TCOT Absurd Assumption C21
Perry and Della arrived back at her house around two p.m. after an enjoyable extended lunch during which Paul regaled them with his adventure in Acton, and found their brothers and sisters-in-law missing in action. A note in Bart's big, bold handwriting propped up against four gallons of tequila on the kitchen island informed that they were all out running errands and would not be back until at least six.
"I suspect there will be a party tonight," Perry remarked, eyeing the jugs of tequila. There was a lot to celebrate, not the least of which was how Junior hadn't made one combative remark during the entire meal. Perry could tell it made Della happy that he and the boy weren't at each other's throats, and if he thought she wouldn't give him the 'I told you so' eyebrow lift, he would admit he was happy about it as well.
Della sighed, but was smiling. "I hope it starts early," she said, "and doesn't go very late. I'm bushed."
"Take a nap," Perry suggested, touching his fingers to the small of her back and piloting her down the hall to the den. She did look tired. Although she'd been smiley and cheerful during lunch, she hadn't said much, letting Paul and he do most of the talking. He suspected she didn't sleep well the previous night worrying about the hearing, no matter how much she protested that she hadn't been worried about it.
She shook her head. "No, if I take a nap, I'll be up too late, and tomorrow I have a feeling Henny and Val will drag me out of bed at the crack of dawn to start writing thank-you notes."
"Judging by the amount of tequila, I don't think anyone will be getting up early tomorrow," Perry predicted.
Della laughed softly as he closed the door to the den behind them. The den smelled like him after only four days and she felt tears spring to her eyes at the thought of when he would leave and low long his scent would linger.
Perry placed his portfolio down on the desk. "Well, if you don't want to nap, why don't we combine our files and officially close this case?"
Della set her own folders down on the desk, as well as her purse, which made a thud as it landed.
"What on earth do you have in there?"
Della chuckled, reached into her purse, pulled out a leather zippered pouch approximately four inches by four inches, and shook it. "All my lucky charms," she said with a grin. "Henny thinks I have enough to fill a couple of bracelets."
"What are you going to do with them all?"
Della shrugged. "I don't know yet. Instead of bracelets, I might have them made into a long necklace. And there are a few duplicates that could be made into earrings. It was nice of so many people to send good luck charms."
"When you make up your mind, we'll take them to a jeweler and pick out a chain," Perry said, bending over the desk and beginning to lay out his folders.
We'll take them?
Della placed matching folders on top of his, thoughtfully silent. She had been acquitted. Everything they had tabled for after her acquittal could now move front and center.
She wasn't ready for it. Everything had happened too fast.
Perry dropped into his chair and pulled the first two files toward him. "Shall we just put all documents in one file or take the time to purge the duplicates?"
"I really should call Aunt Mae." Della moved around to the opposite side of the desk and lifted the receiver from the cradle.
"Why don't we see about getting her sprung for a day this week and bring her home for a visit," Perry suggested, attention captured by culling documents from files.
The receiver stopped inches from her ear. Would this man ever stop surprising her? Not just with alluding to his intention to be in Los Angeles for the rest of the week, but mostly for his desire to spend time with her dementia-afflicted aunt. "That would be nice," she said shakily.
Squawking noises emanated from the receiver and Della's expression registered surprise as she placed it to her ear. She must have picked up the receiver just as a call clicked in, before the phone rang. "Hello?...oh…hello Robin…yes, thank you, I am relieved…yes, he's right here." Della held the receiver out to Perry. "It's for you."
Perry watched as Della left the den, pulling the door closed behind her, before speaking into the receiver. "Hi, Bird. This is a surprise." His stomach roiled, the lamb chop he'd had for lunch suddenly not agreeing with him.
"Congratulations, Counselor. According to the news reports, you pulled off quite a feat today." It had taken every ounce of bravery she possessed to make this call and hearing Della's voice almost made her hang up. "What would be nice?"
"What?"
"I heard Della say 'that would be nice'."
"Oh, we were talking about her aunt. She's ill and I haven't seen her in a while..."
"So you really are staying in Los Angeles?" It was a deflated statement more than a question. Robin didn't actually want to know what would be nice, because what would be nice to her and what would be nice to Della Street were two very different things.
How could he put it so it wouldn't sound testy or contentious? "Yes." Perhaps overly simple, but he liked simple. It got the job done.
"I had to make sure," Robin said, her voice sounding suddenly far away.
"I know, Bird. I appreciate that you called."
"I couldn't let that other phone call be your last impression of me. I was hurt and blindsided, Perry. I said things I shouldn't have."
It didn't escape him that she didn't apologize for those things she said. "I did too. I didn't mean to..."
"Don't apologize. I can be civil right now, but I'm not ready to forgive and forget so soon. When do you think you'll be coming back ho...to San Francisco to pack up?"
"If it will be easier on you, I said I'd hire a service."
"No, I think for my peace of mind I need to see you."
"Robin..."
"But don't you dare bring Della."
Perry nearly laughed. This was the Robin Calhoun he knew, the woman he could talk to, could share a laugh with, not that vulgar woman from several days ago. "Of course not." She was a strong woman, but no woman could be that strong, and he wasn't that stupid, no matter what anyone thought.
"So when do you think you'll come back?"
"I don't know. I don't have a place to live yet. How long before the apartment will be ready to rent out again?"
"Nothing can be done until your stuff is gone." She bit her tongue to keep from asking why he wouldn't just live with Della. Could it be the love of his life was resisting?
"Then I will hire a service to clear everything out and put it in storage so you can get the apartment ready for the next tenant. You need the income."
"I'll be okay. I've got a couple of guest appearances coming up, and I read for a play this morning. Just a Broadway revival, but it has a chance of touring."
"That's wonderful, Bird."
I owe it all to you, you big jerk. She took a deep breath. She would be civil during this phone call if it killed her. "My agent thanks you for the free publicity. I was actually mentioned in two newspapers and three gossip rags in stories about your grand gesture for Miss Street."
Perry laughed, a short cheerless chuckle he hoped wouldn't offend Robin. "Eddie always was good at making lemonade out of lemons."
"It's really over, isn't it?" Her voice was far away again. He certainly had given her lemons. An entire tree of them.
"Yes Robin, it really is."
"How long have you wanted it to be over?"
"I won't answer that question over the telephone. If you want answers to questions like that, I'll fly to San Francisco next week." It was the least he could do. Della was still his priority, Della and the fierce love he felt for her, but Robin deserved more than just two unsatisfying telephone calls. And Della would understand the need to tie up his life in San Francisco in person, if only because there was still so much unsettled between them. "I'll call you."
"I never wanted it to be over. But it was always going to be over at some point, wasn't it?"
"Robin, please."
"Why are you mad at me?"
"I'm not mad at you, Robin. If I'm mad at all, I'm mad at myself."
"Whenever you're mad at me, you call me Robin."
Perry sighed. "Oh Robin...that is not true. I call you Robin when I feel closest to you. Calling you Bird – what everyone else calls you – is more impersonal than using your real name." Della had employed the same trick with him for years, calling him 'Chief' to keep emotions on a less intimate level than calling him by his first name. "I never wanted to hurt you."
His admission was an unexpected wallop. If she had known that all along...tears fell silently down her face, real tears from deep within her. But as an actress she could play over them. She would not let him know she was crying. "Was it ever more than physical gratification for you?"
Another emotionally loaded question begging for simplicity. "Yes." If she wanted to know what that more was, she would have to wait until they were face-to-face again.
He was relieved when his answer seemed to satisfy her. "All I really meant to do in this phone call was congratulate you. How did it feel to be back in the courtroom?"
Exciting. Thrilling. Exhilarating. Satisfying. Familiar. Fun. Home. That's what being back in the courtroom felt like. "It was everything I hoped it would be." And it had been.
"Then you will be a lawyer again?"
"Yes, I think I will."
"San Francisco needs good lawyers."
He had to admire her persistence and grinned into the telephone. "I'm a fish out of water in San Francisco. Los Angeles is more my style."
"Good luck then. You'll call next week?"
"I'll call," he promised.
"Those guest spots will be shot in LA in a couple of months. Maybe we could have lunch?"
If he had any expectations of convincing Della to give him another chance, he had to learn from past experience. Della would understand one meeting with Robin, but more than that would be asking too much of her, and Robin had to realize that. "We'll see."
"Sure. We'll see. A lot can happen in two months. I could be married again in two months." She wouldn't be, her quick marriage to George and all the money it took to get rid of him a lesson not easily forgotten. Perry had to hang up knowing that she would be all right. She wouldn't be for a long time, but eventually she would be. "I loved you, Perry."
What could he say to her that wouldn't hurt her more? He had seen a movie with Della where the heroine told the hero she loved him and he'd replied, "I know". The audience had laughed boisterously, but really, it was an excellent answer, perfectly suited to the male ego.
"You don't have to say anything," Robin continued, saving him from having to come up with an answer suitable to them both. "I just wanted you to feel a little bit lousy. Good-bye, Perry."
He listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before slowly placing the receiver in the cradle, rubbing his forehead. He did feel lousy. This call had been better than the first call, which gave him hope that by the time he saw her next week she wouldn't feel it necessary to make him feel lousy, because he didn't need her to make him feel lousy. He felt lousy all by himself.
Perry didn't know how long he had been staring at the telephone when it rang again, making him jump. He snatched it up automatically, completely forgetting the answering machine. "Mason."
"Mr. Mason? I sure am glad you answered. This is Betty."
"What's wrong, Betty? Is Mae all right?" Perry sat forward, weary, stooped shoulders tensing in anticipation of bad news.
Betty Andrews, Mae Kirby's nurse and companion for the past four years, chuckled. "Mae is fine. As a matter of fact, she's having a really good day. She saw the noon news about Miss Street and it snapped her out of the funk she's been in for a while. Congratulations. None of us had any doubt Miss Street didn't do it, but we're sure glad she had the best defense attorney in the world on her side." Betty added a flirty laugh.
"We should have called to give Mae the news ourselves right away but it's been a bit hectic since court adjourned," Perry said, dodging Betty's compliment, feeling compelled to make excuses for not calling Della's aunt sooner. "We actually were about to call her when another call came in. Does Mae want to talk to Della?"
"Actually Mr. Mason, she wants to talk to you. She's about worn me out nagging. Here she is."
Perry heard a few muffled words before Mae's voice came on the line, strong and clear. Whenever he spoke with Mae the strength of her voice surprised him, considering the escalating frailty of her mind. "Perry? Is that you?"
"It's me, Mae. Betty told me you heard about Della's acquittal."
"Yes, I did. Had to watch it on the news, though, like every Tom, Dick, and Harry. You could have called. I went to Atlantic City this morning but was home in plenty of time to take a call."
Perry couldn't help but smile through his weariness, shoulders drooping once again. "You went to Atlantic City? Did you have a good time?"
"Atlantic City? I've been right here all day. I sat outside in the garden, but it was chilly, so I came back inside and had a cup of tea. Why didn't you call after court adjourned?"
"I'm sorry, Mae. It's my fault. We should have called you with the good news, but just as we were about to, the phone rang and I had to take another call."
"Oh."
Perry was worried he had distracted and confused her with too much information. Complex subjects could cause complete withdrawal and compound sentences needed to be used judiciously or her focus would be compromised. He had just hit her with a triple compound. "It's good news about Della's acquittal."
To his relief that brought her back on track. "The best news. Della wouldn't kill anyone."
"You're right, Mae."
"You don't live with Della anymore. You moved away and took up with the silly actress."
"Well, Mae, Robin Calhoun isn't silly. She's a nice woman and a talented actress. You watched her on television."
"She was silly on television. Why don't you live with Della anymore?"
"Della and I never lived together, Mae." They hadn't, not officially. He stayed at her house a lot, but still always maintained his own residence. "I'll tell you a secret."
"I like secrets."
"I know you do." She didn't remember much of what was told to her now, and if she did, it usually came out garbled with memories from decades ago, so secrets were generally safe with her. "The secret is: I'm moving back to LA."
"Where have you been? Did you go to England? I went there to visit the Queen. We had tea in the garden, but it was chilly."
Uh oh, Perry thought. I'm losing her. Della was much better than he at keeping Mae's misfiring mind from being overwhelmed. "I've been in San Francisco."
Mae snorted. "San Francisco! That's no place to live. Father likes to go there but I prefer Seattle. Seattle is very green."
"I don't like San Francisco either. That's why I'm moving back to LA. I'll be able to see you more often and we'll have ice cream. Butter pecan, your favorite." Her father, Bruce Sherwood, had been dead for fifty years, but still accompanied his daughter on many of the trips Mae believed she took.
"Butter pecan is good. Della likes mint chocolate chip. Are you going to start up with Della again?"
"I hope so," he replied with much feeling.
"It almost killed her to find out about the baby, you know. If you start up with her again, make sure you don't mention that baby." Mae lowered her voice conspiratorially, sharing a secret with him.
"Baby? What baby?" He feared Mae had lost her tentative grip on lucidity. She couldn't possibly know…they had both agreed not to tell Mae.
"Della forgave you for the woman…but a baby is a horse of a different color."
"Mae, what baby?" And what woman? He didn't understand what she was talking about. How much grappling with a fragile seventy-nine year-old mind was too much? How hard could he push for an explanation?
"That woman's baby."
Mae's voice was becoming agitated and shrill and Perry feared she might disappear into her 'funk' again no matter how hard he willed her not to. She must be reaching into her own distant past with her former husband Garrett Kirby and confusing it with something Della told her. "Whose baby?"
"Stop pussy-footing around," Mae snapped. "Your baby."
"Mae, Della and I…we don't have a baby. We were never married." He hoped that would satisfy her while he tried to come up with a subject to steer her delicate grasp on reality elsewhere. What on earth could she be talking about?
"Not Della's baby. I'm talking about your baby in Washington DC! That's why I never go there!" Mae's voice rose to such a pitch that Perry had to yank the phone away from his ear.
Perry shouted her name into the phone, but Mae was gone. Not only whatever clarity she was experiencing had disappeared, but so had Mae herself. He heard a bang, then a rhythmic tapping, running footsteps, a scream, and a jumble of excited voices before Betty's breathless voice came over the wire.
"Mr. Mason! Mae scooted out of her room so fast I couldn't stop her. She slipped and fell against the wall in the hallway. She appears to be okay, but I think she should see a doctor just to be certain. Dr. Carlson happens to be here making rounds, so we'll get her calmed down and have him examine her. We might have to sedate her. She's pretty wound up."
"Yes, yes, do whatever you have to do to make her comfortable. Miss Street and I will be there in less than an hour."
"Frankly Mr. Mason, I don't think that's such a good idea. She's really out of control right now, and she's saying some pretty nasty things. That gal sure can cuss! I don't understand half of what she's saying, but I'll write down as much as possible for you and Miss Street. I'll call you later after the doctor has seen her. I think that's the best thing right now. This is too bad. She was having a good day. I'd better page the doctor now. Good-bye."
Perry hung up the phone and rubbed one hand over the other, almost as if obsessively washing his hands. He repeated this unconscious movement again and again as Mae's words lanced through him, the searing pain in his heart making it difficult to breathe.
Oh my God.
A baby.
In Washington DC.
Oh my God.
What had Della told Mae?
What had Laura Parrish told Della? And when in hell had she told her?
Oh my God.
Had he lived through the past three miserable years because of one absurd, surreal weekend eighteen years ago?