The Immaculate Deception (27 page)

I had a week off from work and I was going to dedicate it to me. Just doing Donna things. I was going off my diet. Needed chocolate. Must have chocolate. Must go down to the store and buy some sugar-free chocolate. The kind made with maltose, which was sugar alcohol. The body did not metabolize alcohol like it did regular sugar. So the effective carbohydrates would be miniscule. And I wouldn’t really be going off my diet. Yes.

I logged onto my computer and went to a medical webpage. I had to register and create a screen name and password before it would let me in. Screen name? Mr. Jones. Password? Mate.

I did a search on narcolepsy. Hmm…genetic disorder, could be brought upon by an injury, affected the pons. What the devil was the pons? Hallucinations. Sleep paralysis. That didn’t sound good. Could be helped with medication. Oh yeah. Some medication would be good right now.

Funnily enough, I didn’t want to fix the narcolepsy, if that was what I indeed had. I liked my dreams and more than anything, I loved my mate Mr. Jones. I didn’t want him to go away. He was the best almost lover I’d ever had. And oh…that accent of his. Maybe I could sleep for a week. Nah, only problem was the darn tour of my parents’ pasts he seemed intent to keep me on. Maybe it was for my own good that he made me realize what kind of lives they led. After all, the chicken did not fall too far from the egg.

I clicked open my email box. Oh wasn’t this interesting. My virus software was quarantining six, seven, eight, no, nine attachments. I praised the guy who thought of the firewall or whatever it was that kept me from crashing. And the guy who created the worm must not have much of a life. Hey, his day job probably was in the file room at Heavenly HMO. I giggled.

When I finished deleting the insects, I checked an email from Ashley.

My stomach flip-flopped. What had Dick done to put my roommate on edge? I hit reply.

I pushed
send
and shut down the computer. I didn’t want to write any more today anyhow. I flopped down on the couch and began brainstorming. I liked the working title of my work-in-progress,
Smolder
. It was a story about a 9/11 firefighter’s widow opening her heart again to another firefighter. But what did I know about firefighters? Nada. Except the old
Emergency
TV shows from the nineteen-seventies about the firefighter paramedics. That Johnny Gage character sure was cute.

Hey, I did know a fireman. The lieutenant in the sooty white helmet. He was pretty gruff though. Wonder what his name was? Lieutenant McGruff. I giggled with my eyes closed.

I remembered the phone call from Perry. Great. He thought I was retarded, so now I’d been relieved of executrix duties. Whoo hoo. Who cared. He and Tammy were gonna take all the money and run anyhow. The sooner I was rid of them the better. I wondered what my other siblings were like. The ones revealed on my birth certificate. Momma’s first two babies. Maybe since we were all her blood, we were all nice. Momma was nice. Sometimes.

Oh Momma. Where are you? You were released from the mental hospital. Then the last time I saw you was…hmm…you were in the hospital having your ovary removed by Daddy. But I couldn’t talk to you. I really wanna talk to you. Make sure you’re okay.

I rolled over onto my side and curled up with my hands under my head. Mr. Jones. He always made me feel so safe and protected.
Come and make it all okay again, Mr. Jones.

Oh can you kiss. Come and give me a kiss, my mate. Right here. And here. And two here and you get the picture.
Photograph. Technicolor. Yeah, that’s right, time for another Technicolor dream. Hmm…maybe I could start one up. I yawned and plodded over to the CD player. I turned “Drift Away” on repeat. God, I loved that song, Dobie Gray’s slow tribute to how music can soothe your mood. I eased back down on the sofa and listened. And listened.

I could see gold sparkles dancing inside my eyelids. I loved the percussion and the guitars in this song. I loved it when they made love through the instruments. The lyrics said it all.
Come on, boys, take me away.
Here came the irresistible forward momentum. Kind of like going fast in a car down a “tummy hill”.

~♥~

I smiled before I even opened my eyes. There he was. Leaning all sexy on that big old… Let’s see. I looked up. Oak tree. “Hey you, come on over and give me a big kiss.”

He wiggled his finger. I vamped over to him. I kissed him once. And again and again. He was pretty much pinned up against that tree. I twiddled my fingers in the grooves of the bark. He ran his fingers all over me. Mr. Jones did know his way around a woman. I pulled my mouth away, breaking the vapor lock on our lips. I gasped for air.

“
Wow. You’re the first guy to do that.”

“
Do what, love?” He kissed me again.

“
Take my breath away,” I panted.

“
You’re welcome.” He grabbed my hand and placed it on his left pocket. Oh my, he
was
excited to see me as well.

I heard a baby crying. Shoot. So much for being alone in the moonlight. I turned around. Coming toward us was a woman pushing a baby carriage but carrying the infant. Mr. Jones wrapped his arms around me from behind. He nuzzled his head on top of my head. I loved a tall man. Tall, dark, mysterious and oh-so-hot. Yum. I felt his heat.

The woman had stopped at a bench under a streetlight.

I smiled. It was Momma. And by the looks of the cars and shops, this was the early sixties. Oh no. I struggled free of his arms and flew. Back to behind a statue. He pursued me.

He said, “What’s wrong, Cinderella?”

“
That’s me.”

“
What’s you?”

“
The baby. It’s baby me.”

“
Look how sweet she is to it. It’s colicky but she doesn’t shove a dummy in its mouth and strap it in the pram. She’s walking and singing and loving it.”

“
Who you callin’ a dummy? Me? That’s baby Donna.”

“
I’m not callin’ you a dummy. You know,
dummy—
the rubber tit that babes suck on?”

“
A nipple?” I asked, picturing an old-fashioned glass baby bottle. “Pacifier?”

“
Exactly. Your mum really loves you. Look at her. Out at this hour, to soothe you.”

Tears trickled down my cheeks. I could feel the warmth of her skin. Almost the sway as she rocked back and forth, sitting on the bench.

“
Well, come along.” He nudged my elbow.

“
What? Are you crazy? Suppose she can see me now since I’ve been born?”

“
Don’t worry. I told you I won’t let her see you.”

“
You’re right. I don’t wanna scare her. At least I found her. Well, not exactly. Where are we?”

“
Washington. 1964.”

“
Hey, listen. I stopped crying.”

We watched as Momma placed baby me gently into the stroller and pushed off into the direction she came from. Mr. Jones wrapped his arms around me again and brushed my hair away from my neck. The heat of his breath intoxicated grown-up me.

Chapter Twelve

I
inhaled the city summer night. Roses at the park entrance, wafting through with exhaust fumes. Leaded gas. The good old days. Like Daddy’s car ran on. But I didn’t wanna think about that now. Mr. Jones guided my mind off the night and redirected my focus to my neck. I concentrated on the blood pulsing in my carotid artery. He wrapped his long strong fingers around the back of my neck and gently tickled my throat. Next came his whiskers, a rough but pleasurable sensation, as his lips brushed my earlobe. His tongue darted gently inside, ever so slightly. I wanted to stay in this era. A simpler time when the most important thing was the love of a good man. My good man. And what a skilled tongue he had. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heart beating. I never wanted this moment to end.
Shoot
. I heard the “Donna” song.

~*~

The phone was ringing. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and glanced around my living room but I didn’t budge. The answering machine kicked in. “Hello, no one is able to come to the phone. Please leave your message after the tone.”

“
Oh-Donna. Pick up. Pick up, Oh-Donna. It’s Tammy. Are you all right, honey? We need to talk. It’s about Perry. He’s up to no good and I need to give you a heads up. Let me give you a couple of numbers you can call me at—”

I stepped into the powder room and turned on the stink fan. The varoom blasted out pretty little Tammy’s sickly sweet voice.

Yeah, of course Perry was up to no good. What newsflash was that? But what’s your angle, sister dear? How come you want to throw in with the retard?

I flushed and stomped into the kitchen and discovered Tammy’s blinking message. Blinkin’ all right. My stomach growled. Barked like a seal actually. I really needed to start eating more often. Well, there was nothing much in the refrigerator other than a little bit of shaved domestic Swiss and some generic bottled water. I heard thunder rumbling in the night. What time was it anyhow? The clock on the microwave glowed alien green, nine fourteen p.m. Well, I wasn’t going out now.

I fished around in the junk drawer under the phone. Yes. I found a coupon for Chinese food. I erased Miss Tammy’s clandestine whisper and called Little Tai Pai. There was a ten-dollar minimum for delivery so I ordered vegetable
lo mein
and General Tso’s chicken.

It occurred to me that I hadn’t watered my deck garden since, hmm… No idea. I turned the outside light on and peeked out the French doors. Oh the sunflowers and morning glories had fainted. I filled two big sixty-four-ounce convenience store soda cups up with tap water. I snuggled one between my chest and left arm and placed the other in my left hand. I opened the door, stepped out and closed the door. The thunderbolt was thrashing like a marksman’s whip. What in the devil was I doing out watering plants in an electrical storm? Sniper shots of rain commenced splattering the pressure-treated decking boards.

My plants had flourished in the potting soil I amended with Epsom salts and plant food every other week. They’d spilled over the edges and ranged in height from vine to six feet. The rain generally didn’t penetrate down through the jungle to the root-bound soil. I went ahead and emptied the two cups in the three-foot-long green plastic planter to my right. All right, the skies opened up on me. I sprinted to the door and twisted the…locked knob. I threw my head back and growled. A quarter-sized water dollop hit me in the right eye. “Ow!” Barefooted, I descended the wooden steps.

I hid underneath. The rain spilled through the slats between the decking above but it was better than the full brunt of the storm. I knocked on the French door to my basement. Yeah, it was my house and I knew my roommate was somewhere in Canada at the mo but hey, it was worth a shot at her opening up. Of course, she didn’t. I tried the knob. Locked. I snorted and stood with my back against the muttons separating the nine-paned glass door. Okay, Dummy Donna. What to do now?
Think, think, think
. A vision of Winnie the Pooh, the cute cuddly yellow cartoon bear with the red sweater, entertained my thoughts. I could picture him thumping his head thinking. What would Pooh do in this situation? Why, find a honey pot for sure. Honey pot… I glanced to the stack of round plastic nursery containers stacked next to the shed. I had been too lazy to get the key to it to stash them away. And too lazy to wash the residual dirt out as well. Hey, my little metal gardening trowel was inside the top pot. Hey, now…I could use that to pry the hinge pins out of the door like Officer Dick did. Feeling clever, I snatched the trowel. A snake sprang out of the pot, wrapping around my wrist. I let out a primordial howl. I dropped the trowel and flailed my arm wildly, finally catching the middle of the thick black snake around one of the support posts. He coiled onto it. I evacuated.

Out the six-foot privacy fence gate, around the side of my townhouse and up the stoop. I heard the electrical transformer blow. In total darkness, I desperately tried to open my front door. Locked. Drenched and terrified, I remembered the garage. Sliding my hand down the black wrought iron railing, I took the brown brick stairs two at a time. I slammed into the eight-foot-wide garage door. Holding my hand over my eyes, trying to guess the numbers on the keypad, I punched in the code. Nothing. Again, nothing. Right. The power was out.