Burnaway

[cont.]
“This is so different from Roger’s other buildings,” Maggie whispered as they were leaving, after a very brief goodbye to Doris who mustered up a final smile. The entry room was small and stuffed with plants. “This feels like I’m entering some Mayan ruin.”
“It definitely doesn’t feel modernist, does it? I didn’t notice a leaning wall either. Did you?”
“No. I asked Barbara about those. You know she took me around last weekend to see five of his buildings? She said he started using the leaning wall after his roommate’s dog sat on one of his models in grad school and bent one of the walls. At least that’s the story her mother told her.”
“A dog designed his signature element.”
“Barbara said that’s the reason they never had a pet. Roger didn’t want the competition.”
“How funny. You and Barbara make a good team, don’t you?”
Maggie didn’t reply.
“Oh, darling, I don’t mean to pry. As long as you are happy, I am happy.”
They strolled through the searing light to Odessa’s twelve year old Honda. One fender was a different color from the rest of the car. It was that way when she bought it. Odessa was not a car person in a city obsessed with cars and the status they afforded. When she had to convince a client of her solvency, she borrowed Dennis’ BMW. With him gone, she needed to sell the Honda but it got such good gas mileage. She realized that she hadn’t even driven the BMW since he died. The battery was probably dead by now and don’t tires go wonky when they sit around so long?
“Doris isn’t going to make it, is she?” Maggie had been quiet most of the drive back.
“The prognosis isn’t good.” Those were the exact words Dennis had used about himself.
“I feel so bad for her. She’s such a sweet person and I couldn’t even look her in the eye. She’s like a Día de los Muertos sugar candy, you know, a skeleton with a big smile painted on. When she held my hand, hers had no warmth to it. It was like holding a dried leaf, ready to crumble if I pressed too hard upon it. She can’t hold on much longer, can she? Why was she alone? Why wasn’t her husband with her? Doesn’t she have family?”
“I read that his last novel is getting converted into a movie. He was probably off doing something regarding that. Her daughter is a teacher and has her own kids to attend to. I’m sure they’ll be back as soon as they all get out of school. When I was arranging the hanging, every time I called I could hear them in the background.”
“It’s not right that he’s not there. He should be with her if he loves her.”
“She’s been sick for a very long time, Maggie.” Odessa did not fault him: it’s debilitatingly depressing to spend every waking hour being reminded of impending death. His wife had been struggling against cancer for years. That takes its toll. No, she didn’t blame him at all.
“She’s obviously not going to be around much longer. He should be with her, it’s his place to be there, but maybe he doesn’t care? Barbara said that he has a long history of sordid affairs.”
“That’s what the tabloids have said. How much of it is true, I don’t know. He is a flirt but it’s also very easy to manipulate a photo into looking more risqué than it actually was.”
“I made that point too but Barbara says there have been too many stories for it to all be hype. Doris is such a sweetheart. She deserved so much better. I don’t understand why she stayed with him.”
“Relationships are such a balancing act. I’m sure cynics would say she liked the comforts he offered, liked the status of being his wife. I’m sure that’s part of it, but what percentage I don’t know. It is possible she accepted him as he was or gave up trying to change him because she loved him so much. Or she could be unwilling to admit she made a mistake in marrying him or found the relationship preferable to being divorced. Some folks can’t stand the idea of being alone and tolerate a lot to avoid it. In France, successful men are expected to have mistresses so her situation would be fairly common there. I don’t know how or why any wife would accept that arrangement. It seems so humiliating to me, such a slap in the face. But everyone has different requirements, different expectations. I do know that when he came in to buy the art work he was genuinely concerned with pleasing her. That could have been guilt more than love. Who knows? I can’t see into someone else’s heart. Most of the time, I’m not sure I can see into my own. We’re all complicated and contradictory in our wants and needs.”
“So, you have no clue.”
“Nope, not even a little bit.”
“If Dennis had stepped out on you…”