Through the Wooden Door

by K Carr

  Through

  the

  Wooden

  Door

  by

  K CARR

  Copyright © 2020 by K Carr

  Published by K Carr

  This work is registered with the UK Copyright Service. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Although the room was physically spacious, it felt claustrophobic, as if the walls were slowly but surely closing in on me. The table too was quite large, yet I wished there was more width between me and the opposite side of it. My gaze drifted towards the ceiling to floor windows and the view outside. Today was a sunny day, the sort of days for bike rides and picnics and-

  The door was opening, I could hear it. My eyes kept staring out the window.

  “Sorry I’m late,” his deep voice was flustered. “Traffic was hell.”

  I listened to the noise of him hurrying to his seat next to his lawyer, listened to them greet each other and heard him bid my lawyer a warm hello. He knew better than to address me. My eyes tracked the movement of a bird outside. It looked like some sort of bird of prey, or maybe it was just a pigeon.

  “Shall we get started now your client is here?” Talia, my lawyer, knew how much I loathed having to be in the same room as him, but she had informed me it was necessary if we wanted to move forward. With us both being present during these meetings things should move quicker. A long drawn out affair was my worst nightmare. I wanted this over and done. So here I was and hating every second of it.

  “Yes,” the opposing lawyer, I couldn’t remember his name, spoke quickly. “The first matter we want to resolve is concerning ownership and usage of the main family residence.”

  There was some shuffling of paper before Talia relayed my wishes concerning our home. “My client has no desire to reside in the property. We’re happy to accept financial remuneration in exchange for any claim of ownership on her part.”

  The low whispers coming from the opposite side of the table did make me anxious. Would he agree?

  “She is also requesting a buy-out of her half of the joint business.” Talia advised them. “Obviously we’re aware you may not have the necessary funds to facilitate an immediate buy-out, so we’re willing to allow a grace period of time before that issue is finalized.”

  “An equitable division of all business and personal assets?” the other lawyer asked.

  “If by equitable you mean the corresponding percentage of my client’s investments, then yes.” Talia confirmed. “Excluding any valuable items which belonged to my client prior to their relationship and marriage.”

  Some more whispering before the lawyer spoke. “That’s acceptable. Now let’s get down to the most important matter: child support and custody. My client is fully prepared to cover the necessary expenses concerning the upbringing of the child involved. He also expects joint custody-”

  “No.” I turned to Talia. “No. He can’t-” I finally turned my gaze in his direction. “I won’t let you.”

  “Hey,” he greeted softly as his blue eyes scanned my face. A tentative smile started at the edge of his lips. “Jen, I just want-”

  “No.” I repeated before looking away from him. It hurt to look at him.

  “Jen,” he implored. “Can we just talk? Just you and me? Please, I just want to talk things through-”

  “Talia,” My hands were shaking where they laid in my lap. I wasn’t sure if it was rage or fear. “He can’t do this. Don’t let them do this. Please.”

  She mouthed ‘it’s ok’ to me then turned back to face my husband and his lawyer. “As my client has stated since the beginning of these proceedings, she is requesting full custody of the child involved.”

  “Jen, you can’t do that!” Connor exploded in frustration. All eyes, including mine, swivelled towards him. With a pained expression visible on his face, he took a slow, calming breath, and tried to reason with me. “Please, sweetheart. I’ll agree to everything you want-”

  “Connor,” his lawyer interjected sternly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,”

  “Anything she wants,” Connor hissed at his attorney before he stretched his hand across the table in my direction. “Except that. Jen, please. Can’t we discuss this like two rational adults?”

  The rage started bubbling up to the surface. How dare he. How dare he imply I was the irrational one. With venom, I spat out, “The safety of my child is the only thing which concerns me, and past incident has proven no child is safe in your care.”

  The look on his face, the uncomfortable silence that filled the room, the pain building in my chest; I needed to get out of there.

  “Talia,” I grabbed my bag from under the table. “I can’t be here right now.”

  “Ok,” she tried to soothe me as I angrily pushed my chair back and stood up.

  “I’ll deal with this.”

  “Jen,” Connor called.

  I took the first angry step away from the table.

  “Jen,” Connor jumped to his feet and the chair he had been sitting on toppled backwards.

  “Mr Walters,” Talia was up now, as was the other lawyer. “Please control your client.”

  “Jen, wait,” Connor was moving in the same direction I was on his side of the table. I turned around and headed the other way, desperate to escape the confines of the room. Connor growled in frustration and stopped a few metres from the closed door. “Goddamnit. Talk to me. Stop running away from me.”

  Talk to him? He wanted me to talk to him? I let out a dry, bitter laugh and said without pause, “I hate you. Being around you makes me sick to the stomach. If I never saw you again, it would be too soon.”

  Connor stared at me while our respective lawyers each began threatening legal repercussions on our behalf. He didn’t look shocked, just resigned. And tired, he looked so tired. I knew, like me, he probably hadn’t been getting much sleep.

  “I won’t let you take her away from me.” he warned, his tone was tender though, firm but laced with tenderness.

  I hated the fact my heart still felt as if it belonged to him. I hated the fact I still loved him. He loved me too. Glaring at him, I snorted derisively. If I couldn’t stop loving him, I would make him stop loving me.

  “Like the way you took my son away from me?” came my vicious taunt. “Except, what you did was permanent.”

  My words caused a tortured expression to settle on his face. Connor avoided my furious gaze and nodded to himself for a few seconds. The slumping of his broad shoulders, the clenching of his hands, the slight shuffling backward steps…the shame oozed from him. A part of me wanted to go to him, to press my body as close to his as I could physically get while he wrapped his arms tight around me. But I had learnt to ignore those urges. He didn’t deserve my pity, my love…or our daughter.

  “Ok,” Connor ran a shaking hand through his unkempt blonde hair. “Ok.” He glanced in the direction of his attorney and said, “I want joint custody.” He turned his attention to my attorney now. “I won’t budge on that. It’s non-negotiable.”

  “Fuck you.” I retorted before holding my bag tight against my body and storming out the room.

  Each angry step took me further away from the mess which my life was dissolving into. I laughed out loud, startling the woman walking towards me with an armload of files. My life wasn’t dissolving into a mess. It had officially been ruined almost a year ago. In an automatic measure of self-preser
vation, my mind swerved to more neutral thoughts. Dental appointments. Megan had a dental appointment later this week. I would need to pick her up from school early.

  The elevator doors opened with perfect synchronicity when I was only a few paces away. Quickening my steps I entered the empty elevator and sighed in relief. A relief which was short-lived as I pondered the brief meeting between my husband and our attorneys. Damn him to hell. Of course he was going to make this as difficult as possible for me…for us. Why couldn’t he just let us go? Hadn’t he done enough?

  The air caught in my throat and again my mind veered off on another tangent. Another attempt at self-preservation. By the time I got to my parked car in the building’s underground parking lot, my nerves were shot and no amount of controlled breathing could halt the rising panic.

  Would he win joint custody if we had to go before the judge? Talia had been reluctant for me to apply for sole custody, simply because of the way things currently stood. There were no legal restrictions on how often he could see our daughter, but our separation meant she spent more time with me than with him. Something I used to my advantage which he begrudgingly allowed. It seemed my finally filing for a divorce had been a catalyst for him concerning our daughter. I knew Connor had hoped our initial marriage counselling would have miraculously solved the problems between us. But my numbness had given way to anger, to resentment, to hate. Our son was dead because of him. I would never forgive him. I didn’t care how many times the word accident was bandied around. I didn’t care how heartbrokenly sorry he was. I didn’t fucking care about anything else except surviving this horror which had become my life while magically maintaining a healthy world for my daughter.

  * * *

  “How did it go?” My mother looked up from her desk in the tiny office.

  I shrugged, then grimaced. “He wants joint custody.”

  Mom didn’t say anything.

  “He’s insane if he thinks I won’t go for sole custody of Megan.” I fumed.

  Again, my mother refrained from speaking.

  “I just don’t get him!” I blurted out in aggravation. “He barely sees her as it is.”

  “Because you always find excuses to limit how much time he spends with her.” Mom reminded me. “Between school and all her hobbies, plus his work,” she sighed and shook her head.

  A smidgen of shame crept up my spine but I squashed it back down. “Do you blame me for acting this way?”

  My mom gave me a sad look of understanding. “What did your lawyer say?”

  I shrugged again while eyeing the stack of paperwork on the desk. “Do you want me to help with that? I’ve got a few hours before I have to go pick Megan up from school.”

  She gestured to the lone spare chair in the office and I quickly put my coat and bag down before pulling it up to the desk and getting started. My mom was a paid volunteer at a women’s charity, mainly helping them get back on their feet and whatnot. I had so much free time on my hands now I had left the business Connor and I had formed. I wondered how my old staff were getting on.

  “Did you talk to him?” she asked a few minutes later.

  I scoffed in disgust.

  Mom sighed under her breath. “Megan misses him. She didn’t see him at all last week, and this week is almost finished. She needs her father, Jen. It’s not right-”

  “Mom.” I growled in annoyance. “Can we not do this?”

  She fell silent but did give me a warning side-eye. It was the one where she thought I was dancing too close to the edge of her patience. I knew the look well.

  “I have to do what’s best for us.” I said with a scowl.

  Mom nodded slowly to herself, still not saying a word.

  “I can’t be around him anymore.” A wave of tiredness washed over me. I was tired of having to talk about this. Why was she doing this to me? Today of all days. “I can’t look at him without seeing-” I took a ragged breath as an image of Cory’s little face flashed before my eyes. “I tried, Mom. I tried to stay after what happened. Didn’t I? And they were the worst seven months of my life. I can’t-”

  My mother got up from her seat and came around the desk to where I sat. Her soft hand grazed my chin before she tilted my head upwards to look at me.

  “I know you did.” she said.

  Fighting back a sob, I threw my arms around her waist and buried my face against her stomach. I wished I was a little girl again, seeking comfort from my mother because of a skinned knee or a bump on the head. But I wasn’t a little girl, and things were much worse than a skinned knee.

  “It’s alright, Jennifer,” she murmured and gently patted my hair. “It’s alright.”

  I may no longer be a little girl, but the comfort she gave was the same. It felt the same, it made me feel safe.

  Chapter 2

  Connor bent down to pick up the pile of mail that met him on the inside of the front door. Frowning, he tossed his keys onto the small table in the entrance hallway and started rifling through the mail.

  “Great.” he muttered when he spotted a couple of unexpected utility bills. “Just what I need right now.”

  Holding the pile of letters tightly, he ventured further into the house. He hated coming home. It was too quiet, too empty…too fucking late. How could she even think he would be ok with her wanting sole custody of Megan? Connor knew his wife despised him, hell, he despised himself, but this was unacceptable. He was going to fight this in court if forced to. There was no way he would lose Megan also.

  The familiar swell of pain filled his chest as he found himself heading to the kitchen. It would be a year in a week’s time. A year to the date their world had come to a devastating halt. He tossed the letters onto the counter and went straight to the cupboards where the alcohol was kept. He needed a drink after the meeting with the lawyers and his wife today. Just the one.

  It never is just one anymore, his brain snidely reminded him. The drinking had been a problem. Three months after the death of their son had been the start of the breakdown of his marriage, or maybe it had started the very same day of Cory’s fatal accident.

  God! The way she looked at him now, whenever she deigned to even grace him with a look. The hatred in his wife’s eyes was soul-destroying. But he deserved it, and more. How could he ever expect her forgiveness when he could never forgive himself?

  Connor took a glass down and quickly poured himself a stiff measure of bourbon. Just the one, he needed it after today. He laughed bitterly to himself. He was a fool to think a healthy divorce settlement would ease Jen’s anger at him.

  “Fuck.” he grumbled under his breath. He missed his girls so damned much. The house was too quiet, too damned quiet. “Fuck!”

  He threw the glass, bourbon included, into the sink. The noise of smashing glass gave him a spurt of satisfaction. He wanted to smash everything in sight, to have his surroundings reflect the destruction he felt inside. Connor was a broken man and the only person who could possibly help him heal, wanted nothing to do with him. The buzzing in his back pocket was an unwelcomed distraction from his dark thoughts. There were only a few people who still called him on his personal cell. Connor had become an unsociable bitter husk of his former self.

  Pulling the phone out his back pocket, he glanced at the screen before sighing in frustration. He answered with as much enthusiasm he could muster, which was next to none.

  “Hey, Mom,”

  “How did it go?” her worried voice sounded echoic, perhaps she was in the basement. His parents were trying to clear it out for remodelling. He had offered to come around and help, they had yet to take him up on the offer.

  “As expected.” Connor groused. “She wants sole custody of Meg.”

  “Oh no,” his mother murmured in dismay. “She can’t do that.” There was a slight pause before, “Can she?”

  “My attorney thinks we have a good chance at joint custody. I mean, technically I can see Meggie anytime I want. There’s nothing stopping me.”

  �
��But you don’t.” she stated. “And your father and I haven’t seen her in weeks, Connor. I tried calling Jen, but it always goes to voicemail.”

  Connor did feel a jolt of annoyance. He knew his wife hated him, but there was no reason for her to treat his parents like lepers. They were Megan’s grandparents for crying out loud.

  “Ok, look, I’ll sort something out. I’ll speak to Jen and arrange something.”

  “I don’t want it to cause problems,” his mom said. “Especially now with the date-” she stopped.

  Connor could hear her sharp inhalation. He knew why she had stopped. It would soon be the first anniversary of his son’s death.

  “How are you?” she changed the topic. “Are you eating? Would you like to come stay with us for a bit? Or we could come to you?”

  “It’s fine, Mom,” Connor tried to reassure her he was doing ok. “I’m fine, just dealing with a backlog at work and this divorce-” his words trailed to a stop. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. “I’ll speak to Jen and sort something out so you can see Megan. Look, I have to go, someone’s knocking on the door.”

  “Oh ok, but your dad wanted a word with you,”

  “I have to go, Mom,” Connor rushed her off the phone. “I’ll call you back.”

  He hung up the call, feeling guilty over the fictitious door knocking excuse, but also having no intention of calling his mother back any time soon. Connor started cleaning up the broken glass in the sink. He was meticulous in his cleaning, it was habit when there were kids in the house.

  “Damn it.” he hissed, distracted by his last thought and feeling the tiny prick of a glass splinter against his thumb.

  There were no kids in the house. Not anymore. Connor plucked the small shard of glass out his flesh. The drop of blood he expected to see swelling out the minute puncture didn’t happen. He had a moment of dark, twisted humour; imagining himself as a fake version of himself. A blood-less robot, a lifeless zombie…non-existent. The only time he felt alive was in the presence of Megan, and Jen. Shit. She barely looked at him today. He finished cleaning up the broken glass and washed his hands before building up the courage to make the call. It rang four times, Connor was sure the voicemail was going to kick in, except he heard the tell-tale sound of his call being answered.