A Minor Fall

by Price Ainsworth

  She had only been to the house a handful of times in the past: once for a family reunion which was held at the City Park across the street from the house, once for a high school reunion (go bulldogs!), a Christmas, and a Thanksgiving. Ari had driven from the Memphis airport each of those times. On every visit, Beth had wondered about how the city had come by its name. She had never been to Milan, Italy, but she doubted that it looked very much like this.

  She liked Ari’s parents well enough. His mom seemed particularly nice. They were the kind of people that are difficult to get to know very well—polite and courteous although somewhat closed off and unemotional. They did not seem particularly proud of their son, but Beth was sure that his mom would blame Beth for their separation.

  Because of the flood of lawsuits filed against him and his former employer Merck in Texas, Ari had fled the jurisdiction and was not answering his cell phone. Of course, that was not a reason for not taking Beth’s calls.

  The marriage was over. They both knew it, but there was the small matter of making it official, and Beth had flown to Tennessee with papers she had drafted to obtain an agreed divorce. Her plan was to meet with Ari, see if there was any hope of reconciliation and, if not, try to get him to sign the papers.

  There was not much to divide between them. They had always kept separate checking accounts, a fact that Beth now saw as a harbinger of the marriage’s ultimate demise, and Ari had taken with him when he left most of the items that he would want in the divorce: his laptop, cell phone, and the clothes that he wore on a regular basis. Beth would be happy if he took the television, stereo, the rest of his clothes, the Bowflex weight machine that sat in their guest bedroom, and anything else he might have wanted, but she assumed that he would never return to claim them.

  When she drove up to the brick house across from the park, she thought about how much it reminded her of the house she had grown up in back in Pennsylvania. It was a modest house with a well-kept yard. Ari’s dad was a mail carrier in Milan and had held the job most of his adult life. Ari had been a three-sport varsity athlete in high school, and Beth could imagine the parade of kids, boys and girls, that had come to the house when Ari was in school to hang out with the star athlete. Now the street was quiet. Most of the residents were past their child-rearing years, and as happened in rural Pennsylvania, the younger generation had moved off to seek better paying jobs in bigger cities far from home.

  When Beth finally got up the courage to get out of the car and go up the cement walkway to the front door, Ari came outside, letting the screen door slam behind him. She said, “Hello,” and opened her arms to hug him, but he held back and did not say anything.

  He was wearing only Oakley sunglasses, gym shorts, and running shoes with low cut socks. His brown hair was parted in the middle and feathered back over his ears. His chest and shoulders were muscled, but not too much so, and his abdomen and waist were well defined and would probably look that way for his entire life. She imagined that he was about to go for a jog around the park and perhaps saw the car and came outside when he saw who had gotten out. In any event, it was apparent to Beth that he was not going to invite her to come inside.

  That was just as well. She dreaded as much as anything having the conversation she was about to have in front of Ari’s mom. She assumed Ari’s dad was at work.

  “Ari,’ she said, “I’ve been trying to call you. We need to talk.”

  “I know.” He said. “I’ve been meaning to call you back. Mom said that you might be coming to Tennessee. I should have called you to tell you that it wasn’t necessary.”

  “That’s okay. I’m here now.” Beth said. Because of his shades, she could not tell if he was looking at her when he spoke. “You aren’t ever coming back to Houston, are you?”

  “I don’t know.” He said and shrugged his shoulders. “Probably not anytime soon. I couldn’t stand all the process servers coming to the apartment. I nearly hit the last one.”

  “They will find you here, eventually.” Beth said. “You know that you don’t really have anything to worry about regarding the lawsuits. As best I can tell, you’ve just been named in the cases for jurisdictional purposes so that the plaintiffs can keep the cases in state court. You just need to be careful to turn each set of papers over to Merck’s lawyers. You understand?”

  Ari nodded that he did, but Beth was not sure that he really did understand.

  “Listen, forget about the lawsuits for a moment. What about us? What do you want to do about us? Are we just going to let the past few years count for nothing and walk away?”

  Ari did not respond.

  “You’re not coming back. Honestly, I don’t feel like I’m going to be invited to come here. I don’t know if I would want to do that anyway.”

  Ari nodded, but again he did not respond. There was an extended moment where neither of them said anything, both shifting their weight from one foot to the other and waiting for the other to say something.

  “Ari, do you want to get a divorce?” She asked, finally. “I’ve drafted some papers. I don’t really know anything about this area of law, but I found some forms and I think this will take care of it. Do you want me to leave them with you so that you can look them over and let me know what you want to do?”

  He stared out across the park and sighed. Another extended moment passed before he asked, “Do you have the papers with you now?”

  Beth turned back down the sidewalk without saying anything and got the packet of papers she had left on the front seat of the car. She went back to where he was standing, halfway between the front door of his parents’ home and her rental car. He took the papers out of the envelope Beth handed him, took off his sunglasses, and tried to read the pages as tears welled up in his eyes. Beth thought that she caught him wipe at a tear, although it could have been that he was just adjusting his eyes to the sunlight.

  “It’s pretty straightforward.” Beth said. “Of course, anything you want in the apartment you can have. I don’t know how I could get things like the weight machine to you. I’ll keep them for awhile if you think of something you want me to do with them.”

  “Will I have to come back for a hearing or something?” Ari asked, looking up from the pages he was holding. Again, he did not look closely at her and instead kept staring out across the park.

  “No.” she said. “I don’t think so. I just have to file them and then in a few days—they call it a cooling off period—we’re . . . the divorce will be final. Is this really what you want to do Ari? We could talk to somebody, maybe a counselor. It might be good for us. It couldn’t hurt, at least, to try. I could look for a job here. Maybe get an apartment—we don’t have to do anything right now.”

  “Do I need to sign?” He asked, putting the shades back on and handing Beth the packet of papers.

  “Yes.” She said. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring a pen, though. Why don’t you think about it? Sign if you want. Whenever you’re ready. Then send the papers back to me at the apartment in Houston.”

  “No.” He said. “Wait here. I’ll get a pen.” He handed her the stack of papers, turned and bounded up the walk, and went back into the house.

  Beth was leaning against the car when he got back with a pen. She handed him the documents opened to the page for his signature. She had not yet signed her name where indicated. He signed the page, turned back to the front page, and handed her the executed documents. He handed her the pen and said, “I guess you still have to sign.”

  Tears were running down her cheeks. “I guess this is it, then.” She said. “Goodbye, Ari.”

  He nodded and walked around the car to the park on the other side of the street. He took off running, slowly at first, but he picked up speed as he got farther away. His long legs stretching out easily and gracefully. Beth was crying now, and she watched to see if he was ever going to look back, but he didn’t. As she got in the car to drive away, she noticed that Ari’s mom was standing at the screen door. She did not wave or
motion for Beth to come inside.

  Beth cried the entire way back to Memphis. When she got to the hotel, it was after one o’clock. She stopped at the front desk to see if she had received any messages, but there were none. She went up to her room and lay down on the bed to try to rest her eyes.

  Like most lawyers, her first divorce case had been pro bono for a family member, and like most lawyers who had handled a case like this, she knew that she never wanted to handle another one. Her next meeting was not until six that evening, and she wanted to be rested for it. Maintaining her composure at that meeting might be more difficult than it had been at the morning meeting, and she had not done a very good job at that one.

  Around five o’clock, she made herself get out bed, combed her hair, brushed her teeth, and watched a little television until it was almost six. Then she went downstairs and walked the short distance across Union Avenue to the Rendezvous. She saw Tim Sullivan on the floor below street level sitting at a table towards the back. She made her way through the restaurant to his table. He was wearing a grey, chalk stripe suit with a starched white shirt and a purple, polka dot tie. His suit coat was draped over the back of his chair, revealing a pair of purple paisley suspenders. He was drinking a beer and there was an almost full pitcher in front of him. He stood as she approached the table and pulled a chair out for her.

  “Thank you for joining me.” Sullivan said. “I wasn’t sure this would work out when you called the other day, but this is perfect. I’m on my way back to Houston from Kentucky, and Memphis is a good place to take on fuel for the flight home. It’s also a great place to stop for dinner. How long are you in town for?”

  “Just a couple of days. I had some things that I had to take care of here in Tennessee.” Beth said.

  “Let me get you a beer.” Sullivan said, as a waiter brought over a frosted mug and set it down in front of Beth. Sullivan poured her a beer from the pitcher. “Yeah, that’s what you said when you called. Did everything come out like you wanted?”

  “I guess.” Beth replied.

  “Are you hungry?” Sullivan asked.

  “I am a little bit.” Beth said.

  “Good. Let’s split an order of ribs.” He motioned to the waiter who came directly to the table. After ordering, Sullivan turned back to Beth.

  “I’m sorry that you couldn’t keep working on the Kentucky case. I hope it is not because of anything that has happened at the office to upset you.”

  “No.” Beth said. “I’ve just got some family stuff that I need to take care of. I enjoyed working on the case. I’m afraid that there is still a lot that needs to be done. Although the plaintiff profiles are almost complete, the information still has to be formatted properly. I think my notes can be deciphered. I’m sure that Davy’s secretary Eileen can figure out what I was doing. But it will take somebody several hours at the computer to convert the profiles into interrogatory answers.

  “I’m really sorry to be leaving so abruptly. That is all I called to talk to you about the other day. I just wanted to say goodbye and thank you in person. It wasn’t necessary for you to interrupt your trip to meet with me, and I appreciate it. I’ve left jobs before, but I don’t think that I’ve ever left one where I hadn’t completed my assignment. Again, I’m very sorry Mr. Sullivan.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we can figure it out. It was nice having you around. I hope that you will include my name on your list of references.” Sullivan said. “Do you know what you are going to do next?” He asked as waiter set a large platter of ribs down on the table in front of them and gave each of them a clean plate.

  Sullivan waited for Beth to put a few on her plate before taking any for himself. She knew that eating the ribs was going to be messy. There really is no polite, lady-like way to eat a barbecued rib even if it is dryrubbed in the Memphis style rather than dripping with sauce as they are often served in Texas. She could not remember when she had last eaten, and the first bite confirmed for her how hungry she was.

  “These are really good.” She said, wiping her greasy fingers on a napkin and dabbing it at the corners of her mouth. She was relieved that Sullivan was being so nice to her, but she was concerned about what might have been Sullivan’s purpose in scheduling a meeting with her.

  “Let me ask you something.” Sullivan said.

  Beth picked up another rib. She was afraid of the question that she feared Sullivan was about to ask her and she wanted to be chewing when he asked it so that she could think out her answer before responding.

  “In your travels around eastern Kentucky, did you ever hear anything about the judge on our case?” Sullivan asked.

  “Yes.” Beth answered, relieved that it wasn’t the question that she feared he was going to ask. “It’s my understanding that he went on the bench right before the case was referred to your firm. The common sentiment among the plaintiffs is that he is in Boyd’s pocket. Apparently, the company paid out quite a bit on the earlier case, and our folks, your clients, think this judge was appointed by the governor to see that kind of thing doesn’t happen again.

  “I haven’t talked about this with Davy. I had assumed that he would have found out similar information and would have discussed it with you,” Beth said, putting down one rib and picking up another.

  “I may have Davy overloaded right now. I haven’t talked to him much in the last few days. Does he seem a bit disconnected to you right now?” Sullivan asked.

  Beth dropped the rib she was bringing to her mouth, leaving a greasy streak down the front of her white T-shirt. “Damn it.” She said, taking her napkin and trying to soak up the grease before it made too big of a stain on her shirt. Of course, the napkin itself was already greasy and her cleanup efforts only made the stain larger. She eventually put the napkin down in her lap and sighed. “I think that I’m only making it worse.” She said.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Sullivan said. “That’s supposed to happen when you eat ribs. They are not really any good unless you get them all over you.”

  Beth smiled, trying to feel less embarrassed. She waited for Sullivan to say something else, but he did not. He was waiting on her to answer his last question.

  When the silence between them became awkward, she could not stand it anymore and answered, “No. I don’t know any reason why Davy would be ‘disconnected’ right now.” She took her napkin and brushed lightly at her nose, suddenly fearing that she might have left a small spot of grease there. Sullivan, of course, instantly recognized the gesture for what it was; an indication that she was lying. He called it the “Pinocchio Rule.” Touching the nose when answering a question was Body Language 101, and he was too advanced in the study of human reactions to let it go by unnoticed.

  He considered pressing the issue and then thought better of it. He had already found out what he wanted to know. There was some connection between Beth and Davy—something intimate enough that when it came to personal issues Beth felt compelled to protect Davy. She had not felt such a compulsion when Sullivan had asked her what Davy knew about the case.

  She was a lovely young woman, and in a way he felt sorry for her. He assumed that something had happened between her and Davy, probably something sexual. He really did not blame Davy. She was very good-looking. In a different context, he might have made a pass at her himself. No doubt, she had wondered if he was going to do that very thing when she had called him to do her “exit interview” over the phone and he had suggested that they get together in person. Then when they compared schedules, and he setup their meeting in Memphis, she must have wondered if he had been trying to get her alone somewhere. He intended to allay that fear, but he could not help himself from toying with her just a little bit more.

  “Hey,” he said, “I have your last paycheck from the contract legal service.”

  He wiped his hands thoroughly on his napkin and opened a moist towelette package from several that the waiter had left on the table after Beth had dropped the rib. He cleaned his finger
s with the towelette also before reaching behind him into the coat he had put on the back of his chair and pulling out an envelope. He handed the check to Beth, but she did not open it.

  “I think we put a little extra in there to help tide you over until your next gig. I’d have to ask Riza. She handles this sort of thing. I guess I could have let Riza give you the check. I know she appreciates the work you did on this case. She and Davy are on their way to Memphis right now. I sent the plane over to pick them up. They won’t be here for an hour or so, and then we’ll need to leave early in the morning. But I’m sure they would both like to see you, and you know, ask you any questions they might have about completing the plaintiffs’ profiles.”

  “No.” Beth said. “I mean, I better get back to my errands, although it would be nice to see them.” She stood suddenly, almost backing her chair into a waiter that was carrying a tray loaded with empty beer pitchers. “Extra?” She asked herself, “for quitting a job? Was this some kind of a come on?” She knew that she did not want to stay to find out, and she certainly didn’t want to be around when Davy and Riza got there. Before leaving, she extended her still greasy hand to Sullivan.

  “Mr. Sullivan, thank you for dinner. I’ve enjoyed working for you and the firm. It is a very interesting place. You’ve got a fine young lawyer and son-in-law in Davy. I’m sure the two of you will find a way to be successful in the Kentucky case.”

  “Well thank you, Beth.” Sullivan said standing. “I hope everything works out for you as well.”

  On her walk back to the hotel, Beth wondered if her speech at the end, the one she had been rehearsing in her mind for the last few days, sounded too practiced and stiff, and whether she had only made matters worse for Davy. She should never have agreed to meet Sullivan in person and just left matters the way they were during their phone conversation. Still, it would be nice to have that last paycheck; apparently it was going to be the last one she’d receive for some time. When she got back to the hotel, she asked the concierge to send up a bottle of chardonnay and an opener. Her plan was to try to get some sleep, stay in her room until mid-morning after the Peters & Sullivan team departed, and then to head back to Houston.