The Plan

by Kim Pritekel

He took a long look at Jim before nodding at her and returning to his apartment.

  Eleanor turned to Jim, as well. He stood in the center of the hallway, whiskey bottle held between two fingers by its neck while the revolver was held limply in the other hand. She nodded toward it. “What’s that for?”

  He looked down at it, almost as though remembering he was holding it. He halfheartedly raised it. “You’re gonna tell me where my wife is,” he declared, taking a step toward her.

  “She’s not here,” she said simply.

  “Bullshit!” he exclaimed, holding the gun a little firmer. “Where is she?”

  She let out a heavy sigh, heartbroken to see the man standing before her. His suit was sloppy, tie loosened, and shirt partially untucked. His jacket was wrinkled as were his trousers. He looked as though he hadn’t shaved that morning, and his hair obviously hadn’t been greased that day, the bangs hanging in his eyes.

  Walking to her open apartment door, she stood aside, looking at him as she indicated with her hand that he should go look for himself. As he passed her, the smell of Jack Daniels was strong. She followed him in, closing her apartment door softly behind her so as not to bother her neighbors anymore.

  She walked into the kitchen, irritation flashing hot as she stood by the table, arms crossed over her chest. She could hear him in her bedroom, opening her closet door and even pushing the shower curtain aside once he reached the bathroom.

  She glared at him once he appeared, shoulders slumped and looking utterly defeated. He looked as though he couldn’t decide if he wanted to yell or cry. She was very surprised by the gun, but she now saw it as the actions of a desperate man, though she wasn’t entirely sure where that desperation lay.

  Walking over to him, she grabbed his wrist with one hand and with gentle fingers, removed the pistol from him. “Come on,” she said. “Sit down.”

  She walked over to the counter, took the gun in both hands, and pulled the pin to release the cylinder. She let out a small sigh of relief to find the Smith & Wesson was unloaded. Slipping the cylinder back into place, she set the revolver on the counter and stepped back over to the table where, unbeknownst to him, Jim had planted himself in the very chair his wife had sat in earlier that afternoon.

  Taking the seat to his right, Eleanor studied his face, noting he refused to meet her gaze. “What’s going on, Jim? Give me one reason I shouldn’t have you arrested.”

  “Lysette,” he said quietly. “That’s the reason.” He sat back and unscrewed the cap on the bottle before taking a swig. Face screwed up with the burn of the alcohol, he offered the bottle to her.

  She stared at it for a moment before taking it from him and taking her own swig, a shiver racing through her body as the burning whiskey did. “Yikes.”

  He grinned, taking the bottle back and setting it aside. “She took off,” he said, any mirth gone from his expression. “Figured she’d come here.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “No.” She wasn’t about to tell him that she’d already seen her that day.

  “If I ask you a question, Eleanor, will you tell me the truth?” he asked, staring down at his hands, which rested on the table.

  “Of course,” she said, though her stomach lurched. But she’d promised him and would answer his questions.

  “Are you and my wife having sex?” he asked, gaze still unwilling or unable to meet her own.

  “No,” she said simply and honestly. “We are absolutely not.”

  He finally looked up and studied her for a long moment before nodding. He reached for the liquor bottle again, but Eleanor stopped him.

  “Slow your roll there, mister,” she said, taking the bottle and getting to her feet. She grabbed two drinking glasses and sprinkled in some ice cubes along with Coca-Cola and finally, a splash of whiskey each, though barely any in her own. She brought the glasses back to the table and set his in front of him. “I have a feeling you need to talk, so let’s keep a straight head, huh?”

  He gave her a grateful smile before wrapping a large hand around his drink. “Thanks.” He sipped thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. “But you do love her, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do,” Eleanor responded easily. “I never stopped.”

  “And you two weren’t in contact in any way all these years, until last fall?” he pried.

  She had a feeling these were questions he’d asked of Lysette and was trying to confirm her answers. Lysette had no reason to lie to him, so the truth should suffice for Eleanor, as well. “None. I wrote her a handful of letters when I was first incarcerated, but they went unanswered. That was in…” She glanced up at the ceiling as she did the mental math. “The last was sent back to me unopened in thirty-five, maybe early thirty-six, but she never received them, so it had nothing to do with her.”

  He nodded, seeming to take her at her word, taking another small sip. “This is good,” he said, studying the clear glass of dark liquid. “Never tried it with Coca-Cola before.”

  She smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He looked surprised but nodded. “Shoot.”

  “How did you meet her?”

  His eyebrows raised. “You mean, you guys haven’t chatted about all this?”

  “I think you have it in your head that she and I spend every waking moment together that she’s not in your visual presence. We don’t, haven’t.”

  He let out a heavy whiskey-scented sigh as he sat back in his chair, a hand running through his hair. “Well, she’d returned from France. Things started to get really ugly there. She won’t talk about it much, but I think she lost some good school friends when those Nazi bastards began clearing Paris of Jews. Bad time,” he said, taking a sip. “Her family was in California, so that’s where she went. She began working with the accounting office for the factories Davis owned, where I worked while in law school. God, she was gorgeous,” he whispered, staring off into a time where Eleanor didn’t want to be. It would have killed her to see Lysette fall in love or get married.

  She cleared her throat, forcing herself to ask questions that deep down she needed to know the answers to but didn’t want to. “How long did you date before you married?”

  “Almost two years.” He smirked. “Truth is, I didn’t want to wait that long, but she just wouldn’t say yes.” He glanced at her. “I guess now I know why,” he said, a bit of bitterness in his voice. “Did her parents know about you two?”

  Eleanor nodded. “They did. But more than that, they knew the incredibly bad place my mother and I were in, so they did all they could to help us get out.”

  “Until you took matters into your own hands, right? Killed your own father?” he spat.

  Eleanor felt anger rising but knew it had no place in that conversation. She knew Jim was angry and hurting, and whereas he couldn’t exactly take it out on his wife, she was the next best target. She was what stood in the way of the happy marriage he wanted, in his mind. She took a sip of her drink and waited for what he’d say next.

  “We had kids right away,” he said at length, tone quiet, flat. He smirked. “Hell, for all I know, all I was to her was a baby maker. Not like we had much of a marriage that way.” He stared off, a wrinkle forming between his eyes as his emotions rose.

  Eleanor felt for him, she truly did. But what she knew of Lysette, she wasn’t like regular women. “Jim,” she said softly. “Obviously, I wasn’t there and can’t read Lysette’s mind or intentions, but one thing I know is that Lysette is an extremely strong woman with an extremely strong mind.” She smirked. “Of anyone, I’m sure you know that. She’s not one to settle or give in, as it were. I absolutely cannot imagine Lysette agreeing to share her life with you if there wasn’t something about you that drew her to you.” That absolutely killed her to say, but she believed it to be true, and in that moment, the hurting man before her deserved the truth.

  “Yeah, but after a while, you settle in, get comfortable…” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 
“Jim,” Eleanor said, sitting forward to get his full attention. “Unlike most women, Lysette had the financial and emotional backing of her family had she wanted or needed it. She could have left at any time.”

  He gave her a side glance, studying her for a long moment before relaxing his arms a bit. “I hadn’t thought of it that way before,” he said with a rueful chuckle. “So she never really needed me per se, but she did choose to stay.”

  She gave him a small shrug. “Every coin has two sides, good and bad, pros and cons.”

  He smirked. “Jesus, what a mess,” he blew out, running his hand through his hair again. He took a long drink, nearly emptying the glass before slamming it back to the table and staring at it for a long time. The look on his face said he was struggling with something he wanted to say. “I need to tell you something,” he finally said, voice not much more than a whisper.

  “Okay,” she whispered back, not only the whiskey kicking in, but also to try to take a bit of the seriousness out of the situation, hopefully make him feel more comfortable with whatever he was about to reveal.

  “Can I…can I have another?” he asked, holding out his glass to her. “I think I need it for this.”

  “Sure.” She got up and quickly made him a second drink, placing it before him. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” He wrapped his hand around the glass, almost for comfort. “I got some very upsetting news last night at the dinner party we had for one of my retiring employees,” he began, staring down at his whiskey and Coca-Cola. “A gal I’ve been seeing was there, and she told me that she’s pregnant.”

  The air was knocked out of Eleanor at this one, both the news of an affair and the pregnancy. She fell back against her chair, her own hand reaching out to her mostly untouched drink. “I see. Have you been seeing her long? This woman.”

  “Almost two years,” he murmured, having the dignity to sound contrite.

  “Wait, you guys have only been here for—” She stopped herself when he seemed to sink further into himself. “You were already seeing her back in California, weren’t you?”

  He nodded, clearing his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

  Anger rose within her. “So let me get this straight,” she said, once again sitting forward in her chair. “You’ve been having a two-year affair with a woman that you moved halfway across the country to continue this affair with, got her pregnant, and you’re here waving a gun in my face because you’re jealous that your wife may be having an affair with me. Do I have that about right?” When he didn’t respond, she shook her head. “Pretty shady, Jim. And selfish.”

  Again, he cleared his throat and took a drink. “Yeah.”

  “Look,” she said, softening her tone. “Two years and a move is a lot to invest in someone, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, if all you’re looking for is a good piece of ass outside your marriage, you could easily find that here,” she said, indicating the apartment and town beyond it. “Hell, I get propositioned all the time. You men have this crazy idea that women are here for the taking. Sadly, some women do feed that narrative. That aside, you obviously care for this woman.”

  He nodded. “I do,” he agreed, a slight change in his demeanor with those words.

  “You love her?”

  “How can I answer that?” he asked, hands coming up in consternation before flopping back to the tabletop. “I’m a married man with two kids and a wife that I love very much.”

  Eleanor studied him for a long moment, considering how to word her next question to get the most straightforward answer. “Are you in love with Lysette, or are you simply trying to keep control of a situation you know you never controlled in the first place?”

  He gave her a hard look. “That’s harsh.”

  She said nothing, simply waited him out to consider her words.

  Finally, he glared at her. “You’re saying all this, trying to get me to think like you because you want Lysette for yourself.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Deflect all you want, but I’m not the married man who got another woman pregnant.” She took a long drink before adding, “Listen, you men like to have the status of the wife at home to raise your kids and give you credit as a good provider and all-American man. Meanwhile, you have your fun on the side that you don’t have to be responsible for. We all know what goes on, including the wives at home who have no choice but to put up with it. Well, that’s not what you’ve got here, pal.” She continued, “You have a woman who was taught to think for herself, and you knew that before you even married her. Now you hit me as a good guy here, and I can see you’re really struggling with all this. So I think the simple question is, does this other woman give you what Lysette can’t or won’t? As I said before, a sexual fling you could get anywhere with far less complications. Why this woman? Why couldn’t you let her go when you left California?”

  He let out a heavy sigh as he considered her question, bringing up a hand to rub at the day’s worth of scruff on his chin. “She makes me feel like a man,” he said. “She makes me feel needed, you know?” He didn’t wait for a response as he continued. “She’s very passionate, fun. I feel like what I think matters to her. She comes to me for advice, wants my input on decisions.”

  Eleanor smiled and said with understanding in her tone, “She’s not so wildly independent like Lysette, huh?”

  He smiled. “I guess not. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love Lysette’s mind, so brilliant and witty. I love that she has such a strong sense of who she is. I respect her.”

  “But,” Eleanor said gently. “It doesn’t work anymore for you in the marriage,” she concluded for him.

  The ironic thing was, as she listened to his complaints of what he didn’t feel he was getting from Lysette, she realized those were some of things she loved most about Lysette. And so often, they were of such similar thought, so connected that there was always a conversation—verbal or silent—going on between her and Lysette when they were together, a transfer of thoughts and ideas.

  “No. I guess it doesn’t.”

  “Does Lysette know about this other woman or the baby?”

  He sipped from his drink. “The baby, no, but she’s not stupid. Long ago, we entered into some sort of silent agreement that neither of us was getting what we wanted or needed so, as long as there were no embarrassing situations and our children weren’t affected in any way, we’ve done what we wanted to do.” He glanced at her. “It just wasn’t talked about.”

  Eleanor was supremely bothered by that, something Lysette had hinted at with her, as well. But she wasn’t going to judge. “I’m guessing falling in love with someone else and having a baby with her wasn’t part of that silent deal.”

  “God, no!” he breathed, followed by rueful laughter. “I think that falls under both embarrassing and affecting the kids.”

  She smiled. “Listen, Jim, I think you and Lysette really need to sit down and talk all this out. She has a right to know about this woman and the baby, and she has a right to know about your feelings for the woman.” She gave him a sheepish grin, guilt still stabbing her. “After all, you know about our situation.”

  Chapter Thirty

  “This is precisely why I rarely drink hard liquor,” Eleanor muttered as she padded her way down the hall, hair sticking up in every direction as she made her way to the kitchen. She had coffee on her mind when she had about three years startled off her life by the sudden knocking on the door.

  “Ellie! Ellie, are you okay?”

  Hand to her chest, she hurried to the door and unlocked it before opening it only to have a frantic Lysette fly into her arms.

  “Oh, thank god! I was so worried!”

  “What? What’s wrong?” Eleanor asked, returning the squeeze before she tugged Lysette into the apartment and closed the door. Her poor neighbors were already treated to enough drama the night before. “What is it?”

  Lysette leaned back against the door, relief clearly written across her lovely
face, as well as her sagging shoulders. “Jim didn’t come home last night, and when I dropped the kids off at school, they said you’d called in sick. Then I got here, and Jim’s car was parked outside.” She covered her face, rising emotions bringing her voice to a higher and higher pitch with every word.

  “Hey,” Eleanor said softy, taking the upset woman into a hug. “It’s okay.” She caressed Lysette’s back. “Jim’s here.”

  “What?” Lysette pulled out of the hug and brought a hand up to swipe at her eyes. “What do you mean he’s here?”

  Eleanor indicated the couch to her left where Jim was conked out in his trousers and shirtsleeves. One leg hung off the couch, leaving a socked foot to lay flat on the floor as he snored softly.

  “I don’t understand,” Lysette said, turning her focus back to Eleanor. “Why is he here? Did you invite him?”

  Eleanor smirked and shook her head. “No. He showed up pretty upset around dinnertime. He was looking for you.”

  “God,” Lysette breathed, again burying her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry to drag you through all this mess.”

  A snort from Jim in his sleep startled them both. “Come on.” Eleanor took Lysette by the hand and led her toward the bedroom so they could talk without waking him up.

  “That’s Jim’s gun!” Lysette gasped, glancing at the kitchen table where the revolver had been placed next to the recapped bottle of whiskey. “Jesus, Ellie. What did he do?” She pulled free of Eleanor’s hand and began to arch back to the living room when Eleanor caught her hand again, firmly yanking her back.

  “No. Come on, let’s talk.”

  She led the way to her intended destination, closing the door behind them. She was slightly embarrassed as the bed was unmade, covers strewn everywhere and her clothing from the night before tossed at the hamper, most articles missing their mark.

  She gave Lysette a sheepish smile. “Just getting up and around after calling the school.”

  “I don’t care. I’m just so grateful you’re okay. Oh, Ellie.” Lysette sighed, walking over to the bed and sitting down. “I can’t apologize enough. You must truly think we’re all a bunch of crazy people who have come in to turn your life upside down.”