Same Old Truths (The Reluctant Avenger)

by Delora Dennis

  Oh, by all means. Make yourself comfortable.

  “This is bullshit,” Dave complained as he forcibly widened the space with his elbows. His touch was much less pleasant this time. “I’ve got a pile of work waiting for me at the office.”

  “Crap!” Kay said. She had forgotten to call work. “Thanks for reminding me.” She pulled out her cell phone and looked around for someplace else to sit so she could talk with privacy; every available seat in the room was taken. She would just have to speak as softly as possible.

  Kay filled Ruth in on her transportation situation and said she’d be in as soon as she could get to her car - assuming it would be ready.

  “Are you ok? You sound strange.” Ruth said.

  Strange?That’s an understatement.

  Kay just brushed off her friend’s concern. “I’m just trying to keep my voice down. I’m in a room with a lot of people.”

  “Manning/Noland,” came a voice from behind the check-in counter.

  “Gotta go, Ruth. They just called our case.”

  Kay and Dave answered the summons and were directed over to where a tired-looking woman stood waiting, clipboard in hand. Her eyes never left the clipboard as she offered her hand and introduced herself.

  “Hello. I’m Lucinda Portelli. If you’ll please follow me…”

  She led them down a long corridor to a surprisingly large office. In addition to Ms. Portelli’s work space, the room contained a play area for children filled with an assortment of toys and stuffed animals. The walls of the office were decorated with numerous drawings, presumably by the social worker’s younger clients.

  “Please have a seat,” Ms. Portelli said, motioning to three metal folding chairs configured in a loose triangle. Once everyone was settled, Ms. Portelli smiled as she looked at Kay and Dave over the top of her reading glasses and launched into her mandatory spiel about the goals of mediation. Before she got past the first goal (set up a co-parenting plan), Dave interrupted and snidely said, “We already have a co-parenting plan.”

  Unruffled by his rude cut-off, Lucinda smiled and said, “I’m aware, Mr. Noland. The judge believes your plan needs review and revision, or there’d be no need for you to be here, would there?”

  A derisive gust of air escaped from Dave’s lips as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  Kay was loving this. It was wonderful to have a bona fide authority confirm to Dave what she had tried to tell him that day in her driveway. But as all things happen for a reason, Kay realized his unwillingness to cooperate was turning out to be a blessing.

  Lucinda continued. The plan is supposed to be in the best interest of the children and should respect their right to have a continuing relationship with each parent. And finally, both parents should seek ways to reduce conflict in front of the children.

  With her opening recitation over, Lucinda didn’t waste any time jumping right into the girls’ interviews. Kay wasn’t sure if she was being sincere when she complimented her and Dave on how polite and engaging the girls were, or if it was just a way to lead into bad news.

  Ms. Portelli looked at Kay. “The girls have no issues with you, Ms. Manning.” Then she turned in her chair toward Dave and launched into a list of complaints and concerns that went on for three, 8½” x 11” yellow pad pages. Most of the grievances Kay had already heard - numerous times:

  Mariah is not allowed to have milk or other dairy because Sandy (contrary to the pediatrician’s diagnosis) decided Mariah’s soiling problem stemmed from an allergy to milk.

  Sandy nags Mariah about how much she eats and controls her food. Little Dave has free access to the “treat cabinet” but Mariah has to ask permission.

  The girls are not allowed to keep personal belongings at Dave’s and have to carry a bag back and forth.

  The girls want their own room at their dad’s but Sandy insists they stay in the “guest room.”

  Sandy forces the girls to accompany her to church while Dave stays home.

  The girls object to Sandy introducing them as, “my daughters,” letting people believe she is their mother.

  Sandy makes disparaging remarks about Kay “letting the girls run wild.”

  Mariah overheard Sandy tell Dave (without one shred of evidence) she suspects Cory is smoking pot and shoplifting.

  Sandy hurt Mariah’s feelings with a denigrating remark about her sister. “Cory doesn’t need to be your role model.”

  Cory resents not being trusted to babysit her little brother even though she has regular babysitting customers.

  Lucinda stopped reading, looked up and quietly asked Dave, “Mr. Noland, are you aware Mariah is not allowed privacy in the bathroom?

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean?” Dave asked. He truly seemed to be at a loss.

  “Well, Mariah told me when she’s in the bathroom, your son kicks at the door until his mother insists Mariah let him in.”

  Dave was unfazed. “Is that really so terrible? They’re just kids,” he said.

  “Mr. Noland, that so-called “kid” is menstruating. She said the last time your son barged in she was changing her pad and he got an eyeful.”

  Dave sat there looking like he’d been hit in the face with a bag of quarters.

  “My wife told me Mariah had gotten her period, but she didn’t mention Little Dave saw anything.”

  “Well, according to Mariah, your wife got upset with her for possibly traumatizing your son.”

  This was the first time Kay had heard about this new humiliation. Why hadn’t Mariah said anything to her?

  “Oh please,” Dave scoffed. “Mariah doesn’t even know what “traumatizing” means.”

  “You’re missing the point, Mr. Noland. Your child is being denied the simple dignity of privacy each of us deserves as a human being.”

  Dave brushed some imaginary lint from his pant leg, avoiding Ms. Portelli’s disapproving gaze.

  Kay was softly crying, devastated for Mariah. She wanted to throttle Sandy.

  “What really concerns me about this, Mr. Noland, ” Lucinda went on, “and everything else I’ve related to you, is you either seem to be absent or unwilling to intervene when your daughters are being subjected to this negativity.”

  Lucinda turned to Kay and said, “The girls said they’ve told you about this. Have you said anything to Mr. Noland?”

  “I have,” Kay said, muffling a sob. “He either denies it or just brushes me off saying the girls are exaggerating. But I had no idea, whatsoever, about the bathroom situation. Mariah never said a word.” Kay turned to Dave. “How could you let this happen? For, chrissake, you’re her father! “

  Dave looked at Kay with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

  “Look Mr. Noland,” Lucinda said. My job is not to admonish you, but to bring some things to your attention so we can serve the best interests of your children. First and foremost, you have to understand parenting your girls is your responsibility. You cannot relinquish this to your wife.”

  Much to Kay’s surprise, Dave looked Lucinda in the eye. “Well, I guess I do have a tendency to be a little passive,” he said.

  “I’m not entirely unsympathetic. I know it’s difficult to blend families,” Lucinda said. “You’re not the first client I’ve had who feels more comfortable letting their wife take the primary parental role. But a step-parent’s role should always be secondary.”

  Even though Dave was nodding, Kay knew he would always be helpless in the face of Attila His Honey.

  “You have to remember, this was your choice. Your daughters didn’t ask for any of this and it’s up to you to make your - THEIR - home a place where they feel wanted, protected and free to be who they are.”

  Dave nodded again, looking like an eight-year old who promised not to play baseball in the street anymore after breaking a window.

  Kay was still crying. Part of it was anguish over her children’s pain but a bigger part was the relief of having someone in authority say Dave’s behavior was n
ot ok. From Day One he had run roughshod over her and the girls while denying, diminishing and defiantly daring anyone to say his actions were dishonorable. He might be able to dismiss Kay’s objections with flimsy justifications, but the family court representative, who had heard and seen it all, was not going to let him get away with making his kids the scapegoat for his sins.

  Kay tried to concentrate as the review of their parenting plan continued, but the endless flow of tears was a distraction. Of course, Dave ignored her emotional blood-letting;Lucinda was becoming concerned. “Do we need to stop so you can get a drink of water, Ms. Manning?”

  “Oh. Just ignore me. I’ll be ok,” Kay choked out. “Please continue.”

  But her sobs kept coming and so she did her best to stifle them with a cupped hand and several tissues over her mouth. This just re-routed them to her shoulders making them dance up and down with liberated emotion.

  The rest of the review was fairly straightforward, with few, if any changes made. After seven years, the well-written plan still held up. Lucinda hurried through each stipulation, asking the couple if they agreed, and both nodded without comment.

  When Lucinda was finished she said, “You know, you two did a very good job drawing up a fair and workable plan.” Then she chuckled and said, “it sure makes my job easy. And if you work together, there’s no reason why it shouldn’t make your job easy too.”

  Mercifully, the meeting came to an end and Lucinda Portelli walked Dave and Kay to the door, thanking them for their cooperation and wishing them the best for the future. Before Kay made it out the door, Lucinda stopped her and asked her to hang back a moment. She closed the door on Dave and addressed Kay, who was still crying. “Ms. Manning, I think you could really benefit from some counseling. It’s obvious you have some serious unresolved issues with your ex-husband. For your sake and the sake of your girls, I highly recommend seeing someone.”

  Appearances to the contrary, Kay was happy. She’d gotten what she’d come for. Her only regret was her tears of gratitude for being validated were being misinterpreted as a cry for help. She briefly considered telling the concerned social worker she’d already had two years of therapy, but since she’d probably never see Lucinda Portelli again, she just nodded in agreement. All she could think about now was getting out of there and finding a ride.

  * * *

  Kay hurried toward the elevators to join the small group of people getting into the open car. She had just stepped in when she heard, “Hey, Kay. Hold the doors.” It was Dave. He reached the front of elevator just as the doors were sliding shut. Kay was about to give him a helpless shrug and “sorry” look, but at the last second something compelled her to push the Open Door button.

  Maybe therapy isn’t such a bad idea. I need to figure out why I can’t say no to Dave.

  “Thanks,” he said breathlessly as he jumped in and turned in the obligatory, everyone-face-forward-pirouette. “I was looking for you back there, but I guess you got away from me.”

  Apparently, not fast enough.

  Dave leaned over and quietly spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Where’s your mechanic’s garage?”

  His cloak-and-dagger delivery made Kay want to respond with a silly, “the pellet with the poison’s in the vessel with the pestle.” But she decided against the Danny Kaye patter. “On Parsifal, near the horse arena. Why?” she said.

  “I go right past there. I could drop you off.” Then he added, “I overheard you say you needed a ride when you were talking on the phone.”

  Immediately, Kay became suspicious. The whole reason they were even standing in this elevator, descending through bowels of the Family Court Building was because Dave had demonstrated his deep dislike for doing favors for Kay. But she had to be practical. There was no one she could call, and a cab ride would be at least $15.

  Maybe I should ask him for half the fare.

  “Well, if you’re sure it’s not an inconvenience.”

  “The only inconvenience is my parking spot. I hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes, cuz we gotta walk about six blocks to get to my truck.”

  And so the strange togetherness of the morning continued. The only way Kay could abide their temporary coupledom was to walk three paces behind Dave. Apparently, this annoyed him because he turned around to her and said, “What? Are we in India now?”

  He probably hadn’t meant to be funny, but Kay laughed anyway. She had always been his best audience.

  The ride reached every level of weirdness. Her place in the front passenger seat alongside him was so natural, so familiar - yet it was no longer hers. Kay pictured Sandy giving the leather upholstery a good going-over later to remove any traces of First Wife’s female essences.

  Their small talk was excruciating. With all the foul water that had passed under the bridge, especially over the last few weeks, their efforts at nonchalant friendliness were total phony baloney. Kay thought it was a shame, too, because it would have been the perfect opportunity to have a frank heart-to-heart, if only to put some closure on a wound that had remained open for the last seven years. But Kay knew Dave was incapable of having such a conversation. That depth of honesty could only be accessed by an adult who was in touch with his inner thoughts, feelings and motivations. Long before Kay ever met Dave, she suspected something had stunted his emotional growth, causing him to run whenever life became too real. Kay had always believed he’d left their marriage when she’d asked for more from a relationship stalled in second gear.

  “Did the girls mention we’re moving my mom to an assisted living facility?” Dave asked.

  “You mean in between telling me what a bully your wife is?” Kay said. She couldn’t resist stirring Dave’s simmering pot of embarrassment over the girls’ “big reveal.”

  “Oh, come on, Kay,” he said. Kay was well-familiar with his tactic of trying to make her feel guilty for making things seem worse than they really were.

  Satisfied she’d hit her intended target, she returned to the subject at hand. “No. No, they didn’t. Helen in a nursing home…I just can’t picture it.” Kay said, shaking her head. Even though there was no love lost between her and Helen Noland, she was still sad her ex-mother-in-law had reached that inevitable point in life which most people hoped to avoid.

  “Assisted Living,” Dave corrected. “She’ll have her own apartment with a full time medical staff on the premises. We think it isn’t safe for her to live alone anymore.”

  “I can’t see your mom as a dependent, old woman. She’s always been so feisty and self-sufficient.”

  Kay laughed, turned to Dave. “Do you remember that time…” He was crying. She had rarely, if ever, seen Dave Noland cry - and he wasn’t doing anything to try to hide it.

  Kay thought it was to his credit that he could shed tears for his mother. She knew from dealing with her clients at work, how gut-wrenching these decisions were. Her heart broke for him, but she sat there frozen. Something inexplicable blocked her from reaching out and showing him any sign of sympathy. It was just like that day in her doorway when he moved to hug her and all she could do was shrink back.

  “My sisters insisted on a pricey facility on the east side of town. They’re putting her in a big apartment with two bedrooms,” Dave said. Large tear drops were falling from both sides of his jaw, spotting the lapels on his suit coat.

  “That’s great!” Kay said, trying to sound supportive. “Having her own private living space ought to make the transition easier.”

  “Yeah. But I think she could just as easily transition to a one bed room - or even a studio. These jokers are asking almost $7000 a month! My sisters don’t care. They’re married to doctors.”

  “So you guys are divvying up the expense?” Kay asked.

  “That’s the plan,” he said with a heavy sigh.

  Kay jumped when Dave suddenly slammed the heal of his palm on the steering wheel. ”Jesus. I can’t ever seem to catch a break.”

  Kay sensed he expected her to ask what
was going on, but that same inexplicable block prevented her from uttering a sound.

  Dave shot a sideways glance at Kay to see if she was still paying attention. Her gaze remained fixed on the road ahead; he forced out a little sob to see if he could re-engage her in the conversation. Kay continued to give him (herself?) space.

  So Dave upped the ante. “I know you think I screwed you on the whole child support thing. But, you have no idea the financial load I’m under.”

  Now she shifted her gaze from the road rapidly passing under the carriage of the truck and looked at Dave.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked indignantly. “You make almost four times the salary I do. AND you get free medical.” She decided to throw that last part in to show her disgust at his bonus perk.

  “That’s right. I do. But I’m still paying off creditors from the old business, including the IRS. I had to use up my savings to cover the cost of moving here.”

  “So why didn’t you just tell me that in the beginning? Why the song and dance about a salary cut?”

  “I was embarrassed,” Dave said quietly. “I didn’t want you to know about the mess I’m in. Anyway, with all the money going out, it might as well have been a cut. I was desperate to find some relief somewhere. I had no choice. I didn’t know what else to do. You have to believe me.”

  Kay’s eyes narrowed and her throat tightened. “I have to believe you?” Kay said. “I have to believe you?” she repeated, louder this time. “That’s rich. Let’s see… I believed you when you said you weren’t having an affair with Sandy. I believed you when you said you’d never leave us. I believed you when you said you weren’t leaving me to go to her - that you didn’t know where she was. I believed you when you said you’d never marry her.” She stopped and looked hard at Dave. “Shall I go on?”

  Dave didn’t respond. He just looked straight ahead, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

  “Look. Why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me what it is you really want? It must be pretty important if you’ve gone to the all the trouble of staging today’s comedy-tragedy show.”