Five foot nothing, bleached blonde, brutally outspoken, 72 years old, and surgically-well maintained Merdella raged on to the showroom floor. Remarkably for her [I came to find out later], she refrained from giving the bird to the eager young sales rep who first approached her. Without hesitation she dismissed the other salesmen and requested that I be the one to assist her [me being a white woman and all]. She wanted to check out one of our high-end SUVs, and so began our adventure.
It was only moments into our test drive when she announced that she needed some “empty road so she could open this thing up”, which she proceeded to do. Before our encounter was over she had, with her scrunched up, dismissive look disparaged Arlington, North Dallas, Blacks, Asians, Hispanics, Lesbians, men in general, and car salesmen especially. My years of PR work and a lifetime of diplomacy were facing the ultimate test.
Brought up on a farm in a small panhandle town she matter-of-factly admitted she was worth millions, and had been married three times, “trading up” with each one. She was, “after all, blonde, not stupid.” She needed a big, safe vehicle because she was prone to a lot of “finger wars” on the road and she didn’t want to feel like she would ever lose. In no uncertain terms, Merdella was going to get what she wanted! And she wanted that car. As I walked her back to her car [because she would have to consult her accountant first] she stood back, checked out the lines of the car and with a devilish grin and a side-ways glance at me announced, “I’ll look like one rich bitch in that thing!”
I cringed at most everything that came out of her mouth, but there was something about her that was admirable and likeable. I couldn’t begin to explain it, but she was remarkably real.
After a couple of phone calls over the course of 3 days she came in to buy it. We spent seven hours finalizing the deal at which time it was 9 pm and very stormy. She told me she felt uncomfortable driving home in the dark, in the storm and in an unfamiliar vehicle, so I arranged for a “chaser” to bring me back so I could drive her home. Not more than 2 minutes off of the lot it began to hail so we sought shelter for a while before we slowly worked our way to her house. She told me she had one hell of a life story, so I replied that I had time to hear at least 20 minutes worth, heck, we had nothing else to do.
So, she married her first husband, whom she was with for 19 years, at a young age. They produced one heir, who never called, and had served 2 years in prison on a drug charge. She was with her 2nd husband for 10 years, and after they had been separated for 11 months, he proceeded to shoot her boyfriend of 6 weeks four times. Of course she witnessed this event and her boyfriend survived. Unsurprisingly their relationship did not last, and at 56 she moved in with her new boyfriend and soon to be husband number 3. She wasn’t about to marry him at first because she was still receiving alimony from number 2. Finally this third marriage only lasted 15 months, which was a real disaster because it ended her alimony from number 2 for no good reason. Once we reached her house we found that her new car didn’t fit in the garage, and in fact attempting to make it do so damaged her garage door. It was at this point that she admitted to me that her whole life was that way, she had been born under a dark cloud and she was a witch to boot. By this time she finally met my “chaser”, an elegant young black male. She surprised us by proceeding to invite us both into her house for drinks. Her home dripped with money, and she was delighted to show it off to us. She was a gracious hostess and invited us to come out sometime so she could show us the beauty of Ft. Worth at night.
The truth is, she is an interesting and lonely, elderly lady who lived an adventurous life and was looking for some companionship. For the second time recently I was reminded of Nabokov’s book “Lolita”. Like Nabokov’s “hero, Humbert Humbert, she was contemptible on the surface and yet somehow, she was subjectively likable. She exuded the kind of pathos that one usually finds only in literature and I couldn’t help but think had she been born 40 years later her outspokenness and extreme point-of-view would have been in support of the same things she now derided. I could imagine her spitfire personality blending well with my current friends.
Merdellas’ prejudice was a superficial show because it was the only thing she knew, unlike the other prejudiced people I’ve dealt with who smile and discriminate behind closed doors.
All things considered I don’t think I’ve heard the last of Miss Merdella. At least I hope not.