by Robyn Carr
“After all this time?” Cassie said, grabbing her mother’s hands. “I wondered if you ever would!”
“What do you mean?”
“Mama, do you think I’m completely dense? As if I don’t know about him? I’ve known since Disneyland!”
“Disney...? What?”
“Don’t you remember? Or did it just blend in with all the other times? Remember your argument over where to have lunch? Remember what he did?”
Lauren frowned, trying to remember.
“He wanted sushi. You said we girls wouldn’t eat sushi. I was seven. I wanted a hamburger or hot dog. You said you were going to take us to McDonald’s. He told you we could eat rice, but we didn’t want rice. He argued and argued and we started to act up because we were hungry and he started to pick on you and said that we were spoiled brats and it was your fault. Pretty soon you just turned to walk away and he—”
“Oh God,” Lauren said, covering her eyes with her hand. He had tripped her. She went down hard, fell flat on her face, bloodied her nose. And he rushed to her side saying honey, honey, you all right? And a man nearby also rushed to her and said, What were you doing, man? You tripped her! And Brad said, Don’t be ridiculous, this is my wife! And the man insisted, he’d seen Brad stick out a foot, hook it around her ankle...
“He tripped me,” Lauren said.
“That sort of thing happened a lot,” Cassie said.
“No, that was very rare,” Lauren said.
Cassie bit her lip and held silent for a long moment. “Even once isn’t right,” she finally said in a quiet voice. “You have to do this, Mama. Please.”
* * *
“Thanks for coming over, Mike,” Beau said. Drew, of course, already lived at the house. “I have new keys for both you guys. I’ve changed the locks. It’s official, we’re getting divorced. I’m going to do everything I can to keep this from turning into world war three.”
“You’re what?” Michael said. “I thought you were in counseling!”
“Yes, we went a few times. It wasn’t working, I’m sorry.”
“Did you try?” he demanded. “Really try?”
There was so much Beau wanted to explain. He wished he could make them understand how demoralizing it is to have your wife, your partner, completely unable to commit, unable to take responsibility. The sense of failure at never being enough for her. She was happy once... “I’ve tried several times. I was the one to say it—I think it’s time we let it end. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“So that’s it? And you changed the locks? What’s she supposed to do?”
“She’s hardly homeless—she has a pretty swank flat in the city. Her half of the closet is empty. Here’s what’s supposed to happen. Our lawyers are supposed to talk about how we divide our property. In California it’s called No Fault. That means—”
“I know what it means!” Michael said. “And you locked her out of the house. It’s her house, too!”
“Hey, Mike, back off,” Drew said. “This isn’t Beau’s fault, you know that!”
“She’s not locked out,” Beau said. “She’s welcome any time, as long as someone’s here. She can have anything she wants, but it has to be documented for the lawyers so that at the end of the day, it’s fair. When a couple goes through as many separations as we have, it doesn’t exactly look like the marriage is working. Come on, it’s obvious to you guys it’s not going to work. It was probably obvious two separations ago. I did my best.”
“You don’t seem all torn up about it,” Mike said.
“Hey, what’s up your butt?” Drew asked. “It’s not like Beau hasn’t jumped through all her hoops!”
“She’s our mother!” Mike said. “She’s brokenhearted!”
“Aw shit, she called you,” Beau said.
“Last night,” Mike said. “Crying!”
“Listen to me, don’t let anyone put this on you!” Beau said. “It was her decision to leave, her decision to move out. This is a marriage, not a revolving door!” He took a breath. “She’s only brokenhearted because she didn’t get her way. She calls it off, she wants to turn it back on, then off again, then—”
“You know she’s never happy,” Drew said to Michael. “Come on. It’s not like you didn’t expect this.”
“Neither did your mom,” Beau said. “I guess she thought we’d do this for life, back and forth. But I don’t want to spend my life like that. I’m sorry if it hurts, I’m sorry if you’re angry, but I’m done. I think a divorce will give your mom a chance to start fresh without looking back all the time. I think it’s time we all found some peace. That’s all I’m looking for. Peace.”
“So you locked her out of her own house,” Michael said, angry.
“She’s not locked out, she just can’t live here now. I bought the house. I lived in it before I met you guys and your mom. And she left. I didn’t ask her to leave. I asked her to stay and try to work it out. But she needed space and some freedom. Now she has it. And we’ll resolve this fairly. Whatever settlement the lawyers can come up with that works for everyone involved, that’s what we’ll do. I’m not punishing anyone. I just want to get on with my life. For that matter, I want you guys to be able to get on with yours.” He looked at them imploringly. “Haven’t you been through this enough?”
“You just don’t love her anymore?” Mike asked.
Beau pulled out a dining room chair and sat at the table. “Michael, in a way I’ll always love your mother. For starters, she’s your mother—she gave me you guys. Watching you grow up has been the best part of my life so far. I care about Pam. But I can’t fix what’s wrong.”
“So now I guess you’ll just go?” Michael said.
Beau was stunned. Drew made a sound of disgust, as if he couldn’t believe his brother just said that. “Why would I go anywhere? Worst case, I have to move out and let your mom have the house. So if that happens, I’ll find something else. There will always be room for you two. And your families, when they come.”
Michael got a little teary. “Sure,” he said. He swiped an arm under his nose like a seven-year-old.
“Mike, I know I’m not your biological father but I’ve always thought of you as a son. You have to know that.”
“Then why can’t you make it work?” he asked.
“Don’t be dumb,” Drew shot out. “It’s not Beau’s fault and you know it. Mom can be a pain in the ass.”
But Beau knew that wasn’t the problem Mike was having. “I’m not going anywhere, Mike. The only way you’ll get rid of me is if you don’t want me in your life and I hope to God that never happens. You’re an adult—you choose your friends and family. I want to be your chosen family. But that’s up to you. Not to your girlfriend, your grandparents, your teachers or the cops—just you. And incidentally, if your mom puts pressure on you to break off your relationship with me, telling her no is an option. I want to be there for you, like always. If you’ll let me.”
“It’s just that she wants us to be all together so much,” he said, sounding pitifully like a child.
“Tell her, Michael. Tell your mother there’s nothing you can do about her marriage. Ask her to please not fuck up your head over this. It’s not fair.”
“Don’t say anything to her, okay?” he said.
“I’m not getting between you and your mom,” Beau said. “But please don’t let her do this to you. You don’t have to get in the middle of this to prove you love her.”
“I can’t stand to see her hurt,” he said.
Pam had been doing that for years, putting her boys in the position of parent and protector. Drew was more resistant to that pressure. Or maybe he was just more oblivious. Good-old easygoing Drew. He seemed to have known since he was about seven there was nothing he could do about his mother or his father. When Pam went on a rant, he just withdrew until the storm passed.
“I know. It’s hard to see someone you love hurting. But remember. This was her choice. Now she’s going to have to be the grown-up and get through it. I’ll take care of her the way I always have—she has a great job and is far from broke. Michael, divorce is unpleasant as hell, but it’s not fatal. At least half your friends have been through it. All I want is that your future marriage doesn’t suffer. Learn from this.”
Michael just hung his head. He hadn’t wanted to blame Beau, Beau knew that. The poor kid couldn’t help it. His father practically abandoned him. His mother was unstable half the time.
“Hey, I was going to suggest we go out to dinner but if there’s a chance it could get emotional, let’s order in, get a pizza or something. I want you to be able to talk about this if you have questions or something. I’ll call and—”
“Nah, I gotta pass,” Michael said.
“Drew?” Beau asked.
“I’ll go out with Mike for a while,” he said, though he didn’t look too happy about it. “I won’t be late.”
“Just drive carefully,” Beau said. “I think I’ll go out for a beer or something. Just an hour or two. Then I’ll be here the rest of the night. Come here, Michael,” he said, opening his arms. “I love you, man. We’re still a family. This will settle down.”
“Yeah,” he said with a sniff. “Sure.”
When the boys had gone, Beau called Tim. “You got any cold beer?”
“I might have a couple,” he said.
“Good. Because I feel like shit. I’ll be there in twenty.”
* * *
Lauren had taken some pictures on her cell phone of Cassie’s new flat and said it was really adorable. “Looks like an adorable dump to me,” Brad said. She didn’t waste any more of his time. She did her laundry from her trip, folded it and put it away. She had prepared for this moment, organizing her things into bureau drawers so that she could quickly and effortlessly lift them out and into suitcases and duffels. She had listed exactly what household items she would need; she’d already taken two boxes of such items to Beth’s garage. Her lawyer had warned her that it might be a while before she got back into her house.
The time had come. Finally.
She had not told Lacey yet but after Cassie’s reaction, she was optimistic—obviously her daughters had witnessed some of the vulgar things that had passed between them. She would call Lacey as soon as she could.
On the lawyer’s advice, Brad would be served with not only divorce papers but a legal document instructing him that there would be penalties if he emptied out their accounts or ran up charge accounts in her name. She’d contacted her own credit card companies—the ones he routinely paid—and canceled them. She opened new ones and had a debit card from her personal bank account. She took no money from their joint accounts. She had put aside some money over the past several years, money he didn’t know about that allowed her to make the deposit on a rental and would get her through the first few weeks of separation. And then there was the money from the sale of Honey’s house. It was in a trust, safe from Brad’s hands. Beth guarded it carefully. And Lauren fully intended to give it all to Beth if she eventually received a settlement from the divorce.
With the proceeds from the sale of the house, her little stash and her job, she’d be all right even if Brad found a way to freeze her out.
She dropped her things off at Beth’s, then went to work. She told her boss first. Bea said, “Oh Lauren, what a shock! I’m so sorry.” Of course everyone at work thought she lived a charmed life—that’s what she’d intended them to think. First of all, she felt she was liked at work yet had no close friends there. She was rarely included in their away-from-work socializing, probably because they all thought they had nothing in common. She never let on that life in that big house was cold and heartless. She never complained about Brad.
Then she told some of the people who worked for her, warning them that she might run into scheduling problems if she had legal emergencies. Again, they said they were sorry, but she detected in their voices that they didn’t really feel sorry for her at all.
Brad texted her three times. Pick up my cleaning. Make an appointment for my car to be detailed while I’m at the hospital, Tuesday is best. What’s for dinner?
She answered: Okay. Okay. Maybe takeout.
Then she went home and waited for him. She sat at the kitchen counter, still dressed in work clothes, and tried to stem the trembling. He was not later than usual but it felt like she had waited for hours. She didn’t have a glass of wine but when this was behind her, she was having a big one. Very big.
He walked in through the garage door, briefcase in hand, and seemed surprised to see her sitting there. He didn’t smile or say hello. He pretty much ignored her. “Your cleaning is in the closet and you have an appointment for the detailers at noon on Tuesday. Meet them at the car. I told them it would be in the doctor’s lot. And I’m leaving.”
“Going somewhere?” he asked, leafing through the mail.
“I’m filing for divorce, Brad. I’ve arranged to have you served at the office tomorrow—you can either tell your office staff or just say you’re expecting some legal documents. If you’re not there, there’s always the hospital. But I thought you’d appreciate telling those people yourself.”
He put down the mail. “What brought this on?”
“Twenty-four years of abuse,” she said. “I’ve canceled my charge cards and had my mail forwarded.”
“Going with the clothes on your back?” he asked. Then he smiled mockingly.
“I’ve packed some clothes but I’ll wait for our settlement before taking anything else from the house.”
“And where the hell are you going?”
“My cell phone will be turned on if you need to talk to me. If you harass me, I’ll block your calls.”
“You’re such an idiot,” he said. “You’ll regret this.”
“I believe it will be difficult but I don’t think I’ll regret it.”
He continued to smile. “Oh, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Why bother? Really. Our marriage died years ago. What am I besides a housekeeper and arm piece for your social obligations?”
“A very well-paid housekeeper,” he said. “And not that much of an arm-piece anymore. You came from nothing, Lauren. Is that what you want to go back to? Nothing?”
“I came from a loving if modest home and I can support myself.”
“If you walk out that door, you won’t get another dime from me. I’ll make you suffer, wait and see.”
“I’m sure you will try,” she said. “When you get the papers, you’ll have my attorney’s contact information.”
“I won’t pay another dime of support for your daughters, not for education or living expenses,” he said.
“That would be so sad, Brad. They’re your daughters, too. Do you want them to resent you? Hate you for cutting them off?”
“I was very clear—if you divorce me, I’m done supporting any of you. You’re doing it to them, not me. You know the price you’ll pay for this is high. I’ve warned you.”
“Why?” she said imploringly. “We haven’t even shared a bedroom in years! We’re not friends! What the hell does it matter to you? I don’t delude myself that you love me! By now you’ve made it abundantly clear I mean nothing to you! On some level, you actually hate me.”
“I will if you do this. You don’t make the rules.”
“Then tell them you ended it!” she said. “Your secret is safe with me. Tell people I’m a hopeless drunk or a shoplifter or drug addict and you threw me out! Who cares? For the sake of our daughters, let’s end this amicably. Someday we’ll stare over the same baby’s head at a christening and—”
“I doubt that very much, Lauren,” he said icily. Then he went back to leafing through his mail. As though she didn’t exis
t.
And she left.
She had never prepared herself for the idea that he might be ready for this. Cassie wouldn’t have told him. But would she have leaked something to Lacey? Or perhaps Brad had been expecting this for a long time. He should. She’d been as compliant as was possible but when he’d pushed her into a corner, she fought back as much as she dared. He might’ve said a lot of mean things, but she hadn’t exactly been silent.
Sex came to mind. She’d always had a hard time with orgasms and it displeased him, as if she was doing it on purpose. More than once he said, “You could try a little harder, Lauren.” And more than once she’d said, “Are you sure you’re trying?” But that made him angry and when he wasn’t getting his way, he pouted or became abusive or looked for ways to punish her.
She had to see Lacey now. She hadn’t planned to see her tonight, but now she would have to. Brad would probably call his daughters. He was very good at building alliances when he needed to. So, instead of setting up some time with her oldest daughter for tomorrow evening, she called and asked if she had a little time tonight. To talk.
“We’d better talk,” Lacey said. “I hear you’ve lost your mind.”
She took a breath. “Not at all, honey. Do you have some time now? I can drive over. Or we can meet somewhere.”
“There’s no one here at the moment,” Lacey said. “Come right now and we can get this misunderstanding handled.”
CHAPTER SIX
All the way to Lacey’s apartment, Lauren’s stomach was in a knot. It was a familiar feeling. She’d spent most of the last twenty-four years with a tight stomach thanks to Brad. She was kind of amazed she hadn’t worked it into an ulcer, swallowing her feelings like she did.
Lacey lived with a roommate in a quaint little apartment in the Menlo Park area, close to Stanford. It was ridiculously expensive, very upscale, which had always been important to Lacey. But, like Cassie’s, it was solid and safe and comfortable. She wondered how Lacey would manage when she was finally on her own. She’d never really worked. She’d had token jobs that didn’t interfere with her life too much but she’d never had to struggle.