Side Story: I Ran Over a Rabbit
From Change in the Wind, Chapter 7: It Hurts
The next day, I get the call I’ve been expecting. Because I know that Cupcake is both a people pleaser and a coward, I decide to handle this for her.
“Joseph? Helen Plum here. I’m calling to invite you to dinner tonight, 6PM. We’re having stuffed cabbages.”
Well, I’m dodging a bullet there. Cabbage gives me horrendous gas. I’ve farted “Camptown Races” after cabbage. “Mrs. Plum, perhaps you should sit down.” I wait a moment and I hear the chair scrape across the floor. “Mrs. Plum, Stephanie and I are no longer together.”
“What?! Why?! Joseph, dear—”
“Mrs. Plum, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I want you to understand something. I love your daughter. I love her deeply and I always will. But she isn’t ready to have a serious relationship and I’m tired of begging her for one. Stephanie and I have had a discussion about our relationship and where we are and she knows what the next steps are. I’m asking you, as her mother who I know loves her very much, don’t push her on this. Leave her alone to make her own decision. Don’t keep pushing and nagging and begging her to marry me. I want her to marry me because she loves me as much as I love her, not because she wants you to stop nagging her and criticizing her life every time you see her. So, can you do that for me? Can you leave her alone about our relationship and let us handle it?”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone. This makes two days in a row that I’ve silenced Plum women.
“Thank you very much for the invitation to dinner, Mrs. Plum. Hopefully, I’ll see you again sometime soon.” Well, that’s over. The upside in all this: I don’t have to worry about Edna Mazur pinching my ass anymore.
Helen’s POV
I’ve just gotten off the phone with Joseph and I’m not quite sure what to think. He and Stephanie have broken up. Again. He’s tired of begging her to be in a relationship. What does that mean?
‘Don’t keep pushing and nagging and begging her to marry me. I want her to marry me because she loves me as much as I love her, not because she wants you to stop nagging her and criticizing her life every time you see her.’
Is that what she thinks of me? Is that what he thinks of me? That she might only marry him to keep me from criticizing her life? I don’t criticize her life every time I see her. Just when I think she’s making a mistake. And it’s not criticism, it’s concern. I’m concerned about her life. I’m concerned about the way she’s living her life. I just want her to live the best life possible. I want her to be happy. He’s a good man and he loves her. He’ll take care of her and that’s all I want.
I pick up the phone to call Stephanie, to ask her to explain what is going on, when Frank walks into the kitchen.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t call Stephanie.”
“How…How did you know that’s what I was going to do?”
“I was listening on the extension. I heard you say ‘What? Why?’ then Morelli’s name and I knew something was going on. Respect his request. Leave them alone. Don’t call Stephanie.”
“Frank, I can’t do that. She’s making a terrible mistake! He’ll walk away from her and she’ll be miserable!”
“That’s her decision to make, Helen! For God’s sake, ever since the girl got divorced you’ve been on a kick to get her remarried to anything that is unmarried, male, and breathing. Geez, give it a rest! Stop throwing her at Morelli. The boy wants to be chosen because she loves him, not because you’ve driven her crazy.”
“But Frank, she does love him! I know she does. She just needs to see—”
“She just needs to see what, Helen? She lives with the man off and on. She knows who he is, what he’s like. She’s met his family. She knows about his job and what his plans for the future are. What more does she need to see?”
I don’t really have an answer for this.
“Look, I can’t say that I’ve agreed with everything that Stephanie’s done since she moved back home. She moves in and out with Morelli like his house has a revolving door. I have no idea what the status of her relationship is with that Ranger fellow but I don’t like what I hear. The other fruitcake she brought home. . . Diesel. . . Jesus, I hope he never comes back. I don’t like any of it nor do I like the gossip I hear at the cab stand but it’s not my life. It’s hers to live and she’s the one that has to make the decisions. I keep my head down and my mouth closed and I give her a ride in the cab when she needs it and that’s all the participation in her decisions I want. If she asks me for an opinion, I’ll give her one but you know what they say about free advice: it’s worth what you pay for it. If you want to know why she doesn’t listen to your advice, there it is.”
There’s something to be said for 36 years of marriage that I can listen to my husband tell me I’m a nag and not immediately want to kill him. 35 years ago, I would’ve kicked him out the house. Frank returns to his recliner and I’m left in the kitchen to think.
I’m tired of getting calls about Stephanie. I’m tired of hearing that her car blew up. I’m tired of hearing that she’s been admitted to St. Francis. I’m tired of hearing about the alley behind the bonds shop, which is why I don’t like Ranger. He runs her reputation through the mud and leaves Stephanie and Joe with the fallout. I don’t like that she and Joe get into screaming matches whenever the police are called to the scene of one of her ‘incidents’. It’s embarrassing and unnecessary and makes them both look like they’re 10 years old. I don’t like that my daughter can’t seem to manage the things all the rest of her childhood friends have done. Look at Mary Lou! Married with children, respectable, and happy. That’s what I want for Stephanie. It’s what any mother wants for their child. A happy settled life.
I don’t understand Stephanie. Children are supposed to outgrow the childish things. The Bible says so! They’re supposed to outgrow wanting to jump off roofs trying to fly. They’re supposed to outgrow Wonder Woman. Childhood is supposed to be remembered with nostalgia; you aren’t supposed to recreate it!
I move to wash up the lunch dishes and I think. This isn’t right. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.
“What if Stephanie got a different job?”
I hear Frank turn the recliner around. “What?”
I walk into the living room and sit down. My husband. So handsome even after all this time.
“I said, what if Stephanie got a different job?”
“Doing what? She’s been a bounty hunter for four years, Helen. What is she qualified for?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we should think about it.”
Frank mutes the TV. “I have thought about it. A lot. And you know what I’ve come up with?”
Thank God, Frank has a solution! I’m excited! “No, what?”
“Not much.” Oh, big letdown. “Here’s what I know. She can’t work at the button factory or the personal products plant because she would go in making minimum wage. After taxes, she can’t live independently which means she would need to move back in. I can’t take both Stephanie and Edna in the house, so your mother would have to go. And that’s non-negotiable, Helen. If forced to choose between my daughter and your mother, my daughter wins every time.”
No way on earth my mother moves out. She drives me crazy but she’s my mother.
“She has a business degree, yes, but she barely graduated. So she’s not going to be at the top of any company’s hiring list. Add on the fact that she has EE Martin on her resume and her application will be conveniently ‘lost’. No one wants a buyer from a mob-connected company doing anything with their business. The only way she’s going to get anywhere with that resume is if she leaves the area and by leave the area I mean she can’t apply for anything in New Jersey, New York, Delaware or Pennsylvania. The fall of EE Martin was big and any company hiring around here would remember.”
I’m waiting for an argument I can counter but Frank really has thought about this. He’s not leaving a lot of holes in his argument.
“Her four years of bounty hunting have left her with, from all the stories I’ve heard, a reputation as one of the best even though she’s also considered one of the worst. She’s the best because she always gets the guy but the worst because of what she goes through doing it. However she has a reputation for having infallible instincts, drive, tenacity, perseverance, and a can do attitude. She also has multiple concussions, contusions, gunshot wounds, abrasions, and a fear of enclosed spaces.
Frankly, any company that might be impressed by the skills she does have isn’t going to want to put her on their medical coverage. She would send premiums through the roof and that’s assuming the insurance company would cover her in the first place. Most would decline her citing ‘pre-existing conditions’. I’ve gotten a look at her forms when she’s been admitted to the hospital and apparently that Ranger fellow has her on his insurance, which is one of the biggest reasons that he and his men are always welcome in my home. For all that I don’t like those alley stories, he and his men are quick to rescue her and keep her safe and he pays her medical bills, which is a damn relief.”
I didn’t know Ranger had her on his medical insurance. I’ll have to think about that later.
“So Helen, what I’m left with is her working for Ranger, working as a private investigator, and continuing to work for Vinnie. For a while I thought she could go to the police academy but I overheard Juniak one night at the lodge saying that although he’d love to have her as a detective, he couldn’t take the exploding cars. So, I’m really out of ideas. If you think of some, tell me.” Frank un-mutes the TV; I return to the kitchen.
Over the next few days I think about what both Frank and Joseph have said. Poor Joseph thinks the only reason Stephanie will marry him is if I nag her into it. Frank wants me to stay out of it. I don’t know what to do.
I decide to give the RangeMen a chance. My daughter is friendly with them and they always ride to rescue her. That alone has my respect because I don’t see the police doing that and she’s known some of them since kindergarten. I’m still undecided on Ranger; the man ruins my daughter’s reputation but he also rescues her, gives her cars and has her on his insurance. Joseph said that a lot of them are ex-cons and ex-gang members but he’s also said that a lot of them are also ex-military. If they work for a security company they have to be trustworthy and I know RangeMan is considered one of the best in the area so maybe he’s right and maybe he was just jealous.
I don’t know but I do know that I’ll start giving the ones that show up at my dinner table a chance. It’s only fair, especially considering all they go through for her. And they are single and handsome; it’s worth a shot.
I do know I love my daughter. For all that her antics embarrass me (like Mother’s), I do love her. I ran over a man in a rabbit suit for her. I feed her and give her the keys to Sandor’s car and try to help her make sense of her life. And apparently, she doesn’t want the last part. But how does a mother go about not caring? I care! I feed her pineapple upside-down cake and I run over people. She has no idea how much time I spent in confessional, praying for forgiveness for my sin, the fact that I would do it all over again to save my child. I lit numerous candles, said novenas, and prayed for days. I love her.
The next thing I know, the phone is ringing off the hook. She’s done it again. She was shot, maybe she has a broken leg, maybe not, maybe she has bullet wounds, maybe not. Frank walks into the kitchen as the calls start pouring in. Mother takes control of the phone while Frank and I pull out cell phones and start calling all the usual places. No answer at her cell phone. No answer at home. Joseph isn’t answering. Mary Lou hasn’t seen her. She hasn’t been admitted to the hospital. Frank calls RangeMan; they don’t like to hear from me. We’ve learned this. Occasionally they’ll tell Frank things they won’t tell me. No, they don’t have any information either. Valerie hasn’t heard from her. That was a long shot anyway. Connie at the Bond’s office hasn’t seen her and neither has the big black woman. Lala? Lulu? Lula? It doesn’t matter to me right now. Where is my child?! Vinnie never has a clue.
Frank leaves and returns an hour later. He went by her apartment but there was no answer. The last time her home was broken into the locks were changed and we don’t have the new key. Dillon didn’t have the new key either. She could be in there dead or dying and we can’t get in. Frank and I call all night. No one knows anything. If the RangeMen know, they aren’t saying anything. We fall into bed exhausted and upset. No one knows where our daughter is.
I cook all day. I make two pineapple upside down cakes. I’m not sure how that happened, but I take it as an omen. We will hear from her today. Frank has one eye on the phones, another on the TV. At 5:48 Mother starts walking toward the stoop and I follow. A big black SUV pulls up. Thank God, she’s alive. She’s fine. She’s…being carried? She’s being carried? Why? What happened? Why didn’t anyone call me? That’s a cast on her leg so she had to be admitted and now I’m angry all over again.
I’m determined not to criticize. I’m determined not to yell, to make demands, to get upset. I’m trying very hard not to say the things I always say and sometime during the second whisky I realize that I haven’t spoken at all during dinner. Is this what I’m really like? I can’t even open my mouth at dinner unless I’m telling Stephanie what to do? I didn’t quite make it, mostly because I was upset no one called me and I started yelling but Bobby is quick to explain that it was his fault. He gave her pills for pain that knocked her out. I can accept that but he better call me if he ever does that again.
I like this Bobby person. I remember him. He’s the one who always gets the medical updates at the hospital. They allow him to “scrub in” if they have to operate on her and Ranger and Tank always look to him for advice on what’s best. I want to talk to him from now on. I don’t care for Ranger, Tank (I’m sorry. That’s not a name. I want to know what his real, legal name is) is OK, but Bobby always has the medical information. And his nickname is a real nickname, something I can remember. Bobby. Robert. Respectable. He’s respectful and professional. He tells me absolute facts; he doesn’t try to downplay the situation like Stephanie does. He seems, I’m not sure, shocked, stunned, surprised, that I have a list of things to ask about. I’ve learned, Bobby. I have to cover all bases. I need to know if I’m going to have to run over someone else.
I want his contact information. I want to talk to him. I want to hear from him if she has to be admitted or if she has an incident he has to respond to. I want to know she’s OK. I tell Stephanie this. I tell Bobby this. I’m emphatic. I won’t take no for an answer. I don’t care that Ranger and Tank always get the information, Bobby knows what’s right. They look to him for advice; I’m looking to him for answers. I won’t harass him, I won’t yell. I won’t criticize. I just want to be informed. I’m concerned. I never want to have another night like last night. I want to know my daughter is alive and safe. That’s all.
I wrap up the second pineapple upside down cake and place the rest of the whipped cream in a container. Stephanie looks surprised to receive it but it’s her favorite. I only make it for her. Everyone else likes it but it’s her favorite.
She’s my child. I ran over a man in a rabbit suit for her. I love her.
