Mrs. Hunter and
The Duchess
by Henry Simpson
Mike realized
he’d skipped lunch, ordered a gin and tonic
from the flight attendant, and tried to relax. He
deserved a reward for at last escaping Reno. The
cocktail was not much to feel guilty about. When
it arrived on a tray within reach, he ogled it as
alkys sometimes do and was about to reach for it
when his cellphone buzzed. He searched various
pockets for it, until he remembered the little
blue belt holster a friend had gifted him. He
unclipped the cover and extracted the phone. An
incoming call from Rosalind. Who the hell was
Rosalind? “Hello, This is Michael Riley.”
A silent line,
except for the caller’s steady breathing,
something familiar about its unusually slow
respiratory rate. “Michael, love!” A
woman’s voice. “Mrs. Hunter?” She,
whom he’d always called her just that, never
by a first name he’d never heard her mention.
He’d not seen or talked to her since his
pool-cleaning days, though she’d often
played leading lady in dreams.
“How are
you, my darling boy?”
Mike laughed.
“I’m doing okay. How about you?”
“Oh, the
usual troubles and concerns, you know. Nothing
too serious, except for one thing, or perhaps two
or three. That’s not bad, considering life’s
uncertainties. Are you still poling pools and
lonely ladies?”
“I got
fired from that job for gross misjudgment.”
“Oh, my,
Michael. What are you doing to make both ends
meet these days?”
“I drive
an ambulance and rescue people in distress.”
“Do you
lose many?”
“Not too
many.”
“How very
impressive, Michael. I’m delighted to hear
that you’ve found your place in the casino
of life.”
“How’re
things on the home front for you these days, Mrs.
Hunter?”
“Please,
Michael. Call me Rosalind. To answer your
question, Mr. Hunter took up with a floozy at
work and left me. You know how that old story
goes.”
“How did
it work out for you?”
“Not too
bad. I sued him for divorce, and now I’m
living alone and lonely in this big house, and
the swimming pool’s green with algae and
filled with leaves and muck.”
“How is
Duchess?”
“Duchess
is fine, though I swear she misses you. You
always used to visit on Tuesday mornings at nine
a.m., and she still goes out to the pool every
Tuesday morning and waits for you there.”
Mike laughed. “You made that up.”
“I saw it
in a movie. It’s a great story, don’t
you think?”
“I miss
her too, so sweet tempered.”
“You
should drop by and visit her sometime. Visit me
while you’re at it. We won’t be here
for too much longer, I hope. The house is on the
market.”
“Where
will you go next?”
“I’ll
decide that when the house is sold and money’s
in the bank. Do you still live in Oceanside?”
“Yes,
downtown, with three roommates.”
“Then
drop by and visit us. You can clean my pool and
we can barbecue or order takeout. After that, who
knows?”
“Say when,
Rosalind.”
“Tonight?”
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