Certain Women
By KNS
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to someone else. No harm intended.
Background note:
The woman, Naomi, was left without her husband and her two sons. She said to her two daughters-in-law, "Go back each of you to your mother's house, for I am too old to have more sons for you." But Ruth said, "Do not make me leave you, or not follow you. Where you go, I will go; where you live, I will live, and your people shall be my people." ~ The Book of Ruth, 1:5-16 (paraphrased)
Reluctantly Fiona stood up, stuffed her feet into slippers, and went to answer the knock at the door. Even though she felt miserable, she still flung open the door with one hand while using the other to hold a gun on the visitor.
"Well, I guess somethings never change," Madeline said. She pulled the cigarette out of her mouth and added, "You look like hell."
Fiona lowered the gun, waived her inside. "Getting over the stomach flu. You may not want to stay too long."
Madeline walked into the small apartment, took a brief look around. "So you got a furnished apartment? God, you could've stayed with me." She sat down on the couch, looked at a tv that wasn't on.
Fiona went into the kitchen, brought back a small dish for the cigarette ashes. "The good thing about having your home and all your possessions burned to ashes, is that moving is a breeze." She sat down in the chair across from Madeline. "Would you like something to drink?"
"No, thanks." Madeline stubbed out the last of one cigarette, lighted another. "Listen, Fi, I know it's probably rough for you to have to deal with me right now, but I need help. I really do."
Fiona shrugged. "I'm not angry with you, Madeline. You're family to me. What do you need?"
The older woman let out a stream of smoke. "It's about Nate's son, Charlie. His mother is going into court-ordered rehab for drinking. Charlie's going to be placed in foster care unless a family member can be found. Ruth's family isn't worth a hill of beans. So I – "
"You want Charlie," Fiona summarized. "I understand. You need me to watch your house, give you a ride to the airport?"
"Uh, no," Madeline said. "The thing is, this move is really going to be tough on him – loosing his mother, moving to a place he hasn't seen since he was tiny. . . So I want to bring his stuff with him. Too much to carry on a plane."
Fiona glanced up at the ceiling. "You want to drive there. Do you know how long a drive will be? Double that, with a screaming kid on board."
"I know, "Madeline agreed. "But I – he's the last of my family, Fi. And I don't know who else to ask for help. . ." Her eyes were teary, and her hand shook as she tipped the ashes from her cigarette.
"Stop," Fi said, raising a hand. "Of course, I'll help. Go home, pack your things. I'll be by to get you in an hour."
Madeline stood up, went to hug the younger woman. "Thank you. You know, when I said Charlie was the last of my family, I meant you, too, right?"
Fiona patted her back. "I know."
[]
"Thanks for letting me smoke in the car," Madeline said. "Michael always hated it."
"Well, it was either let you smoke in the car, or stop for smoke breaks every twenty minutes," Fiona replied, only half joking.
Madeline liked instrumental music, so even though Fiona hated it because it made her sleepy, that's what played on the radio. For several hours.
"Don't talk much on road trips, do you?" Madeline asked finally.
"Still have a touch of the flu," Fiona answered.
Madeline shifted in her seat. She took off her sunglasses and looked at the younger woman across from her. "Look, maybe I shouldn't ask this – and I know it's none of my business, but – are you pregnant?"
Fiona's jaw tightened. "I thought I might be. But I went to a doctor, and it's just a stubborn flu."
The older woman nodded, looked out the window. "And how did you feel about that?"
"What does that matter?" Fiona snapped back. After a few minutes, she added, "I was relieved. My choices would have been would have been pretty bleak. Have an abortion quickly, quietly, forget it as soon as possible. Have the baby, get stuck explaining to it how daddy walked out before it was born, and may or may not show back up someday. It's better this way."
"I see," Madeline said quietly.
After that little chat, Fiona was almost happy to listen to the boring music.
[]
Eventually they had to pull over for the night. Madeline wanted a smoking room. After a day in the car, Fiona wanted a pool. They split a room because there really wasn't any genuine reason not to.
"Do you mind if we go to a real restaurant tonight? I just don't feel like take-out, for once," Madeline said.
"Sounds good to me," Fiona agreed.
They ended up at some Mom-and-Pop place, certainly no four-star restaurant, but it was clean, and the service was good.
"Oh look, they have yogurt," Madeline said, smiling.
Fiona could have lived without that comment.
It was full dark by the time they got back to the hotel. Madeline sat outside and chain-smoked. Fiona went down to the small pool, spent a lot of time swimming back and forth, like her life depended on it. Her sanity certainly did.
Later, when they were getting ready for bed, Madeline commented, "Michael was a good swimmer, too. Hey, is that one of his shirts?"
Fiona sat down on the edge of one of the beds. She looked up at the ceiling, looked back at Madeline. "Listen, Madeline, I know you miss him. I know you need to talk about him. But I can't help you with that. I have my own issues with Michael, and right now, I can't deal with anyone else's. I'm sorry."
"No, don't be," Madeline replied. "It's just that – I miss him, a lot, and I know you do, too. Sam and Jessie – they were his friends, but you – he loved you. Maybe even more than me."
The younger woman didn't say anything, just tucked herself into bed, staring at the wall.
[]
Fiona was outside watching the sunrise by the time Madeline was just climbing out of bed.
"Don't you ever sleep?" the older woman asked, lighting a cigarette.
Should she say that between prison life, and fugitive life, she wasn't much of a late sleeper anymore? Or maybe she should say she kept having dreams about a man who may or may not be alive, but either way, was certainly gone. But instead all she said was, "I think I finally beat the flu. I was awake, so I packed the car, restocked the snacks. Picked you up a new carton of smokes, too."
"Aren't you a busy bee," Madeline said. "Want me to drive this morning?"
Now that was a frightening thought.
"I've got it," Fiona said easily. "We have a lot of ground to cover today."
[]
"Is there some reason you drive so fast?" Madeline asked as Fiona swerved around two semi-trucks and a motorhome.
"Because I can," Fiona answered.
"That's it? Because you can?"
Fiona adjusted her sunglasses. "You smoke. I drive fast. We all have our vices."
Madeline laughed. "True. At least ours isn't walking out on our loved ones, huh?"
Fiona snorted. "Yeah."
Madeline wanted to talk – Fiona could feel it coming in waves from her. They were trapped in a box on a long road. There wasn't much to look at and no radio reception. Talking was the natural form of entertainment. Except Fiona felt like she didn't have much to say anymore.
"You used to be more talkative," Madeline commented, as if reading Fiona's mind.
"Well, we've known each other for a few years now, so maybe we just don't have much left to say," Fiona answered.
"I think we do," Madeline encouraged. "For example, I want to talk about Michael."
Fiona looked at her over the top of her sunglasses. "You did this on purpose. You waited until we were trapped in a car in the middle of nowhere because you knew I couldn't escape." She swerved around another car. "You know, Michael told me you did things like this to him all the time. What am I – his replacement now?"
That hadn't come out right. Madeline laughed, and Fiona found herself laughing a little, too.
"It's good that you can think of him and laugh," Madeline said, smiling. "Took me a long time before I could do that."
"It's not like he was evil or anything," Fiona replied.
Madeline glanced at her, looked back out the window. "When – if he comes back, will you take him back?"
Now that was a question that had kept her up nights.
She must've been quiet a little too long, because Madeline said, "Don't know, huh?"
Fiona started to answer, stopped, tried again. "Did you know, the first time he left me, back in Ireland, he went without a word of warning. We ate dinner, went to bed, then – poof, he was just gone. No note, no phone call, nothing. I wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. And this went on for years. I tried to find him, find out what happened. Nothing. And then, years later, I get a random phone call from a housekeeper because she found my number in his wallet."
"That's more than I got," Madeline said. "Well, he did call me on my birthday. Most of the time."
"Well, at least the government might tell you if he died," Fiona countered. "I dropped everything when I got that call. Everything. Threw away every scrap of the life I'd managed to build. And now, here I am again. What kind of stupid would I be if I let it happen again?"
"The loving kind," Madeline answered. "The loyal kind."
"The stupid kind," Fiona clarified. She swerved around another driver who was only going the posted speed limit. "If I take him back, he'll just do the same thing sometime in the future. And if I don't, then I have to leave, because you and Sam and Jessie – you're his life, his family and friends. So either way, I lose."
"That is so not true," Madeline claimed. "Just because you don't decide to go back with him – that doesn't mean we can't still be your family, too."
Fiona knew that wasn't true. She knew it the same way she knew she couldn't move back to New York or Ireland. There was only going forward, no going back.
"Sure you don't want me to drive?" Madeline offered.
"I'm sure," Fiona answered.
[]
Another night, another hotel. Another place in America Fiona hadn't ever heard of, couldn't find on a map if her life depended on it.
The hotel didn't have a pool. There wasn't a fast-food place in the entire town, either. It was really just a big truck-stop with a third-rate hotel attached.
"I told you we should've stopped at that town back there," Madeline complained.
"That was two hours and several hundred miles back," Fiona retorted. "It's just for one night. We'll leave early."
"I bet it has bugs," Madeline muttered, taking her suitcase out of the trunk.
While Madeline sat outside and smoked, Fiona went to find dinner. What she came back with was a pair or microwaved hamburgers, two bottled waters, and the biggest bottle of tequila she could find.
"Nice combination," Madeline said. "Now dump out the water and fill it with the – what is that? Tequila? You couldn't find anything else?"
"We're in Texas," Fiona snapped. "It was this or whiskey. And I just got over the flu and whiskey sounded terrible."
"Fair enough," Madeline agreed.
[]
The next morning, Fiona thought her flu had relapsed. Then she realized, it was a hangover. And not a nice one. Crawling out of bed, she found the empty bottle in the bathroom sink. She couldn't remember exactly how much she'd had to drink, or exactly what she'd said. . .
"Dammit, I am too old to play drinking games with a woman young enough to be my daughter." Madeline sat up in bed, reached for her lighter and cigarettes.
"If you smoke that in here, I'll be sick," Fiona warned. "I'm not kidding. I'm serious."
"You're cranky when you're hung over," Madeline mumbled, sticking a cigarette in her mouth. "Just like Michael."
Fiona went over, snatched her lighter, and threw it out the door. "We're leaving in half and hour. Thirty minutes. If you're not in the car, I'll leave without you."
"Fine," Madeline snapped.
"And we're listening to my playlist today."
"And you lost the last round, so I'm driving until we hit the New Mexico boarder," Madeline replied.
Fiona put a hand over her face. That sounded like the kind of bet she'd make. "Do you even know how to drive a sports car?"
Madeline snorted. "Honey, I've been driving longer than you've been alive."
[]
It was so late when they finally reached Vegas, it was technically the next day.
"I told you, if we split the driving, we'd get here faster," Madeline said.
"Yeah, we're here, but who cares?" Fiona grumbled. "We can't meet with the child custody people until –" she looked at her watch, " – ten-thirty. Tomorrow."
"Well, maybe I can get the meeting changed to today," Madeline replied brightly. "Then we can get Charlie early and get back on the road."
Fiona rubbed her neck. "Madeline, it won't matter how soon we head back if we crash from exhaustion before we get there."
"I know. I just want to get back, get things settled."
At the next stoplight, Fiona glanced over at the older woman, saw her looking out the window at the neon lights. In the reflection she saw the worry etched around her eyes, the concerned tilt of her chin. "You're very brave, taking on a child like this," Fiona said quietly.
"Kind of the only option, if I didn't want Charlie to go into foster care," Madeline replied, shrugging.
"That's not the only reason you're doing this," Fiona disagreed.
"No, I guess not. Light's green," Madeline added.
"Let's just find a room, get some sleep. The rest we'll work on later."
There was silence for awhile, then Madeline said abruptly, "Nate always wanted me to come for a visit. And I never did."
That was the moment when Fiona realized how much the two of them had in common. The things they'd planned and would never do, promises they'd made to themselves when no one was listening, chances that had danced away while they were busy looking up at the sky.
"Paris is lovely in the spring," she muttered softly.
"What?" Madeline looked at her.
"I said, this place looks good," she substituted easily. "They even have a twenty-four hour restaurant."
"Wonder if they let you smoke in there," Madeline mused.
[]
As it turned out, Madeline was able to get the meeting moved up. After only a few hours of sleep, the two were back in the car, driving circles around the city, looking for a building Fiona quickly determined didn't really exist.
"I really think you got the address wrong," Fiona said for the third time.
"I did not," Madeline insisted. "And I'm not calling back to verify. Again. They'll think I'm an idiot."
Fiona wisely refrained from commenting.
"Oh, and Fi, there's a few things I told them that they might ask you about," Madeline added.
"Such as?" Fiona asked suspiciously. "Dammit, I think I was supposed to turn there."
"I told them I was a non-smoker." She lifted up her sleeve. "See? I'm on the patch."
Fiona rolled her eyes. "Madeline, you smell like cigarettes. It's on your clothes and everything. And why did you wait this whole way before you decided to switch to the patch?"
"One last hurrah," Madeline justified. "Besides, we've been traveling together for days – you can be the smoker."
Fiona pulled a sharp right, causing the driver behind her to honk angrily. "Fine. Give me one and your lighter."
"You're not really a smoker."
"Apparently I am today." She made another sharp right turn. "The building should be right there. Right there! And it's not. Call them back, get the cross streets or something."
"I also said you were my daughter-in-law, and that Charlie would be spending lots of time with you," Madeline said. "You know, like a real family. That made them happy." She saw the look on Fiona's face. "What? You were already pissed about the smoking thing. And it's not like there's anyone around to say it isn't true."
Because Michael would be the only person who could do that, and neither one of them knew where the hell he was.
"Just give me the cigarette, maybe two, and call them back and get the right address," Fiona grumbled.
[]
It was actually quite a nice building, part of a judicial complex. That made Fiona nervous, but Madeline looked so excited, she squared her shoulders and smiled, as if she was excited, too.
There was only one representative from Child Protective Services, an older man in a cheap suit carrying a worn briefcase. He smiled and shook hands when Madeline and Fiona entered the room.
Ruth was a different story. She sat in a chair in the corner, Charlie on her lap. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face splotchy, her blond hair pulled back in a half-hearted ponytail. She barely muttered a "hello" when the two women entered.
"Hey, Charlie," Madeline said to the boy. "Do you remember me?"
Charlie turned and buried his face in his mother's shoulder.
"Let's just get this done," Ruth growled.
Fiona rolled her eyes, thought about reminding the woman that Madeline was doing both her and her child a favor. But she didn't, mostly because it would have made Madeline look bad.
There were papers to sign, lots and lots of papers. Fiona tuned out. The child was interested in her, and somewhat to her surprise, she was rather interested in him, too. Ruth had to put him down to complete the paperwork. He was clutching a blue bear with a green hat. He regarded Fiona with wide, uncertain eyes.
She sat down on the carpet. "What's his name?" she asked, pointing at the bear.
He only looked at her.
"I like his hat."
Still no answer.
"I had a bear like that, once. But he had a shirt."
Charlie took a few wobbly steps towards her. "Bear bear?" he said softly.
"Bear bear," Fiona echoed, smiled.
"Well, that's all the forms," the man announced. "I know this will be hard, but try to make your good-bys short. It's easier on the child."
"I have stuff for him in my car," Ruth said, somewhat defiantly.
"You're not supposed to be driving, especially with a child in the car," the man said disapprovingly. "It's part of your court order."
"That's okay," Madeline said quickly. "It'll be good for him to have his things."
Madeline and Fiona shook hands with the caseworker. Ruth ignored him, set Charlie on her hip and walked out.
Charlie's mother had actually brought some useful things: carseat, clothes, toys. Fiona was surprised how much she had crammed into her beat-up, barely street legal wreck of a car.
In the end, it was hard to watch a mother hand over her child. Charlie screamed and cried, tried to cling to Ruth. Ruth cried too, promised to get him back soon, glared angrily at Madeline and cursed Fiona. It was like being hissed at by an alley cat, howls and screeches without serious serious harm.
But then Ruth told Madeline, "You already got one son killed. I loved Nate, too. Your crazy life took him away; now Charlie doesn't have a dad. I'm gonna get him back. Really soon. Count on it, bitch. Try bot to kill your only grandson."
Fiona turned to Madeline and said, "Why don't you get Charlie settled? Just give me another minute to make sure we got everything."
Madeline was totally focused on Charlie. She turned away to make sure he was comfortable in his carseat, had his stuffed animal for comfort.
Fiona took Ruth by the arm and dragged her a few steps away. "Listen, Ruth, I know this must be hard on you, but Charlie will have a great home with Madeline. No one will love him more."
"I love him more. I'm his mother. And she'll get him killed, just like her son. I'm gonna get him back, no matter what I have to do," Ruth warned.
"No, you won't be doing that," Fiona replied quietly. "You may love him, but you're a terrible mother. He's much better off without you, and with Madeline. And I'll do whatever I have to do to keep it that way." She didn't blink. "Whatever I have to do."
"Are you threatening me?" Ruth demanded. "You can't do that. I'm his mother."
Fiona leaned close to her ear. "No one will ever find your body. I don't want to hurt Charlie's mother, but that doesn't mean I won't."
"Hey, we're ready to go," Madeline called.
"Believe me," Fiona added softly. In a louder voice she said, "He'll be well cared for, Ruth. Rest assured of that."
The Fiona got back into her crowded car, Charlie screaming in the backseat, Madeline trying to calm him down. The last thing she saw was Ruth in her rearview mirror. The blond woman had a hand over her face, weeping.
"Thank you, Fi," Madeline said, almost in tears herself.
Charlie was Madeline's second chance, an opportunity to try again, maybe get things right this time.
Fiona had already used up her second chance. When she found Michael in Miami, that had been her chance to try again, maybe get things right this time.
Fiona hated this whole situation. She wished Michael was there, because this was his family, and his responsibility. She was a poor second choice. But he was gone to some unknown place, back to doing what he had always wanted, finally free of any family connections. She was just his stand-in, a cut-out faking her way through something she didn't know how to do.
She slipped on her sunglasses, smiled at Madeline. "Of course, Madeline. We're family."
Then she turned onto a main thoroughfare, headed back towards Miami, thinking about how lovely Paris was in the spring.
[end]