Chapter Thirty
MY PATIENT JEB DIED. I ATTENDED THE FUNERAL AND was very glad that I was able to be there. A few days later, the kids were already at school and I was packing up my briefcase to leave for my office. I was startled as Charles came up behind me and said, “Di, I want you to know that I placed a call to your attorney, Cal. I plan on going in to see him with Victoria. I want him to hear my side of the story. You know, he has been Victoria’s attorney much longer than he has been your attorney.”
I was learning, albeit slowly, not to always let words fly from my brain to my mouth without a stop. This time, I breathed, then said, “Okay, I do know that, but he is my attorney also and he needs my permission to speak with you about me. I really have to go. I can’t be late for my appointment. We can talk about this later, if you’d like.” I added this last part knowing I had no intention of engaging with him about this any further.
“Well, we’ll see what happens when Cal calls me back.” His voice was calm.
“Whatever. I have to go. I’ll be picking up the kids. See you later.” Grabbing my purse, briefcase, and bagel, I walked to the door, trying my best not to lose my balance, which wasn’t so great at the best of times, with my insides churning and my head spinning, I knew I might fall over.
What a relief it was to get away from him and into the icy car. Seeing my breath cloud the windows as I fumbled with the keys made me know I was still breathing and alive. I knew that I would have to call Cal. I knew for sure that I needed an attorney who was completely separate from Charles and Victoria. As much as I trusted Cal, I realized that this would not work.
By the time I got to the office, there was a message from Cal.
“Hi, Diane. This is Cal. I just got a message from your husband, and I need to speak with you. Give me a call as soon as you can.”
I called back as soon as my session ended.
“You know that I would not meet with your husband, don’t you?” he asked.
“I do know that, Cal. But even knowing that, I’m not feeling comfortable with the power that he and Victoria think that they have, even if it isn’t true. I think I do need to find a new attorney, even though I would rather not have to do that.”
“I understand, Diane. I just want you to know that it is not a conflict of interest from a legal standpoint. From an emotional standpoint, I think you may be right. Let me come up with a list of people you can call who I think you would work well with, and why don’t you come in tomorrow and we can go over it?” he asked.
I checked my schedule and said, “Sure, I’ll see you then.” I hung up the phone, spinning again.
After meeting with Cal, I returned to my office with a list of names. I also had a few names that I had gotten from friends and colleagues. I began making calls. Not wanting to find myself in the same position, I asked each attorney if they had any connection with Victoria, not really thinking that that would be the case. I was astounded. Multiple attorneys in looking up the name found that either they or one of their colleagues in their firm had in fact represented Victoria in some legal action. I couldn’t believe how litigious this woman was. I began to wonder about Charles. I remembered his saying during his ramblings after the reconstructive surgery, “I feel like I’m driving all of us off of a steep cliff.”
Now when I thought of that, I wondered if, deep within, Charles believed he had made an error in judgment. He had taken a step down a slippery ethical slope, and he could not turn back because he feared the consequences would be even worse. At this point, it didn’t matter; whatever ambivalence Charles might have was not my concern. My concern was to get out with my children.
DAN Wilson practiced in a small law firm. “He’s a great litigator,” Cal had told me. He certainly had the presence of one. Well over six foot three, with silver-white hair, a handlebar mustache, and a deep, resonant voice, Dan commanded attention, and I liked that. He was very nice, but I also could tell that he could be intimidating, if necessary. I liked that, too.
As we sat in his office, going over what had been happening and where we currently were, Dan began to speak. “There’s absolutely no reason that you should not start looking for a place for you and the children to live. You do not have to wait for him to leave. There is absolutely no financial risk involved. Let me explain. Based upon everything you have told me, to remain in the same house puts you in grave danger of a recurrence of your illness. You can leave on the grounds of constructive abandonment. In other words, it would be destructive, or of danger, for you not to leave. There is no penalty for that under the law; it is for your protection.” His voice trailed off as his blue eyes continued looking directly into mine.
I wanted so much to get away from Charles, yet just thinking of another move was paralyzing for me. The emotional and physical weight of the last move had been carried out only with grit, determination, and luck. I didn’t have the confidence or strength of mind to think I could pull it off again less than a year after I’d moved to the rental house and then moved my office. I also knew the kids would be upset at having to relocate again. It was another challenge I didn’t want to face.
One evening I said to Charles, “I don’t know if I have the energy to go through another move so soon. It really might be better for the children and me to stay here and for you to move somewhere else.”
Indignantly, he responded, “Well, you’ve been the one who’s been saying you want to separate as soon as possible. I suppose if your father moved in here, perhaps we could manage to work it out.”
What you want is for my father to move in here so that you can pay less of the rent. That is what I wanted to say, but I didn’t because I was still not saying the things I needed to be saying.
Despite being overwhelmed at the thought of another move and despite not saying what I should have said to Charles, I did act. I called Tim Bloom, the realtor we had worked with before, and told him what was going on. My father was willing to put down a large amount of money—really, a good bit of his money—on a small house or townhouse for the children and me to live in, and he would live with us as well. I wasn’t sure about that, but it seemed like my only option.
“What a bastard,” Tim responded, after hearing what had been going on. “He sickens me.”
Tim was a very solid guy. He and his wife had five children, and he was very devoted to his family. Over the course of selling our small cottage and finding the house on St. John’s Lane, he and I had spent many hours talking about our lives and families and had become friends. So, with the dedication of a friend wanting to help, Tim helped me sort through locations, school districts, and prices, and then he, my father, and I began the search.
“Tim, there’s part of me that wants to just find a place and not tell Charles and pack up and move and just be gone. I guess I can’t do that, can I?”
“Well, you can, but I’m not sure it would be the best thing for your kids, and anyway, if they know, he’ll know.” Tim smiled as he spoke.
It was a snowy February as we drove around, looking at houses. Everything we saw was unappealing. My head was spinning. Then my dad said something that caught my attention.
“Your mother was really a smart lady.” He had adored my mother. Even when things were good with Charles, I knew he didn’t have that kind of love for me.
“She certainly was, but what makes you say that now?” I asked.
“She never liked Charles. She always thought there was something ‘off’ about him.”
“Really? She never told me that.”
“Of course she didn’t. Your mother wasn’t like that. If you were happy, she was happy. She always did the right thing and treated everyone the right way, and she treated Charles that way, too. Your mother was really something else.” He shook his head, and I could see how much he missed her.
“Yeah, I really miss her, too. It’s funny, Gail asked me how I thought Charles would have acted if I’d gotten sick and Mom was still alive. You know, the first words out of m
y mouth were ‘he wouldn’t have done all this.’ I don’t totally know why I thought that, but I think it was because he saw Mom as strong. My being sick really scared him and brought out the worst in him.”
“I don’t know, Di. I think there’s something very wrong with him. You know me—I’m willing to accept everybody, with all their quirks and craziness—but this goes beyond what I can accept. Your mother didn’t think he treated you as well as you deserved to be treated from the beginning. She told me about a time when the three of you went to a restaurant and you lost your earring and started to look for it. Mom said that he just went on talking as if you weren’t even there, as if you didn’t exist. It shocked her, but your mother said, ‘If he makes her happy . . .’” His voice trailed off as he looked off into the snow-covered streets and sighed.
Chapter Thirty-One
DAD WAS LOOKING SO TIRED. THE STRAIN WAS GETTING to him. I found myself being irritable with him and then feeling equally guilty about it. I felt guilty about everything.
Sammy was scared. He would sometimes wind up in my bed at night, and I didn’t always send him back to his room. Charles never failed to have something negative to say about that.
“Diane, as a child psychologist, don’t you think it’s inappropriate to have your son coming into your bed at night?” he would say.
“As a child psychologist, I think our son, who is functioning very well in all areas of his life, is demonstrating some anxiety at bedtime. If he feels comforted right now by being close to me, I’m not going to make a big deal about it. I will see how it plays out.” As it happened, Sammy and I talked about his scared feelings and his nighttime visits stopped.
But Elli was angry and withdrawn and I was having trouble connecting with her. Charles, in his infinite wisdom, talked about the children’s resiliency and about how wonderfully they were doing amid the turmoil that had become their lives. He was blind.
One day, a package arrived. It was from Gail. I had to laugh. Only Gail would have thought of something like this. As I unwrapped the paper, I found two fabric voodoo dolls in the box, named Charles and Victoria. The pins were included. Gail had known this would be fun, in a dark sort of way. I put my wedding ring around the arm of the smaller doll. It was pure pleasure sticking the colored pins into their genitalia and into their hearts, twisting their heads and stomping on their faces, all the while thinking of the most torturous things that could befall them. If I was going to be accused of having black strands of evil running through my soul, I might as well make good use of them and cast some spells and chant some incantations. Of course, I had to keep this hidden, or Sam and Elli would surely think I had gone mad. Gail and I, though, laughed raucously about it on the phone.
The roads outside were still covered with snow and ice. Dad and I went out again with Tim to look at houses. This time, he took us to a see a townhouse in a development where several houses were on the market. Although not aesthetically appealing on the outside, the house itself was spacious, had a great layout, and was in wonderful condition. The three bedrooms upstairs were huge, there were loads of closets and a full attic for storage, and the basement had a separate entrance and was large enough for Dad to have his own space, including a living-sitting room and bedroom and bathroom. This was a place where we could live comfortably. We would need to do some renovations in the basement to make it ideal for Dad, but not a lot.
“I like it. What do you think?” I looked over to Dad, who was standing with the owners and Tim, chatting and already forming a friendship with these people, as he did with everyone he met.
Joe and Donna, the owners, excused themselves, and my dad and Tim walked over to me.
“It’s a nice place, much bigger on the inside than it looks outside, and they really have kept it up.” Tim was looking in the living room fireplace as he spoke.
“They said they put in a new heating and cooling system a year ago, and there’s a new washer and dryer. It’s a front-loader. Did you see that, Di?”
I hadn’t seen Dad smile like this in a long time.
“Joe and Donna said there are loads of kids in all of these houses, and they all play in this courtyard! It’ll be great for Sammy and Elli. They’ve never lived anywhere they could just go outside and play with friends. I think this is the place!”
It did seem to be the perfect find. It was in a great school district, and it was even walking distance to Dr. Putman’s office. I did have some reservations, but, later that day, Dad made an offer, which the sellers accepted within a couple of hours. The house Joe and Donna were building wouldn’t be ready until June, so they wanted to close and then rent the townhouse back from us until then. That would work, because then we’d be moving after the school year ended, which would make it somewhat easier for the kids. At least, I hoped it would.
“Dad, are you sure you want to put so much of your money into this house?” I asked him the next day, as we ate lunch together. “You’re using up all of your money on me. That worries me. You may need it.”
“Di, what else am I going to do with it? It’s yours. Believe me, I’m not going to need it. I’m almost eighty-five. The mortgage will be low, and you’ll get money from Charles, and you’ll be working. I won’t have any rent to pay. I’ll buy the groceries. It’ll be fine. The money is for you anyway. You’re just getting it now, when you need it.”
The sadness and tiredness in his eyes were so difficult to see that I stared down at the white clumps of feta cheese on my salad, rather than looking directly at his face.
“Oh, it’s one o’clock, sweetie. I’m supposed to meet Lydia and take her to a doctor’s appointment. Don’t worry, it’s all going to work out.” He gave me a big bear hug as he got up, and I walked with him to the door.
“I love you, Daddy,” I called, as he walked down the path to his car. Turning back, he smiled, but the sadness in his eyes was still there.
As much as my father tried to reassure me, I still worried about how the kids were going to deal with another move and about how they would feel about living with Poppy. Mostly I worried about how they would deal with not living with Daddy. Despite my feelings, they loved their father and this would be hard for them.
They, particularly Elli, were already starting to see for themselves what he was like. As much as I wanted to help them, much of this was a process that they would need to experience on their own. I could be there as a support, but some of this would now be part of their own life journeys. It’s not fair, I kept saying to myself.
The night that the offer on the house was accepted, we got hit with a big snowstorm and the schools were closed. After spending hours building snow forts and sledding, the kids and I sat in front of a warm, roaring fire amid piles of Lego pieces, seeing who could construct the most outrageous robot. Charles had weathered the storm and said he was going to his office.
“Mom.” Elli paused and did not look up from the pieces she was pushing together. “Mom, are you and Dad going to get a divorce?”
I looked up to see Sammy wide-eyed, open-mouthed, fumbling with the pieces he was trying to connect and yelling, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Okay, let’s get comfortable and let’s talk. . . . Why don’t we sit on the couch?”
“I’ll sit over here,” Elli said, pulling over a beanbag and a soft woolen blanket from a chair. Sammy cuddled close to me on the couch.
“There are some important things we have to talk about. You know that Mom and Dad haven’t been getting along for a long time. . . .”
“Daddy didn’t care that you were sick. That was mean.” Sammy looked directly into my eyes, his own eyes full of tears.
“I don’t know how your dad felt about my being sick, but I know he had a hard time dealing with it.” I pulled Sam close, and Elli moved to the sofa and sat beside me, putting her head on my shoulder.
“These problems are painful, and they’re scary for your dad and me, and I know that they are for you, too. But, to answer your que
stion, Elli, yes, Dad and I have decided to separate at the end of this school year. We both love you, and we will both always take care of you. We also are grown-ups and can take care of ourselves, so you don’t have to worry about us. Part of my taking care of myself is to make sure I remain healthy so I can be here for you.” I stopped talking and waited.
“I’d like to go up to my room now,” Elli said, getting off the couch and petting Knaidl, who followed upstairs.
“There’s one more thing I want to tell you, and then you can go upstairs and we can talk more later.” Elli turned toward me. “Poppy and I have gotten a house that I think you’ll really like. You won’t have to change schools, and there are loads of kids around to play with. We can go by to see it and also go and buy something special for each of your new rooms, okay?”
“Can we finish building robots?” Sammy asked.
“Sure we can.” I tousled his hair and picked up a couple of pieces, and he placed a lightsaber in the hands of one of the tiny figures.
ONE of the things that terrified me about separating was believing that Charles would try to turn Elli and Sam against me in subtle, insidious ways and then deny it was happening. Nevertheless, despite my terror and my fury, I would have to allow them to have a relationship with him. I would, though, protect them at all costs. That need for protection had already begun. I have to admit that both Charles and I weren’t always so patient with the children during this time. My fuse was shorter than usual, and I raised my voice more often than I liked. But Charles was mean and physically aggressive, especially to Sam. I never laid a hand on either of the kids, so it surprised me when Sam started saying, whenever I did raise my voice, “Momma, don’t hurt me.”
Then I began to see it. One day I noticed that Sam’s ear was red, and Elli told me that Charles had pulled him by the ear when he hadn’t responded immediately. Another time, Sam had red marks on his arm. One day, when the kids and I were about to go out to a street fair after they’d spent the morning with their dad, Sam threw himself on the couch and started to sob.
Lost in the Reflecting Pool Page 20
