In The Pocket

He chose the dark blue suit dress with the waist length jacket. Francine hated that dress because of the pockets and the buttons. The buttons were located directly over her breasts like flags saying-- looky, here we are.

He smiled as he laid it on the bed. He knew she would not approve.

“Joe, when my time comes,” she told him one evening after a particularly success dance, “bury me in this.” She twirled around the room in the rose chiffon like a little girl on prom night.

Joe ignored her. He prepared for bed in his usual manner; removing his shoes and his socks he stretched his toes against the carpet. Then he removed his coat jacket, hanging it carefully on the hanger so the shoulders would not stretch.

Then his slacks-- turning them upside down to catch in the hanger’s press and clicking it tightly so they would not fall on the bottom of the closet floor.

Francine always wanted to go to parties. Joe didn’t. This one was particularly stressful for him and a complete delight for her. It was the social event of Madison; even the mayor was there, with his puffy wife that smelled of chocolates and champagne.

Joe's wife insisted they sit at the mayor’s table, along with several council members and the chief of police. Francine was always putting on airs. She insisted on exposing more than she should about their financial status (the successes and the losses) to the point that Joe felt she was complaining he was not as good a provider as he could be.

“Let me ask you, Mayor Edwards,” Francine leaned farther than she needed to, just so she could expose the dip in the front of her dress. “Are there any good real estate ventures coming up in the near future? You know something that we might want to get in on the ground floor with?”

“Francine,” the mayor smiled at her breasts. “I couldn’t tell you that, even if I knew of any. Of course..." his honor leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "It wouldn’t hurt to check out the new shopping mall site over on the west side of town. I understand there are plenty of plots still for sale that they want to get their hands on.”

Francine’s eyes were glowing with excitement as she turned to Joe.

Joe sighed. Does she expect me to buy all the land in the hopes that the shopping mall would offer a buy back? How does she think we are going to afford such a venture? Sell my truck? Maybe hock some of the kids? She was the one who wanted such a large family to begin with, and now there were colleges to pay for- and what about Tiffy’s wedding in a year? That is going to be quite a financial burden-- especially with the guests she keeps adding.

Putting on airs. That’s what Joe’s mother had warned him about. Francine liked to put on the air of being wealthy, of being sophisticated, of being more than what they were.

She dropped the issue at the table but in their bedroom, as they undressed, the issue would not lie down. She threw it in his face over and over again until he finally agreed to call the realtor.

The next day he walked around the empty lots with a realtor. It was merely a wasteland of mud puddles, piles of gravel, and forgotten trash. The new mall site was once the dump area for Madison’s south side residents. The realtor droned on endlessly concerning the future prospects of the area-- how a developer was considering building apartments and there was talk of a corporation in Colorado looking at the site for a business complex and he even mentioned the possible shopping mall.

With an acre per lot that would be forty-two lots of prime real estate and all Joe could see was mud, trash and the mayor laughing at the idiot who would buy it- him.

When he returned home she met him at the door. He informed her there was no deal. Joe did not make an offer.

“You are the biggest idiot,” Francine stormed into the kitchen. She banged pots on the top of the stove. She pulled out the pork chops and then slammed the refrigerator door.

“You have no insight, Joe. None,” she pierced the plastic on the package and threw the pork chops into the pan.  “We’ve been married for twenty-two years and the best you have achieved is what I have made you do!”

Joe stood at the entrance to the kitchen. He watched her move about the room, fussing at him and slamming cabinet doors. She placed two plates on the kitchen table.

“Where are the kids?”

“What?” She stopped. She stared at him, retracing what she had said that led him to ask the question, and then realizing it was the number of plates on the table, she answered.  “They are all out tonight, different places. Tiffy is with George- they are going out to dinner with his parents tonight. Probably somewhere we couldn’t afford, and David and Susie are both working at the library on their college entrants’ exams. At least they will have a better life than me.”

“Cliff?”

“I really don’t know,” Francine sighed, “probably driving his new car around Madison picking up girls.”
The pork chops were sizzling in the hot pan. She was busy chopping onions and green peppers to place with them. She hit the knife hard against the cutting board with angry blows.

“You made me buy it for him,” Joe reminded her.

Francine stopped cutting. She glared at him.  “I suggested you buy him a car you chose that particular sport model.”

Joe didn't listen to any more of the argument. He left the kitchen. He could hear her banging around as he climbed the stairs to their bedroom. There was no need to spend dinnertime with her-- he only did that for the children.


She died that night. Twenty-four hours after telling him that when it was her time to go she wanted to be buried in her rose chiffon dress.

The children were heartbroken and in a state of shock, as were most of the neighbors who knew her.  The turnout for her funeral was admirable.

The mayor and his puffy wife were there, and even said a few gracious words on her behalf.  Joe sat solemnly in the front pew staring at her pale face with the overdone makeup; she would have hated that too. 

Before they closed the coffin he rose and went to her side, bending slightly to place a kiss on her cheek. The congregation was touched by the gesture and wiped their eyes. It went unnoticed that he placed something in her right breast pocket of the suit he picked out for her wear. He slipped it into the pocket before closing the lid and then he moved the spray of roses to the center of the casket lid. It was lovely- the white casket and the pink roses covering her-- almost virginal.

He returned to his seat in the front pew.

At the gravesite the family wept. Joe tossed a handful of dirt on the coffin per tradition and then helped his children to the car.

“Touching scene,” Howard Nolan mumbled to his deputy.

The police chief and his deputy stood off to the side-- away from the gravesite. They watched as the mourners filed passed the coffin. Howard watched Joe.

“Any word yet?”

“The coroner’s report is still inconclusive. There could have been poison in her system and there could have not been poison in her system.”

“Which is it?” Howard demanded.

The deputy shrugged. “He doesn’t know for sure. We’ve been through everything in the house, the guy’s car, his office, everywhere, if he had any, where’d he put it?”

“So the record says-- heart attack?”

“Sorry, Chief, but that’s all we got.”

“Well, maybe that’s all it was.” Howard watched Joe open the car door for one of his daughters and help her inside.

Joe turned and looked at the Police Chief and the deputy standing by the tree line. He nodded at them.

"Well, how about some lunch?" Howard asked. The two turned and walked to their car.

They could not see Joe's grin as he walked around his car to the driver's seat. He glanced into the rearview mirror as the white casket was lowered. His grin broadened. No, she wouldn't have liked that dress at all.