Tales From A Broad (31 page)

‘Did you find your satchel? You're always losing things. We can't afford those kinds of losses any more.'

‘I'm sure I didn't lose it.'

‘Remember when you left your brand new raincoat and laptop on the train? Those were the days, huh, when we could just buy another raincoat.'

‘Fran, I'll call you back.'

Ah, yes, of course, wink-wink, nod-nod, let the office pay for the call. ‘Gotcha. I'll be here.'

An hour later, I'm about to break down and call him again when the phone rings.

‘Fran, the account is dry. I checked it on line. What did you do?'

‘Nothing. I haven't taken anything out since we went to Phuket.'

‘All right, I'm sure it's just a computer thing. I'll have more time tomorrow to go to the bank and check it out better. I'm coming home now.'

‘Frank, drive carefully.'

‘Aw, that's sweet to hear, Fr –'

‘Don't push down on the gas if you don't have to. Drift as much as you can. We have to conserve the fuel.'

I'm trying to think of how I can disguise the chicken salad so it won't seem like the third time it's showing up at the table. I decide to mould it on the kids' plates in their favourite animal shapes.

The next day, Frank comes home early. He drops his briefcase wearily and says, ‘Where's Posie?' The kids rush up to him; he pats them absently.

‘Doing laundry or something, I guess. Why?'

‘I got to the bank. I got a new card.'

‘Yeah! Let me have some.' I hold out my palm, itching to feel some cash.

‘No, the problem is someone got to our account first. They took out money all over town. How'd they know my PIN, Fran?'

‘Well, I guess they figured it out.'

‘Really? That's not easy.'

‘Hmmm …' I tap my finger on my cheek, putting off my confession.

‘Fran?'

‘Oh, stop badgering me. Maybe they saw the Post-it.'

‘The Post-it?'

‘I was going to take it off as soon as I memorised your number.' I point to a sheet taped to the wall above the phone headed ‘Emergency Contacts'. Attached to it is a big green sticky on which I have written ‘FRANK'S PIN NUMBER 9986'. (Duh, how easy would that be to figure out, anyway … a tribute to
Get Smart
. Get into Frank's account.)

Of course, there's really only one very likely suspect. I open the door to Amahville. ‘
Posie! Can you get in here?
' I send the kids upstairs so they'll be spared her predictable breakdown and grovelling.

‘Posie, please have a seat,' Frank says calmly.

‘
You're a fucking idiot, Posie. Stealing our money
,' I yell at the same time.

‘Um, just a moment, Posie. Would you like a cold drink?' Frank asks her, motioning for me to join him in the kitchen.

‘Fran, let me handle this,' he says once we're out of earshot.

‘I thought we'd do the Good Sir/Mean Ma'am thing,' I whisper eagerly.

‘That's what we've been doing since October. I want to be fair but firm.'

‘So now she can tell all her friends, “Sir so
firm
but good, so
hard
but soft.” Jeez, aren't you in the least bit
furious
about this?'

‘Does she talk about me?' Frank asks, brows arched, slight hint of a smile.

‘Oy. Come on, we'll compromise: Firm Sir/Mean Ma'am. She'll still like you.'

‘Okay, but I go first.'

‘Fine.'

‘Fine.'

We bring in three cans of tonic water. It's all we have. The kids have found it to be an acquired taste on their cereal. We sit down all civilised. Posie sips her tonic water and Frank undoes his top button.

‘Posie, we have good reason to suspect you have stolen money from us. The coffee can is empty and there aren't any receipts and our checking account has been wiped out. Someone used my card while we were away. It's missing now, along with some other things, including about 600 American dollars.'

‘Sir, I …' Her eyes are big and dark; she's pulling at a string on her shorts. Her lips part and then close as if she's changed her mind or can't screw up the courage to speak or she's willing back a sob. One thing is certain: she's making herself transform; she's getting into character. She just hasn't picked one out yet. She's still madly thumbing through her mental catalogue: ‘Liver transplant could save my life, Sir. I have no insurance. I yam ashamed.' (Clutch stomach, hunch over, fall off sofa dead.) ‘A man was going to steal your car if I didn't give him money. This is where he shot me.' (Shyly, awkwardly start to pull up shirt and hope Sir says to stop just before exposing chest.) ‘I only took the money out to clean it. Now that it's dry, I'm putting it all back.' (Stand up efficiently and go back to the laundry.)

‘You know what?
You know what?
There isn't a bank machine on the planet that doesn't have a video camera, Posie. So now you can take your fucking sorry act on the road. Let's all go and watch some home movies of Posie stealing all our money.' Um, that's what I say even though I wasn't supposed to yet.

‘Posie, I'm afraid that what Fran says is fairly accurate.' (But did Firm Sir have to take her hands in his?) ‘If we ask for an investigation, you will be caught by the police and not only deported but never allowed in again and maybe even thrown in jail. So, we need you to talk to us.'

‘Talk!' I holler, inches from her face.

‘I swear, Sir, Ma'am, it wasn't me,' she says, leaning forward and switching her meaningful focus between me and Frank.

‘I believe you, Posie. So, do you know who did it then?' Frank asks.

No longer keeping up with the terms of my partnership, I say at the same time, ‘What a load of crap. I'm calling the police.'

‘I think it was Aruhn, my boyfriend,' she mumbles softly.

‘Posie, I
can't hear you
! It really annoys me that you mumble like that. If you're old enough to lie, cheat and steal, I think you can talk like a big girl, hmmm?'

‘Fran, you're scaring her.' Frank turns to Posie. His face softens, as if he's tending to a child's wounded knee. ‘Posie, we can ask for it all on video and even if it is Aruhn, you are still implicated. We aren't looking to get anyone arrested. We want an explanation and we want the money back.'

‘Okay.'

‘And if we don't have our money back, you're gonna wish you never met me,' I scream.

‘Posie,' Frank says, ‘I would like to have a talk with your young man. He got you into some big trouble. Tell him to come by tomorrow at six.'

‘Okay, Sir,' she says. ‘I'm sorry, Ma'am,' she says, turning to me. Frank helps her off the sofa, ushers her out to her room and, who knows, probably tucks her in bed.

The next day, there is a call from Bet, Samantha's maid and Posie's good friend. She says, ‘Aruhn won't meet. But he has left a sealed envelope with me.' With Bet?

When Frank gets home from work, Posie, Bet, Frank and I sit out on the balcony. Bet produces the sealed envelope. She hands it to Frank. I don't know why she doesn't give it to me. I'm affronted.

Frank opens it and pulls out a bunch of mixed bills. He says it is the exact amount that was in our cash machine account. Then he unfolds a long letter:

Dear Sir and Ma'am:

I do not suppose that returning your money is enough. I know I must explain how I can do this crime. There is only one answer. It is love. My love for Posie
.

Bet sighs and brushes the back of her hand over her right eye, she sniffs. Posie sits still, with her hands in her lap. I'm dying to hear what's coming next, probably: ‘We couldn't afford to remove the tumour, even with the 50 jobs I have. We were short by the exact amount you keep in your cash machine. Here, take it back. At least Posie will die an honest woman.' Frank clears his throat and continues.

You don't know this thing called love. It has made me do what I did. My love for Posie
.

Posie's head is hanging and her hair covers her face. I can't get a read on her expression. Bet is staring out over the balcony. She nods a silent ‘amen'.

She is everything to me. She is the earth, the stars, the fruit. I want her with me always. She is the clouds, the sun …

Shut up already. What about the money? Bring it on home, Aruhn.

I will never do this again. This love has made me do a terrible thing. I wanted to get Posie in trouble with you. She will not marry me. She says her job with you is too important. I wanted her to lose her job. Then she would marry me. I am ashamed. I did not think it out. You do not know how love can make a man crazy. Yours Truly, With God, Aruhn
.

That's the end. Frank folds the letter and tosses it on the table. He leans back in his chair. There's a great deal of expectancy crackling in the air but I know what's going to happen next. He's going to hold her like a baby and say how sorry he is that she had to go through this. He's on her side for some reason that probably has to do with the fact that she's 23, helpless, vulnerable and beautiful. I look down and see my revolting bunions have grown and yellowed with calluses.

Now what? I'm not one for long silences, you know, so: ‘What the fuck was all that about? It'd be pretty hard to marry you once you'd been deported, huh?'

‘It's the love, Ma'am Fran,' Bet says. ‘It can make a man crazy.'

Frank looks at Bet but is talking to Posie. ‘Well, now that we know how
crazy
he is …'

Bet interrupts, ‘He is better now, Sir. I saw him just yesterday.'

‘Yeah, but, gee, Bet, how do I – a man with a wife and two kids – know about this thing called love? No, I'm sorry, but Sadie and Huxley are not safe. Posie, you're not safe here either. He knows where you are.' Oh, save little Posie by all means.

‘Oh, but Sir, in the last part of the letter, he said, “I will never do this again,”' Bet chimes in.

Frank now shifts his focus to Posie. ‘I'm afraid that the best course of action is for you to leave. Tomorrow. I'll buy you a ticket home.'

What? I am stunned.

For all my raw anger, I have never once actually done anything that hurt someone worse than words – okay or a
little
punch and kick. There's no doubt I'm relieved and gratified that Frank is on my side, that he and I are thick as thieves, partners, pals, going through this crazy thing called love – but, well, part of me says, gee, I hate her, but I don't want to destroy her life. And, okay, I have to say it, though you have probably already guessed it, a tiny, tiny part of me says, gee, I'd sort of rather still have my maid, dammit … It won't happen again.

I motion Frank into the kitchen. He doesn't move to follow me. Instead, he stands up powerfully,
firmly
, and walks to the balcony wall. He looks out to the horizon. After a moment, he turns around and – with a voice full of tenor and a stare that would wither anything with a heartbeat, a look I've seen rarely – he begins. ‘At first, I'll admit, I thought, “Poor Posie, terrified by her boyfriend. He wasn't who she thought he was. Perhaps he locked her in her room when he stormed through the house, stealing whatever he pleased, my satchel for one.” But then, I don't know, something about her demeanour. Her posture was so still, but tentative.' Frank pauses and puts his hands behind his back. He paces the length of the balcony.

Frank is amazing me. This is the guy who can sit in a car silently thinking of
nothing
for hours. Actually capable of driving and
not
wandering from deep reflection to self-analysis to suicidal thoughts, like most people – or like me, at least. He is a man who drives and says to himself, ‘Bird. Sky. Yellow line down the road. Tree. Cloud.' Now I'm learning that his camera catches interesting angles. (Okay, I guess I suspected there was a little more to him. I mean, I married him. And not
just
because no one else was asking.)

‘Go on,' I say.

Frank continues. ‘But then, I see it all. Correct me if I'm wrong – Bet? Posie? – last night, the Assembly of Filipinos of the Sacred Holy Blessed Young Heart held an emergency meeting. “What are we going to do to help Sister Posie?” they ask around. Someone says, “A bake sale?” – “We don't have the time, Sister Eugenia.” – “A fashion show?” – “Sister Eugenia, we have to help her by tomorrow.” – “We dig the tunnel from the Lucky Plaza to the …” – “Sister Faye, thank you, now we're thinking.” – “Why don't we get the boyfriend to return the money?” – “Sister Beluga! Haven't you been listening?” Then, Bet, the clever sister, stands up. “I will write a letter and we now go collect the money. Everyone put in what you have. Sister Angela, can you get another diamond earring off Ma'am? Good, I'll see you at Ah Luit's pawnshop. Everyone, we meet back here at 5 am.” Grumbles from the sisters. Bet shouts, “Posie would do it for you!”' Frank, legs astride, stabs his raised finger at an imaginary congregation, as he envisions Bet did last night. His body is coursing with energy. We don't dare move. I am speechless.

‘I don't know if Aruhn stole the money or not. If I'm wrong on all of this, then the fact remains that Posie is involved with a nut who might do something worse the next time. No matter what, we're left with a person of extremely poor judgement and character. Are we not, Fran?' I blink.

‘Go? As in tomorrow?' I ask.

‘Yes.'

‘But Frank, we have a party to go to tomorrow.'

‘Too bad.'

I have to grow up too fast, too soon. Okay, okay, we can miss the party. Frank's right, of course, we can't leave the kids in Posie's care no matter what the truth is, so I dejectedly nod my head and say, ‘Posie, you have to leave tomorrow.' When she begins to cry, I wish I could just go back to being Mean Ma'am.