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DONNIE ANSWERED ON the second ring; mid-morning was a slow time at Donnie’s Drive-Inn. Keep it neutral, I reminded myself. Businesslike.
Funny how businesslike came to be a sort of synonym for rational. As if businesspeople were not subject to moods, feuds, prejudice and pettiness. Having worked in a business school for a few years now, and interacted with the College of Commerce’s Friends in the Business Community, I truly had no idea why anyone thought that.
“Oh, hi Donnie, it’s me. I’m just calling to let you know I’m going to return your key. I can drop it off at your house today.”
So you don’t even have to see me, I thought.
Donnie was quiet for a long time. Finally, he said,
“Molly, do whatever you need to do.”
Whatever I need to do? Like this was all my doing?
“So it sounds like you’re perfectly happy to let this whole thing fall apart the first time we have a fight?”
“Do I seem happy?”
“Then why haven’t you tried to contact me at all?”
“I didn’t want to push you. I know you don’t like being pressured. You’ve made that very clear.”
Sure. I was supposed to believe that the only reason he hadn’t called to apologize was because he was really concerned about respecting my boundaries. More likely his ardor had cooled when he found out that unlike his skinny ex-wife Sherry Di Napoli, I wasn’t really Italian.
“Do you even remember what we fought about, Donnie?”
“Of course I do. Davison was rude to you. His behavior was inexcusable. I had a long conversation with him after you left.”
“Well, okay, it’s a start, but here’s the thing. You’re not addressing the larger issue. Davison’s appalling behavior wasn’t some aberration. Davison, sorry to say, is spoiled. And it’s a shame, because that kid has every advantage in life. He could make something of himself if he had any guidance at all.”
“Molly, what do you want me to do? He’s almost twenty-one years old.”
“I don’t know, Donnie. Fix him. I mean, not like that, although now I think of it...okay, look. He’s still financially dependent on you. You have a lot of leverage.”
“I thought you hated the word leverage.”
“Only when it’s used as a transitive verb.”
“It’s not so simple, Molly. I don’t have as much influence as you think I do. Especially now. He’s been avoiding me.”
So Donnie was abdicating his responsibility again. He gave Davison a little talking-to, and as far as Donnie was concerned, that was the end of it. I was seething, but I didn’t want to give Donnie the satisfaction of staying calm while I ranted and swore at him.
“I’m very sorry to have bothered you at work. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” I managed to hang up before I burst into tears of frustration.
So that was it. I said I would return the key, so now I had to follow through. Let myself into Donnie’s house, drop the key in some obvious place, and vacate the premises. Should I leave a note? No, I didn’t trust myself not to be melodramatic, and besides, there was a good chance Davison would find it first and read it. I couldn’t bear the thought.
At this point I still could have put the key into an envelope and dropped it in the mail. But again, this sensible solution continued to elude me.
I got dressed and drove down to Donnie’s neighborhood, where unremarkable mid-century ranch houses sat on three acre lots, bounded by chain link fencing. My mainland prejudice against chain link fences had not abated. Where I was from, houses surrounded by chain link fences were usually marked with graffiti, a clear signal to passing motorists to lock the doors and drive straight to the freeway onramp. Mahina was different. Chain link carried no stigma; it was a practical choice, one of the few materials capable of standing up to Mahina’s relentless rainfall.
I couldn’t tell whether anyone was home. Donnie had converted his open carport to a garage, and the garage door was closed. I knocked on the door and heard no reply, which was a relief. I really didn’t want to run into Davison. I took Donnie’s key out of the change compartment of my wallet, and let myself in.
“Hello?” I called out.
“Hello,” answered a cheerful female voice with an East Coast rasp.
“Hello?” I followed the voice to the hallway off the living room, where the bedrooms were.
And who did I see coming down the hall but a slim woman in an oversized black satin bathrobe, her corkscrew hair still wet from the shower.
We stood and stared at each other for a few seconds. Then she broke into a broad grin.
“Molly!” She held her arms out. “C’mere!”
I approached her warily and she clasped me in a damp hug.
I had been afraid of running into Donnie’s son. I hadn’t even considered the possibility I might encounter his ex-wife.