Tag Archives: Maria

Rainbow Connection; chapter fourteen

“Change of plans,” Paris says cheerfully.  “We’re walking you to group, having a cup of coffee or a beer at some Mission dive, then we’ll pick you up at nine sharp.”  I want to argue, but it’s not worth the effort.  I simply nod, and we’re off.

“How was the funeral?”  I ask, needing to get my mind off the murders.

“It was hard,” Paris says, his shoulders drooping.  “The casket was so tiny!  It looked like a shoe box.  My mom started wailing the moment she laid eyes on it and wouldn’t let up.”  His face twists in remembrance.  Lyle squeezes his hand on one side while I do the same on the other side.  “Douglas kept shushing her.  He was fucking embarrassed!  Told her she was making a scene.”  Paris sneers as he utters the last word.  “I finally had to tell him to leave her alone.”  Lyle puts his hand on Paris’s back and rubs.  We walk in silence, reaching A Ray of Hope in fifteen minutes.  Paris and I smoke just to have something to do.  When it’s time, I give each of them a brief hug.

“Call when the meeting’s done!”  Paris orders.  Before I can respond, he and Lyle are gone.  I shake my head in mock exasperation.  I take a minute to look for the police, but I can’t spot them—they are that good.  I go inside where the atmosphere is glum.  The women are huddled in their chairs, not looking at each other.  Sharise isn’t there, and I have a feeling that the group is going to disintegrate very soon regardless of what happens tonight.  Jennifer is rocking back and forth and mouthing something, most likely a rosary.

“Good evening,” Carol says, her professional smile in place.  “I know this is a difficult time for all of us, so I’d like to open the floor up to anyone who wants to speak.”

“Dis has gotta stop,” Maria bursts out, her eyes flashing.  “First, Ashley.  Den, Rosie, now her kid.  Who’s gonna be next?”  She throws back her head, but her voice is trembling.  She can’t cover the fear in her eyes.

“Why were you on television again?”  I ask, bringing up the question foremost in my mind.  It has nothing to do with the murders, but I have to ask.

“I know it may seem cold-blooded,” Carol says carefully, looking at each of us in the eyes.  Only Astarte and I return her look.  “I want to help as many people as possible with their pain!  This is a good opportunity to spread the word.  I hate the fact that it’s death that gives me the chance to promote the clinic and my book, but I’m trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

“I won’t be coming any more,” Jennifer says, still rocking.  “I can’t be a part of this.  That girl, she was just a child.”

“Listen, please.”  Carol raises her voice slightly, the smile no longer on her face.  “This is the time when a group such as this is needed, when in the middle of a crisis.  If you quit now, you may regress.  Besides, Mariah’s death proves that the murders have nothing to do with the group.  You’re all safe.”

“I don’t know about that,” I say demurely.  “Maybe Mariah knew something about her mother’s death, and that’s why she was killed.  Maybe she read her mother’s notebooks.”  The silence is sudden and chilling; I have everyone’s undivided attention.  For once, Carol isn’t scribbling in her own damn notebook.

“What notebooks?”  Carol asks, her voice neutral.

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Rainbow Connection; chapter ten, part two

“Did she ever tell you any secrets?”  I ask awkwardly, not sure how to continue this conversation.

“Nah, we weren’t that close.”  Maria shrugs and opens the door to her studio.  It’s tiny but filled with riotous colors.  The paintings on the wall are amateurish but quite good.

“Yours?”  I ask, indicating the artwork.  She nods happily as she gazes at her creations.

“I don’t make money doing it, but it’s my love.”  She caresses the frame of a painting entitled, ‘Los Lobos Locos’, though there’s not a wolf in sight.  I shrug.  Paris has a few oddly-named pieces himself, so I’m used to it.  “Can I get you something to drink?  Some coffee, perhaps?”

“Orange juice if you have it,” I say.  I’ve had enough coffee to last me a week.  She disappears into the tiny kitchen after indicating I should sit on the futon.  I slip off my shoes and sit, tucking my feet under me.  She returns in a minute, sitting next to me.  I feel the heat radiating off her.  I inch away so I can make conversation without wondering what she looks like under her red dress.

“It’s too bad you joined the group now,” Maria says, handing me a glass of orange juice.  “It was much better before, and not only because of the murders.  What you saw of Ashley, she hasn’t been like that in months.  I don’t know what set her off that meeting.”

“Tell me about her,” I say, settling back into the futon and sipping the orange juice.

The story is a familiar one.  Ashley had come into the group with major attitude, looking to start fights.  She jumped on everything everybody said, not waiting for someone to finish talking before attacking her.  Even Carol fell victim to Ashley’s tongue-lashing.  It got so bad, the group voted on having Carol kick Ashley out of group.  However, Carol convinced them to give her one more shot, and the group did an intervention.  Instead of striking out, Ashley listened to what they had to say before walking out the door.  The group members were convinced that she would never come back again, but they were wrong.  She was present the following week with her attitude in check.  She still had strong opinions and verbalized them, but she was slowly being weaned off four-letter words and a hostile attitude.

“That’s why it was such a surprise when she jumped on you like that,” Maria explains, tossing back the rest of her coffee.  “Maybe you remind her of somebody or something.”  Or maybe she had found out something disturbing before the group and was displacing her anger; I happened to be an easy target.

“What do you think it was?”  I ask.  I don’t have much hope that Maria will know, but it’s worth a shot.

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Rainbow Connection; chapter ten, part one

The next few days are a blur of work and talking on the phone with Lyle and Paris.  Despite what he said, Paris is grateful that Lyle made the trip to Memphis, even if it means Lyle staying at a nearby Holiday Inn.  Mr. and Mrs. Jenson refuse to allow Lyle to stay in their house which pisses Paris off no end.  Lyle is the one who calmed Paris down, making him see that it wasn’t the time nor the place for a hissy-fit.  The funeral is set for Wednesday.  It will be a quiet, family affair, and there is a battle raging on whether Lyle will be allowed to attend or not.  Paris has already threatened not to go if Lyle is barred from the proceedings.  Half of me is glad that I escaped the drama while the other half is sorry that I can’t be there to support Paris and Lyle.  When I’m not on the phone with them, I’m worried about them.  For all the good I’m doing the agency where I work, I might as well have made the trip South.

Tuesday, I’m keyed up for group.  I don’t want to be the cops’ spy, but I don’t have much choice.  I drink cup after cup of coffee at work to get through the day after a terrible night of not sleeping.  It discourages me that I am regressing back into the land of nightmares after I thought I had put it behind me forever.  I have four nightmares Monday night, each scary enough to wake me with a pounding heart and dry mouth.  It takes a half hour to fall back asleep after each one.  Needless to say, when the alarm finally rings in the morning, I don’t greet the day with enthusiasm.  In fact, I seriously consider skipping work, but as I said, my cred at the agency has maxed out.

“Hello, everyone.”  Carol is smiling her usual smile, but it’s frayed around the edges.  Even she is finding it difficult to keep up her soothing therapy voice in the midst of the drama that is our group.  “I hope you’ve all had a restful week.”  The group members are stealing looks at each other, but no one is saying anything.  Carol has her ubiquitous notebook out, which doesn’t help the confidences flow.  Carol sighs but tries again like a good facilitator.  “I think we need to clear the air before we can get back to what this group is really about.  Who wants to talk about what’s on her mind?”

“I will,” Sharise says, thrusting her chin out defiantly.  “It be hard to think about what we here for what with all this murder business going on.  I come here thinking, ‘Am I going to be next?’  I be looking over my shoulder all the time, waiting to get KO’d, you know what I’m saying?  I’m thinking this be my last time here.”  She sits back, folding her arms across her chest.

“Ok, Sharise.  I’m glad you’re being open.  That’s what the group is for, after all.”  Carol nods encouragingly.  “I’d like to remind you that you were against shutting down the group last week.  What changed your mind?”

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