What's Not Said

by Valerie Taylor

“Our bad.”

  Kassie approached Chris and laced her fingers in his belt loops. “What do we do now?” Chris shook his head.

  She untied her robe.

  The long night didn’t provide Kassie with any answers as she tossed and turned. Chris slept as if he’d been drugged. Sex often knocked him out.

  She checked the clock. It was just after five. She’d told Mike she’d be at the hospital around nine. Only four hours to figure this out with Chris, pack up the car, swing by the house, and drive to the hospital during rush hour only to confront Mike. Sheer madness.

  Time for her to take control of whatever she could. No more slipups. Working backwards in her mind, she decided she needed to leave by eight, be in the shower by seven, wake Chris up by six. That meant she had less than an hour to come up with a plan that would allow Chris to work at Mike’s company during the divorce. Impossible mission.

  If she moved out of the house and in with Chris, Mike would find out who she was living with. And then he’d fire Chris, blackball him from jobs in the area, maybe even ruin his career forever. God, maybe he’d destroy her career, too, forcing them to flee the area to parts unknown. Horror show.

  Why do life’s problems always seem their worst in the dead of night?

  She went to the bathroom and turned on the light. She sat on the john with one elbow on her knee and fist under her chin. Looking at herself in the mirror, she chuckled. The Thinker. How appropriate.

  And that’s what she was for the next half hour.

  “Wake up, Chris.” She rubbed his back with more oomph than she normally would. “We need to talk.”

  “Oh, God, no. Talk? About what?”

  “I need to be out of here in two hours. We’ve got some figurin’ to do.”

  “Did you say figurin’ or fuckin’?” He rolled over and buried his face between her thighs.

  “Stop it. We’ve got to make some decisions. Here. Now.”

  “Okay, boss.” Chris sat up, propping two pillows behind him.

  Ignoring his sparring, Kassie began, “Here’s what we know to be true.”

  “Number one, you’re here and moving into an apartment in Charlestown today. Number two, you have an opportunity to work at Mike’s firm until September.”

  Chris nodded his agreement. “Go on.”

  “Number three, I’ve told Mike I want a divorce. Mike will fight me about the divorce, but I’ll go through with it anyway.”

  “We don’t know that for sure.”

  “Which? That he’ll fight me or that I’ll go through with it?”

  “Both.”

  “I do know for sure. I know me. And I know him. Well, at least I thought I did until this weekend,” she said more to herself than to Chris. “Number four, I was planning on moving in with you today.”

  “Planning?”

  Kassie ignored his question. She was on a roll.

  “So what are our alternatives? I think there are two,” she said, answering her own question and pacing as Chris stretched out leaning on one arm, a sheet covering his naked body.

  Kassie presented the options as though she were standing in front of prospective clients making a sales presentation. Something she’d perfected.

  “First, if I move in with you, you can’t work for Mike, so you’d have to stop the process now and find another job.”

  “May be harder than you make it sound.”

  “Or, if I don’t move in with you until the divorce, Mike wouldn’t have to know about us at all. And you could still work for him, which would get us to September, anyway. What’s that, about four months?” Kassie counted on her fingers like a kindergartener and then continued.

  “Divorces take at least that much time, right?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “If only the legal process of getting married took more than an hour, maybe people would have second thoughts and not go through with it in the first place.”

  “That’s pretty cynical, don’t you think? And you’re rambling. Cute, but rambling.” Chris rolled on his back, putting a pillow over his head.

  “I’m not cute. I’m totally focused. You should be, too. This is important. What time is it? I’ve got to get going soon. Are you listening?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Chris got up and walked into the living room with a towel wrapped around his middle.

  “I could either get a short-term apartment, or maybe live with Annie. She’s got room. And we could still see each other like we’ve done for years, just not live together. We’d at least be in the same town. How does that sound?”

  “Which? Not working for Mike and living together. Or working for Mike and sneaking around. Those are my choices?”

  “I think so, unless you have anything better to offer.”

  “Sounds like you’d prefer we wait to move in together until after the divorce.”

  “Financially it would make sense. For you to be working. And it would mean our relationship wouldn’t play a prominent and public role in the divorce.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that it’s not a question of if we’re together, but a matter of when?”

  Kassie nodded and bit her lip not thrilled with having to delay their plans and scared Chris would call an audible and take the next plane back to San Francisco.

  Chris took a purple box with a silver ribbon out of the nightstand and handed it to her. He kissed her forehead. “Until then.”

  26

  Shaken and Stirred

  They danced . . . around each other. It seemed neither Kassie nor Mike wanted to pick up the conversation where it had left off the night before when he’d hung up on her. Instead they danced, that is, around the elephant, or more so, the elephants in the room as they clung to their talismans.

  Mike twirled his gold wedding ring, which Kassie recognized as his go-to anxiety and avoidance technique. She’d seen this act before. And he hummed, no song in particular. That was new. He just hummed. Most likely to annoy her.

  Kassie settled into a chair at the foot of Mike’s hospital bed, staring at the floor, tapping her right foot and fiddling with her new gondola necklace. Something meaningful to hang onto. To give her strength. Keep her focused.

  When Chris had handed her the purple box with a silver bow, she’d gasped. What the heck was this? She’d quickly assessed and was relieved that it was larger than a ring box, but she was a little disappointed that it wasn’t a light blue Tiffany box. The best things came in those, she knew, as she’d bought Tiffany gifts for friends and family, clients and colleagues over the years, and their excitement on receiving her gifts was often more about the packaging than its contents. Branding at its finest. Marketing 101.

  Kassie didn’t know where the purple box with the silver bow had come from, and she didn’t much care since it was from Chris, which made it extra, extra special. They had rarely exchanged gifts, tangible gifts anyway. It was one less thing Kassie would have had to explain away. One less cover up. “We have each other which is gift enough,” she’d told Chris on more than one occasion that could’ve warranted a present exchange. He’d reluctantly agreed.

  But that morning Chris broke their unwritten pact and surprised her with a lovely necklace, a gondola with five diamonds embedded. “One for each year we’ve been together.” He’d beamed. “I hope you’ll wear it and think of me. Especially if we’re not living together for a while.”

  As he unclasped the Moissanite solitaire necklace she’d bought for herself on eBay and replaced it with the one he’d had made especially for her, Kassie reminded him it was just a matter of time. More than anything, they had to focus on the end game. Focus. Focus. Focus. That had to be their new mantra.

  Kassie figured getting Mike released from the hospital and home was now the first step toward getting the divorce, the ultimate end game.

  “I see you’re packed,” Kassie interrupted the standoff with Mike. She had never bought into the theory that whoever spoke first loses. Sometimes offense trumps defense.r />
  “Ready to go as soon as the doctor signs me out.” Mike handed her the folders she’d brought him from his office. “Do me a favor, put these in the bag for me?”

  The top one was labeled Résumés. She turned her back to Mike and opened it. There it was, incontrovertible evidence, right on top with a big red star, Christopher Gaines. A note scribbled in the left column read Bill, Interview Wed.

  Kassie closed her eyes and gulped. What a nightmare. As usual, Mike didn’t notice a crack in her composure. Why would he? He was rarely in tune with her emotions.

  “I’m assuming you’ll drive me home.”

  “By all means. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “What you said the other night about divorce and—”

  “Let’s get you home, and then we’ll figure out what’s next. How does that sound?” Kassie fixed her eyes on his, not wanting him to think she’d changed her mind overnight. Would he think she had cooled down? Maybe she hadn’t been clear enough.

  “I still believe with all my heart,” she said, placing her right fist between her breasts. “We both know it’s time to move on. It’s over, Mike. We’ve been at sixes and sevens far too long.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Mike said almost to himself, looking out the window and away from her resolute eyes, and then added, “But if it’s about that letter and money, it shouldn’t be.”

  Here we go. If mentioning divorce was the first elephant in the room, here came the second and third. Were there even more hiding in plain sight?

  “Since you brought it up, why don’t you tell me about the letter and the money. I want to hear all about it.” Kassie repositioned herself in the chair. Might as well get comfortable. It was going to be a whopper.

  It took Mike only a few minutes to tell Kassie a story she could hardly believe she was hearing. In fact, she hardly heard it.

  According to Mike, the KR in the note in the envelope she’d found in his office stood for Karen Ricci. But that wasn’t her real last name. It was a joke between them ever since she was his college sweetheart. Well, one of his sweethearts. The only one he’d gotten pregnant, thank God. That is, as far as he knew. He hadn’t married her though he wanted to. Her parents had made sure that didn’t happen. They’d whisked her away from college and from him much to the lovebird’s dismay. During the courtship, Karen had fantasized if they’d gotten married, she would’ve been able to take his last name. Anything to spite her parents whom she’d had a love/hate relationship with throughout her teenage years. The name thing was just a game they’d played.

  “A game? A game that lasted how many years, Mike?” Kassie demanded. “Is she the girl on your lap in the picture on your credenza?”

  “Oh, you saw that.”

  “Are you having an affair?”

  “With Karen? No way. That was over a long time ago. Before I met you.”

  “Then why . . .” Kassie suddenly grasped the source of the intense, rumbling pain in her stomach and the throbbing in her right temple. “Wait, you got her pregnant. You got her PREGNANT?” Kassie yelled.

  “I did,” Mike said almost in a whisper. “Shush, Kassie, remember where you are.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I will not shush. Tell me there was no baby. She lost it or had an abortion. Please tell me there was no baby, Mike.” She pleaded.

  “I can’t tell you that. I wanted her to have an abortion, but she didn’t. She, and her parents, gave the baby up for adoption. She told me it was a boy. I never saw him. Neither did she.”

  Kassie wanted to run out of the hospital room, down the corridor, the stairs, outside, and never return. But she stayed, just like she’d stayed in the marriage. And instead, she opted for the bathroom. First things first. She had to pee real bad, and she had to think. As she washed her hands, she peered into the mirror and saw shock looking back at her. How could she process what Mike had just told her with her heart pounding through her chest? Move over, Mike, I’m the one having a heart attack.

  She splashed cold water on her face, not caring if her makeup melted. Pull it together. Focus. Drawing on lessons she learned ten years ago while on an Outward Bound adventure with her team, she sized up the situation. First, Mike was, or still is, somebody’s father. Second, there’s a boy, no he must be a grown man by now, out in the world somewhere who’s Mike’s son. A man who doesn’t know who his father is. Lastly, he’s a frigging liar. About Karen. A child. The money.

  When Kassie came out of the bathroom, Mike was sitting on the edge of the bed as though he was about to get up.

  “Stay right where you are, Mike. We’re not done yet. You still haven’t explained why this Karen wrote you back in December. What was she thanking you for? And why do you have a shitload of cash locked in a box in your bureau?”

  “Come sit next to me, and I’ll tell you.”

  “No. I’m just fine here.” She returned to her chair at the foot of the bed. A safe, sturdy place. At least if she fainted, she wouldn’t have far to fall.

  Mike explained that around the time he and Kassie had gotten married, Karen had married Barry Copperman, a nice Jewish boy, much to her parents’ liking. Nevertheless, he and Karen stayed in touch. Once a year, around Thanksgiving they’d talk on the phone just for old time’s sake. Then with the internet and email, they began communicating often. After all, they were friends.

  “Friends with benefits?”

  “No, Kassie. Sometimes all we need is our friends, especially when bad things happen.”

  “I’m not friends with my college sweetheart.”

  “Wasn’t I your one and only?”

  “That’s beside the point. Go on. The money?”

  “Yes, the money. Well, Barry died about eight years ago. Suddenly. A freak skiing accident. Broke his neck. It was horrible. Karen was waiting for him at the bottom of the run. He never showed until ski patrol brought him down on a stretcher in a full body bag. She was devastated. You can understand that.”

  “What does that have to do with you?”

  “Since his death was so sudden, they weren’t prepared financially. Karen had a hard time making ends meet. She did all the right things. She sold their house and moved to a condo, she got rid of his car. When Barry was alive, she only worked part time. So she got a full-time job. It still wasn’t enough.”

  “So you’ve been bankrolling her? Without my knowledge. Behind my back.”

  “Kind of, but you don’t have to make it sound so illicit. So shady. It was my moral imperative.”

  “Oh, no. You, too? Why is everyone getting so moral on me?” Kassie mumbled shaking her head.

  “What?”

  She didn’t repeat it.

  “It was the right thing to do, Kassie. I deserted her once. I couldn’t do it again. After all, she was the mother of my child.”

  “A child you gave up. Didn’t want to have.”

  “I did, we did. Her parents didn’t. We were young. I wasn’t working yet. Full time anyway.”

  Mike’s words cut deep. The realization she didn’t know this man was a major wake up call. So was the fact that she was sitting in a hospital room waiting for the doctor to show up to release him. Focus. This matters.

  “My husband, the philanthropist.”

  “Better than a philanderer,” Mike said with a crooked smile.

  “How much, Mike? How generous have you been with our money?”

  “We’ve done well, Kassie. We could afford it, you know that.”

  “How much?”

  “Just a thousand a month.”

  “For eight years. That’s around a hundred grand, if my math’s correct.”

  “I never thought about it like that.”

  A long pause.

  “Do you think I should get out of these damn pajamas and into some street clothes?”

  “I don’t know, Mike. I don’t know what to think anymore. You’re not the person I thought you were,” Kassie said, now standing arms crossed in front of him face-to-face.

&
nbsp; “Nice necklace. New?”

  27

  Food for Thought

  Neither Mike nor Kassie uttered a single word on the twenty-minute ride from Boston Clinic to their home. Even when Kassie rolled through two stop signs, Mike stayed silent.

  Once inside their garage, Mike said, “Boy, I’m glad to be home.” As he opened the door to the kitchen, Topher sashayed over and purred up against Mike’s leg. He leaned over and gave him a quick tummy rub.

  “Looks like he’s glad, too.” Kassie tossed his duffel bag in the laundry room just off the kitchen to handle later.

  “What about you, Kassie? Are you glad?”

  “Of course. I’m happy you’re out of the hospital. You scared the shit out of me the other night.”

  “Where do we go from here?”

  “One thing at a time, Mike. We’ll talk later. Tonight. Why don’t we start with a cup of coffee? How does that sound? Let’s sit and look at the nutrition and diet plan Dr. Singleton gave you.”

  Kassie plugged in the Keurig and made Mike his flavor of choice, Italian Roast, in his favorite extra-large white mug with a Nantucket logo stamped in black. Before adding milk, she took a sniff of the just expired half gallon that had sat idle in the refrigerator for four days.

  “Can you have milk?”

  “I don’t think so. Black’s okay.”

  She poured the milk down the drain. Even if it were still fresh, she’d have disposed of it on principle. Since childhood, Kassie refused to eat or drink whatever lived at the bottom of food containers, like milk cartons or cereal boxes. And the bottom of a bowl of cereal and milk with its dregs was a definite gag-trigger.

  “Good, we don’t have any milk that’s fresh anyway. I’ll need to run to the store soon. The cupboard’s pretty bare.”

  “Maybe I could go with you.”

  She heard what he said, but his words rang hollow. Throughout their marriage, Mike had never shopped for groceries, with or without her. Even when she traveled for a week at a time, he wouldn’t go to the store. He’d order takeout and whatever Kassie had stocked up on before she left. She knew his indulgences and made sure the pantry was chock full of pretzels, chocolate chip cookies, and ice cream. Beer was considered a staple she bought by the caseload. Last thing she needed if she was off somewhere with Chris was for Mike to call and complain about not having enough food in the house.