Girl in the Arena - Lise Haines [36]
—Read it aloud, she says.
—”In celebration of your new life.” What does that mean?
—Go on, she says.
—”In celebration of your new life, we’re lighting all the candles and making plenty of wishes.” Someone seriously wrote this?
—It gets better.
—”You, Allison G., noble widow of seven gladiators, six fully meritorious, are the first woman in recorded GSA history to achieve the status of Uxor Totus”?
—Uxor, wife. Totus, complete. Finished. A finished wife, she says.
—”We hope you will seize the many opportunities ahead to support Caesar’s Inc. and our mission of offering assistance to GSA Wives and Widows worldwide.” Blah, blah, blah. A donation envelope? They want a donation? These are their condolences?
We are both aware that Caesar’s Inc. has gone through dramatic changes over the last couple of years. It began with a hostile takeover, then two hundred administrators and thirteen hundred arena workers lost their jobs. There were times when Tommy lost heart over some of the new requirements—they suddenly had him fighting three extra fights than originally agreed to—otherwise he would have been out six months ago. I know he felt superstitious about the whole thing, and even called it a bad omen. He said they were acting like the military in wartime, only he wasn’t a soldier. He talked about going underground, and considered the idea of fleeing the country. Allison was the one who kept faith, who convinced him to hang in, to work out his contract and be done. One thing they shared in common was the dream of what life would be like when he had wrapped things up with Caesar’s. Viva la vida. They would have the house, the yard, there were trips to plan, possibly a full-time assistant for Thad. They talked of building an apartment for me over the garage.
I’m about to express my rage at Caesar’s when she hands me a second letter.
We’ve lost the house.
She has been hit with a new bylaw. A lobotomy of a bylaw.
low, low these bylaws.
It has to do with Allison being a GSAW landowner. Caesar’s handled the loan and now they’re saying her down payment has been revoked and she’s defaulted on her loan. Out of their generosity and compassion, Caesar’s Inc. is granting us a full 90 days to find shelter. AND they encourage her to get a small tattoo in a discreet portion of her body—which probably means just above her C-section scar—with the words Uxor Totus in bold colors.
On top of this, we have lost all of the furnishings—something about their being purchased with the intention of enhancing the value of the house; the china and silver—this to offset certain auditor expenses; the entire collection of gladiator books, which will aid in establishing a staff to manage the distribution of the contents of the home, including her ceremonial gowns, and yes, all the helmets and weapons, the heavy and light trophies, the new and antique shields. Even Thad’s anime collection and the tiny milk cans that are loaded and unloaded on the Lionel system. No mention is made of her jewelry—a glaring oversight—though she only has the one necklace of any value: the emerald. In this same letter is a notice of increase to her insurance rates, including but not limited to: health, life, disability, and something unique to Glad culture: divorce insurance. And then this, in bold, at the bottom of the letter: You have our every assurance, that once Lyn G. agrees to marry Uber, as stipulated in the GSA Bylaws, we would be able to restore said properties . . .
If ever there were a moment to neatly and cleanly lose one’s head this would be it. I have to say something to her and I don’t know where to start. But the front doorbell rings suddenly and Allison touches my face and seems to brighten.
—Hold on a minute, Kitten.
She walks into the foyer, her heels clicking purposefully on the wood floor. I decide I’d better follow her.
—You’re letting the reporters in? I call.
When she turns round I already know what she’s going to say.
—I expect you to be dignified for Tommy’s sake.
Then she pulls the front door open.
UBER has come to call.
CHAPTER