Читать книгу Eve's Daughters - Ellen Saxby - Страница 5

Marjorie Delano got to the clubhouse later than she had intended.

“Darn that Clarissa,” she thought. She knew that she was considered by some of her friends to be ‘slightly flaky’ and others thought she was very flaky. Being late on a day when the board needed her vote did not help her reputation. She took her seat with as much grace as she could muster. The chairman nodded briefly and kept talking. Someone across the room glanced at his watch and raised an eyebrow in Marjorie’s direction.

The Southold Country Club June Meeting was already well into the usual discussions about how the membership had to be protected from the new riffraff that was constantly seeking entry into this inner sanctum of suburban life. They sat around the large table, an odd assortment of very upright and uptight citizens, conscious of their status and their very special place in the world.

“Membership in our club is the greatest prize and cannot be handed out to just everyone,” the chairman said.

The perfection of their trim gardens, their quiet cocktail hours, their elegant balls, were their reward for the efforts they made to preserve them. When he launched into the details of the monthly financial statements, Marjorie excused herself and got up to leave. She ignored the secretary’s whispered insistence that they needed her vote on something or other. She could not shake off a sense of alarm about the morning’s bizarre occurrence. She had never seen Clarissa like this. She had never heard Jeremy apologize to her for anything, ever. She went quietly out of the Board Room and went across the hall into the meeting room with the maroon brocade curtains. Marjorie waited until she knew her voice would pass for calm, took a deep breath and dialed her husband’s private number.

Daniel Delano hated being interrupted at work. His orders had been delivered to his family with no lack of intensity and vigor, and what passed, in his mind, for humor.

“If you are bleeding to death and cannot find a doctor, then maybe you can dial my personal number,” he had said as though it was funny, but they were not amused. The members of his family knew well what he meant. As the CEO of a multi-million dollar legal firm, his priorities were more than clear. They were set in stone.

Marjorie had begun her married life as a free thinking, independent woman. She had been beautiful and intelligent but gave up even the remote possibility of actually doing something with her degree in psychology. The years of life with Daniel had worn down her inner reserve of fire and now she readily bowed to his wishes in most instances, saving her fights for those few things that really mattered. As Marjorie dialed the number with only slight hesitation, she was prepared for her husband’s irritated and condescending voice as he answered.

“What, Marjorie?” He drummed his fingers on his polished mahogany desk.

“Trouble at home.”

“What kind of trouble? I’m on a call to Madrid. Can you make it brief?”

“Clarissa has flipped her petushkas.”

She launched into a frantic account of how Clarissa had terrified Jeremy into apologizing for his behavior, which was in itself, a reason to tremble. Then the singing. Clarissa never sang in their home, ever. Then the brandishing of the carving knife, tossing the pork chops into the air then chopping them into tiny pieces. And the deep, guttural voice which came from somewhere in the belly of this tiny woman and the weird laughter, and ……

“And you left Jeremy at home with her? What were you thinking?” Mr. Delano was thumbing through a file on his desk as he shouted at his wife. “What were you thinking?”

Finally her composure destroyed she burst into tears. The tears which often arose from Mr. Delano’s temper, always made her husband even more irritable. And that made Mrs. Delano cry even more.

“Marjorie,” he fairly shouted into the phone, “Marjorie, stop. Just stop. For God’s sake pull yourself together. Call Jeremy on his cell phone and tell him to stay in his room. Tell him to lock the door. I’ll take care of Clarissa.”

Daniel Delano was only too happy to take care of Clarissa. He had wanted, long ago, to be rid of her and hire someone younger and someone definitely not black. She did a passable job but a younger woman would do much more and would look more respectable, more pleasing. He needed someone with a deferential manner. He would be happy with a Latino he often said.

His wife was adamant that they keep Clarissa on. She had no pension, a mere pittance of social security and, as far as they knew, no family. Mrs. Delano said it was their Christian duty and she had prevailed till now. Her concern actually arose from her knowledge of Torah law which demanded that the orphans and widows be taken care of, but calling it their Christian duty seemed much more politic. Mr. Delano did not care overly much about orphans and widows. He wanted his home cared for in an impeccable manner. And, on this rainy Thursday morning, he was delighted to take care of Clarissa.

He closed the office door but his secretary was able to catch a few phrases of the conversation.

“Listen, Tom…….problem…..probably psychotic…..dangerous…

Not safe in my own home……my son Jeremy…..would be a kind thing to do….72 hour hold.,…. The address is….”

Back in the soft sanctuary of her Country Club, Mrs. Delano put the phone down ever so quietly. She realized that her Jewish past, that she hid with so much care, had surfaced ever so slightly in one unmeasured word, due to her frantic and confused effort to deal with her quiet little housemaid of ten years. She knew that her husband had noticed and would let her know in a day or two by saying something snide about someone who was Jewish and therefore deserving of his antagonism. This time she promised herself that she would not let it pass, that she would stand up for her people.

She dialed Jeremy’s cell phone thinking he probably wouldn’t pick up for her, but he surprised her by answering.

“Mom,” he said quietly, “what happened back there?”

“I don’t know honey. Clarissa has flipped out. Your Dad is taking care of it. We think she’s dangerous and he’s taking care of it. You are to stay in our room, your Dad’s orders, and lock the door. We don’t know why. She just flipped out.”

Jeremy heard a car door close. “Hold on Mom. Some cops are here. I can see the car out front.” Jeremy could see the driveway from his second floor bedroom window. He saw two young officers get out and come up the path to the front door.

“Just stay where you are honey. They will handle things.”

“Mom, why are they here, and what will they do to Clarissa?”

“I don’t know honey. Your Dad is taking care of it. He’s handling it. Just stay where you are.”

As they spoke, the doorbell rang. Clarissa was still singing as she opened the door to see two very tall, young policemen.

“Lord, have mercy! This is my lucky day. I wondered when you were coming fuh me.”

“Ma’am” said the younger one politely, ”is your name Clarissa?”

“Damn,” she said. “I thought it was till I saw you fellas. Now I know the truth. My real name is Rosa Parks and I am ready to go.”

The two men shared a quick glance and the younger one said, “Do you have a coat, Ma’am?”

“Why, yes I do. I’ll go get it. You tell Dr. King what has happened. He’ll be glad to know that things are gettin’ started,” and she shuffled off to the kitchen to get her coat. She was careful to take her umbrella as well. “The mountains are rumblin’ Lord,” she half sang, half shouted. “The whole world is shakin’.” One of the policemen followed behind, helped her with her coat and they escorted her to the squad car and helped her in.

“You boys are mighty nice,” she said. “I thought you would be real mean. No offense. But you are very kind. Yes indeed, I am Rosa Parks and today is my lucky day.”