Klaatu Barada Nikto

To the casual observer, Veronica Rennie and I were opposites – she was the beauty, and I was the beast. But Veronica was one of the few women I dated in the 1980s (or any other time) who was a friend, not just a girlfriend. She said one reason she loved me was because I was the only person who could make her forget she suffered from manic depression.

Veronica was a distant relative of actor Michael Rennie, who’d starred as Klaatu in the classic science fiction movie, “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” Whenever a situation went sideways, Veronica would use a line from the film, saying, “Klaatu barada nikto.”

Veronica had two brothers. The oldest, Vernon, still lived in their hometown of Racoon Point Louisiana. Vance, her youngest sibling, was as oblivious to the consequences of his actions as Veronica.

Her older sister, Val, suffered Veronica’s wrath for the supposed wrongs she’d committed against her in the past. Val had been a successful runway model, then became Veronica’s manager, guiding her sister’s meteoric rise as a catalog and magazine mannequin. Now the sisters were partners in a dress shop.

“We’ve spent a lifetime annoying each other,” Veronica said of Val.

“So why are you two in business together?”

“Val may have thrown me to the wolves, but one thing I’ll say about her is she knows how to make money, And I’ll admit I like money.”

The two women were so incompatible they couldn’t live under the same spacious roof. Val lived in the family’s thirty-room mansion with her husband and two children. Veronica had her own “small home” on the grounds with a mere ten rooms.

To Val’s credit, she was always trying to make peace with Veronica. She encouraged her to take time off whenever she felt blue, which usually amounted to several days a week. Val also recommended that Veronica avoid the stressful one-on-one sales aspect of the business, giving her a cushy job as the shop’s buyer.

She also begged Veronica to come to her birthday party under the pretense that the two young strangers who called her their aunt wanted to see her.

When I picked Veronica up at her house, her green eyes shone like beacons, a sure sign she was happy.

Val and her family held her birthday barbecue in the backyard, which was a mere 250 acres. She had a live band, a horseshoe pit, volleyball court, balloon, and horseback rides, all for forty guests.

Val was her usual radiant, pleasant self. She stuck to her friends and husband, avoiding Veronica.

I managed to get Val’s take on why Veronica was at war with her. “I like my sister,” she said. “No matter how she feels about me.” And Veronica must’ve had some affection for her older sister because she gave her a $3,000 necklace for her birthday.

At first, Veronica was cordial and polite to her sister, stifling the urge to lose her temper when Val trotted out the Rennie sister’s modeling portfolios for her inquisitive guests.

It looked like the sister’s truce was going to hold until the champagne we’d been ingesting stoked Veronica’s hated. At least she waited until after cake had been served and the gifts had been opened to fire her opening salvo.

“Since I had to buy something nice for you, Val, I decided to buy something for myself.” 

“You didn’t have to buy me anything, Veronica.”

“I bought a new TR-7.”

“Another car, Veronica? You shouldn’t spend so much money.”

“Why not? I wanted it, I can afford it, and it’ll be good for business. If you can buy a summer house and a brand-new car, why can’t I?”

Val sighed. She’d obviously had this argument with Veronica before and was tiring of it.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Veronica. I’m just suggesting you should save some of your money. You’re an impulse buyer. You should save your money in case you ever have a family.”

“If… See Mike, she doesn’t think I’m capable of settling down.”

Not wanting to step into the Rennie sister’s emotional minefield I smiled peacefully and said nothing.

“You don’t think I’m capable of leading a normal boring life like you,” Veronica snapped.

Val could no longer hold her tongue. “Is this about me supposedly forcing you to be a model, and turning you into my own personal cash register, because I didn’t. I warned you what kind of world you were stepping into, but you just wanted fast cash, fast cars, and fast men.”

Veronica glanced at me, whispering, “The part about men isn’t true.”

“You’ve always been an envious, overly sensitive, spoiled child,” Val continued. ”You need to grow up.”

“Me!” Veronica shouted. “You wanted to live through me. You still wanted to walk down the runway, but you got married, then you got pregnant. Then you used my name and reputation to open the dress shop.”

Val laughed heartily. “Your reputation! They called you “the Ragin’ Cagin’! Your behavior angered half the fashion houses in the country. And when we became partners, I paid the bills, I sold the merchandise, and I built the business while you were taking four-hour lunches and going home early with a migraine.”

I managed to grab Veronica before she could lunge at Val, suggesting we say good night.

We almost managed to leave without further incident when Veronica spun on her heels, yelling, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I HOPE IT’S YOUR LAST!”

“Well, that went well,” I said as we walked back to Veronica’s house.

“She’s always trying to control me.”

“It sounded like she was trying to help.”

Veronica stopped short, her emerald eyes darkening.

“Are you taking her side again, darlin’?”

“I’m only saying you should consider some of her suggestions.”

Veronica grabbed my arm. “You’re my rock. My sanity. Don’t betray me.”

A short time later, at Veronica’s insistence, I abandoned my apartment and moved into her house.

A truce prevailed for a few weeks as Veronica and I enjoyed her self-declared extended vacation. Then Val attempted to heal their rift by inviting us to dinner.

I was surprised that Veronica was nervous about a possible détente with her sister.

I went out for a short walk before dinner. When I got home, Veronica was sitting at her vanity table, staring into a mirror. She was teasing her hair, no easy feat given its length.

She yanked her hair together in a knot. Reaching for a clip she snapped it into place.

“What do you think?”

Her hairdo looked like an exclamation point. I tried to check my laughter, but in doing so snickered rudely.

I couldn’t control myself. The name “Pebbles Flintstone” somehow escaped from my mouth.

Veronica’s jaw tightened as her eyes welled up with tears.

“You think I look like a cartoon character?”

Realizing I’d struck a nerve, I managed to reign myself in. I put my hands on her shoulders, massaging them. “Of course not. You’re beautiful.”

Veronica’s churning temperament suddenly boiled over. “I worried all day about having dinner with Val! I picked out this dress, worked on my make-up, and what do you do? You make fun of the way I look!”

Veronica slowly rose from her chair. When she turned to face me, her cold stare looked radioactive.   

She poked me in the chest a lot harder than a 5’ 4” woman should be able to.

“I sacrifice for you!” she screamed. “I live for you, and this is how you treat me?”

She bawled her fists up, pounding my chest. When I stepped back, she started throwing roundhouse punches. I managed to grab both her hands, but there was no stopping her now.

Veronica yanked her hands free. Grabbing a brush from the table, she threw it at me, hitting me in the shoulder. I soon had more important concerns, including the mirror and bottle of moisturizer that quickly followed.

Veronica became lost in her anger, screaming, “Just another pretty face to you! Just a dumb blonde! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DIFFERENT FROM EVERYONE ELSE!”

I backed out of the bedroom, ducking a barrage of knick-knacks, pillows, high-heeled shoes, and assorted jewelry.

Retreating to the living room gave me more room to maneuver, but it also gave Veronica more ammunition.

Standing by the bar, heaving like a freight train on full throttle, Veronica turned her attention to our liquor supply. Picking up a bottle of vodka, she fired it at me like Don Drysdale hurling a fastball.

 “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DIFFERENT!”

I ducked the bottle. It crashed against the wall behind me. I dodged four more bottles of liquor, catching the fifth, a bottle of Wild Turkey, inches from my face.

Veronica picked up an end table. Lifting it over her head, she threw it at the dining room table. It broke into splinters. Grabbing the chairs, she smashed them against one another until they were kindling. Scaling the table, Veronica jumped up and down on it until the legs buckled and broke, sending her and the ruined table crashing to the floor.

I made a feeble gesture to help her up, but before I could take a step, Veronica was on her feet again, tearing the kitchen clock off the wall. Opening one of the kitchen cabinets, she threw the clock inside, wiping out the glassware.

“Veronica, stop! You’ll hurt yourself!” I yelled.

I couldn’t have picked a worse time to speak up.

“Maybe I want to hurt myself! Better yet, maybe I’ll hurt you!”

Cups, saucers, and silverware were tossed in my direction.

“You take Val’s side in everything! You and Val have been laughing at me all along!”

She emptied out the refrigerator, firing milk, butter, and leftovers at me.

She ripped up the couch with a kitchen knife, slashed pictures, and smashed porcelain vases into dust.

Veronica’s hectic path of destruction soon took its toll, and she began to wear down. At one point she bent over, sucking for air.

“You finished?” I asked.

“Still making jokes…Still making fun of me.”

“No, Veronica. This is no joke.”

“I loved you. It’s obvious you never loved me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then say it. Say it now.”

“Right now, I don’t know who you are, not when you act like this.”

“Sit down…Turn this way… Turn the other way…Smile pretty,” Veronica mumbled.

“Calm down, Veronica.”

“You’re worse than Valerie! Don’t tell me what to do!”

Her dark stare focused on our trophy case. The trophy case was a head taller than she was, crammed with my baseball, softball, and boxing trophies as well as Veronica’s ribbons, cups, and awards from her equestrian competitions.

Scampering to the closet, Veronica returned with one of my softball bats. Swinging it like Harmon Killebrew attacking a fastball, she smashed the glass. Mustering her anger, she pulled the cabinet off the wall. It teetered for a moment, then it fell over, breaking in two when it hit the floor.

Veronica targeted the stereo next.

“How about some music to break up by, darlin’!”

She reached for a half dozen of my albums. (Yes, we had 33 1/3 plastic long-playing records back then.) Some of the records spilled onto the floor. She stomped on them like disease-bearing cockroaches.

I made my way to the sliding doors, only inches away from escaping unscathed.

Veronica tossed my records at me like Frisbees.

“How about some Traffic? Some Spooky Tooth? Maybe some Tony Joe White?”

Several of the records came dangerously close to my head, breaking against the door’s thick glass.

“I’m leaving, Veronica,” I said. “For good.”

I opened the Wild Turkey I was still carrying and took a long swig.

She was about to throw another record at me when my words seemed to register, looking at me like a baby studying an adult.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“….I heard… I thought we’d grow old together. I never expected it to end like this.”

“The sad part is, I did,” I said.

It was Val, not Veronica, who called me at work a week later.

“She’s gone, Mike.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“She’s disappeared. We had another argument. I overreacted. I told her I wanted to have her committed because she won’t take her medication.”

“So, where is she?”

“I don’t know. I hope she’s gone home.”

I called Val every day for a week. Then every other day, once a week, then a few times a month.

Vance claimed he’d seen Veronica back at her house, which was now boarded up and closed. I said he was as crazy as his sister.

When my birthday rolled around, I received a pair of cowboy boots. There was no indication who’d given them to me.

Veronica had always given me boots for my birthday.

Three months after Veronica had disappeared, I got a phone call from Val.

“Nice to hear your voice,” I said. “You must have some news about Veronica.”

I thought I hear Val sniffle. “I’m afraid I do. She’s dead.”

I took a moment to gather myself. “How?”

“She was driving that damned TR-7, heading home. The police think she got caught in a bad thunderstorm and she drove off a washed-out bridge. She drowned. They just found what was left of her body three months after the accident. I know how much you loved her… We’re going to have a funeral service for her in Raccoon Point, would you like to come?”

Raccoon Point was one of those places where “now entering” and “now leaving” should have been on the same sign. The funeral was equally small, maybe a dozen people. I was introduced by Val as the only man Veronica had truly loved. I talked about how we’d met, what a lousy driver she was, and how I was a better person for knowing her. The whole time Vernon Rennie looked at me as if he wanted me in the casket.

Vernon had the same expressive eyes as Veronica, only his were jet black, impenetrable, and completely devoid of love. He had a ponytail, wore more jewelry than Ringo Starr, and constantly gnawed at a cheroot, giving off an air of “don’t screw with me.”

When the service was over, Vernon pulled me aside.

“So, you’re the boy she loved,” he said, trying to goad me. “You broke her heart. I’m the coroner around here. I could make you disappear.”

A year passed. I was nursing a hangover when the phone rang.

“Happy New Year!” the voice on the other end exulted.

“Thanks. Same to you. Who is this?”

““Klaatu barada nikto, darlin’.”

I stared at the phone. “This can’t be. You’re dead. I was at your funeral.”

“Yes, and that was a lovely eulogy you gave. I like the part about us being soul mates.”

“You heard it?”

Veronica chuckled. “I wasn’t in the coffin. Vernon taped everything so I could listen to it later.”

“How’d you do it? Why’d you do it?

“I wanted to disappear. I drove my car off the bridge to make it look like I’d had an accident.”

“And the body?”

“A Jane Doe happened to wash up. Vernon told everyone it was me.”

“You buried a stranger?”

“It pays to know the town coroner. She got a better burial than she was going to get.”

“Somebody might be looking for her.”

“Nope. Vernon checked. She had no family, no friends.”

“Why’d you do it, Veronica? Why’d you wait a year to tell me?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I couldn’t contact you. Vernon didn’t want me to contact you at all. Not ever. He still thinks you’re going to tell Val.”

“I’m not. You are.”

“No, I’m not, darlin’. You forget, she wanted to throw me in the nut hut.”

“She was trying to help you.”

“She was trying to institutionalize me to get rid of me forever. I beat her to it.”

“You’ve got to tell Val. Don’t leave her twisting in the wind.”

“Why not?” Veronica replied. “She left me dangling every day.”

“Then you leave me no choice, I’m going to tell her.”

“I disappeared once. I can do it again. Go on, tell Val and Vance I’m alive. When they come running home and I’m not here and Vernon tells them you were playing a cruel joke, how’s that going to make you look? Don’t fight this, Mike. Aren’t you glad I’m alive?”

“Of course, I am.”

“I’m telling you because I loved you. Maybe I still do. I want to be able to see you again.”

“That would be nice. I still think you should tell Val and Vance.”

“No. Val’s happy I’m dead.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I messed up my life. Worse, I made her life hell. Now that I’m gone, the weight is off her shoulders.”

“What about Vance? He still talks about you all the time.”

“I’m glad he does. He’s one of the few people who probably has anything nice to say about me.”

“Vance says he saw you last year.”

“He did. I snuck back to the house to get something. Something precious.”

“What?”

“The picture Vance took of us at Val’s birthday party.”

“One question, Veronica. Are you happy now?”

“Yes. I’m home again. I always wanted to raise horses, and now I’m doing it. There’s just one thing missing.”

“What?”

“You.”

Val and Vance still think their sister died in 1986. Veronica and I meet every year in New York City. We always sign the hotel guest book as Michael and Klaatu Rennie.