did he love her so much that he could be a whole family to her? Did she love him that much? Could she walk away the same way his mother had? He hoped she could, thought she could, prayed she could. He'd known for a very long time that all he wanted was her. He wasn't kidding himself, he knew she didn't really need him, she could do all right for herself, and she had done. But, wanting someone, that was different – that was something real, something perfect. He longed to be all she wanted.
The strident ringing of the telephone brought him out of his thoughts. "Mason speaking."
"Hi, it's me," she said.
"Hi, how are things going?"
"Better than I expected, which isn't saying much." She sounded tired.
"Are you doing okay? Need anything?"
"Yes, a big hug from you."
"You've got it. I wish I was there to give it to you."
"I know you do."
"I wish you would have let me come with you, Della. I don't like it that you're out there all alone."
"I'm fine, Perry, really. I'm just tired that's all. Tired of standing around at the funeral home pretending to be nice to a bunch of people I couldn't stand fifteen years ago and still can't stand."
"And, I'm sure they've all been gracious."
"If by gracious you mean condescending and fake, then yes. But, I've been on my best behavior and given them the show they came to see – the prodigal daughter returned from California."
"Sounds delightful." Perry had to chuckle. "I'm sure your performance has been Oscar worthy."
"I don't know about that. There were a few times today that I just wanted to give all of those hypocrites a piece of my mind." She sighed heavily. "Enough about that – how are you?"
"I'm fine – it's been pretty quiet since you've been gone. Got a lot done today," he lied.
"Darn, I was hoping you'd have lots of exciting news for me."
"Can't think of anything – oh wait, there is one thing."
"What?"
"I broke the coffee pot. Are you angry?"
She laughed, "No, that thing was on its last leg anyway. But, you and no coffee must be a pretty sight."
"Hey, I can do alright, girl. I'm not that helpless. I just stop by Clay's on the way in."
"I see. Why don't you just buy a new coffee pot?"
"Because I'll get the wrong one and then you will be angry. You can get one when you're back."
"You're incorrigible." She knew he was right. "So, a broken office coffee pot is the highlight?"
"Yeah, 'fraid so."
"Uh huh. Well, are you at least missing me?" She asked. He didn't answer immediately and she could hear him taking in a deep breath.
"I miss you - a lot," his voice waivered as he spoke. Della was probably the only person in the world who could have heard the waiver though.
"I miss you, too, Sweetie." She said. "I'll be back soon."
"I know. It's just…"
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just lonely here." He sighed. "I should be there with you, supporting you."
"As much as I would love for you to be here, it would only make things harder – it would give all these busybodies something else to speculate and gossip about. It's enough that I have to continue to justify my choices to a bunch of fools. I don't want them to know anything about you – you're too special."
"I understand that, but I still wish I was there. You know you don't have to explain anything to them, Del."
"I know, Sweetie. I just have a few more days to get through and then I'll be home."
Home. He liked the way she said that and what it meant.
"It's nearly six there, shouldn't you be packing it up for the day?"
"No. No reason to really. It's quiet and I can get some more work done."
"Perry, I don't want you staying in that office until all hours just because I'm not there."
"I've stayed in this office until all hours when you are here. I have work to do and it's quiet. Besides, Paul's still in his office. Maybe I can talk him into dinner – if he doesn't have a date."
"Well, okay. But, please don't worry about me. I'm fine."
"I know you are. Anyway, it was Rosario's day today and if I go home I'll just mess up my clean apartment," he laughed.
"I'm sure Rosario won't mind. That's what you pay her for."
"That was supposed to be a joke…you know…a joke…you laugh at them."
"Ha ha." Della said flatly. She knew Perry was serious about not wanting to go home. They'd spent just about every night together for the last four months and he was getting as used to it as she was. It was nice not to go home alone. "You could go by my apartment and check my mail…if you don't mind."
"No, I don't mind. Is there anything special you're expecting?"
"Nothing really, I'm sure it's the usual – bills and circulars."
"Okay."
"And, maybe you could water the plants?"
"Yes, dear."
"Thank you, I really do appreciate it."
"It's my pleasure."
"You're sweet. And, this telephone call is costing me a fortune, so I better hang up."
"Alright, Della."
"I love you."
"I love you…call me if you need anything."
"I will, Sweetie. Good night."
"'Night,"
****
Perry left his office after one o'clock and arrived at Della's apartment fifteen minutes later. He checked her mail box, collected everything and sorted through it as he walked up the stairs to the second floor. The mail was mostly bills, which he would pay while she was away. There was a postcard from Jill Carter, who was vacationing with her family in Italy – Della was envious of the trip – a fiftieth wedding anniversary present for Jill's in-laws. One day he'd take Della to Italy and anywhere else she wanted to go.
He watered her plants, a philodendron and two spider plants. Then he checked in the refrigerator for something to eat. There wasn't much – he settled for some scrambled eggs and a bottle of beer. It wasn't the best dinner ever, but certainly not the worst. He read through some of the papers he brought from the office, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. He wondered, for not the first time, why he didn't just give up his apartment and move in to Della's. Hers was bigger, newer and closer to the office. It would be far more practical. But, what would people say? He didn't care, but Della did. So, why wouldn't she just agree to marry him? It wasn't a difficult decision, at least to him. He'd already told her she wouldn't have to quit the office. Maybe when she got back they could discuss it again.
He couldn't concentrate on the papers he was reading and decided to try to get some sleep. He stripped down to his boxer shorts and crawled into bed. The sheets smelled like Della, he thought, the scents of her shampoo and perfume lingering there. It was a comfort to him, but also made him miss her. He'd slept here twice since she'd been gone, most of the time he slept on the couch in his apartment; he did that a lot anyway. He wished he'd gone east with Della, he should have just told her he was coming and that was it. He knew, though, that she had the right to deal with this in her own way. It was her family and he needed to just stay out of it. She'd dealt with them for thirty-five years now and he'd never met any of them. It was his nature to want to fix problems, to help, but this time all he could do was sit on the sidelines cheering her on. He would just have to be satisfied with that. He hugged her pillow to him and closed his eyes.
Della didn't telephone over the next few days and it was all Perry could do to resist the urge to call her hotel. But, he knew she was probably with her family, most likely at the house going over her mother's personal effects. He thought how strange it seemed that when someone was alive those items were their "things," their "stuff," "belongings," but when they died it all became "personal effects." He wasn't sure what would happen, if anything, since Della's father was still alive – he anticipated that it would be very little. Perhaps there were a few personal mementos that would go to relatives, but that was it. If she didn't phone tomorrow, he'd call.
It was just his luck that Della called while he was in court – Gertie told him that she'd phoned around lunch time hoping to catch him. "She sounded very chipper," Gertie said, "and she was sorry to miss you."
"Did Della leave a telephone number?"
"No, she said she was going to Margie's house on Otisco Lake." Gertie read from the notepad she used for messages.
"Thanks, Gertie." Perry shut the door to his office and dropped his brief case on his desk. He stood in front of the big window and started to pace – it helped him think. 'Margie's lake house – at least she's away from her family,' he thought. He had no idea how to reach Margie, he couldn't even remember her last name now, even though Della had made plans to meet her while she was in Syracuse and she talked about it for the three days before she left. 'What the heck is her last name…' He just couldn't remember and he was usually very good with names. "Damn," he muttered.
He spent the rest of the evening and late into the night doing busy work – reading advance sheets of opinions, reviewing the legislative update and tackling the box of old bar journals Della had been after him about for a year. He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, sometime around three, he guessed. When he awoke his neck was killing him and his right arm was asleep. "Great – six-thirty." He pushed himself out of his chair and headed out the back door. A couple of hours sleep and hot shower and he'd be back before nine-thirty.
It was no different the next night, only this time he made it home and fell asleep in the arm chair before waking up with a terrible back ache. 'If I keep this up, I'll be a wreck when Della gets back,' he thought as he stood in the shower letting the hot water soothe his spine.
****
Marjorie Twyman Mitchell had been Della's best friend growing up and when Della moved to California, Margie headed off to New York City with dreams of joining the Rockettes. Everyone said she had the figure and the talent for it. Tall and slim with long legs and beautiful chestnut tresses, she even looked like the ideal Rockette. But, fate being fickle, she never made the cut. She did a few turns as a chorus girl, but nothing that ever lasted. On the train home, she met a young doctor just graduated from Columbia Medical School and, two years later she married Bob Mitchell. Margie and Bob had two daughters, Kate and Betsy. Their cottage on Otisco Lake was, to Della's thinking, much too big to be called a cottage. But, it was the ideal place for her to spend her remaining time out East.
Margie, Della and the girls had come on ahead of Bob, who had patients to see. The first night at the lake Margie and Della stayed up most of the night reliving old times and laughing about their high school days. Spending time with Margie and her family was a breath of fresh air for Della Street. After the tension of the first week, she needed a chance to relax before going back to California. They boated during the day, barbequed for dinner and played marathon games of Parcheesi in the evenings. In high school, Margie predicted that Della would marry first and settle down, while she would be off in the city having a fabulous dancing career. Della had to laugh at how funny teen-age predictions could be. She was pleased that Margie and Bob had a strong, loving marriage. Their girls were every bit as stunning as their mother and sharp as tacks. Staying in Syracuse had been exactly what Margie needed, she told Della. She couldn't imagine any other life.
"Are you happy out in Los Angeles?" Margie asked her.
"Yes, I can't imagine ever moving back here. I love it there."
"I'm glad, Della. And, this Perry Mason fellow – how's that going?"
"Wonderfully. He wanted to come out, but he just couldn't get away from the office." A little fib was easier than explaining how Della wanted to keep Perry away from her family. She knew he would be very protective of her.
"So….any wedding bells in the future?"
"Oh, you never know, Margie, but that's not important right now. I'm enjoying myself."
Margie considered her friends words. "I hope you mean that sincerely."
"I do. He's asked me a couple of times and we're just not ready."
"He asked and you said no? Della, they don't ask forever, you know. You better hold onto that man."
"I'm not worried, Margie. He thinks he's ready to get married but he's not. Our relationship is perfect as it is."
"I guess you know him better than me. But I'd hate to tempt fate."
"There's nothing to be worried about. Why don't you, Bob and the girls come out and visit, then you can meet him for yourself and see what I mean."
"Hmmm, I might take you up on that. This summer will probably be our last chance for a real family vacation. Now that Kate's sixteen, she'd rather stay in town with her friends. Betsy's feeling the same. It's not 'cool' to go on vacation with mom and dad."
"Well, there's a lot to see and do in Los Angeles. I'd love to have you visit."
"Let me work on Bob," Margie said with a grin.
***
It was Wednesday and Della would fly home tomorrow, he thought as he drove to the office that morning. Twenty-four hours more and she'd be back. He smiled just thinking about seeing her. Luckily, he was able talk Rosario in to going over to Della's apartment and giving it a good cleaning. The extra twenty-five dollars didn't hurt either. Maybe he'd just hire Rosario to clean Della's place, too. Della could use the helping hand. The day dragged on though, and he found he was getting very little done. He caught himself staring out the window more than once. Every time the telephone rang, he was sure it was her. He nearly told Gertie hold all his calls unless it was Della. By five-thirty he was sick of his office and walked down to Paul Drake's office to see what the private detective was working on. Margo, Paul's secretary, told him that Paul was out and she didn't expect him back, in fact she was just leaving for the day, too.
Instead of going back, he walked down the block to the barber shop for a haircut. At this time on a Wednesday it wasn't busy. After his hair cut he tried to think of another way to kill time – he had a lot of time to kill.
He should probably get some groceries for Della, she didn't have much of anything. He didn't like grocery shopping; he never knew where anything was in the store and women were always looking at him like he was hunk of prime rib in the meat case. It was so much easier to just eat out. He took off his suit jacket and tie and un-tucked his shirt to look as scruffy as possible before he went in the grocery store, maybe people would ignore him and he could get in and out as quickly as possible.
His plan worked and the shopping trip didn't last nearly as long as he wanted it to. He collected Della's mail and put away the groceries. Rosario had done an excellent job cleaning Della's apartment and he didn't want to dirty any dishes – he wasn't that hungry anyway. He opened a beer, sat on the couch and turned on the television. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually watched anything on television. After fifteen minutes he remembered why he never cared what was on; it was all so insipid. But, it was distracting and keeping his mind off of Della. When the late news came on he realized he'd had four beers – no wonder he was feeling relaxed! He stretched out on the sofa and kicked his shoes off.
His mind drifted from the news to Della. She'd be home by this time tomorrow he thought. He hoped they'd making love at this time tomorrow. He missed her more than he thought he would. He'd spent almost every night with her in the last few months and he liked it. He liked coming home with her, eating dinner with her, brushing his teeth with her, and just being with her. He knew she liked it, too. Was she missing him as much as he was missing her? She was with her friend Margie, he thought, and probably having fun and not even thinking about him. That was okay, he didn't want her to be lonesome while she was East and under pressure from her family. She didn't need that, too. But, he missed her. He missed her voice, her smile, and just knowing that she was there. He closed his eyes and thought about sleeping, but all he could see was Della's face – her beautiful face.
***
Della's airplane was due to arrive in Los Angeles that evening and Perry spent what he thought was an interminably long day at the office. Even with client appointments, the day didn't go by fast enough for him. By three-thirty he was sure that his watch had stopped, but the clock on Della's desk read the same time. At five o'clock he'd had enough and decided that waiting at the airport couldn't be any worse than pacing in his office.
The airport seemed unusually busy to him, but he managed to find a seat in the arrivals area. He tried to read through the Los Angeles Bar Journal he'd shoved in his pocket, but he was too excited. The words on the pages were a jumble and didn't make sense. He read the first paragraph of one article six times before he decided it wasn't worth it. He started to go for a cup of coffee, but he'd already been to the men's room twice – nerves. He walked to the news stand and scanned the front page of the evening papers. He picked up the latest edition of Time and flipped through it.
"Hey, Mac, this ain't no library, either buy it or leave it," the crabby man behind the counter said. Perry placed the magazine back in the pile and walked off. How could it still be six-thirty? It had been six-thirty for the last twenty minutes – he was sure of that.
When Della's flight actually arrived, Perry thought his heart was going to pound out of his chest he was so anxious to see her. He stood back from the arrival gate able to see over other people thanks to his height. He saw Della before she saw him and waved to her. She quickened her steps to reach him. Perry grabbed her to him and hugged her tightly, never wanting to let go of her. After several moments he bent his head down to meet hers, "I want to kiss you," he whispered.
"Please do." Della slid her arms around his neck. Both were careful not to let the kiss get out of hand, for it easily could have.
"I missed you," Perry murmured to her, his forehead resting against hers.
"I missed you, too, Perry…It's good to be home."