Despite what everyone thinks, I am not oblivious. I know what people think of me. They call me 'Ice Queen' and 'Gold-digger" and other such names behind my back. At this very moment, I bet they are all gossiping amongst themselves, remarking what a lucky coincidence it was that Caleb died just before our divorce was finalised, how terribly convenient it was that he should die now. Everywhere I go I can see them staring at me, looking for tell-tale signs that indicate that I am a murderess. They know they won't find any though, not because they believe I am innocent, but because they believe that I would never give myself away. This sometimes makes me feel indignant, until I remember the poisoned margarita, the proof that they are not that far off. Sometimes, my memory gets rather foggy, and I then start to wonder if I did in fact change the drinks, if maybe my memory is deceiving me, if maybe I did murder Caleb. I never dwell on those feelings long. I know that only the autopsy can reveal the truth.
I go over to the Cohen's house. I doubt they will be pleased to see me, but then again when has that stopped me before. Kirsten greets me at the door, tears falling down her face. What strikes me is the guilt that I can see in her eyes. Kirsten may be the only one who doesn't blame me for Caleb's death and that is clearly because she blames herself. I am not like Kirsten. I would never allow anyone to see me with eyes, swollen and red from endless crying. No, I refuse to playing the part of the grieving widow. I am not going to be that much of a hypocrite. It is common knowledge that I did not love Caleb. But I am surprised by how much I actually cared about him. I didn't fully realise that until last night, when I could have killed him. I will never let anyone know the truth; that I cared, that I cried, that I am grieving. I would rather they think I am cold hearted than ever allow myself to become that vulnerable. Kirsten and I sit down on the couch and start talking about Caleb in the way people who mourn often do. We discuss all his good points, we laugh at some of his eccentricities and we forget any faults he may have had. Caleb would have laughed if he had heard the way he spoke of him, if he could see Kirsten and I actually having a civilised conversation. We are not really friends, we don't particularly like each other but we have developed a mutual respect for each other.
Having got the Cohen visit out of the way, I drive back home. When I arrive, Marissa is waiting for me. First time for everything I guess. I can tell by the expression on her face, that she has heard all the rumours that have been flying about and while she does not think me capable of murder, she is suspicious of how convenient it is.
"I am sure you devastated that Caleb died now of all times. If he had died any later you would have been left with nothing." Her tone is dripping with sarcasm. "Does this make you happy?"
These comments hurt. Out of all the people I know, her opinion is one of the few that matters me. And it kills me to know my daughter hates me even though I know I have probably done a lot to deserve it. I am tempted to tell her the truth, about how I really feel about his death. But I don't. I don't think she would believe me anyway. Why should she after some of the conversations we have had in the past? She believes what everyone else believes that I am in capable of loving anything or anyone but money. She doesn't realise that I must be capable of loving someone, because I love her and I love Kaitlin.
I watch Gone With The Wind for the umpteenth time. I listen to Scarlett's infamous words "As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again." I think I probably like this film so much because I overidentify with Scarlett O'Hara. Sure, I've never experience war or other such horrors. However, I can understand why she went through great lengths to avoid poverty. After growing up in Riverside, I swore that I would always make sure that I and any children I might have, would never want for anything. And I've kept this promise. Many people call me a "Gold -digger" and they are right. But it's easy for them to criticise me, most of them don't know what it is like to live without. Even if I would have had to make the same choice again, I would not change a thing. It is just that sometimes, times like these, I feel so lonely. I don't think I have any one in the world who really cares about me or understands me. I don't swell on it for long. I am not a needy person, and I certainly don't need someone to love me. It is just sometimes I think it would be nice. Maybe there really are worse things than poverty.
I go about my business as if normal. With a permanent smile plastered to me face, to let everyone know that I have nothing to hide. My answering machine and my post box are clogged with messages of condolences. I know that they don't care about me or Caleb, only about satisfying their curiosity. They want me to call them back, to give them a detailed account of what happened. So that they can be the first one to hear the story, so that they can then tell the rest of Newport and say they heard it first. I should know, I have done it many a time.
The day finally arrives to receive the results of the autopsy. My face does not belie the anxiety I feel. It looks like I have no reason to be nervous though. Caleb died of a heart attack. I know many people will be disappointed to find out that they were wrong about me. That I am not in fact a murderess. I don't care. Never have
I wonder what I will do now. I wonder if I am still written in Caleb's will. One thing I have learnt is that you cannot rely on men to support you financially. Both Jimmy and Caleb proved that. Maybe I will start my own business. Maybe I will get Kaitlin back from boarding school. Maybe I will be a nicer person to everyone in Newport. Or maybe I won't.
The End-
