He never did see her plays. He wondered now if she regretted not following those dreams or if she had written more after they married. He didn’t know, had never asked.
There had been nothing out of the ordinary the morning Sandra died. He found her behind the kitchen island. He called her name, thinking only that she must have fallen and banged her head. He shook her, remembered too late that he shouldn’t have moved her, and dialed 9-1-1. But in the end, none of that mattered. She had suffered a massive stroke. She was gone and there was no gaping hole in his life, no heart-stopping grief. God, Sandra deserved better.
After Sandra’s death, her mother had come to help and ended up staying.
Ron often worried out loud that the house and kids were too much for her. Each time, Gram patted his cheek and said, “My dear, the cleaning service does most of the work and the children keep me young.”
Then there was Tony. No women trailing behind this time. He showed up within hours of Sandra’s death and took over, uncharacteristically quiet, helping to soften the shock for Tia and Brad, working efficiently to arrange the funeral, saying little with words but everything with actions. During those first few days, when the kids weren’t glued to Ron, he found them with Tony, hanging on to his hand or curled up asleep beside him on the sofa.
And Jamie. She brought love and gentle reminiscing to the dark hours of funeral arrangements. She was an actress he had worked with and liked enormously. Sandra had liked her too. She had taken the five month pregnant Jamie under her wing when her husband left her.
On the first anniversary of Sandra’s death Gram took the kids to New York to visit his parents. Left alone, Ron brooded and paced. Then Tony showed up with two bottles of scotch. The usual voluble Tony was quiet as he listened to Ron pour his heart out and cry. “I don’t think I ever really loved Sandra. Not enough anyway.” She wasn’t an obsession.
“Listen Ron, I’m no expert, but I do know you. You loved Sandra in your own way and made her happy. Mourn her, but don’t pile on unnecessary guilt.”
Tony poured another drink and another and eventually put Ron to bed.
For the last couple of years Gram and the kids had joined Tony and Jamie in encouraging him to date. Tony was always trying to hook him up with one lady or another. The most recent was an actress named Rita. She had a bit part in a daytime soap. She was serious, too intense at times, but generally easy to be around.
And now, there was Em.
Chapter 18
“It’s been seven Earth months now,” Mentor said.
“Yes.” I wondered just where this conversation was going.
“Is their world changing?”
“Slowly.”
“Will it be enough?”
“For a renaissance?” I asked. “No, but—”
“A step in the right direction, at least?” I was rattled. She always did that to me. Were all Drones so easily intimidated, or just me?
“I think so. I hope so.” I paused, took a moment to try and calm my voice and stop shaking. “I need more time.” I wished I didn’t sound like I was begging.
“Your Grand Council review can’t be postponed.”
I stifled a cry. Everything depended on that review. Banishment, that’s what I faced. I’d lose my career, have no hope of advancing to a position where I could release my family from bondage and send them home. Unless I could pull off some sort of miracle.
I felt hot all over, and then suddenly shivered. My chest tightened until I could hardly breathe. Oh no. I was having one of those attacks. What did humans call them? Panic attacks. That was it. The unfamiliar dread grew and threatened, then subsided only to swell again. We were much better off up here without emotion. Much better off.
Mentor must have sensed my fear for her tone was gentler. “So, she’s not the right human after all?”
What could I do? It was too late to find a replacement. Besides, Em was good and the world loved her.
“She does what she has to. She’s smart and quick to learn. She uses the power I give her wisely. And, she’s doing things I wouldn’t have thought of. Effective things.” I knew I was protesting too much.
“You have decided her reward?” Reward? Did that mean Mentor thought Em was the right person after all? Why didn’t she just say so? “Well?”
I didn’t answer. My mind was spinning. So much to be done. Where to move next? What would be most effective, most impress the Grand Council?
“Well?” She snapped out the word. Impatience? She wasn’t supposed to feel emotion any more than I was. Oh Guardian. I’d obviously annoyed her no end.
“Em worries all the time,” I mumbled. “I don’t want her to suffer so.”
“You have a soft heart.” Mentor’s voice was harsh.
Oh great, I obviously shouldn’t have admitted that, shouldn’t have let my “human” side show. I paced, shifted my gaze from Mentor to Earth and back again.
“Help Em and you help yourself,” Mentor said.
“How? What exactly am I allowed to do?” I hated the pleading tone in my voice.
“Whatever you deem necessary.” And, with that, Mentor was gone.
I stared at the spot where she had been. Think, you fool. Think! Maybe Em’s natural instincts could provide some answers. I looked to Earth, searched for her. A flutter of my eyelids brought the planet into focus. Another flutter enlarged the area I wanted to see—her home.
“Hi,” the little boy from next door called out.
Jolted from her daze, Em called back, “Hi Noah.”
“Me and my dad are power washing,” Noah said.
She chuckled as she watched him. Clad in a T-shirt, shorts, rubber boots that reached his knees, and a yellow hard hat that fell over his eyes, he struggled doggedly with the garden hose.
“Boy, your dad sure is lucky to have such a good helper.”
And that’s how I found her. Sitting in a wicker chair on a small front porch, her feet propped on the rail of a long tile bench. A half-empty beer mug with a wedge of lime perched on the rim in easy reach. A newspaper dangled from her left hand and she chewed absentmindedly on the arm of her reading glasses. Worrying. About the world, about the things she had seen and the things she had done. Wondering. Where she would be sent next, if she would succeed? Wondering if she could ever recapture the joyful optimism of youth.
I watched as the burden of her “job” crushed her natural joy. I had chosen her; put her in the untenable position of savior. I’d had to do it. My career, my life, depended on this assignment, but that didn’t make me feel less guilt. I liked her too much to let her struggle alone.
Whatever you deem necessary, Mentor had said.
Em dropped the paper and glasses, clutched at her head as if in great pain. I had to do something.
I wished… Ah, damn! I wished I’d never heard of wishes.
Now I didn’t know if I had been right to open her Madame life to this one. And I still hadn’t decided if, as Madame, she should know about her real life. Could a human possibly bear the weight of two existences?
Chapter 19
“Dad, phone for you.”
“Who is it?” Indifferent shrug of teenaged shoulders.
“Hello. Ron speaking.”
“Ron, Allan here. Listen man, you have to meet me Friday night. Seven p.m. sharp.”
“Sorry, Allan. Rita and I are taking the kids to the Lakers’ game.”
“Can’t take no for an answer. Get Gram to go in your place. You have to be there. Trust me on this one. It will be the most important night of your life.”
“Can’t do it Allan, and don’t exaggerate. It doesn’t become you.”
“I’m deadly serious, Ron. Be there. Here’s the address. Write it down. Gotta go buddy. More calls to make. And Ron, dress for this one.” The line went dead.
Great! The kids would be disappointed and Rita would be pissed. “This had better be good, Allan,” Ron muttered to the phone as
he hung up. Gram, at least, would be pleased.
Ron arrived that Friday night cursing Allan under his breath. The restaurant had been hard to find, a small family-run business in an obscure part of town and he was mystified as to its choice. It certainly wasn’t one of the finer dining establishments that Allan insisted on or that he himself was used to.
Men and women chattered in Spanish while young children played hide-and-seek between the tables or followed the waitresses, imitating their moves. A group of young people at a corner table were having a heated but cheerful debate and helped to hide the youngsters when parents came looking for them.
The garish pink walls were plastered with old photographs, battered sombreros, faded posters, a few woven wall hangings, and one large vividly colored picture that caught his attention even though it was much too rustic for his tastes.
The place had a certain cozy charm, he thought wryly, and the smells from the kitchen were mouth-watering. They would eat well, at least.
A youth directed him to the lonely table in the back corner next to the kitchen. Allan, Vicky Warren, and Ian Martin were already there as well as Jamie, who shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes in Allan’s direction, eloquently communicating that she too was in the dark. Shane Roberton came in right behind him.
Vicky, Ian, and Shane were fellow actors. He and Jamie had done a pilot with them for Allan—a quality television drama that proved to be short lived. They weren’t stars in the Hollywood sense of the word, but they were all steadily employed, with decent investments, no longer starving or doing commercials, and waiting tables a mere bad memory.
They greeted each other with the casual warmth of good friends. “Okay, Allan, give. What’s this all about?” Ron asked.
“Yeah, why’d you insist I delay my flight to London?” Ian asked. “This had better be good, Allan.”
“And why did I have to ditch my date?” Ron knew Jamie was annoyed although she kept her tone level.
*
Em took a deep breath. It's now or never. “I can answer that.”
They turned en masse at the sound, mouths gaping when they saw her. It was always like that and she still hadn’t become used to it. She didn’t think she ever would. The startled oh of their mouths, the widening of their eyes, the hands raised to … do what? Hit her? Hide from her? Embrace her?
“Miracle Madame!” Vicky slapped her hand over her mouth as if she had committed some crime simply by saying her name. Just as she had seen so many do.
“I’ve heard that’s what I’m called. Miracle Madame, Humph. Sounds like I should be running a brothel in the Old West.” She laughed lightly hoping her little joke would ease the tension. Not even a hint of a smile on any of their faces. They just stared. Damn.
She heard Ron suck in air. He had a sort of sickly look about him. Christ, is he that scared of me? No, that wasn’t it. She watched closely, felt a tingly ache in her heart. They had a connection, a link to each other, so strong that she thought she should be able to see it and wondered if he did. She berated herself for playing the fool, but the feelings were too powerful to be dismissed.
He must have sensed something because he looked at her quizzically; an eyebrow rose, and then, coward that she was, she turned back to the others.
“My God, you really are you and you’re here.” Ian, like so many others when they first met her, hardly daring to speak, and then blurting out the first inane thing that came into his head. No doubt she’d have done the same in his shoes.
“You are so beautiful and your dress is… It’s really….” Jamie blushed and fumbled for more words.
Em laughed. “The Spinda were impressed too, just not so favorably.” With those words they seemed to relax a little. “Let’s do this properly, shall we?” She shook hands with each, thanking them for coming on such short notice.
They sat and Raûl came to take drink orders. He had a Sol with a wedge of lime for her, well chilled, just the way she liked it. He bent for a hug and they chatted a moment in Spanish.
Drinks came, orders were given and conversation began. She asked about their families and careers. She knew about their spouses, about Gram, the names and ages of their children, what projects they were working on. But she asked anyway. It was another attempt to put them at ease, and to unlock the confining bonds of being Miracle Madame.
There was a pause in the conversation when Raûl came with a second round of drinks. Ian broke the ensuing silence. “May we ask about your work?”
“I’d really rather you didn’t.”
“But, there is so much you could tell us,” Shane said.
“How do you know where to go and what to do?” Jamie asked.
“Where did you learn to speak so many languages?” Vicky asked. “And how do you travel?”
Brittleness settled over her and she was far away, in a world she didn’t want to see, in a world she wanted to escape. She forgot where she was just then. All she could see was horror and fear and hunger and devastation. All she could hear was crying and sobbing and yelling and sighing.
“Stop.” Ron spoke quietly, but she heard and the others must have too, for silence settled around the table. She tried to smile at Ron, but didn’t quite succeed. He looked grim and happy at the same time. Happy that he’d done her a favor? Little did he know.
Allan jumped in with a quip about his current movie and, thankfully, the easy flow of conversation resumed.
When their plates were cleared away, they turned to her, upright in their chairs like good students, eager expressions on their faces, ready to pay rapt attention. Of course they were dying with curiosity. Em was surprised they lasted as well as they had through the meal.
“I would like you to consider making a movie for me. I have already discussed some of the details with Allan.”
Oh God! She’d done it. It was too late now. She couldn’t take the words back. Why? Why did she have this insane urge to make a movie? And, why with this group? They were good people, down to earth, not famous enough to have been warped by media attention. If they agreed to make her movie, they’d be forever hounded by paparazzi; everything in their lives would change.
More to the point, she’d control them. They’d be hers.
“Why a movie?” Ian asked and she had to scramble to find a reasonable answer.
“Movies are a powerful communication tool.”
“They can be. But why don’t you just do some interviews, make some speeches, tell people what you want them to know?” Vicky asked. “Wouldn’t that be a lot simpler?”
“Easier? Likely. More effective? Not necessarily. Besides, I’m not allowed to work that way.” Not allowed! Not allowed? That's what the message in the ring had said. Why the hell am I not allowed? You're allowed to put me in all sorts of danger, to scare the bejesus out of me, but I'm not allowed to talk to people. Man, if I ever get a chance to talk to you....
“Madame,” someone called softly and she was back with them, shaky and mad, but back.
“From what you said earlier, you don’t seem impressed with what Hollywood produces so why make the movie here?” Shane was not so overawed by her that he wouldn’t speak out. Refreshing.
“I’m a realist. I know the power of Hollywood, and how far-reaching something made here can be. I’m not unaware of my clout. Because of my involvement everyone will want to see this movie. It’s a way to spread my influence more widely than I do now.”
“But you do influence people,” Ian said. “My God, you’re changing the world.”
She shook her head, dismissing his protest. She would never believe that what she said and did carried that much weight. In spite of everything she had done, she still didn’t believe it was real.
“I don’t expect you to answer right away. And I will understand if you say no.”
“Of course we’ll do it.” They all spoke at once.
She fumed. How could they agree so readily? Didn’t they know what her movi
e would do to them? How could they just say yes like that without due consideration? Don’t be stupid, she wanted to yell. Think, damn it. Think. She wanted them to say no. She wanted a way out and now it was too late.
Fuck! I’m the one who needs to think. I’m the one who wants the control. Because someone controls me. I‘m the one who wants the fame. Because I’ve fallen into the trap. I want some of that Hollywood mystique. And Ron? How does he fit in all of this? Do I want him? Is it too late to get out of this mess? Maybe I can make them see reason, make them say no.
“You need to think about this. You must weigh the pros and cons.” Oh, yes, there will be cons. “Working with me will change your lives. Think of that. Consider carefully. Carefully! You will need to be prepared for a barrage of world-wide media attention.” Not to mention that I will have taken over your lives. Just as mine was taken over. Revenge! Oh, God! I’m wreaking revenge on these poor innocents.
“We’ll do it.” Ian spoke firmly.
She sighed inwardly. If that was the way they wanted to play it…. Well, they were adults. “Thank you.” Oh God, this was good. She’d get to see Ron again. As often as she wanted. “The media attention will start as soon as we leave.”
“We can handle it,” Jamie said.
And maybe she could do something for them, something to atone for her sins. “You’re agreeing to do me a huge favor. Is there something I can do for you?”
*
I watched as sparks flew between Em and Ron. I felt a heaviness in my chest, a hollow empty feeling in my stomach, such as I had never before experienced. I reached out to snatch her back, but I knew it was too late. I didn’t understand then what it was too late for. I didn’t understand then why I felt so … so bereft.
As for Ron. What I felt coming from him was beyond understanding. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He clenched his fists holding them rigidly at his sides, forcing himself to be still, feeling at once the light and sublime ecstasy of possibilities and the harsh dark reality of what could never be.
What possibilities? What could never be?
I’d seen him watching her on TV enthralled. I’d seen him moon over her like a lovelorn teen. He fantasized so many things, and laughed heartily at himself to hide his flashes of embarrassment but he hadn’t stopped.