Choosing Charleston

by T. Lynn Ocean

  In the upwardly mobile hills of Pawling, old money got along well with new money and the pretenses of pursuing the good life were seen as the only way to live. The New York lifestyle centered around business twenty-four hours a day and people planned their social schedules solely on networking potential. On Monday mornings, coworkers didn’t ask, ‘how was the cocktail party?’, but rather ‘who was at the cocktail party and what did they bring to the table?’ The lifestyle suited Robert perfectly, but occasionally struck the same nerve in me that became inflamed when someone ran a long fingernail across a chalkboard.

  While the views from both my house and office were fabulous, the New York air was disturbingly different from that which surrounded Charleston. It carried a distinctive odor that reeked of near-stifling wealth, damp woods and an unidentifiable spice that was entirely unlike the comforting salty marsh scents that mixed sweetly with South Carolina’s warmer temperatures.

  Although it had only been a week since I’d left Mamma and Daddy’s house, I was already homesick and ready for another visit. I even missed the ever-present humidity, an admission most southerners would scoff at.

  “Relaxed, maybe?” Cheryl prodded, seeking some details to explain my unplanned vacation, perplexed as to why I hadn’t yet filled her in. “You seem calm, or something. Your mother’s cooking must agree with you.”

  I just nodded, not wanting to disclose the real reason why I’d left on such short notice. Especially now that Robert and I were husband and wife again. What Cheryl had picked up on was probably my resolution to make it all work. My marriage, my job and living in New York.

  I currently had six active mediation cases, four of which were carry-overs from before I’d left to visit Mamma and Daddy. Six manila folders, each containing the details surrounding an isolated chunk of people’s lives. Various conflicts resulting from disharmoniously crossed paths, some merely business and others fueled by emotion or greed. Six instances of discord; six opportunities to smooth things over and make everyone happy without going to court. I shuffled through the folders, hoping Cheryl would let me get back to work.

  “Well, you know where to find me if you need me,” she said, realizing I wasn’t in a talkative mood. “Let’s do lunch tomorrow, okay?”

  “Sure. And, Cheryl, thanks for all your help. I don’t mean to be moody… it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my mind. But you’ve been great and I owe you for taking over my caseload while I was gone.”

  “No problem. Besides, I needed the overtime. It worked out well for both of us.”

  Alone with a pile of unopened mail, unread memos and an awesome view of the city below, I sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup and decided that my time in Charleston had gone by much too quickly. Although nearly a month had passed since I’d walked in on my husband having sex with Corin, the shock was still as fresh as though it had only been yesterday. Whereas in Charleston I’d been able to keep the memory repressed, my normal routine in my own house had brought it to the surface.

  Get over it.

  I took a deep breath to clear my thoughts and forced my uncooperative brain to focus on the work in front of me. I opened the Jackson/Ledlon Technologies folder, my newest acquisition, and began poring through the statements. On the surface, it appeared a disgruntled ex-employee wanted to sue over an unfulfilled three-year contract. But the same contract that promised the scientist ninety-four thousand dollars a year also mandated either mediation or arbitration in the event of a dispute. The scientist wanted damages in addition to his remaining two years’ salary, while Ledlon Technologies claimed the employee revealed trade secrets, thus violating the contract. The company didn’t want to pay the alleged traitor anything, and was threatening to press criminal charges. The case would require hiring an independent investigator and could potentially drag on for several months. The partners loved this type of case because of its billing potential, and there was a good chance I’d have to pass the file along to arbitration because tempers and pride would surely get in the way of reaching an amicable agreement.

  Another cup of coffee and an hour later, just as I was about to pick up my telephone to make some calls, it rang.

  “Your Daddy’s back in the hospital,” Mamma told me. “This time his heart rate was so out of sync, they had to give him a teeny shock. But he’s okay now, other than complaining about the soreness and bruising on his chest.”

  “What? Back in the hospital?”

  “I don’t want to worry you but then I figured you’d get mad if I didn’t let you know about it. He’s going to have to take this drug that will help to regulate his heart rate until these panic attack things stop.”

  “What room is he in? I want to give him a call.”

  “Oh, no, don’t do that,” Mamma said in her melodic drawl, as close to admonishment as she could get. “He’d be madder at me for telling you than you’d be at me for not telling you!”

  She insisted that I didn’t need to come home and that Daddy was okay and that I needed to focus on my job since I’d been gone so long and that she and Granny were taking good care of him. His young cardiac doctor was going to keep him overnight, like before, but Daddy would be home tomorrow.

  I replaced the handset and silently cursed Protter Construction and Development. A headache danced at the base of my skull, threatening to become a full-blown migraine. The ability to concentrate on work eluded me and I decided to head home. Even though I’d planned on working late, I had no pending appointments and everything could wait until tomorrow.

  Upon our return to New York, Robert had made a declaration that he was not going to take me for granted anymore and that he would do something positive for ‘the marriage’ every day. His good deed for today consisted of grilling steaks for dinner and a meal I didn’t have to prepare was gaining appeal by the minute, especially since I’d skipped lunch.

  I decided to leave work early so I could shower and relax before sitting down with Robert to eat. To eat, share a bottle of wine and talk. Not rehash old news, but just talk. Catch up. Try to gain back a little intimacy.

  Just as I was turning off the light in my office, the phone rang again. It was Robert, calling to let me know that I should stop by the grocery store before I headed home. We were having a dinner party for a group of his clients, and I was the unsuspecting host. Throwing a dinner bash for twelve to fifteen people was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “Tomorrow night?” I massaged my temples with my free hand. “Couldn’t you have mentioned this to me before now?”

  “It was an impromptu thing,” he said. “I know how you love get-togethers, and I was sure you wouldn’t mind.”

  I loved get-togethers with friends. I hated get-togethers with Robert’s clients. Especially at our house.

  “Why don’t we all just meet at a restaurant?”

  “No can do, Hon. I’ve already invited everyone. I can’t call back now and change the plan. How would that look?”

  The muscles in the back of my neck cinched up tight and I could feel the soon-to-be migraine snaking its way up to the top half of my head.

  “Did you also already tell everyone what I’d be serving?” I said. The sarcasm in my voice eluded him.

  “Nope. Anything you make will be great!”

  I didn’t want to do the dinner, but I also didn’t want a fight. “Sure. Okay. Maybe I’ll do chili or something like that.”

  “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “those steak fajitas you make are awesome. The ones with the red and yellow peppers?”

  “Whatever. I’ll see you later, Robert.”

  “Don’t work too awfully late tonight,” he said.

  Instead of telling him I was through with work for the day, I slammed the phone down. Silently cursing Robert, I looked up to see Cheryl standing in my doorway again.

  “What’s up? Anything I can do?”

  “You know any affordable caterers?” I said and told her what had just transpired.

  She came in and plopped i
n a chair. “Just tell him ‘no’. You know the word, Carly. It means the opposite of ‘yes’? You don’t have any trouble using it around here!”

  “I can’t do that.” I felt my body folding into my chair as the energy drained out of me. The tension in my neck and grew bolder and exploded into a throbbing headache. “He’s already invited everyone.”

  “So tell him to un-invite them.”

  She looked at me with raised eyebrows and nodded at the phone. I made a ‘yeah, right’ face at her. We both knew that, rather than upset Robert, I would cook the damn dinner and act the perfect host.

  “Carly, I swear, if Jason ever did that to me I’d kill him. You just get back to town and he has you throwing a party for fifteen people? Without even asking you first?”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I muttered without elaborating. “Oh, and I just found out that Daddy’s back in the hospital, too.”

  “Carly, this is ridiculous!” She pulled herself out of the chair. “You know, you’re one of the best mediators we’ve got. For that matter, you ought to make the move into litigation. You take the toughest cases and just kick butt. But when it comes to your personal life, you suck at it. Negotiating, that is.”

  I knew she was right. I just didn’t know what to do about it. “You shouldn’t have to negotiate your marriage.”

  “Maybe not,” she said. “But you sure as shit shouldn’t let your husband walk all over you, either.”

  “It’s just a stupid dinner party,” I snapped, searching the contents of my desk drawer for Excedrin.

  “It’s not about the party. It’s about respect,” Cheryl said softly. She patted me on the arm and removed herself from my office without waiting for another lame response.

  Angry and drained, I skipped the gym workout and the grocery store, leaving both for tomorrow. When I arrived home, Robert’s car was in the garage, but the house was quiet. He often finished up at his office in the early afternoon and would monitor the market closings from his home.

  He wasn’t in front of his computer checking quotes and he wasn’t outside, prepping the grill for the steaks I’d put in the refrigerator last night to marinate.

  Two foil-wrapped baking potatoes sat on the kitchen counter next to a bottle of merlot and the makings for a Caesar salad. So he hadn’t forgotten about dinner. But where was he? If one of his poker buddies had picked him up, he’d have left a note even though it was not quite four-thirty, and he wasn’t expecting me until after eight since I had a lot of catching up to do at work. And it was doubtful he was out for a late afternoon stroll, because Robert hated to walk anywhere. He preferred to get his aerobic workouts on a treadmill.

  I hadn’t eaten anything since half a banana for breakfast, but my appetite was suddenly lost. A feeling of apprehension hit and something made me pick up the cordless phone that sat next to the potatoes. I stared at it for long seconds before pressing the redial button. A stream of electronic beeps sounded. The line rang once, twice. No answer. It rang again. Feeling foolish, I was about to hang up when I heard the click of an answering machine and Corin Bashley’s voice told me to leave a message.

  So he’d been washing potatoes and talking to…her.

  I got to Corin’s house ten minutes later, still trying persuade myself that the ball of lead in my stomach was an overreaction. I trod up the quarter-mile long driveway, rang the doorbell, waited. I rang it a second time and waited some more but she didn’t answer. I pushed through a layer of overgrown shrubbery and headed to the back of her house, mindless of the cold gusts of air that penetrated my inadequate sweater.

  The rear of her house was surrounded by a wooden privacy fence that enclosed a garden, greenhouse and bricked courtyard. I found the gate and when my hand gripped the ornate metal handle, I knew. Although I couldn’t see beyond the wood, I saw clearly. I heard.

  Muffled sounds, carried by a cool breeze. Hushed words and laughter, mingled with the high-pitched hum of a Jacuzzi motor. Bubbling water. And music. Not a radio station, but music from a compact disk – flowing through the outdoor speakers that Robert had installed beneath Corin’s covered patio overhang several weeks ago. She was going to hire a contractor to do the work, but Robert insisted it was no trouble.

  I pushed through the gate and witnessed the scene already running through my head, instantaneously realizing I’d been a complete idiot. I’d been had. Even though I had a knack for accurately assessing other people’s situations, I’d been unable to see my own. I’d been so gullible. There the two of them were, alone in the hot tub together.

  “I think I’ll take the filet mignons,” I said to Robert, not even wasting the effort to acknowledge Corin, “with me to Charleston. Plenty of room in the cooler. So you might want to grab something to eat here, before you head back to the house. In fact, I think you should just stay here period. So I don’t have to look at you while I pack.”

  Both pieces of a skimpy black bikini hung over the side of the round hot tub and a thick terrycloth robe hung next to it. Corin slid low into the foamy water until it reached her chin.

  “Oh, and you can take your little impromptu dinner party and shove it up your cheating ass,” I said, and it came out sounding like a snarl.

  A glance at the patio furniture revealed Robert’s boxers and wristwatch lying beside a robe that was identical to Corin’s. So they even had a set of matching robes. How cute. If I had something in my hand other than a set of car keys, I probably would have thrown it at them.

  Robert started to climb out, but I put a hand up to stop him.

  “Don’t bother getting out for me,” I said, seething. “In fact, you’d best just stay here. Or get a hotel room. I don’t want to see you in my house again. Ever.”

  “Carly, this isn’t what it looks like. Do you think I’d have taken time off work and driven all the way to South Carolina to talk some sense into you, if I didn’t want to make it work between us? Corin was just having a little cocktail party and we all ended up in the spa because everyone was complaining about how cold it was, wishing the weather would warm up. But they all left a little while ago. In fact, I was just getting ready to go myself, to start our dinner.”

  It was a lame thing to say. There had been no cocktail party. I didn’t even have to look around a second time to check for signs of other people. The scene, every detail, was emblazoned in my head. Knowing I would be divorcing Robert as fast as I could and fast-forwarding through a list of possible scenarios, my mind kicked into lawyer mode.

  I cocked my head, as if in thought and tried to look ashamed. “Really?”

  “Really,” he said. “You’re overreacting, but it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have stayed behind after everyone else left the party.”

  “Jeez. You know, you’re probably right,” I said with a shrug. “I guess I’m too quick to draw conclusions because of the way you two hurt me before.”

  I paused, pretending contemplation. “You really messed with my head, you know? But you’re right, Robert. Corin having a cocktail party is no big deal. In fact, to show there’re no hard feelings, I should join you.”

  The two of them looked more shocked than when I’d first burst in on them.

  “You know what? I will join you! Don’t go anywhere. Let me run to the house for a swimsuit and I’ll be right back.”

  I double-timed it to my car and started the engine, just in case they were listening. Then I retrieved a digital camera from the glove compartment. On a particularly volatile case that involved property or material damages, I often took photographs. People’s memories tended to skew with time, but digital photos remained exactly the same as the day you took them.

  When I got back to the hot tub, I was pleasantly surprised to find they hadn’t yet bolted for cover in Corin’s house. Mistakenly believing they had a little time to come up with a game plan, they were just about to climb out.

  Messing with the tub’s control panel, Corin was bending over, showing me her bare ass. Robert stood in thigh
-deep water, exposing a weight-conditioned, foam-covered, naked body.

  Before he could react, I took a picture. The camera flashed and beeped. Corin spun around, and I took another one – this time capturing both of them full frontal.

  They immediately dropped into the water, even though the jets had been turned off. I took a third picture of their stunned faces, just for good measure, and forced myself to concentrate on the issue at hand rather than the indescribable emotions threatening to make me throw up.

  “Carly, what the hell are you doing?” my husband said, managing to sound indignant.

  I took a picture of his neatly folded clothes, another of their empty drink glasses, and still another of Corin’s bikini hanging on the side of the tub.

  “The divorce thing?” I said. “I’ll be getting the lawyer. And I’ll be doing the filing, in South Carolina, where I’ll soon be residing.”

  “Carl--”

  “We’ll divorce on my terms. Not yours.”

  “You don’t mean that. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “For the first time in quite a while, I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m getting rid of you.”

  His face paled a shade beneath the steam that rose in front of it. He had never seen this side of me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen this side of myself.

  “Let’s go home and talk this over.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, I need to at least come and pack a few things if you’re kicking me out for the night. It’s my house too. You can’t just lock me out.”

  “Robert, you shallow piece of scum. Yes, I can lock you out.”

  Although he was down for the count, he didn’t give up. “You’re not thinking straight right now. And, you love me, Carly. I know you do. You really don’t mean what you’re saying,” he said with an amazing amount of confidence, considering he was sharing hot tub foam with his mistress.

  “Yeah, I do. Trust me on this. And don’t try to screw with me, Robert. I may not practice law but I have a lot of lawyer friends that can twist your balls until you’ll think they’re in a vice. And even more importantly than all that…” I let my voice trail off.