Lost and Found

Ronnie

New Orleans

“Well this is some kinda bullshit.” Ronnie said, looking with unrestrained disgust at the corporate monstrosity atop the location -former location- of Art of Movement, her old dance studio.

“I’m not a Whole Foods fan either, but I think you’re taking this a little hard.” Michael said.

“Not at all, and if anything I’m annoyed that you’re not backing me up on this, Michael! This was a great cultural treasure and they are defiling it.”

“It was just a studio…”

“Don’t be an idiot, Michael, you know it was more than that.” Ronnie turned and began stomping down the street, she couldn’t even bear to look at the place anymore. Truth be told, she was overreacting and she knew it. But this wholesale replacement had been a recurring theme of the day ever since she’d joined him for her date and her rising frustration had finally bubbled over.

It had started out so promising! She’d chosen a lavender A-line dress from her shopping spree, and damn, she was feeling great in it. The high hemline, along with her now ever-present high heels, made her strong legs and butt look fantastic, and Michael’s broad smile and not-so-subtle eye scan upon meeting her showed how well it was working. The dress was a little more sheer, and cut higher than she would have usually chosen, but when you have to shop in the stores provided by a perverted game show, you make do.

But then as soon as they’d hopped out of the limo it had all gone off the rails. She wanted to show him her favorite coffee shop, the one where she’d had her first beignet and worked her first job - it was now a Starbucks. She’d wanted to show him the club where she’d first heard a live band - it was a parking lot. She’d wanted to show him the park where she and her friends had put together their first routine - it was now condominiums. She’d been so excited just to get out of the hotel for the first time in forever, but being repeatedly denied had quickly soured her mood.

They wiped me out from everyone’s memory, it almost feels like they’re trying to wipe the world from mine. Ronnie recalled the Harem Hotel - French Quarter set where they’d made her work and, with great disgust, realized that she could remember more of it than her real home.

“Ronnie, wait up a minute.” Michael chased her down and grabbed her arm to stop her, but she yanked it free. “I understand what you’re feeling.” He said.

“How? How could you possibly?”

“Because life moves on, the world moves on, Ronnie. As much as we wanna go back and visit our happy place, sometimes it’s just not there any more.”

Ronnie said nothing. Raging against market economics felt like a waste of time and energy, but the real targets of her anger were beyond her reach. The ones who had dragged her out of her life and stolen years from her. Al, Ruby, Colt… All the hosts were still just pawns for whomever had the real power. One was knocked down and two took his fucking place. She thought bitterly.

“I know, Michael, it’s just that I clung to these things. These simple things like the taste of a beignet from DeLaurio’s. I’ve been in that Hotel and the ones like it for half my life, and after long enough living like that you wonder if any of this ever existed. And then when you finally get to come back and it's not there…”

“Ok, so maybe I don’t understand that exact feeling.” Michael hugged her, and this time she didn’t pull away. “But you don’t have to feel it alone any more. We’re back together again.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

It was puffery, of course. He couldn’t be sure he could keep that promise and both of them knew it. But it was important that he made it anyway.

“So what are we gonna do now?” She asked. A question with many layers and many possible answers. Michael’s eyes showed he recognized its depth, but for the moment he only addressed the surface.

“Well, for now why don’t you let me pick the date?”

“Fine,” She laughed bitterly, “Mine’s been a disaster so far. Jesus take the wheel.”

“Well that's a high standard to meet, but I’ll do my best.” He looked around, searching for ideas. As they stood there, bouncing ideas and thinking aloud, a church spire a few blocks away began chiming to mark the top of the hour. The first bell hit Ronnie like a physical blow, louder and more powerfully than she’d felt at any point in her life. She dropped her small purse and dug her nails into Michael’s back.

“Oh fuckkkkkk! Oh my godddddd!!” She couldn’t help but scream as the magic ravaged her. Michael tried to hold her up and cover her ears as she thrashed in his arms.

“Is she all right?” A pair of passing women asked.

“She’s just got the Holy Spirit in her, we’re ok. Thank you.” Michael tried to wave them off. Ronnie’s involuntary moaning and the stain forming in the crotch of her dress gave the truth away, and she could just make out their hushed whispers about the ‘massive slut’ acting like a ‘absolute whore’ in broad daylight. Michael could no longer hold her easily and they two knelt on the pavement while she caught her breath.

“Whatever we do, it should probably be out of the city though.” Michael said softly, looking over the disheveled mess she’d melted into with a mix of pity, embarrassment… and something else, something… eager.

Michael’s emotional blender was comforting in a strange way. Ronnie had seen the shift in the Masters happen enough times that she’d named it. “The Turn.” The point at which they cut loose the last strings holding them to their past selves and become whatever they were going to be by the end. She’d not had the proximity to study it in detail, nor the desire, but she’d always noticed one big clue - once the men stopped bothering to justify or hide their naked lust. Once lingering shame or dignity no longer held sway. Then they were lost. Michael hasn’t gone around that corner yet. I’ll keep him on the right side. She hoped she wasn’t fooling herself again, the same way she’d been about her date idea. But first things first, we gotta get the fuck outta town.

“Lead on.” She said.

“Pull up the map app on your phone.” He picked up the discarded clutch and handed it to her. Rhonda pulled it out and looked at the Hotel-provided devices like it had been dropped from space.

“And how do I do that?”

“Oh right… What was yours, the candy bar phone?”

“Don’t laugh, I dropped that thing off a second floor balcony and the concrete suffered.” That did make him laugh, and she saw the darker side of him recede for a moment. I can still reach him.

“Much better.” Ronnie said. An hour later and her mood had turned 180 degrees. Which also felt like the air temperature out here. The air boat rocked gently as the hot breeze pushed through the low trees, and she closed her eyes, kicked off her heels, and just … relaxed. Michael was sitting behind her, and she leaned back to rest against his chest. The bayou was full of sounds all its own, predominantly the chirping of insects and the croaking of the frogs eating them, but thank fuck - no bells. Ronnie was sure the Hotel was watching - they were always watching - but for the first time in decades she was free of their influence and oppressive control. She knew it’d be brief, but it was euphoric all the same.

Michael gently stroked her hair, and sat quietly in thought. Fishing poles lay ignored to the side. The guy at the dock had spent an annoying long time trying to give Michael a lesson on where to go for the best catch, but Michael could not get across that he didn’t care. Southern friendliness run amok. Michael was happy to take the cooler of beer off him, however, and the two were passing a cheap lager back and forth between them.

“Good choice?” Michael asked finally.

“The best.” Ronnie nuzzled in closer. “What gave you this idea though? I’ve never been much for the outdoors.”

“Don’t I know it. I could barely get you to hike in Hollywood. But I remembered you telling me you used to come out here with your Uncle.”

“Yes, and I hated it. I told you that part.”

Michael swept his hand broadly at their surroundings. “But I’m sure it's exactly the same as you remember. This place hasn’t changed in a hundred years and it won’t change for another hundred.” Michael gestured to the beer. “This stuff probably won’t either, to be honest. After what happened back in town, I thought you needed to see anything exactly the way you remembered it. Even if it was something you hated.”

“And what if I still hated it?”

“Well, that’s the gamble.” He pulled her in closer and rest his head atop hers. Ronnie wanted to sit in this moment forever, but her hand brushed the phone on the bench next to her and she was reminded of her true situation. She peeked at the time - barely enough if they hurried. She sat up and swiveled on the bench to face Michael. But before she could explain, he leaned in for a kiss and nearly shattered Ronnie’s resolve. Ok no, I want to sit in this moment forever. She thought as their lips met.

French Kiss +2

Old News -2

Ronnie softly pushed him off. “Michael…”

“Are the swamp smell and cheap beer ruining the mood?” He joked, still riding his high of getting it right with her. She laughed to keep it light, because it wouldn’t be for long.

“It’s not that, you could make any place romantic when you put your mind to it. But, I’m the one that’s got to ruin the mood today.”

“...What?”

“I’m having a great time out here. Truly. But I came back to see my home, and it's not here any more. There’s just one last thing I need to do while I have the chance…” Michael’s smile dropped, further wounding her. This might upset him and it might upset the audience, but she needed to do it anyway. ”I wanna see my Mom.”

“Honey… Luciana’s dad was already losing her after only a few days. You’ve been gone for years.”

“I know that… But I was talking about her this morning with the others, and I started thinking about how much I never got to tell her. About how I made it. She never got to meet you in-person and see how happy you made me.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Even if she doesn’t remember me, even if she thinks I’m just some crazy lady… I need to tell her.”

“If that’s what you want, I’m with you.” He hugged her again, tighter. “But… how do you even know she still lives here? It’s been a long, long time.”

“You didn’t know Ms. Wallace, Michael. Roots deeper than a Cypress. She’ll never leave this city.”

There was a new family living in Ronnie’s childhood shotgun home, but they’d bought it off someone else so they had no idea where she’d moved. Nancy’s phone number was disconnected and none appeared in the online phone book, but that was nothing new. She’d been dodging telemarketers for years. They were the bane of her existence.

Unfortunately, Nancy had passed on that same loathing to most of her family, so Ronnie worked her way through uncles, aunties, cousins, and even family friends without finding anyone who would even answer an unknown number. It was only when they got ahold of the receptionist at Nancy’s church that someone was finally able to point them in the right direction. And as it turned out, Ronnie was correct that Nancy would never leave:

She lay at Mount Olivet Mausoleum, Row 44D.

Ronnie stared at the plaque, as stone-faced as the marble it was affixed to, willing the letters to move. To spell someone else’s name. But they did not budge. Nancy Wallace, 1954-2014.

“I’m sorry, Ronnie.” Michael held her close from behind, expecting her to **** up, collapse, something. But she didn’t.

“I knew.” Ronnie shook her head. “Deep down, I knew. I don’t know how. Maybe it was the same way you knew about me, so deep you couldn’t get your hands around it. Maybe it was those sick fucks at the Hotel letting me know so they could laugh at me.” She ground her teeth. “But I knew.”

“I’m sorry.” He said again, and it was just as inadequate the second time.

Ronnie kissed his hand, then slowly unwrapped his arms from her. “Michael, I need a few minutes to talk to her.” She reached into her small clutch and handed him her chips. “Please get me some flowers.”

Michael nodded solemnly and departed, leaving Ronnie alone in the peaceful quiet.

“Hi Mom,” Ronnie said aloud. The echo off the marble carried her voice, but she didn’t care if anyone overheard, she was beyond worrying if people thought she was crazy. She might have agreed with them anyhow. “It’s… been a minute. I know I never called, but I can’t blame all that on the Hotel. You and I had our differences even before that. Those were on us.”

Differences. Jesus, even when she’s dead I can’t help but sugar coat things.

“No, let’s not do that any more. There’s no more fucking point.” Ronnie got more argumentative, though the stone remained silent. “I didn’t call because I didn’t want a fight. You thought I was throwing myself away when I left. You were cruel. But I did what you said I couldn’t, Mom. I made it out there. I was going to be in a big show, a touring show. And I met a good man, he’s a real one, Mom. I didn’t have to do anything disgraceful, like you always warned. I fucking did it. The right way.”

Yeah, I did it. And what did it amount to? Fucking nothing. They took it all and gave back a twisted parody. I earned my place in a show, then they snatched me before I could even make it to the stage. Then I get to spend decades as a sock puppet with a magic hand up my ass. I found a good man and now they’re trying to poison him. He’s got a whole new wife and now five other women at his feet, and all I have is a prayer to keep him from becoming a monster.

Its a small mercy she died without knowing I’ve had sex on camera. Michael wasn’t even the first…

Ronnie regretted ever coming. For a flash, she even regretted keeping her mind when they turned her into Staff. They could have just hollowed her out, left her a vacant, dead-eyed shell they could fill with whatever they wanted. At least then she wouldn’t feel the pain, wouldn’t suffer the indignity of knowing who she was, of watching everybody she knew, everything she worked for, turn to dust. She’d warned Danica off this same fate only a few days ago, and Ronnie questioned whether it was out of jealousy.

The Hotel had taken everything, because the house always wins. Leaving broken facades of people, smiling outwardly but with nothing behind their eyes. Like an Arabian palace in the middle of fucking Nevada. Why hadn’t they taken her mind too?

Ronnie jumped slightly as Michael stroked her shoulder. Lost in her morbidity, she hadn’t noticed his return. He silently offered her the bouquet, a small arrangement of bright blue forget-me-nots, and her eyes filled with tears at his choice.

There was a small vase mounted to the wall nearby, and she set the flowers in it, fussing briefly to make them look just right. Her phone buzzed to warn her that her time was running short. Never enough time.

“I wish I’d had the chance to meet her properly.” Michael slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her in close again.

“She’d have loved you.” Ronnie didn’t add ‘as you were before the show’ and hoped she’d never have to.

“Come on, I have something I wanna show you.” He started gently leading her away.

“I don’t have much time left here.”

“It won’t take more than a minute.” Once they were outside, Ronnie heard it. The horns, the drums, the tambourines, the stomping - a second line taking someone else to their final rest. “It’s not for Nancy, but I thought we could celebrate her anyway.”

Ronnie clung to him and squeezed like he was a life preserver in a storm. In a real sense, he was. “Let’s do it. Let’s send her home.”

Ronnie’s dress drew some side eyed looks as they joined the passing procession. But once they saw how she could move when she was motivated, those looks turned to respect. She stepped, she swung, she flowed, she was one with the music until the two could hardly be separated. Bells could make her cum, but horns truly made her excited. Ronnie poured her grief and anger into every beat and felt it drain from her body, drop-by-drop.

Michael shimmied and clapped - off-beat, bless his heart - but stood aside to let her dance without tripping over his clumsy legs. Ronnie dragged him over and made him join her. Sure he might step on her toes, but some risks are worth taking. They moved together, awkwardly but passionately.

“I gave you sixteen years to practice and you didn’t improve one bit!” She teased.

“I needed my teacher.”

“She’s back.” He looked slightly worried, so she kissed him on the lips. “Forever.”

Her phone began beeping aggressively, signaling her one minute warning and she led Michael from the procession to the sidewalk. With some of the stress lifted from her mind, she only then noticed the small plastic bag Michael had hanging from his wrist.

“I was thinking about how I could help, just trying to go over what might help remind you of your Mom. I know you two were reading this series together before you left, I remembered how much you were waiting for it to come out before… you know.” He slipped open the bag and pulled out a book and placed it in her hands: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Once more, and not for the last time that day, Ronnie’s eyes filled with tears. But no longer the tears of a woman who’d lost everything, these were the tears of a woman who’d found exactly what she needed.