Separating Riches

by Mairsile Leabhair

  I read and reread the email. I tried to envision Chris as she read it, and I hoped she would see my love for her. I hoped I could convince her of my innocence with my words but I knew that was not going to be very likely, considering what everyone says I did. Finally, with a whispered prayer, I hit the send button.

  Tug of War — Chris Blackstone-Livingston and Felicia & Carl Livingston

  The texts had stopped. Melinda hadn’t texted me in hours and I felt so disconnected, so lonely. Even though I didn’t answer the texts, I still looked forward to them as a way to be with her. Maybe she emailed me instead. The battery on my cellphone was dead from checking for texts every five minutes, so I left it charging and walked into Mom’s office and sat down at her computer. Pulling up my email, I scanned through the spam, and saw a few emails from my friends, but nothing from Melinda. The tears were instant and unwelcomed. That’s all I had been doing since I came home. My mind was stressed to the limit with the tug of war I felt inside. She was having an affair. She wasn’t having an affair. Good Lord, what should I do? Please, send me a sign.

  “Want some ice cream, honey?”

  Mom interrupted my prayer with a bribe. Not the sign I was looking for, but not altogether unwanted either.

  “Sure, Mom,” I said, getting up from the desk and joining her on the settee.

  “How are you holding up, honey?” Mom asked.

  She handed me a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream garnished with wafers and chunks of chocolate. As a kid, Mom would give me ice cream as my reward for a good grade, or for cleaning my room, but also if I was sad, she’d sit with me and we’d talk over a bowl of ice cream. It was Mom’s cure all, and it usually worked, but nothing was going to help now.

  “I’m okay, Mom,” I said, pushing the spoon around in the melting chocolate. “I just wish someone would tell me what’s going on.”

  “I know it’s hard to wait, honey, but Meg will call as soon as she knows something.”

  “Mom, am I stupid to disbelieve what I saw with my own eyes?”

  “No, you’re not. Not when there’s a chance someone staged the whole thing. You know as well as I do that you can’t just turn off what you feel for Melinda. You want to believe, you have to believe, and you should, until you learn otherwise.”

  “I should be on my honeymoon right now, and instead, I’m at home, whining to my mother. What does that say for the future of my marriage?”

  “Now you listen to me, Christine Dolores Livingston. Your future is what you make of it. Every marriage is tested, many times over. It’s getting past those tests and still feeling the same about her that will assure your marital future.”

  I looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, soaking in her words. “You’re wrong, Mom,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s Christine Dolores Blackstone-Livingston.”

  Mom laughed. “That’s my girl.”

  I heard a ding on the computer and remembered I had left my email account open. I sat my untouched bowl of ice cream on the coffee table and got up to investigate, just as Mom’s cellphone rang. I had just sat down at the computer, praying that I had an email from Melinda, when Mom brought her phone to me. It was my Dad calling to check up on me.

  “Hey, kiddo. It looks like I need to work late again tonight, we’ve got another big merger that we’re working on, and so I wanted to check in on you. I’m sorry I missed seeing you this morning, but your mother told me what happened. Is there anything I can do, honey?”

  “I’m okay, Dad. Just waiting to hear back from Meg,” I said as I looked at my inbox. My heart leaped when I saw Melinda’s name in bold.

  “Well, you should plan on moving back in with us, and I’ve already retained the best divorce lawyer in the South for you. We’ll have it annulled so fast they won’t—”

  “What? No, Dad!” I yelled, standing up excitedly. “You sound just like Mom, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “She cheated on you only days after you married her. I don’t understand, why would you want to stay with her?”

  “If there’s the slightest doubt, I have to give her a chance to prove to me she was set up.”

  “You owe her that much?”

  “No, Dad. I love her that much.”

  “As your father, I’d say dump her. But as a married man in love with his wife, I’d say hold out until you know for sure.”

  “I love you, Daddy,” I said, catching a tear dropping from my eye.

  “I love you too, honey,” he said, and then hung up.

  “Mom. Oh, Mom,” I pleaded, as I handed the phone back to her. “Please don’t let him think the worst of Melinda until we know for sure.”

  “I won’t, honey,” she said, taking me into her arms. The comfort of my mother’s arms caused the tears to surface again.

  Waiting. I Hate Waiting! — Melinda Blackstone-Livingston, George Kirk, Norma Shelby, and Meg Baumgartner

  An hour later, I was still sitting on my bed, waiting for that familiar ding telling me that Chris replied to my email. Why hasn’t she emailed me yet? It was a pathetic scene. My cellphone was clutched in my hand, waiting on a call from Meg, and my laptop was on my lap, waiting for Chris’ email.

  An hour ago, I didn’t want company, thinking that I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. But the only thing I could think about was how lonely I was without Chris. How could it be that a year ago I scoffed at love and commitment, and now I was miserable without it?

  I had an urge to get up and pace. I climbed out of bed, stuffed my phone in my jeans pocket and went downstairs. I had the latest-greatest cellphone and could use it as a mini-laptop, so I knew I wouldn’t miss Chris’ email. Or maybe she’ll call instead?

  I found Norma in the living room, dozing in what we had designated as Norma’s recliner, with both of the kittens rolled up in a ball, sleeping in her lap. What a sweet sight that was, the three of them so content that they could sleep so blissfully. That was comforting to me for some reason. Not wanting to disturb them, I left and went to the game room. When I saw the pool table, I stopped and stood there, I’m not sure for how long. The table was like every other pool table, but now, it had taken on a life of its own.

  “If you’re not guilty, Blackie, that table shouldn’t bother you,” George said from behind me.

  I turned, ready to rip him a new one, but stopped when I saw his face. There was no smirk, no smile on his face. Only concern.

  “Back off, George,” I warned. “I’m wound tight and ready to beat the shit out of anyone who looks at me.”

  George shielded his eyes. “Okay, I get that,” he said, peeking through his fingers. “So, how about racking them up? Blind man’s pool game.”

  Laughing, I nodded, and walked over to the table. “You can break, George.”

  “It’s a shame this room doesn’t have a punching bag, like you have at home,” he said, as he positioned the cue ball.

  “Well, anymore snide remarks like that and you’ll be my punching bag,” I joked.

  “So I take it you’ve not heard from Meg yet?” he asked.

  “No, I haven’t heard from Meg, or the blood test, or Chris. If I could only hear from Chris, I wouldn’t stress as much about the other two.”

  “Blackie, it’s too soon yet. Chris is hurting, too. She’s confused, and I imagine, very emotional. Give her some time to understand what’s going on.”

  “I’m trying, George,” I replied, hitting the cue ball with such force that it bounced off the table and straight at George. Thankfully he dodged it and it bounced off the wall, finally coming to rest at his feet. “I’m sorry, George. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “Thank God, because my life flashed before my eyes, and I didn’t like what I saw.”

  “Why, what did you see?” I asked.

  “A lot of unfinished business,” he replied.

  “I can totally relate.” My cellphone rang and I snatched it up. “Chris?”

  “No, it’s Meg.”

  “Meg! Did you find o
ut anything?” I asked.

  “Yes and no. I’m on my way over. I’m just calling to make sure you are there.”

  “I’m here, but tell me now,” I demanded.

  “No, it would take too long. Just stay put, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Meg said.

  Before I could argue more, she had hung up. “Damn it!”

  “What? What did Meg tell you?” George asked excitedly, sinking another solid ball in the pocket.

  “She told me to stay put and wait. Damn it,” I repeated. “When will this fucking nightmare end!”

  “Waiting has never been your strong suit, Blackie, but you have to keep the faith that what you’re waiting for will be worth the wait.”

  “Wait, what?” I teased. “That’s a hell of a lot of waiting you’re asking me to do, George.”

  “What choice do you have, Blackie?” he questioned.

  “None. I have had no choice in any of this, and it’s pissing me off. I’m at Meg’s mercy, which is hard enough.”

  “Regardless of what she thinks about you, she will do what it takes to protect Chris,” George theorized.

  “And that’s the fucking problem,” I barked. “I should be the one protecting Chris. Me, not someone who hates me, like Meg does.”

  “I don’t think Meg hates you, per se. I think she has not had an opportunity to like you yet.”

  “George, you’re driving me crazy with your double speak.”

  “Good, at least it keeps you distracted. I just sunk the eight ball. Another round?”

  *

  Another hour passed. It felt more like twenty hours. Now, not only did I have to wait, knowing Meg had information for me, but I was trapped at that house, imprisoned in my nightmare. Still no word from Chris, and my heart was sinking fast. I thought that with Meg investigating my case, Chris would wait for me. She would see the lengths I would go through to prove my love for her. But as each minute ticked away, I could feel her pulling away from me.

  The doorbell rang, and I raced past Charlotte and opened the door. Meg was standing on the front stoop with her hand on her hip. Cocky. But is that a good thing?

  “Well? Can I come in?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah, of course,” I said.

  I led her into the living room where Norma and George were watching television.

  “I need to talk with you, Blackie.”

  “It’s all right, dear. We can leave,” Norma said, pushing the foot rest on her recliner down.

  “No, please stay,” I said, and then turned to Meg. “These people are my friends. I want them to know the truth. That is if they would like to stay?”

  “Hell, yeah,” George said.

  Norma nodded. “Yes, dear. Thank you.”

  “May I get anyone a refreshment?” Charlotte asked.

  “No, we’re good,” I said, anxious to hear what Meg had to say.

  Charlotte left the room and closed the door behind her.

  It’s Meg’s Show — Meg Baumgartner, Melinda Blackstone-Livingston, Norma Shelby, and George Kirk

  “All right, spill it,” Blackie demanded. “What did you learn? Did Tori show?”

  “No, she never came in,” I replied, “But I did chat with a few of the other regulars and they were very talkative.”

  “Talkative how?” Blackie inquired.

  “You know, if you’d take a breath, I could tell you,” I said, chastising her.

  “Fine. Just speed it up, will you?”

  “Melinda…” Norma said quietly.

  “I’m sorry, Norma. I’ll calm down now,” Blackie said, leaning back on the couch.

  “Like I said, Tori didn’t show, but it turns out that a couple of her cronies were there. The three of them would get together two or three times a week, drinking and carousing. They’re very proud of that fact too. So I introduced myself and told them that I was a friend of Tori’s. I explained that she was supposed to meet me. They weren’t surprised that she had stood me up.”

  “Why?” Blackie asked urgently.

  “Because, they haven’t seen her lately either. They said that she had hooked up with a man a couple of days ago, and the two had been practically inseparable ever since. Apparently, according to them, she knew the man. He was an old college sweetheart.”

  “How is that possible when she supposedly made out with Blackie yesterday in the pool room?” George asked.

  “Because, if it’s like Blackie said, the two of them were setting her up,” I explained. “The sudden appearance of the boyfriend means he is probably in on it.”

  “So then you believe me now, right?” Blackie asked.

  “I’m not ready to say that yet, Blackie. There are more questions than there are answers.”

  “That figures,” she said disappointedly. “So what kind of questions are you talking about?”

  “Questions like why, if she’s so into this man, did she want sex with you? And why did that happen a day or two after this college friend came back into her life? Did he put her up to it, or was she acting on her own?”

  “Wait, I don’t remember her having a sweetheart in college,” Blackie said. “And I only ever saw her with women so I always thought she was a lesbian. I mean, she sure knew how to please me… uh, never mind.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Please, spare me the details, all right?”

  “So what will you do next, Meg?” Norma asked.

  “I’d like to talk to the guy Blackie’s father paid off the first time,” I replied.

  “Why?” Blackie asked. “That was years ago and he’s never tried anything like that again, as far as I know. George?”

  “That’s right. He’s actually working for your father now and has become a pretty good photographer for the San Francisco newspaper.”

  “Good, then I’ll know where to find him,” I stated, as I scribbled some notes on my notepad. “What was his name, George?”

  “Let me think. I remember it was a manly name… Derrick. Yeah, that was it, Derrick, uh, something.”

  “Well, that’s a start. There can’t be that many Derricks taking pictures for the newspaper,” I said, writing down the man’s first name. “Okay, I’m going to go find this man and see what he knows.”

  “Meg, are you thinking that the two incidents might be connected somehow?” Norma asked.

  “Right now, it’s just a hunch. The two things are so much alike that my gut tells me they are connected, and I need to check every possibility.”

  “I’m going with you,” Blackie stated.

  Seeing the determination in her face, I knew it wasn’t up for debate, and this time, that was okay. I pick my fights, and her going with me wasn’t worth fighting over.

  A Home to Go Home To — Norma Shelby and George Kirk

  Discarding my last card, I looked with satisfaction at the remaining cards in George’s hand.

  “I believe that is gin rummy. That should put you over one hundred, George,” I said.

  “Norma, I hate playing cards with you,” George said, throwing his cards on the table.

  Smiling, I countered, “Well, if you wouldn’t cheat, dear, you might win a hand or two.”

  “I only cheated once, and it’s because I was desperate,” George explained. “We’ve been playing this game for hours now, and I haven’t won a hand yet.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “It’s only been a couple of hours, George. And I can start losing, if you’d like?”

  “No, it’s not that, Norma. I just don’t like sitting around, doing nothing. There should be something I can do to help Blackie.”

  “You’ve helped immensely already, George. You provided valuable information that even Melinda didn’t know about, and it could help in the investigation.”

  “But I want to be out there with them, helping, instead of sitting here like an old man, playing gin.”

  “You mean with this old lady, don’t you, dear?” I asked teasingly.

  “Norma, you are younger in spirit than our two y
oung friends out there, and so much wiser.”

  “You are indeed a gentleman, George. Thank you.”

  “Have you thought about what you will do if they break up?”

  His question caught me by surprise. Chris had joked about it, but I knew she was playing with me. George was serious and it warranted some thought. “I guess I’ll summer in Memphis and winter in Vegas.”

  “Good, then at least I’ll get to see you part of the year, when you’re staying with Blackie,” George said.

  “That’s sweet, dear, but I was joking. I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I’m too old to uproot myself every six months. If they break up… I guess…” My eyes began to blur with tears. “I guess I’ll check myself into a nursing home, and wait.”

  “Wait?” George looked at me curiously. “Wait for what?”

  “Death, dear,” I replied candidly.

  “No, Norma. Don’t say that,” he chastised.

  “That’s what I was doing when I met Chris. She was such a sweet young thing to befriend me like that. And when I learned how determined she was to right her wrongs, I wanted to be there when she did. I couldn’t be more proud of her than if she were my own daughter, and I am so blessed to have shared in her triumph. And Melinda has come so far since I first met her. She is blossoming before my eyes and the young woman she has become is awe inspiring. Both my girls by themselves are someone to be reckoned with, but together… together they are invincible. They can do some real good in this world. In fact, they already have. They found my grandson and reunited us. All the fame and fortune in the world will never mean as much to me as seeing my grandson walk in the room with his family. And they helped poor Richard off of my old apartment door stoop and into rehab.”

  “Have you heard from Richard lately?” George asked.

  “Yes, and he’s doing wonderfully well. He’s out of rehab now, and Melinda has set him up with a job, just as she promised she would. He is sober and providing a home for himself.”

  “That’s marvelous,” George exclaimed.

  “I think so, too. If not for Chris and Melinda, he would have died on that door stoop, scared and alone.” George handed me his handkerchief and I realized that I was crying. “If it weren’t for my girls,” I wept. “I wouldn’t have a roof over my head right now either.”