In Search of Satisfaction (22 page)

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here had been a great sadness and even pain inside Carlene as she threw herself across her bed. Her beautiful, lacy, satin, plush bed. She cried from anger and sadness. Alone all her life, whether she admitted it or not, this was another pain of life. Not being together with anyone. Unused to admitting and facing pain, she was in turmoil over something that could not be hidden or paid to go away. Her mind turned to Richard senior, her lover, the love of her life, she thought. She raised reddened, tearful eyes to the heavens and cried, “Look what he had done to us. Oh, where are you, when I need you so much! Why didn’t you live!?” She tossed her body, turning to face the ceiling, tears in her eyes. “He has violated, abused our love child. OUR child. The only thing you ever gave to me, from the few short weeks of happiness we shared. Oh, if only our love could have been fulfilled. I have never felt anyone like I felt you. I have never loved anyone as I love you now. Oh, Richard, I could welcome you to my arms, my bed, my life and be damned to everyone else! Richard, Richard,” she cried aloud, “I cannot forget you!”

She raised herself from the bed, sniffling, her face red and puffed. She went to the brandy decanter she kept in her bedroom even then.
Pouring herself a large drink, she continued talking to herself, only this time with a little anger. “What did you do to my body? You pressed your penis into me and drove it all the way into my heart, my very soul … And I cannot get it out! I can … not … tear … you … out … of … me.” She laughed an ugly laugh. “And now, your son, YOUR SON, has done this to us. He has ruined our child. Our love child.”

Carlene poured another drink. One more of many to come. She continued thinking out loud. “But he cannot ruin our love. Let him take her then. I have you.” She sat slowly on her bed, her head falling over her breast. “What’s wrong with me? I am a full woman. I have a heart. A soul. I need love. First, my father loved a whore and not me any more. And you died. I’m left with nothing.” She threw the glass across the room. “I don’t want to live!” She cried from deep within her breast for a long moment, then, “But, I won’t die! I’ll live and make them pay, Richard and Richlene. She has betrayed me, too. No one but you ever really loved me.” She took another glass and poured another drink. She smiled to herself as she planned her payment to Richard for the pain he had given her.

w
hen Richard had come home and she had torn him with every vile word she knew, he had left. She did not feel better, but more alone. She blamed him for that also. Holding Richard senior’s picture to her breast, she swore on the name of god, her god, she would kill him. The woman even prayed, “Please God, please give me some way to kill him that no one will ever know. Please, please.”

Well, Satan was right there listening all the time. He was so pleased with Carlene. He laughed, and it takes something to make Satan laugh. “You will find a way,” he smiled at her. “I will help you. You have prayed to the right god for murder. Me.” See, until you open your mouth, Satan does not know what you are capable of. He cannot always read your mind, only your words and actions. He made his suggestions to Carlene. She listened and planned all night.

Early the next morning, Carlene left for Philadelphia to see her husband’s doctor. Richard was taking medication for blood pressure and a few other minor things. Practically in tears, she explained how concerned
she was for Richard. That he did not always take his medicine as he should, that she wanted it sent to her so she could see that things were done as they should be. That the dosage should be stronger, relax him more, slow his heart down so it would not stop or hurt itself. “And,” she dabbed at her eyes, “What is he supposed to eat, what should he avoid?”

“I think salt is the worse thing for him,” the impressed doctor replied. “We are not completely certain.”

“Then he shall have none!” the concerned wife affirmed. Taking a bottle of the new prescription, Carlene walked jauntily away. She stopped at a pharmacy and picked up empty capsules, explaining she had to take a purgative sometimes and hated the taste. Everything was so easy for her.

When she returned home she went to the kitchen, took the salt package and went directly to her room, saying to the cook, “Get more of this salt.” Then she took the empty plastic capsules and filled them with salt. She put the new stronger medicine and the salt capsules away, “until the time is right to begin.” She smiled to herself and to Richard senior’s picture. “I need him to do some things first. But … it won’t be long.” Did it not occur to her she was speaking to him of killing his son?

Satan smiled with a “tsk, tsk, tsk” at Carlene.

t
he baby, a son, was born, named Carlton and disposed of within a week of his birth. Richlene knew nothing of what was going on around her. Her mother had the doctor keep her full of sleeping medicines. Carlene told him, “because Richlene is so young and has no idea of all that has happened to her, we want to protect her.”

Richard insisted on taking over the matter of the baby. All he would later tell was that “it is taken care of.” What he had done is secure a small house in Philadelphia, staff it with the necessary people to take care of and raise a child. Mana, older now, was sent with the baby to see that everything was done right and that the child would have love. Richard also changed the baby’s name from Carlton to Phillip. “I am going to break this family farce up. Start new.” Later when the time came, he would see to the education and continuing needs of this child of his daughter. His son. His grandson, to the world. He would never let Phillip come to Yoville until he was old enough to protect himself from cruelty.

There was never a month that Richard didn’t see Phillip. Often he visited several times a week. And after he became ten years old, Phillip accompanied his “grandfather” on many business trips. He was loved by
Mana and Richard and he knew it. Richard even told him of his mother, Richlene. He told him she was ill but that Phillip would see her one day.

Carlene did not know all these things had happened, but she remembered that when Richlene was allowed out of the stupor she had been kept in, she raged and cried and cried, and cried. “She will make herself ill,” Sally told Carlene. “You must do something to help the poor child.”

Carlene began to think about a suitable husband for Richlene. “With our money, someone will marry a retarded woman. I think a … man is what she needs, now that she has known one.” No one agreed, but Carlene would not be stopped. She finally talked Richard into finding someone, “an innocuous person, to be sure. Someone who would not mind changing their name to Befoe and becoming a husband to Richlene, who will be a billionairess one day.”

That is how Richlene married Arthur, once Corruthers, now Befoe, who worked in one of Richard’s firms. The young man, a rather trenchant one, poor, having worked his way through a community college to become an accountant, was in no way going to let this opportunity pass through his fingers without squeezing it with all his might. Richard was heartsick but had no power now with all that Carlene held against him. Richard now stayed away almost completely, as Carlene’s father had done. Carlene was unable to start Richard on the pills she had put away until such time as she would be able to use them for her purposes.

Life continued at the Befoes’ just as though nothing had occurred. When Richard was home in Yoville, he hardly ever saw or spoke to Carlene except if she asked to speak of business and reports. He withdrew further into himself, giving vent to his passions by making more money and keeping two lonely and greedy women. One was young, one older, so whichever mood he was in could be satisfied. If he wanted to be a boy, he saw the older. If he wanted to feel as a man, he saw the younger. This continued several years. His happiest hours were those he spent with Phillip and Mana, staying where they lived or traveling with his son, his grandson.

When Phillip was old enough to enter a university, Richard stayed in Yoville more so he could be easily reached if needed. A malaise settled in his soul. He, finally, began to go less to the cities on his business. Reports and business visitors were more frequent. He stayed close to his rooms.

Richlene had two children by Arthur. The eldest was a boy, Carlton,
because the first child named Carlton did not exist to Carlene, and she had to have a Carlton after her father. The second was a girl, Emily. Carlene liked the boy a bit but did not care for Emily. She finally tired of Richlene’s husband Arthur and his groveling ways. “He is making too many children. They may have the name of Befoe, but they are still his! He is not one of us! Get him a divorce and send him away.” It had cost a pretty penny; as they said, Arthur was no fool. He remembered why he was there in the first place. Money. He left with quite a bit of it. Richard had been more than kind.

Half the time Richlene did not care about anything that went on around her except for her children. She had liked her husband Arthur but did not love him. He had played games with her and held her in his arms sometimes. He was often gone to some city. In truth, he had cared for Richlene, but he did not like to stay where Carlene was. Richlene did not like her oldest child Carlton very much; he reminded her of her mother. She loved him with reservations. She adored her daughter Emily. The sweetest child in her world. When Arthur left, divorced and sent away at Carlene’s instigation, they told Richlene he was gone on business. In time she grew used to him being gone. No one ever said he was never coming back.

Richlene was the only one who ever thought of him and asked about him when she thought of it. Finally Sally said he would not return. “You have divorced him, dear.” Richlene never asked again. Carlton did not care about his father; he had his grandmother who did not like his father anyway. Emily was too young at that time to really know much about anything.

As time passed, the malaise of the house spread. Richard seemed to stay even closer to his rooms or his favorite people, venturing outside sometimes to lay back in the cushioned furniture and rest in the sun, looking toward the river for hours.

Mr. Creed, a Negro man who had once worked for Richard, sometimes passed by on his way fishing. He would stop to talk with Richard about politics and Wall Street. Mr. Creed did not know much about these things, but he was interested. He amused Richard Befoe. The acquaintanceship grew. Richard’s servant Baily attended his needs, bringing a glass of liquor or a meal to him outside. Baily frowned when he was asked to bring a glass for Mr. Creed. The servant didn’t like
“uppity niggers, don’t know they place!” When the day was over, Richard would retire to his rooms again.

He was a desperately lonely man. All he had was money. Yes, he had his grandchildren. But he didn’t like the oldest one, Carlton. He seemed so sly, always to be laughing at you behind his clever eyes. He did like the girl, and often Emily would come to sit with her grandfather, suggesting now and again, “Don’t drink so much, grandadda.” Then she would help him back to his rooms. He leaned on her and smiled. He would not feel alone for a little while.

Richard didn’t drink because he was a drunk. He drank because he was terribly lonely and bored and a drink seemed to help a day pass. That is why when Mr. Creed asked him to go fishing with him one day, he went.

Mr. Creed had retired himself. He was one of those who, as a child, had found and hidden a cache of gold with his father who had sworn him to secrecy. But they had kept their gold buried and continued living as they always had. Working as they always had. The father died and young Creed was guardian of the gold. He married, had three children but only one, a son Lincoln, who lived. When his son became old enough to enter school, Mr. Creed had insisted he go and go and go. Most had laughed at him, thought he was a fool for working hard as he did and spending on that boy to go to some school far off some place. But Mr. Creed persisted, even sending the boy to college when his grades proved to be good. All this was done with some of the gold. By then his son knew about the gold, how to transfer it and make transactions, and Mr. Creed never suffered the calamity of Joel and Ruth. He had trusted no one but his father and his son.

When Creed worked for Richard Befoe, he always worked around to where Richard was and talked a little bit of crops, weather, hunting and horses. Making an acquaintance. Until now, they had come to speak of life and money. Came the day Richard spoke of investments, lacking the usual companionship of men like himself, and Mr. Creed listened avidly, sending the advice to his son. So his money had grown. He continued to visit with Richard when he saw him sitting outside. Not just because of the money, but because he felt sorry for this man who had everything … and nothing. Mr. Creed’s wife had died of something money might have helped, but Mr. Creed did not bring his gold out in time to save
her. That bothered him sometimes. He had held on to the gold longer than he had her. He didn’t like to think of it in that way.

Mr. Creed was lonely also, but not the same kind of lonely Richard Befoe was. Except for not saving his wife in time, Creed had good memories. Memories are blessings when they are good.

Mr. Creed liked Richard sincerely. He wanted to do something for him to alleviate his sadness, his aloneness. One day he suggested a walk to the river. They did that several times. Then he suggested an overnight fishing trip, it was so beautiful on the river at night. They went finally to stay overnight in a place Creed knew. Richard had little interest in fishing, but he lay back on the thick soft grass, surrounded by berry bushes and tall, quiet trees outlined against the sky. He stared at the clear, bright, glittering stars. His heart filled up until his throat hurt him; he cried. Creed heard him, but thought it best not to say anything. It was a harsh, quiet, hacking cry. The sound of pain. The sobs finally dwindled into the sounds of the wind rustling. Richard fell asleep under the stars to the sounds of the night, only to awaken to the same barren life. Though he found, somehow, he had been comforted a bit just by feeling free a little while.