by E H Davis
He sat down on the couch facing the coffee table, a round glass top balanced on a dramatic trunk of driftwood. Opposite, in a glass case mounted in an alcove of the wall, sat a to-scale whaling ship, replete with linen sails and knotted hemp ropes, its varnished hull reconstructed in authentic detail.
He smiled at his friend’s acquired taste in décor, finding it pretentious. It was a far cry from the dusty, plastered dorm rooms and gouged desks that he and Vinny once shared, decades ago at the university, as undergraduates.
Jens had just enough time to wonder what kind of lawyer he himself might have made when the door to his friend’s office opened to reveal a balding, middle-aged man, looking as harried as Jens felt. The man cast a hopeful glance backwards as Attorney Polcarpi, Vincent, propelled him out with a reassuring nod.
Vincent turned his sharp gaze on Jens, and his face broke open in a wide grin that looked indecorous for a man in a Hugo Boss suit and gold necktie.
“Jens, c’mon in!” He took him by the arm and drew him into a bear hug.
He ushered Jens into his office, shut the door, and steered him toward a deep leather armchair. He cracked open the door — to tell the nosy receptionist that he wasn’t to be disturbed — then closed it.
“How have you been?” Jens asked as he watched his friend pour generous splashes of designer bourbon into crystal tumblers.
“Excellent. Wish I could say the same for you, Jens.”
They sat opposite one another, sipping their drinks, appraising each other.
“You’re looking good,” said Jens, relaxing — with the help of the whiskey — for the first time since the beginning of his ordeal only a day and a half ago. “You’ve done well,” he added, looking around.
“Thanks. Not bad for a kid from Dov-ah,” he said, mocking the accent of the locals from the next town over. He put down his drink and opened his hands, inviting Jens to begin.
“So, tell me, what’s been going on?”
________
In a rush of angst, Jens recounted the events of the previous day, explaining his motive, once served with divorce papers and a restraining order, for driving down to Lee to see his wife, to try to talk reason and to see Teddy. He recounted his mistreatment at the hands of the two Mutt-and-Jeff sheriffs summoned by Vivian, and her outrageous lie accusing him of threatening to slash her face with a broken wine glass. He told of his near run in at the motel with Laurent, the dangerous, jealous ex-con Vivian had been consorting with.
When Jens reported that Officer Morrison, Ferdie, had put out a BOLO on Laurent and round-the-clock protection for Teddy and Vivian, Polcarpi acknowledged that he was in good hands; that Ferdie, a personal friend, would stay on the case until she got “the SOB” and put him back in jail, where he would no longer be a menace to Jens or anyone else.
“How could Vivian do this to me?” Jens lamented. “This is how she thanks me? By bringing danger into our lives and destroying everything we’ve worked for?”
Vincent studied his manicured hands, folded in his lap. He opened them wide, in a gesture of fake humility.
“I don’t claim to understand women — I guess that’s why I tend to defend men — and I don’t agree with the tactics that the law and society permits them, to compensate for their vulnerability. But, in all fairness, I know that there are always two sides to the story. Since you’ve come to me, I’m taking your side.”
Jens put his drink aside, sensing what was coming.
“With that said, there are two ways we can do this. One is you put your tail between your legs and hope for the best.” He glanced at Jens, gauging.
“And the other?” Jens’ voice shook.
“We go after your soon-to-be ex-wife tooth and nail to get what’s yours. And we have to act fast. Using every trick in the book. Are you with me?”
Jens nodded for him to go on.
“We freeze the marital assets, get an injunction allowing you to enter the home and remove your personal belongings.”
Vincent paused, interrupted by Jens’ sudden agitation.
“I forgot all about my bank account — it’s been frozen. She got my password.”
Polcarpi clapped his hands together and raised them, imprecating the gods.
“My friend, you have been gaslighted. I hope it’s not too late.”
“I’ve got a right to see my son, don’t I? He needs me.”
“Only after the case has been heard, because of the restraining order.”
“Can’t you get that lifted?
“I can try.”
“Isn’t there something I can do?”
“There is. But you may not like it. You say she’s been with Laurent and he’s been stalking you. Okay. Let me put my hound dog on it and prove it. She’ll be the one with a restraining order, maybe even do some jail time if she’s been complicit with her lover in robbing you. It’s bound to get ugly, but in my opinion it’s your only choice.”
Jens shook his head. “I won’t put Teddy through that.”
“Why not? She’s going to drag you down in your son’s eyes. I’ll put my best detective on it. She’ll trip up — they always do.”
Jens nodded slowly, his eyes downcast, acquiescing.
“If it will protect my son ... do it.”
“Okay.” Polcarpi stood, as if to start on his calls. “I’ll notify the court and her attorney. Who’s representing her, by the way?”
________
At reception, Jens handed Molly his credit card, authorizing her to draw $5000 dollars for Vincent’s retainer. She handed it back to him almost immediately.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Corbin, it indicates you’ve reached your credit limit. Do you have another card you’d like to use?”
“No ... yes. Please try it again,” he said, rattled. “I have a $25,000 limit on that card.”
He watched her with dread as she swiped another card. She handed it back to him. “What about American Express?”
He let out a moan. When Vincent came out to see what the problem was, he shook his head knowingly.
“Don’t worry, Jens, I know you’re good for it.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jens spent the next few days working with Vincent and waiting for the court order that would allow him to remove his personal articles from the home in Lee that he’d shared with Vivian and Teddy. He was too nervous to write, and besides he’d left his laptop with the chapter files from Forsake Me Not at the cabin in Conway.
Instead, he bought a bottle of gin and drank alone in his room, at a different motel, leaving SMS texts for Teddy that went unanswered, and feeling as though he’d stepped off into an alternate universe, one devoid of familiar signposts, emotional or physical.
Vincent hadn’t been able to restore his funds, as they’d been removed before the divorce papers were served with exquisite timing by his wife, depleting their joint account legally, if not morally. They’d get it all back in court, he’d promised. Push came to shove, Jens could always put the cabin up for sale — and live where?
Jens couldn’t believe that this was the same woman he’d trusted all these years. Why hadn’t she made her move earlier, when he was flush with celebrity and cash from movie options and royalties after his Poe Award? Back then, he’d been able to plunk down $275, 000 in cash for his cabin in Conway.
Nothing made sense. Especially not Teddy’s silence. Why didn’t he reach out to his father? He sank deeper into a funk; the only thing buoying him was the conviction that he needed to be there for his son. Meanwhile, there was no word on Laurent. Ferdie speculated that Jens had spooked him. He was likely in the wind and far away, perhaps over the border into Canada.
In the meantime, Jens hadn’t been idle: he’d made a search of the homeless and indigent shelters around the seacoast, looking for Laurent. He’d even checked the bridges and culverts in the Portsmouth area where the homeless were known to bivouac.
But he had uncovered nothing, no trail. Still, he was not ready to give up. As
soon as he could get to a computer, he’d research Laurent on the Internet, sussing out his virtual tracks if there were any.
On the morning of his third day of waiting, Vincent’s receptionist-secretary Molly, whom Jens suspected of having an affair with her boss, called on Vincent’s behalf to tell him that it was okay for him to pass by the house in Lee and retrieve his belongings.
Vivian would not be there then; arrangements had been made with the Lee Sheriff’s Department to handle his visit at 11 A.M., and make sure he didn’t remove any property that might be considered a marital asset.
Jens thanked her, then showered and dressed, his heart heavy. If only he could see Teddy, but the court had made that off limits. On a ray of hope, he sent Teddy an SMS telling him that he would be at the house at 11, and that he should meet him there, if possible.
________
Happily, the sheriff waiting for him was not one of the ones who had put him down on the ground and mistreated him. He was grateful for that. Deputy Chen was polite if distant as he opened the front door with a key to the new lock, making Jens feel estranged, an intruder in his own home. Nevertheless, he thanked him and stepped inside. His shock prompted the deputy to ask him if he was all right. Jens propped himself by the arch to the living room.
“Give me a minute.”
“What’s wrong?” asked the deputy. “You having difficulty breathing?”
Speechless, Jens gestured at the walls, bare where dark oblong and square shapes unbleached by sunlight marked the places where his paintings had hung for years. He staggered on, into the living room and recreation room, then up the staircase to the second floor, all the while registering his losses. The deputy kept pace with him, understanding his distress.
“My God!” exclaimed Jens. “She’s taken it all — every last piece of art! Can she do that?”
The deputy merely shook his head in sympathy. “Nothing restrains her from removing assets before she filed for divorce.”
“But all our assets were frozen.”
Deputy Chen shrugged. “She beat you to it, I’m afraid.”
“Bloody hell!” Jens put his hands to his head to keep it from exploding.
“I suggest you advise your attorney. In the meantime, we need to get on with the business of removing your personals.”
_______
Under the vigilant eye of Deputy Chen, Jens loaded his diaries into boxes to take down to the car. When Jens started to disassemble his desktop computer and monitor, the sheriff came to life.
“Sorry, Mr. Corbin, that stays.”
“What do you mean? It’s my property — I need it to conduct my business. I’m a writer.”
“I know that, sir.” He glanced at the shelves where copies of Jens’ novels were stacked, some with foreign titles, in translation. “But the court will need your harddrive in order to assess marital assets. I’m sure you understand.”
Jens collapsed into his desk chair. “I give up.”
The sheriff nodded sympathetically.
“Can I at least copy some files relating to my book?”
The deputy considered. “Why not. Though I’ll have to verify what you download.”
Happily, Vivian hadn’t bothered changing the password he’d given her.
Jens thanked him and went to work copying his files from Forsake Me Not onto a thumb drive. Afterwards, Deputy Chen helped him downstairs with his diaries, clothes, and personal items, and Jens loaded it all into the Subaru.
“Thank you for your help. You’ve been very decent.” Jens considered adding a remark about his colleagues who had assaulted him, but thought better of it, deciding to leave himself at least one ally on the Lee PD.
________
He had just turned out of the driveway and was driving east on Mast Road when a figure rushed from the bushes at the side of the road and flagged him down. It was Teddy. Jens hit the brakes and slowed long enough for Teddy to jump in.
“Go! Go! Drive!” Teddy swiveled around to see if anyone saw him getting in.
“You okay?” Jens floored it and they sped away.
“I’m fine.” He looked back. “Let’s get out of here. Mom still thinks I’m at school picking up my schedule.”
“Good God! Are you being kept prisoner? Why haven’t you returned any of my texts?’
“Mom took my phone away. She said the court forbid me from talking with you. Can they do that? Anyway, I convinced her now that school was starting that I would need it for her to pick me up and for emergencies. That’s how I knew you’d be here — your text.”
“Jesus!” Jens shook his head in dismay. “I wish none of this was happening. Never saw it coming — otherwise I would have taken you with me.”
“I know. It’s not your fault. This really sucks.”
“You’re telling me.”
Jens was driving too fast for the road, sliding into the curves and crabbing back onto the straightaway.
“Slow down, Dad. This isn’t The Bourne Legacy.”
They laughed. Out on the west coast, when Teddy was small, Jens had owned a red-and-white Mini Cooper, an original, just like the one in the first Bourne movie. He’d shown Teddy pictures of it, even bought him a miniature model. It was a family legend and joke.
Jens slowed to the speed limit. “You hungry?”
________
Jens decided that it would be best if they went someplace far enough from Lee so that he wouldn’t be spotted in violation of his restraining order. He drove to a sub shop in Stratham and parked around back.
As soon as they were out of the car, Jens locked his son in a bear hug; Teddy hugged him back. They remained that way for a while, neither wanting to break the spell.
“It’s great to see you, son.”
He nodded, ducking his head between his shoulders to hide his tears.
Seeing his embarrassment, Jens turned away.
“What do you say we do justice to a couple of footlongs,” he said heading for the restaurant.
Teddy pushed ahead to hold open the door. “I’ve been working out at the gym,” he bragged. He flexed for Jens.
“Impressive. What about this?” he said, putting a hand on his son’s head and squeezing gently. “This getting any kind of a workout?”
Teddy flicked his hand away with a fake karate chop.
“Not to worry, this year’s going to be a breeze after Exeter.”
They ate silently, devouring their subs, stopping to take long pulls on the soft drink they shared with two straws, as was their habit since Teddy was old enough to have Coke. Jens couldn’t have been happier.
So,” he said in between bites, “How’re you doing, really?”
“Good, good.” Teddy swallowed the last bite of his sub and washed it down with soda. “School starts next week. Picked up my schedule today. Really looking forward to Algebra II,” he added with an ironic grin.
“Hah! I’ll believe that when I see it. How’re you doing at home?”
Teddy squirmed. “I’m between a rock and a hard place, Dad. I don’t want to betray Mom, and I don’t want to betray you. And she needs me around, to keep going.”
“But you’re being treated all right, aren’t you?”
“Sure.” He smiled. “I get to play Xbox whenever I want. But I’ve got to help with vacuuming and emptying the dishwasher more, now that it’s just me and her.”
“There’s no one else?”
“Like who? Laurent?”
Teddy stared ahead, as though distracted by an inner vision.
Finally: “Dad, I don’t think you should plan on getting back together with us.”
“Does that mean you’d rather stay with Mom?”
Teddy swallowed, cleared his throat. “It’s not like that. You know I love you — but I’ve been talking to some of my friends whose parents are divorced, and they say nine out of ten times the mother gets custody.”
“What do you want to do?” As soon as he said it, he regretted it.
“
I want to stay with both of you.”
“Teddy, I just want what’s best for you. If you decide to stay with Mom, I’ll understand. As long as you’re safe.”
Privately, he felt hurt that Teddy would choose Vivian over him. He’d believed their manly camaraderie was more important to Teddy than his mother’s affection. Another illusion evinced.
Teddy nodded, looked away.
“I know she’s been unfair to you — taking all the money and the paintings. But she’s afraid. She wants to be on her own, but she’s petrified she’s going to fail — and you’ll laugh at her.”
“I know. That’s one of her biggest fears.” Jens didn’t know what else to say. He was the injured party. How could he forgive her? Why?
“There’s something else ... you know how ... ah ... discreet she can be, taking her phone calls in private, leaving the house without explanation, giving none when she gets back?”
“Isn’t she working now? At one of the galleries in Portsmouth? Is that where she’s selling off our art?”
“Naw, she put it in storage — until after the divorce. For safekeeping.”
“Not going to sell your ‘college paintings’ is she?”
Teddy smiled. “Never.” He paused. “She told me a story — about when she was young.” He seemed to be weighing his words. “She said she’d made some mistakes, mistakes that hurt people, and now she’s paying for it.”
He toyed with a potato chip on his plate.
“She shuts herself in her room and cries on the phone. I don’t know who she’s talking to. It’s not Laurent. Sometimes she raises her voice; other times she’s sad and compliant. Afterward, when I ask her if there’s something I can do for her — God! I’d do anything to see her happy again — she smiles sadly, says that she’s paying for the sins of her youth and soon it will all be over. But I don’t know, Dad. I’m worried. Really.”
