A Pact For Life

by Elliot, Graham

  “Oh, are you and Cale going out tonight?” Terri replied.

  “Yeah… uh… we are supposed to go to the movies at 8:30.” Outside of Jenny and Cale, no one else knew about Diana being single or the close call with the abortion. The time wasn't right to tell everyone that Cale left, and the time would never be right to tell everyone about the abortion.

  They stepped up to the registry computer, a machine with a screen coated in finger prints. To start, Diana began to quickly type in her name – Du... Diam...

  “Mom, can you do this? Add whatever the baby will need, but try not to make it too girly.”

  Terri wasted no time in stepping in for Diana, working the touch screen over with an inherent speed and accuracy only a future grandmother would possess. Scrambling to get out of the store, Diana found a small, empty corner where she could sit in relative quiet.

  In front of her was an escalator with a mirrored wall that ran up the side. She was staring at herself, studying the new shape her body had gradually grown into. She was still a long ways off from being big enough that people felt comfortable in asking if she was pregnant, but she swore the bump in her shirt had doubled in size since the previous day.

  Diana's gaze moved past her reflection, and settled on a salon that was as typical as any mall salon in America – A few bored hairdressers in their forties and fifties, window advertisements offering free shampoos with haircuts, and of course, a neon sign displaying 'Walk-In's Welcome'.

  She looked back into the escalator mirror, and shifted her focus from her stomach to her long, red hair. It looked cold and demanding, the type of hair suitable for a career woman. She wanted to be more than that; she wanted to be something warmer, and that’s when she decided it was time to cut off her locks. Without giving it a second thought, Diana stood up, walked over to the salon, and gave the hairdresser the command to make it short.

  It wasn't until after the shampoo that Diana thought of the ramifications of this sudden haircut action. For one thing, her mom was still in The Baby Depot, but this concern was brushed off as she looked out the window and saw Terri still in front of the computer with a look of utter joy. The second concern was for her sister Caitlyn, and how she pestered Diana for years about letting her cut her hair shorter. Diana knew Caitlyn would be mad about it, but oh well, she was pregnant, and it's impossible to stay mad at a pregnant woman. Their boobs may be swollen and their stomachs large, but their skin is pure Teflon.

  Snip snip snip went the shears around Diana's head, and the hairdresser asked, “So you're brave coming to the mall a week before Christmas.”

  Not thinking about it, Diana pointed through her smock at The Baby Depot and said, “My mom dragged me here for baby stuff. She's over there filling out the registry.”

  “Oh, are you pregnant?”

  Diana nodded and the hairdresser excitedly said, “Wow, you aren’t showing at all! How far are you?” Diana had stumbled into one of the two hot beds of hairdresser conversation – pregnancy and affairs.

  “Around twelve weeks. I'm having a girl.” It was a prideful feeling to tell someone she was having a girl.

  Snip snip snip “You must be so excited!”

  Under the apron, Diana rung her hands together and apologized in her head for the 500th time to the fetus. Since canceling the abortion, the feeling of remorse came and went constantly. It came when she was alone, it went while at work. Came while talking about the pregnancy, went while talking about anything else. Came when she thought about Andrew, went when she thought about Cale.

  Snip snip snip “Oh, I simply I love your hair! If your daughter gets these dark, red locks, she'll be one lucky child.”

  The final long strand of hair was cut, and the image staring Diana in the mirror was nearly unrecognizable. She looked like a real adult, which Diana found hard to believe. Even though she always acted older, Diana still saw herself as youthful looking. Until now. This haircut was 401(k)s, handshakes, and sentences that contained, 'you weren't born yet'.

  Snip snip snip “So how do you like it so far? I'm gonna layer the sides and back so it flows better.”

  “I love it.”

  “Excellent! So is this you and your husband's... boyfriend's first child?”

  Ignoring the question in favor of clarification, Diana said, “He's neither. Not even a friend.” Thinking about how harsh that sounded, Diana stammered, “Well, he's still a friend...I think. I mean, we had this huge fight a couple of weeks ago and I haven't seen or talked to him since. He's called a few times, but I haven't picked up.”

  The hairdresser bent down so she was eye to eye with Diana, examining the evenness of the cut. She grabbed a hairdryer from the stand and shouted over the blowing, “There are a few girls here who are single moms. I'm amazed how they do it, cooking, cleaning, all that stuff. And they still manage to work five days a week.

  Diana huffed a laugh. Five days a week? Try seven. And what is a mall salonist's busy season anyway? School pictures? AARP specials? College Republican's banquet? Sure, she was more intelligent and a harder worker than all of the women in there, but those didn't necessarily translate into maternal ability. If those single, working mothers struggled, how would Diana be able to manage?

  Even with this rising doubt, there was no way she was giving up her daughter. That ship had long sailed away, and she knew that her choices were either sink or swim.

  The smock Diana had on was removed, and with a thanks, accompanied by a large tip, Diana was back in the crowded mall. It had been an hour since going into the salon, yet Terri was still visible at the baby register kiosk with a smile that seemed psychotic in nature.

  Diana looked in the escalator mirror one more time at her new, mature looking self, and said down to her stomach, “For both of our sakes, I hope we won't need to depend on Grandma that much.”

  For Cale, the best news of the night came from Jenny and it was this: “Diana changed her mind about the abortion.”

  Jenny didn't provide any reasons why and honestly, Cale didn’t care why. The steps to get there were meaningless. Like successful brain surgery or picking up a girl in a bar, all that mattered was the end result.

  Looking around at a sincere Cale, a slumped Brian, and a serious Nick, Jenny took a sip of her whip-cream topped drink and sarcastically announced, “Truly guys, I'm honored you invited me to your drug night...”

  “Pharmaceutical Wednesday,” Brian slurred.

  “Whatever, I don't care. You called me here to help you devise some scheme to get Diana back, but why should I help you? That was a pretty asshole move you pulled on her, Cale.”

  In an honest admission of guilt to show Jenny he's changed, Cale said, “You’re right, I was terrified and didn’t know how to handle it. Jenny, you have to believe I'm trying to change.”

  “He's telling the truth,” Brian interjected. “He didn't even take anything tonight, no matter how hard I pushed. What's that, Cale? You didn't think I saw that little move you did with the pill? Don't forget that I'm still the smartest person out of all you.”

  “You all” Nick corrected which Brian conveniently ignored.

  Jenny moved in close to Cale and studied his face. Pupils were okay, he wasn't overly happy, nor frantic, excitable, or talkative. There were no weird ticks, movements, or actions. “Okay, I'll help you,” She told Cale. “But I swear to God Herself, if you screw Diana over again, you better be on a lot of painkillers for the beating you'll get from me.”

  “I promise, I’ll never hurt her... wait, God Herself? Ohhhh Jenny, you are gonna get some smites for that.”

  “Don't be stupid Cale, of course God's a woman. You think a man could create all the beautiful things in the world?”

  Nick added, “I have to agree with Jenny on this one. When people ask why bad things happen, it's just God PMSing.” This was one of the few things Nick had said all night, and it started a chain reaction of assumptions.

  Brian: “So is this female God fertile?”

 
; Cale: “It makes sense. There's this female God right, she meets the male God, they get to talking, maybe have a drink or two, and voila, the next thing you know, there's the big bang.”

  Nick: “Then what happened to the Male God?”

  Brian: “Oh! What if they're like praying manti!? The Female kills the Male after sex.”

  Jenny face-palmed in such a blatant way to let the other three know this theology talk for the ages had gone from funny to sad in only a few short steps.

  “Alright fellas, back to the reason why I’m here. Cale, the honesty and sobriety are great, but you need to show Diana you really mean it this time. Wait, don’t mention anything like, ‘this time.’ You don't want to remind her of all the times in the past you've vowed to change.”

  Cale scoffed, “What if I let her kill me if I piss her off again?”

  “That's no good, you would be dead within a week. But… there is one thing in your favor - Christmas. You remember how lonely she gets around this time of year.”

  “Yeah, no kidding, I think half the times we got back together were between Thanksgiving and New Years.”

  Nick: “Cale, you should dress up as Santa.”

  Brian: “No, Jesus!”

  Cale: “A praying mantis.”

  “You three shut up. Cale, you should show up at her family's Christmas Eve party, but wear something nice. A collared shirt, tie, and jacket. The gray shirt and jeans won't cut it. Oh, and you should get gifts for her entire family.”

  “Good plan,” Cale said as his mind worked out gifts for each member of Diana's family. “But I'm not too worried about getting past Terri or whoever else comes to the door, well, unless it's Diana.”

  Jenny replied, “Just make sure you ask her if you can talk alone for five minutes. I'm sure she will at least do that. Then all you have to do is be honest, promise her you've changed, and convince her you mean it.”

  Brian asked, “What if she doesn't give him five minutes?”

  “Then we start over. There are still six months until the baby is due. Knowing Diana, I'm positive you'll eventually get a chance to plead your case if you're persistent enough.”

  Brian: “I like it.”

  Nick: “It's worth a shot.”

  Cale: “Jenny, have I ever told you I love you?”

  Jenny: “Once or twice, but I'm not the girl you should be telling that to.”

  There is a facet to Denver that people living in most large cities cannot appreciate, and it's this; on a cloudless night, the stars can be seen. Sure, it’s not as bright or vibrant as being in the rural desert, plains, or mountains, but whether it's on the walk home from the bars or in Cale's case, the coffee shop, a few noticeable twinkles poke through the black curtain.

  It had been five days since his last drink, seven days since his last high, and at the moment, he felt like he could live forever without the need to escape through chemical means. But what kind of life is it when you can't escape every once in awhile?

  “You know, God, I think things are going to turn out okay. Diana, the baby, my work, you name it. Things are gonna be a-okay.

  “Once I get them back, God, all of those ideas for pieces will follow. Just like it used to be.

  “God, what a night. If nights like this keep happening, I can be sober forever. Hell, I could start living outside with nights like this. The cold wouldn't bother me at all…

  “Nice call iPod.”

  By the first string note, Cale knew exactly what song came up on shuffle. Gospel, a National song that could convince even the most misogynistic asshole into donating both of his kidneys to two women while taking a bullet for a third. Not to say it's suicidal, more just plain sweet.

  Cale started to mouth the words as he came upon a dive bar which lacked the usual alcoholics, trivia pursuers, and recent college graduates that dominate the Wednesday bar scene. Instead, the bar was filled with men in Santa Claus costumes while the women were scantily clad elves. It was one of the staples of any large city in December, the Santa Stumble.23

  Outside the bar, three elves in need of a smoke braved the cold. As Cale walked by, one of the elves yelled at him, “What was that!?”

  Cale stopped walking, took out his ear buds, and asked, “Sorry, couldn't hear you?”

  “Oh, I thought you were saying something to us.”

  Cale's thoughts on what to say (In chronological order).

  1.) "That Santa is one lucky guy.”

  2.) “Can I bum a cigarette?”

  3.) “Sorry, I have this habit of mouthing the words when I listen to music.”

  “Sorry, I have this... ha ha!” Cale toppled over in laughter as a man dressed as Jesus walked out to the patio and lit a cigarette. This sight alone was funny, but the happy birthday balloons and party hat pushed the costume to a whole other level. In a Santa Stumble gone commercial, it was nice to see at least one person remembered its Christian roots.

  “Seriously,” Cale said through his laughter. “That's... that's... you are a treasure for all mankind, and I feel lucky to even be in your presence.”

  Jesus gave a little thankful wave in what had been his oddest compliment of the night. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and blew out a train engines' level of steam. “Thanks man. Gotta be unique, ya know?”

  One of the elves said, “With all the girls that have been hanging around you, I'd say unique is working.”

  Jesus walked over to the railing where the girls stood next to Cale and said, “Well thank you very much.” He rubbed his right hand on his scraggly beard and smiled at the elves. When he focused in on Cale, there was a sharp change in his expression. It went from, 'hey ladies' to 'oh shit' and he asked, “Wait, are you Cale Dawkins!?”

  “Who?” One of the girls asked.

  “Yeah, do I know you?” Cale responded.

  “Oh dude, oh dude, I can't believe this. Holllllllyyyyyyyy shit!” Jesus said and reached out to shake Cale's hand. “I go to the Denver Art Institute. We studied your work earlier this year. The instructor said you lived in Denver, but I never thought I would see you just walking the streets. C'mon, I gotta buy you a drink.”

  One of the elves asked, “So, you're like a famous painter or something?”

  “Sculptor,” Jesus corrected. “Cale, you gotta come inside. I really wanna show you some of my own sculptures. I have them saved in my phone.”

  Through Cale's ear buds, the music still played. It was loud enough to be distinctive – The National's All the Wine. A song that always drove him to walk. His legs begged to move, and he knew if he really wanted to get Diana back, he needed to step back from the railing and get going.

  “I'm sorry guys, but I promised my girlfriend I would go over to her place, and I'm already running late, so I'll have to pass. Ladies...Jesus...” Cale tipped his imaginary hat and started down the sidewalk over pleads for him to stay. His ear buds went back into his ears as his head went back to the stars.

  THE WAR ON CHRISTMAS

  Prearbitration in the divorce between Dr. Andrew Finnegan and Kristen Finnegan-Felts was underway inside a boardroom that belonged to Kristen's lawyers. The battle lines had been drawn from the moment Peter Shacksworth, a junior partner representing Kristen introduced himself. The senior partners thought Peter would be able to handle the case without any assistance. Diana took this as one of the worst insults she ever endured, and from that point on, she was out for blood.

  “My client's offer is more than generous...” Diana paused for a second and stared down Kristen, a fellow redhead but someone who fell in the trophy wife category rather than awardless single. Diana shifted her focus back to Peter and said, “It is a token of goodwill toward Ms. Felts. We all know that if this goes to court, she will end up with nothing.”

  “What makes you think that?” Peter asked.

  “Adultery. Ms. Felts was the cause of the marriage dissolving. She's at fault, so she gets nothing.”

  Kristen sprung up and shouted, “You don't fuc...”

&nb
sp; Peter grabbed her arm and interrupted with a painful, forced laugh. “Ms. Felts sought out companionship due to years of Mr. Finnegans' mental abuse. This abuse, I might add, was the true reason why the marriage failed. If anyone is to blame, it is him and him alone.”

  Kristen tearfully tried to speak out. “He kept calling me stu...”

  Once again, Peter awkwardly laughed which made Diana smile and glance at the transcriptionist recording the session. Under the table, she tapped Andrew's leg to signify their good luck. This contact made Andrew look up at Diana and blush. Throughout the meeting, he had followed her directions perfectly – only speak when spoken to, a calm response to every answer, and every accusation deferred to Diana.

  Peter read the asset schedule showing their marital property and said, “How about this, Kristen gets the house in Vail and $200,000 a year in alimony for the next ten years.”

  “Tell me why a single woman who was previously earning $35,000 a year before quitting her job deserves that much money?”

  “There is a certain type of lifestyle that she expects to keep. She should not have to lower her standards of living post-marriage.”

  Diana knew it was time to end the meeting. It was going nowhere, and Kristen needed to be scared. “We reject your offer, and I believe, unless you have any other requests, that we have nothing more to discuss today. You've gotten our offer, and if it's still not good enough for you, we can meet again in arbitration. Oh, and please use the 'standards of living' line in front of the arbitrator. It's brilliant.”

  Following the meeting, Andrew and Diana met Jamie for lunch at a deli next to her office.

  “Diana was amazing in there, Jamie. The other lawyer's face looked like yours when I hid that walkie-talkie above your bedroom window and pretended to be grandma's ghost. I'm telling you, this guy was out of his league compared to Diana.”