Chapter 2

Five days after driving her car home, Maryse graduated from high school. She’d sent invitations to her graduation to her Aunt Mary and Aunt Mary had already mailed her a check for one hundred dollars. Maryse had also sent invitations to her mother’s parents and they too had sent her a check for one hundred dollars; they would not be making the trip from their Assisted Living Facility in Norwill, Tennessee. Uncle Barry, her mother’s older brother and owner of Sidwell’s Diner where Peggy was a waitress/cook had also given Maryse one hundred dollars. So, truthfully, Maryse had no reason to stick around for the graduation ceremony, had no reason to stay in Burstyn, Mississippi.

“And, shit, I can move into that efficiency,” Peggy agreed.

“Momma, why you don’t just come live with me?” Maryse asked.

“Sweetie, your uncle don’t like to admit it, but his MS is getting worse,” Peggy whispered. “Letting me have off to go to your Aunt’s funeral just about wiped him out; took all of his strength to run the place on his own.”

On a broling hot June afternoon, Maryse arrived at 812 Frontier Trail. She waved to Mr. Frank as he cut the grass in front of 814 Frontier Trail. She watched as the garage door went down before unlocking the inside door. The alarm emitted a short chirp, paused a second and emitted a second chirp. Before the third insistent chirp could sound, Maryse entered her birthday, the code for the alarm, then returned to her car to begin the long process of unloading her worldly possessions from rear seat and cavernous trunk.

Her first night, she stayed in her room. Aunt Mary had designated the second bedroom as Maryse’s bedroom. It was somewhat hard to fall asleep; there was not the sound of Aunt Mary’s thunderous snoring coming from the large bedroom just down the hall.

(‘I do not, Maryse Elizabeth Boudreaux! I most certainly do not snore! How, how dare you even suggest such a thing?’ Aunt Mary would protest, horrified.

“Oh yes you do!” Maryse would giggle.)

“Oh, yes you do,” Maryse sniffed out loud as fresh tears began. “Aunt Mary, I’m going miss you something bad.”

Waking early; she’d not slept all that well, Maryse fixed herself a simple breakfast. She checked the mail, putting aside the advertisements. The electric bill was already a few days late and Maryse planned to go to the office of the St. Elizabeth Public Utilities on Monday.

Saturday was trash days in this neighborhood. Maryse emptied the refrigerator of those foods that were in questionable condition and made sure the barrel was at the edge of the driveway. Then, looking at the electric bill again, Maryse wondered if she’d be able to keep up with the cost of owning a home.

“Wait, I, I got her bank account, right?” Maryse wondered. “Mr. Pellichet said…”

Finding the copy of the will in the bottom of her suitcase, Maryse verified that she did indeed have ownership of her Aunt’s bank account with First National Bank of DeGarde. There was just over eight thousand dollars in the account and Maryse saw that the bank was open until one pm on Saturdays.

The manager on duty, Dennis Dumas helped Maryse set up an automatic bill-pay and issued a debit card in Maryse’s name. He vaguely knew Mary and did express his condolences for Maryse’s loss.

From the bank, Maryse drove to Clark’s Drive-In, just like she and Aunt Mary would do after a visit to the bank, or the post office, or Abdul’s or Babbage’s Department stores.

Apparently, Clark’s Drive-In on a blistering hot June day was the place to be. Maryse almost gave up until a girl pulled out of a parking space just ahead of Maryse. Maryse managed to pull into the space and turned off the powerful motor.

“Hi!” Stevie Hagen chirped, skittering to a stop next to Maryse’s window. “Hey, where’s your mom?”

“My…oh! Oh, you mean, my Aunt Mary,” Maryse asked, vaguely recognizing the beautiful blue eyed blonde girl.

“Oh, oh, yeah, so where’s your Aunt today?” Stevie smiled.

“She uh, she died, couple weeks ago,” Maryse said.

“Oh! Oh, ma’am, I, I am so sorry,” Stevie gasped.

Maryse was startled, stunned when the blonde cutie reached into the car, wrapped her arms around Maryse’s torso and gave Maryse a soft kiss on her cheek. Again, the girl expressed her condolences as she straightened up again.

Maryse ordered her usual; a chili cheese dog with mustard, cheese fries and large chocolate malt. She watched the blonde girl whirl around and skate away, luscious buttocks peeking from the bottom of her short red shorts. She and Aunt Mary would always share a laugh as they dared one another to wear shorts like that out in public.

The girls whizzed around, hustling to serve the many customers. Idly, Maryse watched one young brunette; from the bobbling of the girl’s very large breasts it was readily apparent the girl had not bothered with a bra. She saw Stevie approaching with her tray and covertly checked Stevie’s chest as the blonde skittered to a stop.

“Yeah, I’m wearing a bra; Gabby’s the only one that would do that,” Stevie giggled.

Maryse flamed bright red at being caught ogling the girl. She paid for her meal and waved away the change. With a bright smile, Stevie hustled away to grab the next customer that pulled into a newly vacated space.

“Again, I’m real sorry about your aunt. I know you two liked coming here together a lot,” Stevie said when she took the tray.

“Thanks,” Maryse smiled sadly. “She knew she really wasn’t supposed have any of this; sodium, cholesterol, sugar; but she just loved it.”

“Hope I see you again,” Stevie said, turning to skate away.

Entering the home, Maryse decided to explore her Aunt’s room. She’d been in the room several times when she stayed with Aunt Mary, but had never really explored the room, respecting her aunt’s right to privacy.

The top drawer on the tall dresser held those pieces of jewelry Aunt Mary had not given to Peggy. There was also a vast array of things Maryse had given her beloved aunt over the years. New tears started as she looked through all the keepsakes.

The next drawers held frilly, lacy items. As Aunt Mary was four foot ten inches and weighed one hundred and forty nine pounds, nothing of hers would fit Maryse. Maryse had at least three inches in height on her aunt, and was a good thirty five pounds lighter.

But as she looked through the clothes, Maryse realized, her aunt was very feminine. All of the clothing, with very few exceptions was soft, feminine and very becoming. Her ‘gardening clothes’ were in a drawer of their own, complete with serviceable bras and full cotton briefs.

“That, that’s what I’m going to do,” Maryse decided.

The nightstand next to Aunt Mary’s side of the bed revealed something Maryse had never considered. There was an embarrassing collection of dildos, vibrators, lubricants. There were also four Parasols Magazines, the September issues. Maryse was puzzled about this, even after seeing that the September issues were dedicated to women over the age of fifty.

The second drawer caused the light bulb go on over Maryse’s head. There were some books of lesbian erotica that had been well-thumbed.

“I, well!” Maryse said.

The nightstand on the other side was empty. The closet was just like Aunt Mary. Well organized, nothing out of place. On the shelf above the winter coats, Maryse found some letters from an Olive Feldman, written to Mary Boudreaux. Olive’s handwriting was beautiful, flowing circles that formed poetic words.

“Oh!” Maryse suddenly remembered Miss Olive, a beautiful brunette woman that would visit Aunt Mary every now and then.

According to the letter in her hand, Olive and Aunt Mary had been lovers in college. Their love continued throughout the decades, until cancer took Olive from Mary.

“Well, you’re together now,” Maryse murmured, reading Olive’s declarations of love and longing.

That night, Maryse sat up in her bed and read one of the books from the nightstand. The words, though meant to be stimulating, were also very enlightening to Maryse.

“That, that’s why I never felt…” Maryse decided as she closed the book. “I just never felt right with him.”

Sunday morning, Maryse decided she was a coffee drinker. That was what usually roused her; the smell of Aunt Mary’s coffee. While she drank a cup of coffee with two tablespoons of sugar and a quarter cup of Half & Half that still smelled good, Maryse sat in her chair looking out the window at her back yard, at the poor, neglected flowers. After some eggs, washed down with more coffee, Maryse got busy on her Sunday. In Aunt Mary’s little study, Maryse found some statements from Boyd Investments Group.

“Wonder…” Maryse said.

Her father was convinced that Aunt Mary had millions of dollars squirreled away. Perhaps this was where her ‘millions’ were.

“Nope, Dad. It’s only two hundred and forty six thousand, nine hundred and four dollars and thirty six cents,” Maryse smirked.

“Which…is…a…buttload more than you had ten minutes ago,” Maryse told herself.

Putting on some shorts and a tee shirt, Maryse went outside and walked to the toolshed. She stopped for a moment and touched the swing set her Aunt Mary had erected in the backyard.

“Little girls need a swing set,” Aunt Mary had said.

“Big girls do too,” Maryse thought as she gently pushed the swing, causing it to sway back and forth.

For several long, relaxing moments, Maryse tended to her Aunt’s, her flowers. The shed in the rear did not have a lawnmower and there was no lawnmower in the garage, so Maryse wondered how she was to cut the grass.

Frank Jeffries from next door supplied the answer; he had ‘borrowed’ the lawnmower four years ago and had never returned it. He cut his grass on one Friday, then cut Mary’s grass the following Friday. Of course, if she ever asked him to do it a little more frequently, like during the summer, Frank always did.

“Well, apparently it’s been working,” Maryse smiled. “And if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

That night, after drinking two glasses of Aunt Mary’s wine, Maryse emptied the closets and dresser drawers of Aunt Mary’s clothing. Using a towel, she also grabbed Aunt Mary’s sex toys and dropped them into the bathroom wastebasket.

Monday morning, using the GPS on her cell phone, Maryse drove to the St. Vincent DePaul building. St. Vincent DePaul had moved their main building from DeGarde to Baylor Lake. The building was much nicer than their old building on Banks Street. Getting out of the car, Maryse unlocked the trunk and told the mildly mentally challenged man she had a hard enough time putting the clothes into the trunk. She wasn’t sure she could bear to get them out and give them away.

“No, no, it’s easy,” he said, not comprehending.

“You were close to her?” the priest asked, gently prompting the young man to start unloading the trunk.

“My, my aunt,” Maryse choked out, more tears streaking down her face.

“What was her name? I’ll say a prayer for her,” the young priest offered.

“Aunt Mary. Mary Boudreaux,” Maryse managed.

After another chili dog at Clark’s, Maryse drove to her appointment with Barbara Rosenni with Boyd Investments Group. Stevie had not been there; the braless Gabby Darois informed Maryse that Stevie was scheduled to work that night. While the girl stood at her window, Maryse could not take her eyes from the faint shadow of the brunette’s large areolae or hard nipples through the snug tee shirt.

At Boyd Investments Group, Maryse sat in the lobby and chatted with the beautiful receptionist while waiting for Barbara to return from lunch. She admired the girl’s clothing and was surprised when the receptionist admitted she got most of her clothing at thrift shops or consignment shops.

“Except undergarments; that, that’s just wrong,” Yvette Petitjean admitted.

“Is that Cadillac convertible yours?” a beautiful olive skinned woman asked, strolling into the lobby.

“The maroon one? Yes, yes it is,” Maryse agreed.

“Well, small world,” Barbara smiled. “I was in the Ford Focus right next to you at Clark’s. And let me guess; you’re Maryse Boudreaux, my one o’clock appointment.”

“I don’t know about small world, but it is a small neighborhood, isn’t it?” Maryse laughed, standing and shaking Barbara’s offered hand. “As I said on the phone, my aunt passed away and…”

“Come on; let’s go to my office,” Barbara said, guiding Maryse to the hallway. “Now, you can say ‘No’ if you want to, but is it all right if my assistant, Ms. Jensen sits in on our meeting? See, she’s in training and…”