by Robyn Carr
“Duh,” she said. She yanked out the chair opposite George and plopped down. “I was on another planet the last time you saw me. Now I only visit—much too nuts for you to have to deal with.”
He smiled at her. “Do you know what today is?” he asked.
“Friday,” she said in a snotty tone.
“It’s our tenth anniversary,” he said. “It’s okay, I didn’t expect you to remember it.”
For a second the shock registered on her face. She really hadn’t spent a lot of mental energy on George and the marriage or its destruction in the past couple of weeks. She’d gone a lot further back in time. She realized her mouth was open and closed it. Then she pursed her lips. “I can’t remember things like that. I’m nuts.”
He laughed at her. “You don’t have to play the nuts game with me, Sonja. I thought I’d stop by, force my presence on you to see how you’re doing, invite you out to lunch.”
“Lunch?” she shrieked, insulted to her core. “You want me to go to lunch?”
“I guess that’s a no,” he said pleasantly.
“You’re damn right it’s a no! You’ve got some nerve, you know that? You drive me insane and then you pop over to check on my health and ask me out to lunch? Fuck you, George!”
He merely smiled. “Sonja, give me a little credit. Don’t you think it was important to me to understand whether I did this to you? Come on now. I talked to some professionals—I’m pretty clear on what happened. You can blame me all you want, but we both know this whole episode is no one’s fault and you’re going to be fine.”
“No thanks to you. I was fine before!”
“Actually, no,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table. “You had a little grenade inside you that was ready to blow. God, I wish someone else had pulled the pin—but you couldn’t have moved on until that was taken care of. I had no idea, of course. But then, neither did you.”
She clenched her teeth while she stared at him. She hated that he spoke the truth because she hated him. She would die before she ever thanked him for being the catalyst that set her free. “So,” she said, lifting her chin. “You bring papers for me to sign or something? Get your prenup in under the wire?”
He looked surprised, but just shook his head. “You still have a copy of that? I tore mine up years ago when I was cleaning out files. By the time a couple spends a few years together, either it’s no longer relevant or the relationship’s in serious trouble. Don’t you think?”
“Then why have it in the first place?” she asked, uncrossing her arms. She was astonished, and most curious.
“I had a lot of investments when we got married,” he said with a shrug. “But I knew in two or three years you had no interest in taking my money. You’re a lot of things, but you’re no gold digger.”
“Well, I want it now,” she said meanly.
“Now it’s a done deal.” He laughed.
“You’re taking it pretty well,” she said quietly, wondering what nasty trick he had up his sleeve. “You’ve always been awfully proud of your balance sheet.”
“Yes, we all have our shortcomings, I guess.” He clasped his hands together on the tabletop and leaned toward her. “Listen, when we got married, there were a lot of good reasons. Neither of us wanted children, we were almost always compatible even if we weren’t real exciting. You wanted nothing so much as to keep everything spotless and get the stains out of my shirts and all I wanted was someone as nice and beautiful as you beside me, supporting me while I worked to keep building retirement money for my clients, and my own portfolio at the same time. I didn’t want a lot. Maybe I was wrong but it seemed like you didn’t want that much. I’m not an exciting guy, Sonja, I know that. I don’t have family. Your parents are old and kind of feeble now. We were two people who really didn’t have other people—and I thought all your candles and fountains and stuff were kind of cute. And harmless.” He shrugged and smiled.
She narrowed her eyes as he spoke. “I loved you, you sorry son of a bitch!”
“Oh, Sonja,” he said sadly. “I loved you, too. I mean, I love you. Still. It’s just that the kind of love you get from a guy like me doesn’t have much sparkle to it. I’m dull and serious. They make jokes around the office about how I actually have a personality when I come out of my shell a little at those company functions. And I’m sorry—I never knew the whole health-spa atmosphere would get to me like it did. I kind of went over the edge, too.”
She braced her hands on the seat of her chair and looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t have some secret plan or something, do you? Some fancy lawyer behind the scenes, ready to cream me the second I let down my guard?”
“No, nothing like that. I haven’t even talked to anyone about divorce—it seemed pretty inappropriate while you were trying to recover. This whole business just scared the crap out of me. Jesus, if something really horrible had happened... If we can both get through this with our sanity, I won’t ask for more than that.”
“You want a divorce as soon as possible?”
“I don’t care about that. It really doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. “If you do...”
“But you’re paying the bills! And they’ve been huge, considering Glendale!”
“You never spent any money during our marriage,” he said. “Growing herbs doesn’t cost anything. You never put actual meat in my food. If I added up the cost of all those fountains, chimes and candles, it wouldn’t be two thousand bucks over ten years and I’m sure you earned way more than that with your classes and clients. Sonja—” He laughed. “Honey, you’re a real cheap date.”
She couldn’t remember the last time he’d called her honey. She wasn’t sure what to think about the cheap date comment. “Always so fiduciarily responsible,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest again.
“Well, now you’ve traded all that for the nursery, it seems. Want to show me what you’ve been doing?”
“No,” she said stubbornly.
“Okay,” he said, pushing his chair back. He walked to the patio doors while she remained seated. He looked out into the backyard. “Wow,” he said.
She chewed her lip. “It’s possible I have a little OCD. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,” she said. “Kind of goes along with all the other stuff. When I get into something, I go all the way.”
George looked over his shoulder at her. “Really?” he asked. “You might not want to cure that until you finish the yard. It’s stunning. Amazing.”
“You really like it?”
“It’s beautiful. I wouldn’t want to eat and sleep in a house that looked like a funeral parlor, but what you’ve done so far looks fantastic. You really do have a lot of talents. Seems like you just need to learn when to stop.”
“Except I’m no good at making money,” she muttered.
“Don’t sweat it, Sonja. That’s my talent. Fortunately I’m so good at it, you shouldn’t have to worry. Unless your OCD extends to shopping—in which case we’ll be tapped out pretty quick.” He turned away from the patio doors and headed for the foyer. “I don’t want to keep you, and I didn’t come here to pressure you. I just wanted to see for myself that you’re getting better. Happy anniversary. Sorry it wasn’t a good one for you. Ten should be something special, though I have no idea what kind of special.”
It was kind of special, she found herself thinking. It was actually the first time she felt George had accepted her as she was. Exactly as she was. And she had to be crazy for that to happen.
“George?” she said when he got to the door.
He turned. “Yes?”
“If you call, I’ll talk to you. For five minutes. And not too often.”
He grinned at her. “Okay, Sonja. Glad you’re feeling better.”
And then he was gone.
twelve
GERRI DID A little further local research on BJ and found a guy with the last name of Smith who had a small but lucrative electronics repair firm in Mill Valley. On her lunch hour, sh
e dropped by. BJ was behind a counter, staring at a computer screen when Gerri walked in. When BJ looked up, she looked stunned.
“Hey,” Gerri said. “I was in the area. I thought maybe I could take you to lunch.”
“How did you find me?” BJ asked, standing from behind her desk.
“It wasn’t hard,” Gerri said with a shrug. “I looked it up on the computer. So, can you take lunch? If not, we can do it some other time.”
It was almost as if BJ knew. She said she’d find someone from the shop to cover her desk, but she was tense, on guard, as she did so. When they were walking out of the office she said, “I only have a little time. Half hour, forty-five minutes tops.”
“I’m sure you know some places nearby,” Gerri replied.
“I usually bring something,” she said. “When I don’t, we hit Taco Bell or Wendy’s for a salad.”
“Either of those works for me. Or, I saw this sushi place down the road. You eat sushi?”
“I haven’t,” BJ said.
“We could get some non-fish rolls. Break you in slowly,” Gerri said with a smile.
“Okay,” BJ said, cautiously.
“Come on, you’re not leaving the kids alone or anything. Relax. Try to enjoy a little break.”
“Yeah,” she said, clearly not enjoying it a bit.
“By the way, where are the kids over summer?” Gerri asked.
“At my brother’s house. They’ve been really great about helping me out while I’m working.”
“They must like it there. With their aunt?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Her kids are grown, but she’s good to my kids. My brother has done pretty well here. The business is doing okay. I lucked out.”
“Nah, you didn’t luck out—you must have a good family, BJ. That’s how we get through the hard times.”
“Yeah,” she said, glum. She got in Gerri’s car.
Gerri made a little small talk, telling her about Matt’s obsession with baseball and video games, Andy’s ongoing thing with Bob, Sonja’s new hobby of planting up the entire yard. When they were settled in a very sparsely populated restaurant and each had an iced tea, Gerri explained why she was there. “Let’s not drag this out. You’re clearly onto me. I just want you to know, I know.”
“I guessed,” BJ said.
“How?” Gerri asked.
“You said you could find things out. And I freaked out that night, with the thing in the parking lot.”
“I wish you wouldn’t freak out now—I’m on your side.”
“How can you be?”
“I read the newspapers, got my hands on a couple of reports,” Gerri said. “Look, I’m not going to say anything to anyone, not even Andy. The only other person who knows is Phil, who looked it up for me. And by the way, that’s not really allowed. But right now Phil would kill Caesar for me, you know? We don’t make a habit of doing background checks on neighbors.” She sipped her tea. “Besides, hardly anyone has more shit going on than us.”
“I do,” BJ said solemnly.
“Yeah, you do win the prize, my girl. I have a million questions, but I’m not going to overwhelm you. Right now all I want is to be straight with you. I want you to know I know—and that I’m not going to run scared or gossip about you or judge you.”
“Your husband prosecutes people like me,” BJ said. “I look things up, too. I don’t have a computer, but I can get on the internet at my brother’s shop.”
Gerri smiled. “He does,” she admitted. “He doesn’t like it, he sees the flaws, he goes with the patriarchal laws, we fight about it, he tries to plea down the sentence when he understands the defendant was helpless, and when he’s prosecuting a case like yours, he suffers. Plus, I kick him every time I turn over in bed, every night.” She reached across the table and squeezed BJ’s hand. “Really, he hates it. And he understands. He won’t fight the system, but he gets it. You were right about him—he’s decent.”
BJ looked down. “You could’ve played it a lot closer to your chest,” she said. “I sure wouldn’t have pressed you.”
Gerri shook her head. “That wouldn’t have worked,” she said. “Besides, it would have kept you back. You would have distanced yourself.”
“I would have,” she admitted.
“Also, I’m not great at that. Pretending I know nothing.”
“I bet you are at work.”
“Work is different,” Gerri said. “The people I’m there to serve are...well, most of them will plod along through completely dysfunctional lives forever, through generations, in fact. Those are easy to spot and I have to keep them at arm’s length or it’ll eat me alive. Then there are cases where if I don’t play it coy, someone might get hurt. And of course, we help a lot at CPS. It doesn’t look like it on paper all the time, but if you’re right there in the middle of it, if you can see the eyes of a child you’re working with, you can just tell. I’m not really good at that kind of thing where my intimates are concerned—you saw that with Sonja. With Phil.”
“With Phil?”
She shrugged. “I never sensed it—the affair. I was too close to him. When I found out, it occurred to me to use some of my skills to get to the bottom of the whole thing before confronting him, but honesty has always been a priority in our house.”
“I guess not with him, though. Huh?”
“With him, as well, which is why he made that stupid pact with himself to admit the truth if I ever found out.” She lifted the tea to her lips. “I wish he’d used all that time to think of a good lie. It might’ve been better for us.”
“It might’ve been better for me if I never knew you knew,” BJ said.
“No, it wouldn’t.” Gerri smiled. “Oh, if my knowing was going to hurt you or your kids, you’d be right—but it won’t. BJ, you’ve been through a lot. There isn’t any reason for you not to have friends. I understand, you have to be careful. But...”
The waiter brought them sushi rolls and plates. Gerri set about the task of putting out the little dishes. “Watch. This is what you do.” She demonstrated—some soy, some wasabi—then showed BJ how to hold the chopsticks. Gerri plucked a spicy tuna roll off the plate in the middle, dipped it, ate it. “Spicy tuna, shrimp and crab,” she said, pointing. “This is a California roll—no raw fish. But take a chance, try the tuna roll. It’s delicious.”
BJ struggled with her chopsticks for a moment, then clumsily picked up a tuna roll, gently placed it in her soy and wasabi, lifted it and plunk, it splashed back into the soy. Gerri laughed. “It doesn’t get much easier, either.”
“No wonder they never gain weight,” BJ muttered, attempting it again. She maneuvered the bite-size piece into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “Not too bad.”
“See. Trust me,” Gerri said.
“I never thought I’d see this day,” BJ said, going after another piece. “A chichi lunch in Mill Valley.”
“Please.” Gerri laughed. “Aim higher than this.”
“So tell me something,” BJ said. “How do you think the others would take the news? Andy and Sonja?”
“Andy, no question. I’m an advocate for children, but she’s their champion. It’s her life’s work. Sonja, hard to tell. I haven’t been able to read her for a while. She’s between worlds right now. The old Sonja might’ve freaked out. But this new person is almost the opposite. Don’t do anything until you’re sure you are comfortable. And it’s okay to never tell, you know. No one would blame you. I’m sure no one suspects anything.” Gerri plucked another piece of sushi off the plate. “What are your plans?” she asked.
“I’ve been able to save some money,” BJ said. “I think I’m good in that house until the end of summer, maybe through the fall. I’ll get plenty of notice and time. The house is designed for women like me. In fact, it’s pretty hard to be considered. I’m going to have to free it up and give someone else a chance. It’s only right.”
“Of course,” Gerri said, but with disappointment. “I’m really glad it wa
s you for a year, BJ. I like you.”
“Thanks,” BJ said. “I like you, too.”
“If you could do anything? Absolutely anything?”
“School,” she said. “I didn’t finish high school. Got my GED in prison. And then a couple of college courses, but whether the credits transfer is questionable. I once thought I’d like to be a teacher, but I couldn’t pass the background check. That doesn’t matter—I’m interested in a million things. I’d love to do what you do—I can smell a family in crisis a hundred miles away. But for right now if I can just keep a roof over my head and take care of the kids, I’ll be grateful. We’re safe now, that’s what matters.”
“Do they need counseling?” Gerri asked.
“They’re getting it. There’s a very strong network for battered women, even the ones who crossed the line, like me. I had amazing support through the whole thing. They even helped me keep my kids, in a way.”
“In a way?”
“They helped me find a good lawyer. His parents wanted the kids, and they’re as crazy and mean as he was. Most of the people in the family had criminal records, but just to be sure, I traded the insurance money—which would have gone to the kids—for their signed promise never to seek custody of my children.” She studied her chopsticks, maneuvering them. “Thirty thousand dollars. His parents didn’t even have to think about it. They wanted the money more than they wanted their grandchildren.”
“And the kids were with your brother?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My mom and dad. But I can’t go back to Fresno to live, not ever. He had a big family, a lot of buddies as nasty as he was. A quick visit, in and out, that’s all I dare, and I don’t dare often. They’re all big and mean, but they’re not that smart. They won’t try to find me, but if any of them stumbles into my path, they might want revenge, but they don’t want the kids.”
“Jeez, you’ve really been through it. So, the kids are getting counseling. Are you getting any support?”
