The magic in calling me Baby

His mother had warned him that karma would come around.  Marjorie remembered that bitterly, standing at the edge of Kenneth's grave.  It was empty of course.  Even after all this time, Carol wouldn't give up the location of her only son, gone for more than seven years.  He had been declared legally dead. Cold granite was all she had left of her precious boy.  A fresh wave of tears trailed her cheeks. She was surprised at how they just never ran out; even when you didn't want them anymore; were tired of them ruining your makeup and causing that hitch in your throat as they threatened to pop up again and again. People came and softly touched her arm, whispered in her ear their sorrow for her; her loss. The police held the kook who took her son away quietly at the back of the crowd that gathered; who was mourning and who was gawking, she wasn't sure.  Carol stood stoically with her head hung, humming. Marjorie ground her teeth, feeling the heat of loss and the emptiness that "closure" was supposed to bring by having her son's killer serving a life sentence. It was a farce.  The insanity plea had had an influence on Carol's sentence, though not as much as her outlandish acting which kept her from the lethal injection Marjorie would have sold her soul to administer, if not to sit right up front and cheer while that witch died tied up like the animal she was. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed Carol swaying and humming a song Kenneth had sung or whistled on many happier occasions.  The mother of the allegedly slain young man leaned against a high backed cloth covered shabby royal looking chair to steady the rush of nausea and hate that rushed upon her.  How dare that evil witch ever sing. Let alone one of her son's favorite songs.

The story of Kenneth and Carol was the stuff  bad television shows were made of.  No one would have watched it, she thought to herself almost giggling.  She coughed in her hand instead, dispelling a little of her queasiness.  Kenneth had met this wall-flowered, conniving witch at a bar one night; so true to his form.  He was a little frisky in the pants but he was still young, unready, unwilling to settle down and be a proper family man. But with age, time, career settlement and the right kind of woman, he would marry, have a beautiful family that would grow and give her loving, precious grandchildren, while they as a couple and a family would take on the world and succeed.  Marjorie dobbed her eyes again.  Her lip quivered.  They were burying her future, his ... everything was covered in dirt.  All because of Carol.

That nutjob had been introduced in her home and had played childishly with her hair, speaking in a voice that was soft and whiny at the same time.  Marjorie had to ask her to repeat herself constantly.  Carol, ate little, spoke less and seemed enamored by everything Kenneth did. To that milk-sop of a woman,  he was magical.  Marjorie worried about this puppy like girlfriend, but Kenneth had waved her off when she voiced such concerns.

"Ma, don't worry.  She won't be around long. In six months, NEITHER of us will remember her name." and he laughed,wiggling his eyebrows mischievously, heading off down the hall.  She shook her head, calling after him with a scornful tone about Karma and biting his ass, but leaving him to his womanizing ways.

To Marjorie's astonishment,  Carol WAS around; MUCH longer than she or her son had anticipated.  With each visit, she began to speak with more confidence and contribute to conversations; even begin them.  She called her son, doted on him, cooked and cleaned for him.  Kenneth had confided, much to Marjorie's chagrin, that he was frustrated that they hadn't slept together.  Marjorie, approved just a little of Carol's fortitude in the matter.  Carol was a challenge for her son. He was used to getting exactly what he wanted and when.  It was Marjorie's fault, she realized now... all too late.  But he kept at it with Carol.  Faking the good boyfriend role until she gave up and took him to bed.  And it all went to Hell when that crazy bitch opened her legs. Marjorie spat maliciously in to her tissue and sobbed. In the back of her mind, she too began to hum the song her son loved to sing. It was the closest thing she had to ever holding him again.

Carol stood between Officer O'Hara and Detective Moorman. The court had permitted her to go at the urging of her therapist; Dr. Matt. Carol had remained almost catatonic since the alleged crime.  Carol knew they would never understand.  Not even Dr. Matt could know what she'd done.  Carol sighed and looked up at the cornflower blue sky speckled with cottony clouds.  She smelled the sweetness of churned earth and relished the heat and sweat the sun pushed down on her.  She began to hum softly (or so she thought) a song that Kenny had always sung when he was happy.

She had met him at a big club one night while being left behind by a not-so-good friend, despite the concoction she'd made and consumed before leaving.  It wasn't a new occurrence.  She would go, her friends would get noticed, chosen and taken home.  Carol would call a cab and leave.  But on this night, a handsome young man bought a drink and brought it over to her.  He had said something stupid and pick-upish but she had falsely laughed, accepted the drink and smiled. That was it. She grinned that the magic had worked and gotten him here, but she didn't know what to say, how to start or continue a conversation... she was choking inside and although most of her wanted to run to the safety of aloneness; a silent cab ride home to her dark empty apartment for one, a tiny part, that shook her knees and kept a sweet smile on her face, kept her sipping her drink and left a colony of butterflies completing countless aerobatics in her belly told her to stay.  So she did enjoying the power of the potion.

And Kenny did too.  In fact, he wrote down his number, giving her hand a warm squeeze as he left her table to take home a friend who had overindulged.  She called him from  her cab. He laughed at her, no with her because she had done the same; laughed. The magic had given her courage as well, she noted.  And then they made plans to have coffee. Lunch another day. And then? Dinner.  He had asked her to dinner! Carol! The slightly doughy, non-painted, simple woman who bought from Dress Barn and wore Pay Less shoes.  The girl who had a silent cell phone and a no-poked face book page, surrounded by herbs, ancient spells and rickety magic, was going out to dine with a man that everyone seemed to know and love.  Carol swirled in her tiny dungeon of an apartment feeling like Cinderella.

 So she dressed finely, drank a little more of the potion and went to the ball with a prince.  It was a dream for her.  He was kind and polite, ordering for her, complimenting her, listening to her... Carol couldn't believe it. Almost on the verge of tears with shear joy, she was proud to be seen, with this man. When he took her home, he traced her cheek, bending to kiss her.  She giggled and bit her lip, hugged him in a rush and dashed upstairs to tell her empty chairs that waited up for her all that had happened, all that she felt.  The heat, the power and excitement was far more intoxicating than the wine she had let him pour.  But her second bed pillow had scolded her since she had not let him in her apartment. She had not slept with him.  She had ignored what he wanted after all he'd done- to "earn" a night in her bed.  Carol sighed and figured he would never call again.  She punched her pillow, thanking it for ruining the most incredible night of her life and went to sleep. She thanked the magic for the opportunity at least.

But he did call. He did want to see her again.  His first words were always "Hey Baby."  She was his BABY?! Ohhh she swooned at the thought.  The sound, she drank it in like Koo-aid on a hot summer day. It was sweet and delicious to her.  She never wanted to be without that sound. "Baby."  And so they began to see each other more... and more.  Always she was his baby.  When he took her home to meet his mother, she was fearful yet ecstatic. She threw up four times before they even got to the interstate.  When she finally arrived and got settled, she found the calming potion and survived the weekend and subsequent meetings with Marjorie using her new powerful magic.

Her love for Kenny grew at an astonishing rate.  She loved doing things for him. she loved seeing and hearing about his day, all through the day.  She loved hearing him call her Baby, never her real name.  It was so cute and loving and romantic.  When she finally let him in to her apartment and bed, she thought the magic circle she had traced was now complete. Her body came alive and her heart was filled with Kenny.   She was very wrong.  The morning after, the morning she had dreamt would be filled with quiet "I love yous" and chatty plans of their future was instead carved up with a note, stating it wasn't her, or lack of anything she was, it was him.  It was a fear of commitment, of a weakness for other women (of which there had been plenty during their time together) that kept him from furthering their relationship.  He wasn't going to call her.  He wasn't going to see her.  Because she deserved better.

She called out of work and went to his apartment.  The doorman let her in because he recognized her.  She smiled tightly and said she was going to sneak up and just grab a quick few things for their weekend together.  He winked and let her go.  She did what she said she would but they were things SHE actually needed for something much more important than a weekend.  She scampered out and waved cheerily to Hank who blew her a kiss and shook his head; blushing just a little. So pretty a girl would never see such a plain ordinary man like himself.

Once home she began to work, hard at preserving her relationship.  She called but he didn't answer.  So the message she left ensured a response.

"Hey Baby. I got your message. " he seemed dry and irritated.

"Yes Kenny.  It's me."

"What's up? I am on my way to the airport soon.  Got a big meeting tomorrow in New Hampshire."

"Oh how good. I hope things work out for you."

"Did you get my note?" he asked after an awkward silence.

"I did.  The one you left after sleeping with me?" she felt a burn of anger in her voice.  She ground up the herbs and added the oil.

"You understand?"

"Oh I do." she said simply wrapping the doll in the hair she had collected from his razor tray.

"So, Baby... why did you call?"

"I wanted to give you a second chance Kenny."

He sighed as if bored.

"A chance to reconsider what you've done and make it right. We could be so happy together."

"Baby..."

"This can all be solved and put to rest if you just say my name."

he said nothing.

"Say my name Kenneth. Do you even know it?"

"Baby... of course I do..."

"Uh huh. Then let's just toss it out there."

Silence.

"As I suspected." One last tear dropped from the tip of her nose.  She sniffed and steadied her gaze on the table. It was time. She cranked up the volume on her little radio and said his name quietly.  She waved her hands over the doll and closed her eyes, beginning to mutter.  He asked her to repeat it but she just kept going, these rantings. He began to get angry and berate her.  He told her it was all a game and that he never loved her.  He didn't even like her.  She was fat and ugly and childish.  She was boring and stupid... and then there was shrieking from his side of the phone and a loud cracking noise.  Carol turned the volume down on her radio and hung up the phone.  She smiled, proud of her work and achievement of her goal.

The police came only a few days after Kenny had been declared missing by his mother.  Carol clucked softly at the thought of Marjorie.  She had been kind.  But maybe that was all false too. After all, Kenny had to have learned it from somewhere.  Carol chose not to believe that, genuinely sorry for the woman who lost her son.  Marjorie would miss him.  He had always said they were close.  Carol wished she could have told her the truth.

The truth had to be seen to be believed.  She had worked hard on Dr. Matt to let her have a  few creature comforts.  She had permitted tests and mental probing.  She had endured countless questions and incorrect analyzing. But it had paid off.  She had her radio.  Her precious radio.  All she really wanted was her music she had said tearfully.  "I can deal with what I've done. I will accept my punishment given by those who don't and can't understand.  Just please let me sing with my friend, my radio.  It's all I have left Dr. Matt."

He had gone and gotten it. She had squealed with joy when he'd handed it to her.  She stroked and cooed to it, spoken to it and told it that she had missed it; missed all the time with it and that now they would be together forever.  Dr. Matt made notes and left his disturbed patient alone with her radio. She danced and hugged it, oblivious to anyone else.  Late at night the guards reported hearing Carol in her room, the radio going and giggling.  They noted conversations she had with "herself" , the people in her broken mind, and the radio. And that sometimes she would say:

"Call me Baby. I love to hear you call me Baby."


You know, I have wanted to write this piece forever.  There is a song by Helen Reddy; "Angie Baby"  ( I will try to post it) that I loved as a little girl.  It was scary and funny and exciting to me.  My favorite songs are those which tell a story.  I finally wrote this in honor of a favorite childhood song.  I hope you enjoyed it.  A little long and drawn out but still fun and a good story for me.  I hope you enjoyed your weekend.  I did.  We came up north and I loved the lake, the mountain and my Promises. 

Until next time, thank you for coming by to sit with me a bit. I am happy you chose to spend a little time with me.