The Women on Retford Drive, page 31
part #1 of Dancing Hills Series
“Why would she do this? I told her I was sorry for the affair. I’ve been doing everything right. She just gave up on herself. She sees some gray hairs, and she gets a little big around the middle, and she thinks I don’t love her. I was feeling old, going through a midlife crisis, Julia. That girl didn’t mean anything. She wasn’t worth my baby’s life.”
Julia pulls away and returns to the car. Shelbie and I join her.
“Are you going to tell him?” I ask, looking at the neighbors converging at the yard’s edge.
“Not tonight,” Julia says. “Maybe not ever. It depends on what’s in the note.”
“Where is it?” Shelbie asks.
“The police are probably going to hold it as evidence. I’m sure I’ll eventually have an opportunity to read it.”
“This is crazy,” Shelbie says. “I’m just glad it’s over and that you and Blythe will be able to go on with your lives.”
“By the way, Julia, I want to get into therapy, like you suggested,” I say.
“That’s good. After everything that has happened, I think we really need to.”
“I think I should take you all home,” Stephen says, approaching. “They’re going to be bringing out the body soon, and you don’t need to see that. The police have the note. They’ll get a copy to you, Julia.”
“Thanks.”
“Shelbie, you’re more than welcome to stay at my house with Blythe and Julia tonight. We can get the cars in the morning.”
“That sounds good. I’ll text my parents and let them know. They’re both working at County tonight, and I don’t want to be home alone anyway.”
“Let’s go, ladies,” Stephen says, ushering us into the car.
We all watch Larry, his neighbors surrounding him. I’m glad he has support, I think to myself when we drive away from the scene.
~~~
I can’t believe it’s been six months since the night of horror. Shelbie and I have taken the LSAT and we aced it. We’re in the throes of completing our Yale applications, and Shelbie came up with the brilliant idea for me to prepare a video essay about the drama with my father. You’d think she was filming a Hollywood movie. I thought it would take just a day or two, but we’re on day six, the last day, the wrap-up.
Perched on a stool in the living room in our condo, I watch her tinker with the lights and the camera, and then she says, “Action.”
Focusing on the camera, I say, “Two weeks after Sherry committed suicide, the police lab confirmed she was pregnant with my father’s child through Chorionic villus sampling. It’s a test that determines an unborn child’s paternity. It can be administered as early as eight weeks, and it’s 99.9 percent accurate. Sherry was ten weeks pregnant. The baby didn’t survive. The police also confirmed that the blood on the knife was my father’s and that the vomit was Sherry’s. My father was buried at Hollis Park, wrapped in the red blanket. The police searched the entire park and found my father’s remains not far from the area where Sherry discovered that cell phone.
“Julia received the original letter three weeks after Sherry’s suicide. She still hasn’t read it. She did finally tell Larry about what Sherry did, but she kept it pretty general. He has since sold their house and moved to New York.
“We had a joint funeral for Sherry and my father. A lot of people thought it was odd, but Larry and Julia were fine with it, and the press loved it. Julia said it gave Sherry the last laugh. My father didn’t want to be with her in life, but he ended up being with her in death—at least at the funeral services. There was so much press at the funeral, you couldn’t get within a mile of the chapel.
“Considering everything that happened, Theo abided by the original trust, so Julia and I are pretty much set for life. The company is now public and doing well, with Richard at the helm. Kathleen resigned. We sold the house and are in the process of creating a foundation. I finally got to meet my bio mom. She has moved back to the States permanently, and we’re slowly developing a relationship. And she had told Julia the truth. She didn’t know Anozie. The woman he’d transported was some other Mary Weber. She says she still struggles with guilt over leaving me behind.
“My paternal grandmother, Dolores, is still not speaking to Julia or me. She was enraged about the double funeral. My grandfather sneaks and checks up on me from time to time.
“Theo referred Martha to colleagues who helped her divorce Pedro and get her green card, and Julia and I set up a trust for Carla and Jorge, to pay for their college educations.
“Julia’s mother is living with her and Stephen at Stephen’s house. They plan to buy a house together after the wedding. Stephen proposed to Julia two months ago, and I was happy she said yes. She starts filming the new series in January 2018.
“When John heard what happened to Sherry, he didn’t take it well. He blamed himself for coming up with the idea to call her. He moved without leaving any forwarding information. Nor did he say goodbye. Shelbie and I are renting this beautiful condo, where we’re filming right now. We plan to move to Connecticut if and when we’re accepted into Yale Law School.”
“Cut,” Shelbie says.
“How was that?” I hope she doesn’t want yet another take.
“I want some close-ups and profile shots.”
“Can we take a break first?”
“Of course.” She sits on the sofa. “I pray we’re accepted into Yale.”
“Shelbie, they would be crazy not to let us in. This video idea is amazing. Have you ever thought about going to film school? You’re good at this. You know Julia started out in PR and then switched to acting.”
“Hell, maybe I can do both.”
“Shelbie, you can do anything you set your mind to.”
She gets up from the sofa, and we double fist bump and hug.
Chapter 45
Julia
June 19, 2017
Dear Julia,
You’re one of the most talented actresses I have ever represented and one of the most loyal and loving friends I have ever had. By now, you may or may not know why I took my own life and what happened. I received an anonymous call tonight that I couldn’t handle. The truth is bound to come out, and I can’t live with the truth. I’d rather be dead.
As you know, Larry’s infidelity shook me to the core. I was already struggling with the aging process. Everyone doesn’t have your good genes. When I found him with that young girl, the little confidence and self-esteem I had left dissipated. I could barely get out of bed. Around that time Keith wanted to shoot that commercial, and he had Kathleen contact me regarding an actress I represented. As you know, Keith requested we meet, and we did. But what you didn’t know is that I ended up pouring my heart out to him about what had happened with Larry. He told me everything I needed and wanted to hear—that I was young and beautiful and that Larry was an old fool. He continued to talk to me and call me from time to time. We met for lunch and then dinner, and I was beginning to feel good about myself. Of course, by then you had confided in me that he was an abusive asshole, but I didn’t see that when I was with him. I slept with him in my bed at home. I know part of me was paying Larry back, but I was also falling in love with Keith. And I thought he was falling in love with me.
When you told me you were filing for divorce, it was an answer to my prayers. I was so desperate, blinded by lust and a need to be loved, I ignored that he tried to kill you. I somehow justified it. When I found out you were moving, I talked to him about us coming clean, with you and Larry. He told me to come by the house on Tuesday, so we could talk before he went to Europe. By then I knew I was pregnant, and I planned to tell him. I knew he’d be ecstatic to have the son he’d always wanted, especially in light of you not being able to conceive. Of course, I didn’t know the baby’s sex, but I fantasized it was a boy.
I got to the house a little after 6:00 p.m. He had packed that morning, and everything was in the garage, waiting to be loaded into the car. I followed him into the house, and he said he wanted to make love before his trip. I should’ve known something was up when he requested we go into the red room. Afterward, I dressed and told him about the baby. He became another person, a monster. I realized what you had been trying to tell me about him. He called me a tramp and a homewrecker. He said I was old and fat and that’s why Larry cheated on me. He said I was just a toilet for his sperm. I sat and listened until I couldn’t take it anymore. He told me to abort the baby and that it wasn’t his anyway. Then he screamed for me to get out. I ran downstairs, and on my way out I went to the kitchen for my phone. That’s when I saw the knife.
I grabbed it, stormed upstairs, and stabbed him in the chest while he was still in the bed. He tried to grab me, but I stabbed him again—for me, for you, for Blythe. I was a madwoman. I was in a trance. When I came to, I was holding the bloody knife, and he wasn’t moving. I took his shirt off the bed and wiped the knife. Then I ran downstairs with the shirt and the knife and set them on a piece of newspaper on the island. Then I grabbed a blanket I saw in one of the boxes. I ran upstairs and rolled him off the bed, onto the blanket on the floor. I dragged him down the stairs to the garage and put him in his trunk. Then I realized his car would draw too much attention. So I backed my car into the garage and put him in my trunk. I can’t tell you where I got my strength. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined and desperate to cover my ass.
At that point, I decided I would drop his car somewhere, so it would look like he’d been robbed. I put the luggage in the backseat, so someone could break into the car and get it. I also tossed his wallet into the car. By then I was using a towel and not my bare hands. I was so flustered I momentarily forgot about the shirt and the knife. Then I drove my car around the corner, with his body in the trunk. I walked back to the house, ran upstairs, and cleaned up as much as I could. I went back to the kitchen for the shirt and knife, and that’s when Martha came in. I almost lost it. I ran to the laundry room, stuffed the shirt between the washer and dryer, and knocked over the bleach. I quickly cleaned it up, threw the knife in one of the boxes, and ran to the garage. I got in the Maserati and started driving, not sure where I was going. I just knew I needed to go to a bad area, so the car would likely be broken into.
That’s when I remembered the area around the nursing home. I saw a line of people at a convenience store. I wrapped my scarf around my head and put on my sunglasses. Luckily, I wore black that day. I quickly parked the car and slid out the back-passenger side. I acted like I was a passerby. I called Flash Ryde, but my driver got blocked in. I had to go into the store to see who was blocking him. You never would have figured out it was me, because I didn’t use my real name. After the driver could move, I had him take me back to my car. I went back to your house, but something told me to leave well enough alone. Later that night, I buried Keith at Hollis Park. Funny thing—I never noticed the broken taillight until today. When you told me the police found that note, I almost passed out. That’s when I realized Keith was still alive when I moved him to my car. Kicking out that taillight was probably the last thing he ever did.
Julia, I’m not going to ask you to forgive me. I’m better off dead. Just do me a favor: live your life with zest. Follow your dreams. Give Stephen a chance. He’s a great guy. Continue loving yourself and Blythe. Have the wonderful life you deserve. You have been through so much. I’ll love you forever.
Sherry
I fold the letter and tuck it back into its envelope. It’s been a little over six months since Sherry committed suicide, and this is the first time I’m reading the letter. My therapist told me I should wait until I was emotionally ready, so that’s what I did. I’m free. I wish things could have worked out differently, but they didn’t. I have come a long way in six months. So has Blythe.
We’re having a big Christmas celebration at the house, and everyone’s invited—Blythe, Mary, Stephen’s daughter Megan, Shelbie, and her parents are coming. Martha, Carla, Jorge, Richard, Karen, Theo, Professor Juarez, Faye, Ellen, Vanessa, and their children and significant others are also invited. And of course, my mother, who lives with Stephen and me, will be there.
I look toward the door when Stephen enters. “Hey, sweetie. Did you finish reading it?”
“Yes.”
“Anything you want to talk about?” He sits next to me on the bed.
“Not really. But it’s amazing how accurate Blythe was about what had happened.”
“She’s going to make a great lawyer.” He plants a succulent kiss on my lips.
“That’s nice, Mr. Miller.”
“You’re nice, Mrs. Miller-to-be.”
We laugh and tussle, and I roll over the letter. I sit up, reach for it, and give it one final look. Then I rip it into pieces.
Alretha Thomas, The Women on Retford Drive
