The Ragin’ Cajun Rages No More

I received the phone call every ex-boyfriend dreads.

“Mike? This is Carrie. I’m at the boutique. Veronica needs your help!”

“We’re not dating anymore, Carrie, remember?”

“Then I need your help. Get down here quick!”

To the casual observer, thirty-year-old Veronica Rennie and I were opposites, Beauty and the Beast. Veronica was one of the few women I dated who was a friend, not just a girlfriend. When she smiled, her eyes smiled, and she said I was the only person who made her happy.

Veronica was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, the type of stunner that men stop in their tracks to look at. She had platinum hair that cascaded down her back, dimples that seemed to spring up on cue, perfectly sculpted legs, and astounding measurements packed into a five-foot-four-inch frame. And then there was her sultry southern accent, which seemed to spring forth whenever she wanted to drive home a point.

But it didn’t bode well that my lover and best friend was a manic depressive who ate lithium like Pez.

Veronica had a younger brother, Vance, who adored her. She had an older brother named Vernon in Louisiana. He was the coroner in their hometown of Raccoon Point, population 240, with an equal number of alligators.

Her most well-known relative was her uncle, the actor Michael Rennie, who played Klaatu, the astute alien in the classic science fiction film, “The Day the Earth Stood Still.” Veronica never explained how a debonair Englishman was her uncle, but it didn’t really matter. He’d died in 1971, and I didn’t meet Veronica until 1984.

Veronica also had an older sister, Valerie, a glamorous, regal, and exceedingly lady-like five-foot-ten-inch beauty with the patience of Jobe. She had a handsome, successful husband, and two bright and beautiful children – several things Veronica envied.

Valerie had been a successful runway model, then guided Veronica’s meteoric rise as a catalogue and magazine mannequin - and Veronica hated her for it.

It seemed like everything Veronica touched turned to gold. She had inherited millions from her late parents, made and spent a fortune as a model, and was a highly feted equestrian champion and breeder of exotic horses. She was so lucky that she once asked me to take off an annoying piece of paper that had become attached to her shoe. The piece of paper was a hundred-dollar bill.

Veronica may have regretted becoming a model, but her biggest mistake was partnering with Valerie as owners of a boutique. Given Veronica’s disdain for her sister, the air in the workplace could be tense.

Our relationship was never dull. Veronica, nicknamed “the Ragin’ Cajun” by haters, wrecked four expensive sports cars - in a month. The last accident left us vertically suspended in a tree like a couple of Apollo astronauts preparing for take-off. She had once let me know she wanted to leave a party by repeatedly ramming my car against her cousin’s garage door. Together, we weathered the side glances, whispers, and rude comments that interracial couples have to endure.

Our relationship ended in a hail of vases, dishes, records, and trophies that Veronica hurled at me for being late for a dinner date and snickering at her hairdo.

***

When I arrived at the boutique, it was strangely devoid of customers. Carrie Seasons and Millie Masters were standing in the middle of the floor, hugging each other for protection. I began to worry they were being robbed.

Eighteen-year-old brunette Millie Masters was the boutique’s cute and seemingly shy sales associate. Mollie idolized Veronica because she wanted to be a model, too. Sales Manager Carrie was Veronica and Valerie’s cousin, as well as Veronica’s best friend, a hardworking, hippie-type with an easy-going personality.

I looked in a corner of the store. Val and Veronica were wrestling on the floor, gasping, swinging, and scratching at each other. Veronica got the other hand. Sitting on Val’s chest, she tried to choke the life out of her.

“Stop!” Val gasped.

“Stop what? Killing you? Not this time!”

“Be reasonable!”

“What do you know about reason?” Veronica shouted. “You sucked the life out of me. Now you’re trying to do it to Millie!”

I grabbed Veronica from behind, pulling her off Val. She tried to get in a final shot, kicking at her sister so violently her shoe flew off.

“Pimp!” she shouted at Val.

Carrie and Millie rushed to Val’s side, helping her up. I could see scratches on Val’s cheek and neck.

Veronica continued to struggle in my grasp. I was holding her up off the floor, and she was still kicking her legs in the air.

“What’s going on here?” I asked.

“As you can see, she assaulted me,” Val said.

“But why?”

“It’s my fault,” Millie answered meekly. “I really want to be a model. I asked Valerie to help me get some professional pictures taken. And she agreed to be my agent.”

“You simpleton!” Veronica shouted at the girl, who cowered behind the counter. “They’re going to use you, drug you, turn you into an empty-headed zombie.”

“Like you?” Millie countered.

Millie’s comment deflated Veronica. She stopped struggling, going limp in my grasp. She pressed closely against me, sobbing.

“…I was just trying to help…”

I’d always thought of Millie as a bit of a mouse. I was surprised when she suddenly exploded.

“I don’t need your kind of help! I looked up to you! You were my idol! But all you’ve ever done is try to hold me back! You didn’t stay on top because you’re weak and you’re crazy!”

“That’s enough, Millie,” Val said, rubbing the scratches on her cheek. Turning to me, Val added, “Get her out of here before I have her arrested.”

“…I want out…” Veronica muttered.

“Fine. Let’s leave.”

“No, out…I want out of the business…Out of everyone’s lives.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Val said sternly. “Take a vacation, Veronica. Take a week, take a month, take the rest of the year.”

Wrapping my arm around Veronica, I led her out.

We sat speechless in my car for several minutes.

“Vance told me you stopped taking your lithium.”

“Bad move, I guess,” Veronica said softly.

When she looked up at me, teary-eyed, I noticed how washed out her once expressive eyes were.

“Promise me you won’t take her side.”

“Val’s? You assaulted her, Veronica.”

“She wants to have me committed.”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay if you take your meds and take some more time off.”

“She signed the papers the last time, you know.”

“I thought you went in voluntarily.”

Veronica managed a tired laugh. “Would you?”

“This is serious, Veronica. You need help.”

“For a long time, I thought all I needed was you,” she said sadly. “But I ruined that too, didn’t I?”

“There’s plenty of time for us,” I replied. “But first…”

“I know, I know. It’s funny. Everything was so different a few weeks ago. I was happy. You were happy too, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.”

“And I ruined it.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have given up on us so easily,” I admitted. “Maybe we should have tried to work things out.”

“Maybe I’ll go home.”

“I’m taking you home now,” I said.

“No. I mean, back to Louisiana. Back to where I was before things got so complicated.”

“I tell you what. When you’re better, we’ll both go to Raccoon Point. I could use a vacation.”

“Maybe we could raise horses down there.”

“If you sell our end of the business to Val, you can do whatever you want,” I replied.

“…Whatever I want…” Veronica repeated.

***

I left Veronica sleeping peacefully at her house under the watchful eye of Carrie, who’d driven Veronica’s precious new Lamborghini to her house.

I was surprised that it was Val, not Veronica, who called me at work the next day.

“Feeling better?” I asked.

“Much, thank you.”

“Still thinking of having your sister committed?”

“Yes.”

“That’s cruel, Val.”

“It’s the right thing to do, Mike, and you know it.”

“So why the call? You don’t need my permission.”

“She’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“She’s disappeared. Vance was supposed to be watching over her. Too bad he’s such a sound sleeper. She slipped right past him and disappeared.”

“Don’t treat her like a fugitive on the run.”

“I won’t,” Val replied. “But she needs help.”

“And you think I may have helped her?”

“Let’s put it this way. Vance claimed to be asleep, but I know Veronica couldn’t have packed up and taken all her stuff without his help.”

“I didn’t help her, Val.”

“But I bet you have a few ideas where she might have gone.”

I paused.

“She’s a sick woman, Mike.”

“Home,” I said. “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. I even called Vernon Rennie at work. But no one had seen Veronica, so I thought she’d started working at a horse farm somewhere and didn’t want to be found.

Vance said he saw her once back at her house, which was now boarded up and closed. I knew how much he missed her, so I almost said he was as crazy as his sister.

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

Veronica always gave 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 heard Val sniffle. “I’m afraid I do. I don’t know of any other way to say this, Mike… She’s dead.”

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

“She was driving that blasted Lamborghini back home. The police think she got caught in a bad thunderstorm and drove off a washed-out bridge. She drowned. They just found her body a few days ago. I know how much you loved her… We’re going to have a funeral 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 small, with maybe a dozen people in attendance, including Val, Vance, Carrie, me, and Millie, who gave the most stirring speech, hoping that her tormented mentor had finally found peace. Val introduced me as the one man Veronica had genuinely loved, and I talked about how we’d met, our carefree vacations together, how she was a lousy driver, 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 utterly devoid of love. He was a walking caricature of a sleazy denizen of the swamp. He had a ponytail, wore more jewelry than Ringo Starr, and constantly gnawed at a cheroot. He gave off an air of “don’t screw with me,” and I tried not to.

When the service was over, Vernon pulled me aside.

“So, you’re the boy she loved,” he said.

I took notice of the way Vernon said “boy,” obviously trying to goad me into a fight.

“You broke her heart. I should break your neck for that,” he said.

“Take your best shot.”

Vernon huffed. “I know you used to box, boy. I won’t try to take you out that way. Just don’t forget, I’m the coroner around here, and I can make you disappear.”

“Stop trying to be so self-righteous, Vernon. Who was there to hold Veronica when she fell apart, when she was so depressed she talked about killing herself? You? She hadn’t seen you in twenty years.”

I stormed off, fully expecting Vernon to knife me in the back, but when I looked back at him, he was smiling at me.

***

A year passed. I indulged in chasing after enough nannies and au pairs to make Veronica’s memory a blur, but I couldn’t eradicate it.

I was nursing a New Year’s Day hangover when I received another shattering phone call.

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

“Thanks. Same to you. Who is this?”

“For shame. You don’t recognize my voice, Mike? Out of sight, out of mind? It’s me, Veronica.”

I stared at the phone. “Can’t be. Veronica Rennie’s dead.”

“Do I sound dead, darlin’?”

Darlin’. That was the proof. She always called me darlin’ when she wanted to get my attention.

“But 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 did you do it? Why did you do it?

“One question at a time. 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?”

“She got a better burial than she was going to get.”

“Somebody might be looking for her.”

“Nope. Vernon checked. She had no family and no friends. We waited for months, and no one claimed her. You know Vernon really liked the way you stood to him at the funeral. He says your nerves are made of steel. At least I think it was your nerves he was talking about.”

“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 back in the nut hut.”

“She was trying to help you.”

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

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

“Why not?” Veronica replied. “When I was a model, 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 it hurt me not to tell you. 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? What about Carrie?”

“I hurt Carrie as much as I hurt Val. She was my best friend, but looking after me was holding her back. I bet she’s got a boyfriend, plans.”

“Val made her a full partner. She’s engaged.”

“See? Never would have happened if I were around. As for Vance, I know he’s suffered, just like you have, but in time…”

“He still talks about you.”

“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 into the house to get something. Something precious.”

“What?”

“The picture Carrie took of us at the Fourth of July party.”

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

“Yes. I’m home again. I’m raising horses. There’s just one thing missing.”

“What?”

“You.”

***

We meet every year in Cape Hatteras. We always sign the hotel guest book as Michael and Klaatu Rennie.

Moral of the story:

If someone says they’re “dying to start over,” tell them they don’t have to fake their own death to do it.