by Joy Fielding
“Tired?” he asked her now, pulling into the street and heading toward Lakeshore Drive.
“A little.”
“Maybe you’ll sleep for a while when we get home.”
“Maybe.”
They said nothing further until they reached Sheraton Road in Evanston. How had he let himself get roped into living all the way out here? Jake wondered, eyes drifting from the stately mansions on his left to the cold waters of Lake Michigan on his right. Absently, he checked his watch, was surprised to see it was almost two o’clock. He wondered what Honey was doing, whether she was wondering the same thing about him.
“Do you think she knows?” Honey had asked him again the other night. “About me,” she added, unnecessarily, when he failed to respond. “Do you think that’s why she did it? Out of spite?”
He shook his head. Who knew why women did anything?
“She’s very pretty.”
“I guess,” he said.
“What happens when she gets out of the hospital?” Honey asked, lying beside him in bed.
“What happens now?” Mattie was asking, sitting beside him in the front seat of the car.
“What?” Jake found himself gripping the wheel so tightly his fingers cramped. Mattie was truly a mind reader. She could just reach into his brain whenever she felt like it and pull out whatever stray thoughts were lurking about. He’d have to be more careful. Even his thoughts weren’t safe.
“Are you going back to the office after you drop me off?”
“No,” he said. “I hadn’t planned to.”
“That’s nice,” she told him simply. No, “Oh please, don’t stay home on my account.” No, “It’s really not necessary.” No false sentiments. No words she thought he wanted to hear.
She would not make this easy for him.
“Congratulations again,” Mattie offered quietly, staring into her lap. She’d called his office from the hospital shortly after the verdict was announced. A mere twenty-seven hours after the jury had retired to deliberate, Douglas Bryant was a free man, and Jake Hart was a star. “I heard the good news,” she’d ventured weakly. “I wanted to congratulate you.” He’d brushed her good wishes aside, was about to do the same now. “I’m so sorry—” she began.
“Don’t,” he interrupted.
“—for the scene I caused.”
“It’s over.”
“I don’t know what came over me.”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Lisa thinks there might be a medical explanation.”
“A medical explanation?” Jake felt the bile rise in his throat, coating his voice in derision. How dare Mattie try to find a medical excuse for her appalling behavior? “That’s a good one.”
“You’re still angry,” Mattie said, stating the obvious.
“No. I’m not. Forget it.”
“I think we should talk about it.”
“What’s to talk about?” he asked, the large BMW beginning to feel like a small cell. Did she always have to start things in places where he couldn’t just get up and walk out? Was that why she often waited until they were in the car to have these discussions? Because then he couldn’t leave?
“You have to know that I would never deliberately embarrass you like that.”
“Do I?” he asked, feeling himself being sucked in, despite his best intentions. “Why did you come to court, Mattie?”
“Why did you ask me not to?” she countered.
“Objection,” he said. “Irrelevant and argumentative.”
“Sorry,” Mattie apologized quickly. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
You don’t have to try, Jake thought, but didn’t say, deciding that the best course was to say nothing at all until after they were home. He reached over and turned up the volume on the radio, catching Mattie wince out of the corner of his eye. A medical reason for embarrassing him in court, he marveled. He wasn’t getting out a moment too soon.
It wasn’t until after her nap that she noticed his clothes were gone.
He heard her wandering around above his head, opening and closing closet doors, pulling open dresser drawers. He pictured the puzzled expression tugging at her even features, making creases in her brow, distorting the gentle curve of her lips. “Jake?” he heard her call, her footsteps on the stairs.
He was sitting on the smaller of two burgundy leather sofas in what was originally a den but was now his office, facing an elegant marble-framed fireplace that was flanked on either side by built-in bookshelves, the books neatly arranged in alphabetical order, one side for fiction, the other for biographies and legal texts. Various college diplomas hung on the wood-paneled walls; a floral needlepoint rug, in shades of blue and rose, lay across the hardwood floor. His desk, a special-order, hand-carved oak table, home to the latest in computer technology, sat at the far end of the room, in front of a wall of windows, overlooking the wide, tree-lined street. All in all, a room that was both practical and pleasing to the eye, a room in which to work or relax. Mattie had done a nice job with it. He should have used it more, he thought, fighting off unwanted twinges of guilt.
Not guilty! he wanted to jump up and shout. I am not guilty. Not guilty. Not guilty.
“What’s going on, Jake?” Mattie asked from the doorway.
Reluctantly, he turned his head toward her, an involuntary shudder disturbing his otherwise placid demeanor, a demeanor he’d been practicing since Mattie lay down several hours ago for her nap. Did she have to look so damn vulnerable? he wondered, staring past the swelling beneath her eyes. Sleep had darkened her bruises, deepened the scratches on her face and neck. Now was probably the wrong time to do this. Maybe he should wait until she was fully recovered, at least until the bruises disappeared.
Except by then another month would be gone, another month of feeling guilty and alone and trapped and resentful, and by then something else would have come up. Something else to keep him here. And he couldn’t risk that. If he stayed, he would suffocate. If he didn’t leave, and leave now, he would die. It was as simple as that.
In a way, Mattie’s strange outburst in court had been a blessing in disguise. It had given him the courage at long last to do what needed to be done. He shouldn’t feel guilty. He was only giving voice to what both of them had been thinking for years.
Jake stood up and motioned Mattie toward the sofas, but she shook her head, no, choosing to stand. Stubborn as ever, Jake thought. And tough. Tougher than he was. She’d be just fine.
“Where are all your things?” she asked.
Jake sank back into his seat, heard the squish of leather as he tried to find a comfortable position. Maybe Mattie didn’t need to sit down, but he sure did. “I think it’s best if I move out,” he heard himself say.
The color drained from her face, further accentuating the blotches of conflicting hues that stained her skin, so that she looked like a portrait by one of those German expressionist painters she was so crazy about. “If this is about what happened in court—”
“This isn’t about what happened in court.”
“I’ve apologized—”
“This isn’t about that.”
“What is it about?” she asked, lips barely moving, voice flat.
“It’s not about blame. It’s nobody’s fault,” he said, trying to find his place in the script he’d been rehearsing for weeks.
“What is it about?” she repeated.
Jake watched Mattie’s body fold into the wall, as if she were using it for support. Was she going to faint? “Don’t you think you should sit down?”
“I don’t want to sit down,” Mattie said, spitting each word into the space between them. “I can’t believe you’re doing this now.”
“I’m not leaving right away. Not for a few days,” he backtracked, as she tossed his words aside with a wave of her hand, a shake of her head.
“I just got home from the hospital, for God’s sake. I was in a car accident, in case you’ve forgotten. It hurts me to b
reathe.”
It hurts me to breathe too, Jake wanted to shout. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“I wish things were different.”
“That’s obvious,” Mattie said, a scoff in her voice, her bruised hand pulling the hair at the top of her head with such vehemence Jake thought she might rip it right out of her scalp. “So, let me see if I’ve got this straight,” she began, not giving him the chance to interject. “You’re leaving me, but it has nothing to do with the scene I created in court, that was probably just a catalyst. It’s nobody’s fault, this isn’t about blame. Right? And you’re sorry you had to tell me as soon as I got home from the hospital, you know the timing sucks, but there’s never going to be a good time for this sort of thing. How am I doing so far? Oh, yes, we haven’t been happy in years, we only got married in the first place because of Kim, we’ve given it our best shot, fifteen years is nothing to sneeze at. We should feel proud, not sad. Right? This is going to work out great for both of us. In fact, you’re probably doing me a favor.” She paused, arched one eyebrow. “What do you say? Think I’m onto something?”
Jake released a deep whoosh of air from his lungs, said nothing. He’d been a fool to think he might emerge from this discussion unscathed. Mattie would have her pound of flesh. By the time he walked out the front door, he’d be as battered and bruised as she was.
Mattie walked to the fireplace, leaned against it, her back to him. “Are you moving in with your little friend?”
Jake felt his body turn to ice. “What?”
“I think you heard me.”
He looked toward the window, not sure how to respond. What was happening? Even Mattie’s outburst had been somewhat expected. But not this. This wasn’t part of the script. What should he tell her? How much should he tell her? How much did she really want to know? How much did she already know? “I’m not sure I understand,” he said, stalling.
Mattie spun around, eyes on fire, ready for battle. “Oh, please,” she said. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You think I don’t know about your latest girlfriend?”
How could she know? Jake thought, wondering how he could have come to this confrontation so unprepared. Didn’t a good attorney always do his homework? Didn’t he come to the table with all the pertinent facts at hand, so that there would be no unpleasant surprises? Still, how could Mattie know? Was she just posturing? Should he continue to feign ignorance? Call her bluff? “How did you find out?” he asked, opting for full disclosure.
“The same way I always find out.” She shook her head, a gesture rife with disgust. “For such a smart lawyer, you can be awfully stupid.”
Jake felt his back stiffen. “I was hoping we wouldn’t make this personal,” he said.
“Not personal? You’re leaving me for another woman, and you don’t think it’s personal?”
“I was hoping we wouldn’t get into name calling. That we could still be friends,” he offered weakly.
“You want to be friends?”
“If that’s possible.”
“When have we ever been friends?” she asked, her voice incredulous.
He looked toward the floor, fixating on the arcs and swirls in the dark wood grain. “Doesn’t that tell you anything?”
“No. What should it tell me?”
“Mattie,” Jake began, then stopped. What was he going to say? She was right. They’d never been friends. Why on earth would they start now? “How long have you known?”
“About this one? Not long.” She shrugged, winced, walked to the window, stared out at the street. “By the way, how was your room at the Ritz-Carlton? It’s always been one of my favorite hotels.”
“You had me followed?”
Mattie laughed, a harsh, angry sound that scratched at the air like a cat’s claws, leaving almost visible scars. “Irrelevant and argumentative,” she snapped, using his earlier words as a weapon against him.
“What were you planning to do about it?”
“I hadn’t made up my mind.”
There was a long pause during which neither spoke. So she knew all about his affair. Jake wondered if Mattie had spotted Honey in court, if that had prompted her outburst. Was she really as vindictive as that? Or had her laughter been as spontaneous as Mattie claimed, as upsetting to her as it had been to him? He didn’t know, Jake realized, wincing with invisible pain of his own. He didn’t know his wife of fifteen years very well at all.
“Maybe your subconscious made it up for you,” Jake said simply.
“Maybe,” she agreed quietly, turning slowly toward him, silhouetted against the fading light of day. Even in this light, Jake could see that the anger had left her eyes. Its sudden departure had softened her stance, released the tight arch of her shoulders. She looked smaller, more achingly vulnerable than at any time he could remember. “So, it’s over,” was all she said.
Jake wasn’t sure what had prompted the abrupt change in Mattie’s attitude, whether she realized he was right, or that there was nothing to be gained by arguing, or that she simply didn’t have the strength for further protestations. Maybe she was as grateful as he was that everything was finally out in the open, so that they could get on with their lives. She was still young. She was undeniably lovely, even covered in bruises. He turned away, dismayed by the unexpected stirring in his loins. What was wrong with him, for God’s sake? Wasn’t this precisely what had gotten them into this mess in the first place?
“I think you should go now,” Mattie said.
“What?” Jake was confused by this sudden turn of events, his mind twisting and turning like a sailboat caught in an unexpected eddy. Hadn’t he already told her he would stay a few days, until she was feeling stronger? Hadn’t he shown her that, despite everything, he was still prepared to be responsible, caring, magnanimous? How could she be so dismissive?
“There’s no reason for you to stay,” Mattie told him matter-of-factly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Why don’t I stay until tomorrow—” he began.
“I’d rather you didn’t. Really, there’s no need.”
Jake sat absolutely still for several moments before pushing himself off the sofa, only to find himself standing motionless in the center of the room, not sure what was expected of him at this point, whether he should stick with his game plan, insist that he stay, whether he should wave and walk out the door, whether he should give Mattie a final kiss good-bye.
“Good-bye, Jake,” Mattie told him evenly, once again reaching inside his head, making the decision for him. “You’re doing the right thing,” she said, catching him by surprise. “Maybe not for the right reason. But it is the right thing.”
Jake smiled, torn between the conflicting urges to take her in his arms or jump up and down for joy. It was over, he was free, and aside from a few tense moments, it had been relatively painless, even easy. Of course, this was just the beginning. They hadn’t started talking about money, about dividing their assets. Who knew what would happen once the lawyers got involved?
Lawyers, he thought, leaving the room and crossing the large central foyer to the front door. Definitely a breed apart.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, as Mattie, only steps behind him, jumped ahead of him to open the door, as if he were a guest in her home, and an unwelcome guest at that. Even before he reached his car, Jake heard the front door close behind him.
EIGHT
What do you mean, you just let him walk out of here? Are you crazy?”
“I’m fine, Lisa. There was no reason for him to stay.”
“No reason for him to stay?” Lisa pushed a stray wave of hair away from her forehead. Mattie understood that the gesture was born of frustration more with Mattie than with her hair, which always looked perfect. “How about the fact that you were in a serious car accident, that you suffered a concussion, that you just got home from the hospital today?”
“I can manage.”
“You can manage,” Lisa repea
ted numbly, getting up from her seat at the kitchen table to pour herself another cup of coffee. She’d driven to Evanston to check on Mattie as soon as her office hours were through, and she was still wearing her white doctor’s robe over her navy sweater and pants. Mattie had made a fresh pot of coffee, unfrozen some banana-cranberry muffins, and calmly announced to her horrified friend that she and Jake had decided to separate. “What if you fall?” Lisa was asking, a not unreasonable question considering that Mattie had already experienced one near-tumble since Jake’s departure, although she’d said nothing about it to Lisa.
“I’ll get up,” Mattie said.
“Don’t be glib.”
“Don’t be worried.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
Mattie felt the unexpected rebuke as sharply as a slap on the wrist. It stung, brought angry tears to her eyes. Lisa Katzman might look like a tiny little sparrow, Mattie thought, but she had the talons of an eagle. “Great bedside manner, doctor. Is that how you talk to all your patients?”
Lisa folded bony arms across her flat chest, pushed one thin lip inside the other, took a long, deep breath. “I’m talking to you as a friend.”
“Are you sure?”
Lisa Katzman returned to the table without her coffee. She sat down, took Mattie’s hands in her own. “Okay, I admit my concern is more than personal.”
“That’s what I don’t understand,” Mattie said, not sure whether she really wanted to get into all this, especially now. “The neurologist said the MRI was clear. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“The MRI was clear,” Lisa agreed.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Mattie repeated, waiting for the accompanying echo from her friend.
“There’s another test I’d like you to take.”
“What? Why?”
“Just to tie up some loose ends.”
“What loose ends? What kind of test?”
“It’s called an electromyogram.”