I must preface this chapter of my writing by saying that this is something my mother and I had talked about many times. We had some good laughs over these images and it was a way to release feelings without anyone truly getting hurt. I have been anxiously waiting to work this piece into my writing, and I truly hope I did it the justice that it deserves. Thanks Mom, for all the laughs.

 

“MOM, NO! STOP! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” The words were pouring from my mouth in a panicked screams.  I couldn’t even wrap my brain around the site that was unfolding before me. McCrabben was on the ground, constantly fighting her way back to a standing position and with every attempt she was met with the force of a bat to various parts of her body.  My mother’s eyes were wild with rage, something I hadn’t witnessed from the Dali Lama in quite some time. Probably since the last time I had been in the car when she and Dawn had  trapped a teenage girl in between their bread trucks maintaining a fabulous speed of 30, because she had cut them off and followed it with a toss of the finger.  Certainly well deserved Karma for that girl. But that was ages ago, long before her conversion to her new way of being. It was as if she wasn’t even part of her own body anymore, but a hallow shell of what once was, driven in force only through her pain and anger. As I watched in horror my mother deliver blows to the ribs, kneecaps and a few especially hard blows to the spine, a flash of bright yellow color caught my eye. What the hell? I had spent a good portion of my youth playing softball, and although there were always some new crazy decorative decals on the bats, they were never solid bright yellow in color. Either this was some kind of eccentric bat that had not yet passed through the sporting goods store or….. holy shit. It was a wiffle bat. My Mother in all her rage was beating the absolute shit out of McCrabben with a yellow plastic wiffle bat. The fear began to subside from my insides as I realized no matter how well deserved a beat down with an actual bat might be, there was no way in hell McCrabben was currently in any real danger. As I smiled to myself, I took a step back from the action. There was no need to intervene at this point. The wiffle bat was about bent completely in half and had rendered itself useless.  But that minor detail did not stop my mother. She continued hurling the blows with all her force and the bent half of the bat smacked from side to side, threatening to break. So while I am sure this was a well accomplished and therapeutic exercise to express emotion for my mom, all it really was in the moment was fucking hysterical. The humor of the situation caught up to me and I began to laugh out loud as I watched McCrabben block hits from every angle as the broken plastic came raging down on her. Was she really trying to play this up as painful? Or did she just think it wise to pretend, less she look like the complete ass who didn’t walk away from the beating of a lifetime with a damn wiffle bat. My laughter overcame me in the moment and I began to look around. I hadn’t actually taken account of the scenery around me. It was not a place I recognized, not even in a faint memory. So how the hell did I get here? How did we even track McCrabben down? And what would make my virtuous mother go against our plan and of all things, choose this comical option as her relief? All of my questions were suddenly answered with the faint ringing of my phone. My alarm. I opened my eyes and realized for the first time that it was all a dream. And I laughed again. Of all the dreams to be having, this one was just down right amazing. I soon traded my smile for a muffled groan and an urge to pull the covers over my head. My phone read 5:45 am. Time to head to the airport. Time to travel “home” to my husband, a man I barely knew. If the doomsday bells could chime on command, now would be the perfect setting.

I had packed the night before and so I had only to dress and freshen up my face. I had not a care in the world what I looked like for the trip home. With any luck Steve would find me so repulsive I would be able to ward off affection for a while. The thought of having to “act the part” of his wife made the ever so common bile rise in my throat once again. Maybe I should keep TUMS on hand for a while.

True to form, Mimi and Papa rose at the early morning hour to give multiple hugs and kisses. I lingered on Mimi for a while, taking in her scent for as long as I could. I wanted to take it with me. I can;t describe it, it just smelled of comfort, home and love. As we piled into the car with Papa for the short tip to the airport, we all watched as Mimi stood in the doorway, holding her robe closed to fight the cold air. We waved until we couldn’t see her anymore, and then we blew kisses into the air so they could fly right to her. It gets harder every time you leave home, but this time I was feeling especially upset.

Mom and I slept on our first flight. We connected in Baltimore and had a brief layober to grab some food. Once we had some sustenance in our bodies, we began reviewing the plan. I know that my Mom was scared. I know that she thought terrible things about Steve and felt awful about sending me back to “play house” while we played detectives. Her emotions were written all over her face and her eyes were dark with the circles that told me it had been days since her last restful sleep. I lightened the mood by telling her about my recent dream, and before long we were laughing so loud together that tears were falling from the corners of our eyes and a small audience had taken notice. I didn’t care. It had been a long time and we needed a good laugh.

The rest of our flight was uneventful, and we read our books and magazines and sometimes spoke about the family and the weather we were escaping from. My mother shared my deeply rooted hatred for the snow; more if possible. I wished we could have just kept flying onward, forgetting all of the painful memories we had left behind and the awful things that were sure to come. But my wishes were deemed just that as I heard the captain over the speaker on the plane announcing our final departure into San Antonio. I grabbed my Mom’s hand and squeezed tight. Not because I was afraid of flying or of landing, but because I had a fear of what, rather whom, was waiting for me at baggage claim. She returned my grip and smiled, “We got this Fib. Don’t worry.” It was surreal how my mother could say so little, yet calm the fears of the world. Maybe she was cut out for this Dalai Lama shit all along. I forced myself to slow my breathing and gain control over my body and my thoughts. We had a plan, I knew what to do. And if providing justice for my father meant having to suck up a well scripted scene or two to throw my murdering husband off our trail, well then I was up for the challenge. As I grabbed my bags from the overhead compartment and got in line for the exit, I found myself desperately wishing they sold wiffle bats in the airport gift shop.

Dylan wrote this song and it was released in 1963. He said that a lot of people who listened to the words thought it to be a love song. I guess perception is all about what we want to hear. However, quite fitting for the story to unfold is Dylan’s true explanation of what the song is about…”A lot of people make it sort of a love song – slow and easygoing. But it isn’t a love song. It’s a statement that maybe you can say something to make yourself feel better. It’s as if you were talking to yourself.” I did a lot of talking to myself during the days and weeks surrounding my Father’s death. I guess I should have told myself more that it was not alright but it was definitely going to be all right.

 

 

 

 

I can understand how it might be perceived as strange or odd to have the trio of people we had seated around a table, ready to work together. I can understand how you might be confused as to how my Mother and Kim were able to be this friendly, being as they once loved the same man. If I step for a brief moment into your shoes, then I might be able to see it. But my entire life, this had been the norm. These wonderful women had always come together on my behalf. Weather it was birthday parties in the younger years, sporting events in the middle school years or conspiring a fake trip to Alaska to serve as a high stakes punishment in my dreadful teenage years (more on that another time.) No matter what the reason, if I was involved then they were a team. I don’t know if I have ever properly thanked them for that, it really shapes a person and how they grow and see the world. So yes, to you this might be a bit on the unbelievable side, but if you had ever had the chance to meet either of these women, you would understand it was just the way of their hearts. So there we sat, at Mimi’s kitchen table once again. I truly hope she never gets rid of that piece of furniture because it really has some tales to tell. Mimi was overjoyed to have Kiera around and so we were able to keep them both entertained and out of earshot.

Mom and I quickly went over the details of what I had found with Martin, or lack thereof for that matter. Then I launched into our theory about how he must have been a part of the plan but then gotten scared by something and run. Maybe deep down he had a resemblance of a heart, maybe he was scared of prison (he was kind of a pretty boy). Whatever the reason, he was now gone and there was going to be more coming to the surface between Kim and Steve once they found out; if they didn’t know already.

Kim spoke the words we were all thinking first, “Maybe they already know and that’s why Steve is asking you to move away. He wants to screw over Kim if possible, and have you as far away from any family or friends as possible.”

I shuddered at the thought. The idea that had my crazy brain not ever pieced any of this together, I might be well on my way to thew middle of nowhere to meet who knows what fate as soon as the check cleared. I pushed back some vomit in my throat thinking of the fact that I was married to this person, I had promised to give my life to them…. well Steve I didn’t fucking mean literally!

With me being lost in thought Mom chimed in next “I agree with Kim, I think that their plan took an unexpected turn when Martin disappeared. I think it will work in our favor because not only are they now scared of what or who he could tell, they have that idea of broken trust within their circle.” “Just call it a fucking murder ring Mom, because that is all it was.” I was answered back with the look that told me to stop with the language and pull it together. Yes, my mother…. the former truck driver with the mouth to match was now upset with me for saying fuck, what was this world coming to? In any case, I cast my eyes to the table to avoid her stare,  converted Dali Lama or not, she could still scare the shit out of me.

I finally found the courage to speak ” I agree with everything you have said, but we need a plan. I am supposed to be getting on a plane to go home to that asshole tomorrow.” I shot my mother a quick look….”no other word fits there Mom!” She smiled in response. I am sure she could think of a few. “So how do I go back to Texas and NOT move to California so that I can manage to carry out the rest of our plan, which by the way we need to figure out!” I could feel the panic rising in my throat, or was that vomit? The two were quite interchangeable now. “Let’s say they are scared now that Martin has bailed, and honestly, I am willing to let Karma be in charge of his punishment, Steve and McCrabben are going to fight. Neither one them is going to trust the other, hence Steve’s plan to move. I bet she doesn’t know about that bit of information. Can you imagine her fury if she did? I mean, the woman is capable of murder… at this point she only has to split her money two ways instead of three. If she thought that Steve was going to try and screw her over, I don’t think she would take the chance, not after everything that has already been done. So how do we get McCrabben to feel betrayed by Steve and cut him out? Not literally, because I don’t want to be a part of planning a murder by any means, but maybe she will pull the covers over his eyes and take it all.” I sat back in my chair feeling a bit better that I had put my thoughts into words, less to scramble about in my brain.

Mom was the first to respond, ” I think you are right. I believe these two have done so much wrong together that they cannot even trust one another to keep the secret and play by the rules they have set. I think we divide whatever shred of trust is viable between them, we divide them for good.”

“And once divided, they are far more willing to make stupid mistakes to get them caught. And we can just help with that process along the way.” Kim smiled as she said these words, and for the first time in a while I believed it was genuine. She had been so wronged by so many people for the past few weeks, I think her smiled reflected a small sense of peace that she was to gain from helping justice prevail over these two pieces of crap.

My mom kept going, “So Dana, what is the way that people your age stay in contact with one another on an almost constant basis that would assist us in feeding information to Steve and McCrabben?” Her lips curved at the edges because we all knew the answer; Social Media. You go on your Facebook account and leave some sort of message stating how sad you are that you weren’t able to get in touch with your long lost friend Martin Voss. Plead with the virtual community to pass along any information they know. If McCrabben and Steve don’t already know that he is gone, they will now. Then, put a plug in about how your time in Texas has come to and end and your move to start your chapter of your life in California. If McCrabben or anyone connected to her can see that, and I wouldn’t doubt they can, this will surely get her wheels turning.”

“Yeah, I can do that. No problem Mom. But how do I keep Steve from moving me away before we get what we need done?” I fought back the tears as I spoke because I knew they were threatening to pour out of my eyes with undeniable force at even the thought of moving away.

“I can handle that,” Kim said. Once you are back and he sees that you are actually coming home and “planning” to go with him, I can call you back to Rochester with an emergency related to the estate. Trust me, Steve isn’t going anywhere until he knows exactly when his pay out is coming.”

“What about the fact that he has already scheduled a moving van? And all of my personal things?” I knew it was silly to even say this aloud. I knew I was going to have to make some concessions for this plan to work, but I was hoping maybe someone had another, any other idea.

“Fib, you are going to have to keep the small things that you can and let the rest go.” Mom said with a painful gaze in her eyes. “Bring a few small items to my house everyday while Steve is out and I will hold on to them for you. Make sure you are careful about what and how much you take. We don’t need him to get suspicious. You need to decide if you want you things, or you want him brought to justice.” Mom had a hard time getting the rest of her words out. I knew that she realized I had lost so much already and it was just icing on the cake to loose my possessions as well. But I didn’t need any time to decide. I loved my father more than any man in the world. I could stand to start over with material items if it meant closure and justice for him. So I nodded at my mother so that she would kn ow I understood, because words to express this were going to be entirely too difficult in this moment.

“So I will leak the information on Facebook to start this in motion. Then Mom, you and i are going home tomorrow and I am going to play the part of the grieving daughter, which by the way I think I have down pretty well….maybe even Golden Globe. Sometimes I try to humor my pain away. I will lean on Steve, puke, as my husband who should be caring at this time, and I will start searching for important items I want to save. I will continue with his plan of packing the rest. When we get too close to the actual moving date, Kim you are going to call me back with some estate emergency correct?” I looked at her with pleading eyes. She nodded, “of course, and I will make it good.” Then….. I stopped talking in the middle of my speech, “then what?” I suddenly realized we hadn’t planed beyond the hopes that these two were going to end up at each others throats. And besides, I want them both in jail, not dead.

My mom and Kim looked at each other for what seemed like a very long time. It was as if they were having a telepathic conversation. Listen, I know we were all close, but this was just crazy. “Um hello???” I asked impatiently, “then what?”

Kim broke their silent conversation first, “Whenever Steve leaves the house you need to be doing recon on his life. You need to get e-mails, telephone records, text messages, pay pal accounts, whatever you can. I can walk you through the computer stuff over the phone. You can call the cell phone company and tell them some story about how your husband thinks you are cheating and you need a copy of your cell records. Just cry a lot, they will give in.” She said this so matter of fact that it almost seemed easy. Monitor his behavior and see how often he checks his phone or computer. If they are exchanging funds, its most likely through a Pay Pal account or a bank account off shores. Look for statements with routing numbers that have one zero and then an 8 or 9 following. Those usually denote international banking. I can help you search the computer.” Part of me wanted to inquire about how Kim knew so much about off shore banking and how to look for fraud, but then I remembered that she worked for a very large company that did a lot of work internationally. “If you get really stuck at how to find things, I can help you to install a ghost software on him computer that will allow me remote access to everything on his computer as long as it is on.” Kim was all business at this point. She knew technology better than anyone I knew, maybe even better than Steve,  hopefully better than Steve.

My mom was listening intently as Kim told me what my job was in our plan. We all sat back and breathed a little sigh of relief knowing we understood our roles in bringing these two down. “Man, three women at a kitchen table and we could freaking run the world, ” I said laughing. They joined in my humor and we all smiled at each other. We had worked together to be a non-traditional family for long, that this was nothing new to us, the coming together for a greater cause part that was. The conspiring at Mimi’s table to stop a murder ring from getting away, well that was very new. But hey, we had years of practice working together, this shouldn’t be all that hard!

We were still kind of hanging in the wind with deciding what would come as a next step with all of this. If what I found on Steve’s computer provided enough information to go to the District Attorney, then by all means. But in the interim, we were going to have to wait to see what kind of shit storm brewed from my online posting about Martin missing and moving to Cali. Hopefully McCrabben did have someone monitoring my feed, because it would be nice to see her fall apart with worry. The thought of her understanding she might actually be caught and thrown in prison warmed my heart immediately. My mom could tell I was having impure thoughts because she called me out of my fog, “Dana, you understand that you have to act as normal as possible on your return to Texas tomorrow right?” My mom had a look that was a as serious as a judge. I could tell that she not only wanted the same justice that I did, but that she had a fear for me being alone with Steve; pretending to resume a life that was completely fictional. “I can do this Mom,” I assured her. “You made me strong.”

Kim promised to keep us posted on the time and date of the estate sale. I gave her the list containing the whole two items I wished for from the estate; the Ipod and the guitar. “I will look for anything else that I think he would have wanted you to have,” she said warmly. It was nice that she was thinking of me in that way, reflecting on the relationship that I had with Dad.

I let Mimi and Mom say their goodbyes first, Mimi always did have a hard time letting go of children. She would be content to have them around all the time. It was the idea that they eventually all grew up that was difficult for her. That sort of “Peter Pan” thinking.

I spent a great deal of time hugging Kiera close to my chest, which she giggled immensely about. I know she had very little understanding of what had happened, and zero understanding of what we were doing to rectify it. I don’t know what would be worse for her, growing up believing her father committed suicide, or having to understand thew drama that surrounded the set-up and actual murder. Which of those would be less to treat in therapy? I would say “poor kid” like everyone else would expect, but I knew she had a fabulous mother that was going to keep her safe, happy and loved. She would grow up knowing my father loved her, and I thought the world of Kim for that.

My mom walked Kiera out to the car, playing with snowballs on their way to pass the time so I could give Kim a proper goodbye. Kim is such a strong woman, but her face does this thing when you know her heart is truly hurting. She tries with all of her strength to fight any oncoming tears, but her eyes turn instantly red, and they look wet. Her eyelids tremble because if possible, she even has muscles there to keep her strong. A few tears will fall when she tries to speak, but for the most part you can hear all you need to with a look into her eyes and the feel from her long embrace. That day, standing there in Mimi’s doorway, with the cold air creeping in from the glass door, I felt her say “be careful, stay strong, it’s going to be okay,” and I heard her whisper in my ear “I love you.” Not being as strong, I had given way to the tears that pushed against my eyelids. I nodded at her, sobbed out thew words “I love you too” and hugged her so tightly I thought our heartbeats would touch.

And then, as tradition in Mimi’s house… Mom, Mimi and I stood in doorway and waved at them drive away, until we could no longer see their car.