chapter 7 

(The Widow) 

Moïse Berri 
and the Reconstruction of the Haitian 
 Space Agency 

by Jude Jarda 

7 

The Widow 

Eudoxie Angélique Legitime, née Fleurinor, loves the delectable sensation of liberty and self detachment that smoking cannabis brings to her. When Doctor Stewart prescribed her a psychotropic drug to fight arthritis and ease her chronic joints and muscles pain, the septuagenarian first thought he was pulling her leg. Now that she successfully went through the four month trial period, recommended by her physician, Grandma Legitime must admit that she presently abuses her medication to the point where she has to deal with an illegal pharmacist when her stash runs low. The newspaper boy of the Palm Beach Post is a very discreet young man. Eudoxie Angélique does not suffer her seventy-five springs anymore, she savors them. The matriarch of the Legitime family is meditating in the lotus position, facing the Atlantic Ocean from the backyard of her luxurious residence. She is one with the music of Anoushka Shankar, the volume pumped to the max. The smile on the old woman's face reveals her beatitude. A witness would think that she is alone, but Grandma Legitime was told by Bonne Suzette, her horoscopist, palm reader and best friend, that her deceased husband left part of his soul in the iguana that keeps her company and participates in her relaxation sessions. Eudoxie is so rich, susceptible and hard headed that her entourage avoids contradicting her on that matter. Even doctor Stewart treats Mister Norbert with respect when he comes for Eudoxie's check-ups. The respected physician always greets the asocial reptile and takes great pleasure in engaging one way small talk with it. 

They are seven phones in the house. They've been ringing for the last fifteen minutes. Grandma Legitime doesn't give a damn about the situation. The state she is in requires a lot of concentration. Nirvana seems at reach. A cell phone she left on the kitchen counter, in case of emergency, joins the orchestra. Eudoxie Angélique doesn't want to get out of her trance-like state, but her maternal instinct reminds her that she is not alone in this world. Mingling in her kids business has always been her favorite past time anyway. Granny Legitime slowly comes back to the heaviness of the real world with all its inconveniences. The devices stop ringing; the caller ID screen of the mobile reveals an unknown number. Luckily for Granny, there are plenty of medicinal herbs left in her special porcelain teapot to repair the frustration caused by this unfortunate distraction. 

Ten minutes later, Eudoxie Angélique doesn't remember what it was that interrupted her daily meditation session. On her way to the living room, she grabs a spumone ice cream pot, a silver spoon and a box of Danish cookies. She then let herself fall on a mountain of fluffy pillows. Felicity becomes a reality. Elvis is on Bravo. The King is dancing on a Maui beach with a bunch of very happy bachelorettes, but Grandma Legitime cannot join the fun. There is definitely someone at the front door, waving and flapping like a bird. Now, at this time of the day, on Seagate Road, people usually stay home or in the shade to avoid the burning sun. It might be Soula Papadakis, the next door neighbor, Eudoxie Angélique guesses. The old fogey just came back from Cyprus and probably can't wait to relate her adventures and show pictures of her trip. The living room smells like a teenage pothead's bedroom and Grandma Legitime doesn't feel like explaining herself. So she ignores the musical doorbell chime. Seconds later, someone is banging on the backdoor and yelling out her name. Eudoxie takes a good look at the alarm system on the wall. Everything seems normal. She heads to the kitchen with the firm intention to tell the peddler, the thief or whoever is disturbing her to go to hell. She finds her gardener on the patio, sweating and trembling. When he sees her, the man sighs of relief. 

“Alejandro!” she cries out, opening the door. “I thought you were off today, love.” 

“Ooh, Doña Angelica, you are safe and alive. Gracias a Dios!” 

“What's going on, mi corazón, you look exhausted?” 

“My phone, it is for you,” the landscaper articulates while catching his breath. “The señorita looking for you could not find your son with the help of the agency. Santa Madre de Dios! I feared you were in the great danger. I thought that you fell from the ladder, trying to get your cereal box again. The lady on the phone told me that she has been trying to reach you for hours. I got really scared, so I jumped on the bridge, in-me-diate-mente.” 

“Wait, who exactly is on the phone?” 

“Miss Awale, she said.” 

“What does she want?” 

“It's very complicated. My English is better then good, but the lady speaks with a very strange European or Australian accent. I understand absolumente nada. From what I think, I understood, it appears that Don Ulysses Heracles, your eldest son, is now in a prison and his life is in jeopardy. Then again, I might be wrong, maybe it's just a prank arranged by Achilles Hector. He does that sometimes, just to joke around.” 

“Does she sound like a lawyer, you know, authoritarian and by the book?” 

“More like a depressed and desperate teen. She pretends to be the mama of her son.” 

“You mean Berenice, the mother of Armandine, Clyde and the other little brat that grows too fast?” 

“I know the voice of Berenice and that is not her for sure, Doña Angelica.” 

The conversation between Eudoxie Angélique Legitime and Meredith O'Reilly is incredibly confusing. Every word seems to have been taken from Eugène Ionesco’s Bald Soprano. The twenty-four year old Irish woman speaks a lot like hipsters, liberals and new age artists of downtown Dublin. She also adds a little taste of Gaelic expressions every time she sobs. Believing that it might help, Meredith pitches a completely made up French word every now and then or yells out a Creole one in the middle of a sentence. Meredith is basically trying to explain that Ulysses Hercules, the man who promised her a life of abundance and the father of the child she has been carrying for sixteen weeks, is presently incarcerated at the Harwood Heights police station, near Chicago. While he was under the influence of some unknown medication or powerful illicit drug, Ulysses Hercules apparently beat up two police officers. He also insulted and threatened to strangle a female school bus driver and traumatized a dozen children with obscene gestures and inappropriate language. Other charges will probably come up later, because the car he was driving is not his and the loaded gun found in his possession was never registered. Ulysses Hercules asked Meredith to find a way to gather the significant amount of money needed to bail him out of jail. The problem is that the secret bank account they were sharing is completely empty. Ulysses Hercules is unable to get access to his savings account. The PIN numbers on all his credit cards have been changed and the bank won’t allow him to do any transaction from is checking account, due to a recent money deposit made from a suspicious Nigerian financial institution. If Meredith does not amass one hundred thousand dollars by four P.M., Ulysses Hercules will be transferred to the Cook County jail, a savage jungle where violence is rampant and rape common. Now, Meredith's father is a Catholic fundamentalist and a member of the New Underground Republican Irish Army. Even if he has done time for manslaughter in Ulster, that former platoon commander is a man of principle with very conservative values. Since he became a widow, Keenan Quinn O'Reilly has had only one goal, which is the well being of his only daughter. Learning that she is currently pregnant and not married is a source of great sorrow for him. Learning who the father is makes things worse. K.Q. O'Reilly read a lot while he was incarcerated. He believes that Ulysses Hercules put a magic spell on Meredith. The books he has been reading to gain more wisdom on the subject clearly recommend the death penalty for such actions. That's what he plans to bring on Ulysses Hercules with a huge amount of suffering and torment. Those threats could be taken lightly if K.Q. O'Reilly was just a poser. On the contrary, O’Reilly was once a living nightmare for the National Police Service of Ireland; leading a gang of criminals that included his godson, Dillon Patrick Carrigan, the present senior spokesman and president of the prisoners at Cook County. 

Eudoxie Angélique Legitime never worked very hard to master the English language, even if she has been living in Florida for fifty years and over. She actually never learned much about America as a hole either. The last serious periodical she read focused on the Watergate scandal; the last daily newspaper, on then, Senator Obama; the last tabloid she quickly went through gave a detailed description of Lindsay Lohan's troubles with the law. Granny Legitime nevertheless finds the proper words to explain to Meredith O'Reilly that she doesn't understand most of her gobbledygook. She also tells her that she doesn't really care about what people do or say anymore. Not out of selfishness, but simply because she is way too old and too close to her death to spend any of her precious time left on earth on trivialities. Out of pity for Meredith, who boasts into tears, Grandma Legitime gives her the phone number of her deceased husband, thinking it's the one of her financial advisor and long time friend of the family, Mr. Gustave Amaury Quick. 

Granny Legitime's gardener insists on knowing what this call was all about. Before explaining what she thought she understood from the incoherent tirade of her son’s crazy secretary, Eudoxie Angélique lights up another therapeutic smoke. It seems that Meredith O'Reilly, and not Awale, wants to sue Ulysses Hercules because he drugged and date-raped her. He then fled to the Highlands on board of a school bus with her six weeks old baby. She demands money compensation or swears to send a murderous Catholic priest after Ulysses Hercules to whack him. 

“If we were in July,” reflects Eudoxie Angélique, “I would definitely find time to panic and participate in my son's nonsensical life. But we are now right into hurricane season. I don't want to find myself in the same mess as these folks in New Jersey. Therefore, doing the inventory of our anti-storm equipment and food reserves would be very productive. Trying to play referee into a quarrel between two vaccinated adults is clearly counterproductive and a lost of energy.”