Alligators in the Trees

by Cynthia Hamilton

  He got up and went over to the photos covering his walls, many of which contained Marianne. He would have to replace those, as he would not be able to stand the constant reminders of his failure to make his marriage work. He supposed it had worked for a while—sixteen years, to be exact.

  Of course, the high point of their union had been the birth of his daughter, but he could not look back and see his time with Marianne as anything but gratifying. She had been a good wife to him, in most respects, but he now doubted his efforts as a husband.

  Perhaps that was the gist of the problem right there: he had seen her just as a wife, not as an independent woman with an identity of her own. She had been an adornment to his life, a badge, something to show off and be proud of. No wonder she left him. The fact that she was willing to settle for relatively little only underscored her desire to be rid of him.

  Philip took a deep breath and let it wheeze out of him. He had never seen himself as a bad man. In fact, he had always taken pains to be generous, kind and fair. Yet he had energetically discarded his principles and jumped into the fray with Martin and Marianne as soon as he found out what they were up to. He had bested them at their own game, come out with the winning hand, but he still felt like the loser.

  Not that losing Marianne was really so devastating; she was, in the end, a shallow woman whose values differed greatly from his own. But because he didn’t have a vengeful heart, he found it impossible to enjoy his retribution. He was a single man now, and for all intents and purposes, a single parent. This was not how he had envisioned his life would play out.

  He went back to his desk and trained his focus on the work before him. Since the article had appeared in the Times, the phones had been ringing off the hook. He had received over sixty calls and emails since eight a.m., most of which offered congratulations and votes of confidence. Even the mayor called to give him kudos for his triumph.

  Philip chuckled as he reminded himself that everyone loves a winner. There’s never any lack of support when you’re riding high, he acknowledged as he began the task of replying to his good wishes. He was so engrossed in the task at hand, he didn’t realize Priscilla had entered the room until she spoke.

  “Looks like you’re back on top again,” she said, causing Philip to jump halfway out of his chair.

  “Priscilla!” he exclaimed, as one of the receptionists chased her down, miffed and embarrassed that she had snuck into the boss’s office unannounced.

  “It’s all right—she’s a friend of mine,” Philip said, calling off his guard dog.

  “I guess your stock has gone up,” Priscilla commented as the girl left the room. “There’s definitely a change in your operations.

  “Yeah, there’s been an abrupt about-face around here. I think everyone employed here actually knows who I am,” Philip joked. “Have a seat,” he said, slowly lowering himself back into his chair. Seeing the look of unabashed hope on his face made Priscilla question the soundness of her visit. “I’m surprised to see you back so soon. Surprised and happy,” he added, a grin spreading from ear to ear.

  “I haven’t left yet,” Priscilla admitted, dampening Philip’s spirits slightly.

  “Hope you’re going tell me you’ve come to your senses and changed your mind about going,” he said, unable to keep the optimism out of his voice.

  “No, I had some unfinished business to attend to,” she answered. The way she said it sent an unspoken signal to Philip loud and clear. He had obviously not been the unfinished business she was alluding to. “I’m leaving this evening, come hell or high water.”

  “I see. Well, that’s good,” Philip said magnanimously.

  “I read the story about you in today’s paper and I just wanted to deliver my congratulations personally, before I took off.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me. But you know I really owe this all to you,” he said. Priscilla waved his praise away.

  “You give me too much credit,” she insisted. Philip’s look told her to stop being so modest. “Well, glad I could be of some help, especially after all you’ve done for me.”

  “Me? What have I done?” Philip said, not realizing his over-generous tips had amounted to anything of substance.

  “More than you’ll know,” Priscilla said, a teasing smile on her face.

  “Well, if that’s the case, I’m proud and honored I was able to help.” An awkward silence ensued, while each tried to figure out what to say next.

  “How’s the divorce progressing?” Priscilla asked.

  “There’ve been some surprising developments on that front, too,” Philip replied. Priscilla cocked her head, wondering if this meant his wife had a change of heart now that he was riding high again.

  “You seem happy—that must mean the surprises were good,” she said. “Does this mean you and your wife will be getting back together?”

  “No,” Philip said flatly. “My wife and I are history. Let’s just say something came to light which gave me a certain advantage in our negotiations.”

  “Ah, I see,” Priscilla said, though she could only guess at what had tipped the scales in his favor. If he saw it as good news, that was all she needed to hear.

  “Everything worked out much better than I had hoped,” Philip mused, taking stock of his victory, more positively this time. “I’m even moving back into my own house.

  “Congratulations again.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Does this mean you’ll have more time with Caitlin?”

  “It does indeed.” They shared a grin as Priscilla got a better idea of Philip’s good fortune.

  “How is the junior architect?”

  “Wonderful. She doesn’t know yet that I’m moving back in with her.”

  “How do you think she’s going to feel about her mother moving out? She is moving out, I take it.”

  “Yes, and I think Caitlin’s going to be okay with the change in living arrangements. Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, reaching for his briefcase. “I have orders to mail this to you once I get your address.” He removed a folded drawing and handed it to Priscilla. She opened it and turned it right side up.

  “Oh, this is great!” she said, chuckling at the depiction of the artist in a bathing suit standing on a beach, with what looked like a colorful inner tube around her waste. “Is this you on the boat?”

  “That would be me, the great white sailor.”

  “What’s the thing in the tree? It looks like a green dog.”

  “That’s an alligator,” Philip said, peering across the desk at the drawing.

  “An alligator, in a tree?”

  “Yeah, I think she got a little confused from watching the nature channel, with the halfway submerged trees in the swamps.”

  “That’s cute,” Priscilla said. “Guess I better get on down to Florida. Looks like she’s chomping at the bit to go there.”

  “Actually, I think she’d be even happier if you stayed here,” Philip said slyly, making one last attempt to persuade her to change her mind. Priscilla laid the drawing on the desk.

  “Thank her for me,” she said, ignoring his ploy. “Maybe this summer you two can come down for a visit. I don’t have any idea what kind of accommodations I’ll have, but you’re more than welcome to stay with me if I have the room.” The expression on Philip’s face was so touched and hurt and vulnerable all at once, she had to turn her eyes away.

  “Well, I should be going,” she said, retrieving Caitlin’s drawing. “You’re a very busy man these days.”

  “Never too busy for you,” he said warmly. Priscilla smiled self-consciously. She didn’t understand why, but saying goodbye to Philip this time struck her as being terribly difficult. He came around to her side of the desk and walked her out to the reception area.

  “Now, I realize you’ll have job offers galore,” he said, making Priscilla scoff, “but if you should ever find yourself missing the crowds, concrete and the extremes in weather, I want you to know you’ll always have
a job here, doing whatever you want.”

  “Thank you, that’s quite generous of you. But you seem to be forgetting my key talent is loading hot plates of food up and down my arms.”

  “You’ve got more potential than you realize,” Philip said somberly. Without another word, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then left her standing alone in his lobby. She stood there for a moment, perplexed by Philip and her life in general. She swallowed hard and made her way out.

  Forty-Two

  Tobias opened his front door, relieved to find Monique hadn’t changed the locks. As far as he could see, all the lights were on, but other than that, there was no sign anyone was about. He checked the kitchen: no sign of Lilliana there, or in the dining room. Strange, it wasn’t her day off.

  He moved down the hallway, horrified once again by what Monique and her cheeky accomplice had done to his home. No one in the living room, which was understandable. A person had to be blind to withstand décor that atrocious. He proceeded toward the master suite expectantly, the nagging suspicion he would find his wife and her decorator en flagrante growing with every step.

  He crept up to the doorway and peered in. Nothing. In fact, aside from the unmade bed, there was no evidence that the room had ever been occupied. Sensing the worst, Tobias charged through the room, into the dressing room and the adjoining bathroom. Everything was gone.

  “That horrible bitch,” he spat, exasperated by her treachery. Quickly, he ran through the rest of the apartment, noting on his way that all the artwork of any value had been replaced by hideously ugly pieces, the sight of which almost made him sick.

  Room after room, it was the same. The good stuff was gone, substituted by utter crap, things that could have come out of the bad art department of a secondhand store. He was further galled to realize his money had been spent to make this insulting gesture. It was an outrage.

  His first inclination was to call the police. Monique had absconded with three million dollars and who knew how much in valuable works of art. So what if she was his wife? That didn’t give her the right to rob him blind.

  Tobias sunk down on the foot of a guest bed, completely defeated. He couldn’t call the authorities. Monique had legal access to everything she had run off with, access he had given her to make his life easier. Like his life had been so tough. No, he couldn’t call anyone. He had no recourse, so why expose himself to public censure. Oh, Christ—what the hell was happening to his life?

  As he sat there, the whole picture became clear. As divorcing Monique was the second course of action that came to mind, it didn’t take long for him to follow this line of thinking to its inevitable conclusion. And this is where Monique had trumped him. Even in his defeated state, he had to appreciate the cunningness of her plan.

  Had he divorced her prior to launching her scheme, she would have been given a fraction of the three-plus million she had managed to siphon off, per their prenuptial agreement. By stealing the money and possessions right from under his nose—legally—she had not only made out like a bandit, but she also gotten him back for all the ways he had done her wrong, a list that was undoubtedly limitless.

  Making his apartment unlivable and unsalable had been her coup de grace, the crowning “fuck you.” Now he would have to spend more money to undo the damage she had joyfully inflicted on one of his prime assets.

  Tobias threw himself backwards on the bed and stared up at the freshly painted orange ceiling. Did he even want to live in this place again? He had always loved this apartment, but seeing it nightmarishly altered had dampened his feelings for it. It was like seeing a previously gorgeous woman violently disfigured; it just didn’t inspire a sense of desire anymore.

  While he was on that train of thought, he had to ask himself if he even wanted to stay in New York any longer. What was here for him now? His sham of a marriage had ended, his affair with Simone had gone the way of all his affairs, and Brody—he shuddered at the thought of having to face him again.

  He was a shit, there were no two ways about it. He’d be lucky if he only got what he deserved. The kind of crimes against human decency he had committed should, by nature, call for triple retribution. If he had any sense, he’d put this place on the market, as is, take his losses and get the hell out of town while the getting was good.

  In the midst of his loathsome self-discovery, one bright spot shone through. Priscilla. There was one good thing he could hang his hat on, one relationship where he had actually conducted himself like a gentleman. With her he had been generous, thoughtful, even inspired. He didn’t know what it was, but she was the one woman who could coax the good out of him.

  And here was another bright spot: now that Monique was out of the picture, he was free to be with Priscilla any way he chose. Maybe he could have this place completely remodeled, erasing all traces of Monique, and they could make it their home.

  That thought cheered him enough to get up and survey the full extent of what needed to be done in order to make the place livable. He could change Monique’s office into a sanctuary for Priscilla, a place she could sit and write her lyrics to her heart’s content. And he’d be right down the hall, in his studio, working on material they had collaborated on. It could be exactly the fresh start he needed to recharge his creativity.

  Working with Brody had been counter-productive; all he gained out of their false starts was a sense of trying to go backwards in time. That kind of wishful thinking never produces good results. He was a forward-thinking man, always had been. Their reunion had been a farce, spurred on by Monique, probably just to distract him from his home life and his finances long enough to plot his undoing.

  She may have taken his money and his art and stripped him of a decent place to live, but she hadn’t taken the things that meant the most to him, not by a long shot. He still had his talent—wandering and temperamental as it was, but ultimately accessible. And he had Priscilla. With assets like those, he couldn’t lose.

  He made his way to the enormous living room windows, careful to avoid looking at the room itself, and stood looking out at his expansive views. This was the real reason he had bought the place. The prestigious address and the spacious floor plan paled when compared to the feeling he got when he gazed out over the park and the city beyond.

  Oddly enough, as he stood there he found the view did not stir him the way it used to. Maybe he was over this phase of his life. Maybe it would be better to make a clean break from everything in his past. As he gazed at the sea of treetops, he imagined gliding through the Everglades, Priscilla at his side.

  Florida really did have a lot to offer: year-round sunshine, beautiful and secluded beaches, easy lifestyle. He could sell this place and buy a compound down there where they could live like royalty.

  Just thinking about it filled him with hope as fresh as an ocean breeze. A melody drifted in on that breeze, and words were close behind. He flew to his studio, anxious to catch the song before it drifted back out.

  You asked me about love

  There’s so little that I know

  Hadn’t ever caught the feeling

  Hadn’t ever felt it grow

  You asked me why I never sang of it

  I wouldn’t have had a clue

  Didn’t know the face of love

  Till I caught sight of you

  Funny to find out now

  It was in me all along

  So here it is

  Here’s your love song.

  Forty-Three

  Priscilla was reluctant to use her key, though knocking on the door would have seemed more foolish. She called out Tobias’s name, with no response. She checked his room and all the rest with no sign of him anywhere. The place was tidy; obviously the maid had been there already. Maybe Tobias had gone out to let her do her job. Chances were he hadn’t gone far, phobic as he was of being in public.

  She sat down on one of the sofas to think. Had he been there, she didn’t know what she would’ve said to him. She hated to thin
k she would’ve fallen right in step with him again, throwing her own plans straight out the window, but chances are that’s exactly what would’ve happened. It was much better it worked out this way. Now she’d have time to marshal her convictions and give it to him straight without wavering.

  “Tobias, I’ve had a great time with you these past few days, but it’s time for me to get moving. I want get down to Florida and start my new life…no, that’s sounds stupid. Okay—Tobias, hanging out with you has been amazing, but I’ve got to get out of this town…lame.” Priscilla threw her head back against the sofa, at a loss for what to say. Maybe something will come to me while I get my stuff together, she decided.

  Though packing was a sound idea, confronting the objects in her room came with their own dilemmas. The clothes she had in her bag when first shanghaied by Tobias where now too dirty to wear, and there was nothing appealing about dragging unclean clothing across the country.

  On the other hand, the outfits Tobias had bought weren’t really her. They were far too fancy and formal for the lifestyle she envisioned down in Key West. What opportunities would she have for wearing a skimpy designer dress? None.

  Besides, taking all that loot just didn’t seem right, especially after what he must’ve paid for it. She laid it all out on the bed where he could find it. Maybe he could return everything and get his money back, or pass it on to another size six, though that wasn’t his usual type.

  Now that she had eliminated virtually all her clothes, except the denim skirt and white shirt she was wearing, packing didn’t take a whole lot of time. It also didn’t leave her with many options. Was she really going to wear the same tired outfit all the way to Florida? She was feeling far too muddled to answer practical questions like that.

  The truth was she didn’t exactly feel up to making any decisions, large or small. As she stood blindly staring at her few toiletries, notebooks and other odds and ends, she was suddenly seized with the desire to flee. She stuffed everything into her bag and made a beeline for the door.