AUTHORS INTERVIEWING CHARACTERS: Mary Camarillo interviews Brenda Lockhart

June 1, 2021 | By Women Writers Women Books | Reply More

AUTHORS INTERVIEWING CHARACTERS: Mary Camarillo interviews Brenda Lockhart

In “The Lockhart Women,” Brenda Lockhart is devastated when her husband announces he’s leaving her for another woman, a coworker at the post office. He drops this bombshell on the night of the O. J. Simpson slow speed chase through Southern California. Left alone, Brenda gets hooked on the media frenzy surrounding the murder investigations and eventual trial. She’s convinced Simpson is innocent. Meanwhile her two teenage daughters are busy making their own bad decisions about lovers and crime.

—

I find Brenda Lockhart sitting on her couch in front of the television in her home in Huntington Beach, California. Brenda’s a tall, stunning blond with a striking resemblance to the recently murdered Nicole Brown Simpson. She mutes the volume on the TV.

Brenda: I hope you don’t mind if I keep this on while we chat. The court is due back any minute.

Me: Were you surprised when they decided not to seek the death penalty against Simpson?

Brenda: Not at all. People really like O. J. And most Californians don’t believe in the death penalty.

Me: Sounds like you know a lot about this. I can only catch the highlights after work.

Brenda: I’ve watched every single minute of it. It’s fascinating. The police are trying to frame him, you know. They planted all that blood and those gloves in his driveway.

Me: I’m not so sure about that.

Brenda: You just haven’t paid as much attention as I have. My girls aren’t interested either and my husband, Frank, keeps telling me to turn it off. He thinks I should be out looking for a job.

Me: What kind of job?

Brenda: I have no idea. Frank never wanted me to work before. He liked me being at home, raising our girls, keeping his house clean, having dinner on the table as soon as he walked in the door. Until he met that woman and moved into her condo.

Brenda reaches for a Kleenex.

Me: I’m so sorry.

Brenda: She’s not even pretty. (Brenda blows her nose.) And she’s older than me. She’s even older than Frank.

Me: Wow. That must be hard to deal with.

Brenda: Maybe I should look for a new husband instead of a job. (She points at the cover on a People magazine sitting on the coffee table.) Robert Kardashian, for example. He’s a handsome man. Too bad he’s already married.

Me: What kind of career did you envision before you got married?

Brenda: I didn’t. My mother always looked down on women who had to work.

Me: You didn’t want to go to college or learn a trade?

Brenda: I was a hostess in a steak house and then I met Frank.

Me: Sounds like you have some restaurant experience at least.

Brenda: That was a long time ago, before I had my two girls.

Me: How old are they now?

Brenda: Seventeen and eighteen. Allison’s a senior at Ocean View High School, although I really need to get her in a better school district and away from her boyfriend who absolutely does not deserve her. And Peggy was planning on attending Cal State Long Beach, but Frank talked her into going to Golden West College part time and working at the post office. I swear Peggy will do anything to please her father.

Me: Your husband also works at the post office?

Brenda: He’s been there forever. He’s a manager now. He always said he didn’t want the girls to work there but he obviously said a lot of things that weren’t true. Has anyone ever told you that you look like Marcia Clark? Maybe because of that perm.

Me: You mean the prosecutor? Thank you! She seems pretty sharp.

Brenda: A little too sharp if you ask me. No offense but perms really aren’t that attractive on anyone.

I swallow hard and remind myself not to get defensive.

Me: It’s easy to take care of. Sounds like you got married and started your family at a young age.

Brenda: I should have waited. Do you have kids?

Me: No. I’ve never been married.

Brenda stares at my face, obviously trying to figure out how old I am.

Brenda: I was barely twenty when I got pregnant. You’re smart to wait. I actually met O. J. at the steak house once. It was pretty exciting to see him again, that night of the chase.

Me, confused: You mean on television? They say ninety-five thousand people were watching.

Brenda: No, I mean in person. We were on the freeway going to that woman’s condo for a party. O. J. drove right past us and looked straight at me. I’m sure he recognized me.

Me: Well, you’ve probably heard this before, but you look a lot like Nicole Simpson. Maybe he thought he was seeing a ghost.

Brenda: I don’t think I look like her at all. Nicole had a much bigger chin. Oh look, it’s starting again. She unmutes the television.

Judge Ito: Back on the record in the Simpson matter. Mr. Simpson is again present before the court with his counsel.

Brenda: I just love how he says the same exact thing every time before he starts. It makes it all seem so official. Important—you know? Part of history?

Me: I can’t remember cameras ever being allowed in the courtroom.

Brenda: I don’t know why they don’t do it all the time. It’s better than soap operas. Plus, it takes my mind off all the crap Frank’s putting me through.

Me, standing I’d better get back to work.

Brenda: Suit yourself. She turns up the volume.

Me: Thanks for talking to me. Good luck with your daughters and the job search.

Brenda doesn’t answer. She leans back on the couch, stares at the screen and doesn’t even look up when I close the front door.

—

The Lockhart Women, Mary Camarillo’s debut novel, was recently award First Place in the Next Generation Indie Awards for First Novel and will be published by She Writes Press on June 1, 2021. Camarillo’s poems and prose have appeared in publications such as The Sonora Review, 166 Palms, TAB Journal and The Ear. She lives in Huntington Beach, California with her husband who plays ukulele and their terrorist cat Riley. You can find her on Facebook at mary.camarillo.31, on Instagram @marycamel13, on twitter @marycamelmary. Find out more about Mary’s work at https://www.marycamarillo.com.