A House Divided

by Robert Whitlow

  She again raised the napkin to her face. This time she wasn’t able to banish her tears with a shrug of her shoulders. When she finally lowered it, she saw that Peter’s eyes had welled up too, and that set her off again.

  “I never cry,” Roxy said when she regained her composure. “I must look like a mess.”

  The waiter arrived with their food. With professional detachment he ignored the obvious flood of emotion that had swept over the two people at the table.

  “He probably thinks you broke up with me,” Roxy said after he left.

  “Or finally beat you in a 5K race.”

  She laughed louder than his joke warranted. Peter reached across the table and took her hand. Her lips trembled.

  “Please,” she said. “Be careful what you say. It won’t take much to reduce me to a puddle.”

  Peter looked into her eyes. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then released her hand. Roxy let out the breath she’d been holding, suddenly sorry she’d squelched him.

  Peter picked up his fork and cut off a small piece of quiche. “Do you want the first bite?” he asked.

  On her way back to the office, Roxy tried to unravel the reason for her sudden inability to control her emotions. She’d shed a few tears at her mother’s funeral, but nothing like the explosion at the restaurant. At least Peter didn’t freak out when she started bawling. She’d never considered herself an overwrought female. Her cell phone vibrated. When she saw the identity of the caller, she almost swerved into the curb.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Corbin leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. Due to either repeated doses of pain medication, his midday shots of vodka, or a combination of the two, his headache was gone. And with its departure Corbin’s attitude had improved immensely. He felt almost euphoric.

  “Dad?” Roxy asked in an odd tone of voice.

  “Yes, are you in the middle of something?” Corbin replied.

  “Peachtree Street on the way to the office after meeting Peter for lunch. Why are you calling?”

  “I’m coming to Atlanta on Friday and thought I might swing by and see you. I’ve not been to your office in years, and I’ll need a place to hang out until traffic clears. I-75 will be a parking lot until seven. I even thought we could grab a bite to eat if you don’t have plans.”

  As her father chattered away, Roxy stopped at a red light. She held the phone away from her ear and stared at it.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yes, the day started out rough, but I’m feeling much better now. The cut on my face is healing faster than you’d expect for a man my age. It seems the people who predicted my early demise are dead wrong.”

  Corbin laughed at his joke. Hearing the sound, Roxy knew for a fact that her father had been drinking. She shook her head and prepared to turn down his request. But her conversation with Peter at the French restaurant stopped her. She knew he would pester her until he had a chance to encounter Corbin Gage for himself.

  “Would it be okay if Peter joined us for dinner?”

  “Yeah, of course. I’d like to meet him.” Corbin paused. “He hasn’t asked you to marry him, has he?”

  “No,” Roxy said, rolling her eyes. “But I met his parents a few months ago when they were in town, and he’d like to meet you. We can get together at my office and go someplace from there. What time do you think you’ll get here?”

  “Around five thirty. I’m not exactly sure when I’ll finish at the attorney general’s office.”

  “Why are you going there?”

  “Background research on a case,” Corbin replied cryptically. “What’s the address for your firm again? I haven’t been there since—”

  “The first month I started. You brought Mom to show her my office.”

  Corbin was silent.

  Roxy took a left turn into the firm’s parking area. “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “For what?”

  “The address of the office.”

  “Oh, right. Give it to me.”

  Corbin spent the next two hours working on the first draft of the complaint in the Colfax litigation. His handwriting was barely legible, even to himself, but seeing the rough paragraphs unfold was exciting. As he scribbled, he imagined the reaction the lawsuit would have on the upper-level management of the company at their Richmond, Virginia, headquarters. Until the recent prosecution initiated by the attorney general’s office, Colfax was used to having its way in Rusk County.

  There was a knock on his door, and Janelle popped her head in. “How’s your headache?” she asked.

  “Much better. I’m putting together the complaint in the Colfax case. I don’t want to include too much detail in the complaint, just enough to let them know I have bullets in my gun.”

  “I’ll be interested to see if you do. Are you going to include both boys in the same case?”

  “Yes, and let the defense try to separate them. They won’t be able to make a stab at that until I’ve cracked open some doors during discovery and found out what sort of skeletons are in the closets.”

  “Impressive.” Janelle raised her eyebrows. “This started out as a bad day, but you’ve turned it into a good one.”

  Corbin checked his watch. “I only hope that continues with Ray and Cindy. I’m eating supper over there tonight, and I know they’re going to hammer me about Billy.”

  “Remember what I said about letting him come to the office and—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Corbin cut her off with a wave of his hand. “But it’s his father who needs to come here, not an eight-year-old boy. I don’t want to stick Billy in the conference room playing games on a smartphone.”

  “Does he have a phone?”

  “No, but he has one of those electronic gadgets. He knows not to drag it out when we’re together. I’d throw it in the pond.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “You’re right, but if you give a kid something real and exciting to do, he doesn’t have to waste all his time and energy on one of those things.”

  “Okay. I’m out of here in five minutes unless there’s something else you need me to do.”

  “No, and thanks again for not quitting.”

  Janelle shut the door.

  Corbin leaned back in his chair. The restorative high he’d experienced after his trip to Red’s was slipping away and he felt tired. He considered going home for a quick drink or two before heading to supper, but didn’t want to risk it. Instead he propped his feet on his desk and closed his eyes for a nap.

  He awoke with a start and glanced at the time. He was already ten minutes late for supper.

  Billy ran into the kitchen from the backyard and opened the refrigerator door.

  “I’m starving,” he said as he took out a jug of milk. “Lunch at school today was gross. Can I fix a sandwich and drink a glass of milk while we wait for Pops to get here? I promise I’ll still eat my supper.”

  “You can wait,” Cindy replied with a glance at Ray, who was sitting at the table reading the local newspaper.

  “Daddy?” Billy appealed to his father.

  “How hungry are you?” Ray asked, lowering the paper. “Describe it for me.”

  “Huh?”

  “Tell me what it feels like to be starving.”

  Billy paused for a moment. “It feels like the juices in my stomach are eating away at my insides.” He gestured across his midsection. “There is a pain that starts here and goes over to this side. I think that’s the part being eaten from the inside out.”

  Ray turned to Cindy. “I think we should let the boy drink a glass of milk. I don’t want to see stomach juices coming through his shirt. It will ruin my appetite.”

  Cindy took a glass from the cabinet and set it on the counter.

  “I expect you to be that descriptive when you have to write a paper for English class in high school,” she said as Billy filled the glass to the brim.

  Billy lifted the glass to his lips and didn’t lower it
until a third of it was gone. “Ah,” he said. “This milk has a good bead to it.”

  “What did you say?” Ray and Cindy both asked at the same time.

  “When Pops really likes his water, he says it has a good bead to it.”

  Cindy looked at Ray. “Do we have any doubt about the need to have this talk with him?”

  “Not a bit.”

  The doorbell sounded.

  “I’ll get it.” Billy bounded out of the room.

  “Are you going to tell him what Billy just said?” Cindy asked.

  “It’s not on our list, but we can add it.”

  Corbin and Billy entered the kitchen.

  “And I want to show you the fort I’m building against the fence in the backyard,” Billy said to Corbin.

  “After supper,” Corbin replied. “I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” Billy replied.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Corbin said to Cindy as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I was working late at the office and time slipped by on me.”

  “Was that before or after your nap?” Ray replied.

  Corbin grinned and held his hands out in front of him. “I’m busted, Mr. DA. Put on the handcuffs.”

  Cindy had prepared fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and creamed corn. Corbin’s eyes got bigger when he saw the meal.

  “Let me make a better apology for being late,” he said. “If I’d known you were going to all this trouble, I’d—”

  “Save it, Dad,” Ray interrupted. “Let’s eat.”

  The table in the small dining room had seating for six. Ray sat at one end with Corbin at the other.

  “Can I pray?” Billy asked.

  “Sure,” Ray replied.

  Billy bowed his head and closed his eyes. “God, thank you for this food. And don’t let Judge Ellington die like Rupert Murdoch. Pops and I want to catch him. Amen.”

  “You’ve been thinking about those fish?” Corbin asked Billy.

  “Yeah. Can we go on Saturday? I have a soccer match in the morning, but maybe we could eat lunch on the boat. I really like it when we—”

  “Let’s talk about that later,” Cindy interrupted as she passed the platter of chicken to him.

  Corbin didn’t speak during the rest of the meal; however, that didn’t keep him from finishing off one plate and loading up another. Ray and Cindy kept the conversation going by asking Billy questions. Finally the boy turned to his grandfather.

  “Pops, are you feeling okay? You sure are quiet.”

  “It’s my heart,” Corbin said. “It hurts.”

  “Dad—” Ray started.

  “Not like Jamie Campbell’s grandpa,” Billy interrupted in alarm. “His heart hurt and he had to go to the hospital. After he got home he couldn’t do anything.”

  “Pops’s heart is fine,” Ray said. “Remember, he got checked out at the hospital when his face was stitched up. The doctor said his heart was okay, isn’t that right?”

  “Yeah,” Corbin said to Billy. “I meant that I’m feeling kind of sad today, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  By the expression on his face, Billy didn’t seem convinced.

  “Has your stomach given up on the idea of eating your insides?” Ray asked his son.

  “Yes, sir,” Billy replied in a subdued voice, with another worried glance at Corbin.

  “Are you finished?” Cindy asked the boy.

  “Yes, ma’am. But you said we were going to have peach cobbler with ice cream for dessert.”

  “We are, but only after your supper has a chance to settle into that huge hole that was in your stomach. Go to your room and complete the math problems Ms. Patterson sent home.”

  “But I want to show Pops my fort.”

  “We can do that when you finish,” Corbin replied. “Obey your mama.”

  Billy left the table and the adults sat in silence until they heard the door to his room close. Ray leaned over to the sideboard for the sheet of paper he and Cindy had prepared to guide the painful conversation. However, Corbin spoke first.

  “Before you issue a ruling from the bench or read from the order you prepared, you should know I went to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting at Hopewell Methodist Church last night.”

  “You went to an AA meeting?” Ray asked, his mouth dropping open.

  “Yes, and got a copy of the Big Book written by the guys who started it. I fell asleep last night reading stories about men who stopped drinking through AA. A lot of them didn’t get help until they experienced some kind of personal crisis connected to alcohol. For me, I can’t think of a bigger catastrophe than losing my time with Billy. I realized you were serious about your threat the other night at the hospital and knew I had to do something to win back your trust. Max Hogan is the one who invited me to the meeting and can verify I was there.”

  “I thought it was supposed to be anonymous,” Cindy said suspiciously.

  “It is. There were other people there you might know, and I won’t give out their names. But Max and I have been drinking buddies for years, and he wouldn’t care. Ray knows him.”

  Cindy pointed to the sheet of paper in Ray’s hand. “And you think going to a single AA meeting is going to change our minds about what we need to do to protect Billy?”

  “Of course not. If I weren’t eating supper with you tonight, I’d be at an AA meeting at the mental health center on Calhoun Street. All I’m asking is that you don’t do anything drastic. Put me on probation or whatever you want to call it until your fears are put to rest.”

  Ray scratched his head. “Dad, that’s great. I never thought you’d admit you had a drinking problem, much less do something about it. I wish Mom . . .” He stopped.

  “That’s what got me out of the car at the church last night. I thought about her and what she’d want me to do. I hate to admit it, but I was afraid to go inside. But the people were nice, and nobody put any pressure on me to say or do anything.”

  “Wait a minute.” Cindy held up her hand. “I thought you had to admit you’re an alcoholic and agree to stop drinking to be a member of AA.”

  “You’re a part of AA when you show up,” Corbin replied. “They don’t keep a membership roll.”

  “But you have to admit to a drinking problem,” Cindy persisted. “Isn’t that one of the Twelve Steps?”

  “Yes, and I do have a problem,” Corbin said slowly. “That’s what convinced me to go to the meeting.”

  “Hey, I’m going to celebrate what you’ve done and encourage you to follow through,” Ray said, glancing at Cindy. “I heard about Max Hogan getting help. Didn’t he go through an inpatient rehab program?”

  “Yeah, he’s a huge believer in AA. That’s where he’s focusing his attention.”

  “Would you consider a twenty-eight-day program?” Cindy asked.

  “I don’t want to be locked up. All I need is support and encouragement. And I can’t be away from the office for a month. My practice is picking up, which is another motivation to curb my drinking. I’ve got to be alert and focused.” Corbin turned to Ray. “I identified a lot with one of the men in the AA book who drank as a form of self-medication because he was depressed. That’s true for me, so I’m going to make an appointment with Dr. Fletchall to see if there’s something mild he can give me to help stabilize my mood.”

  “I don’t know.” Cindy shook her head. “This is awfully sudden. I mean, one meeting doesn’t make me comfortable—”

  “Here’s what I ask,” Corbin cut in. “I’ll start coming to more of Billy’s activities with you. Just don’t cut off my chances to hang out with him one-on-one. What kind of message is it going to send to him if I tell him I can’t take him fishing or for hikes in the woods?”

  Ray looked at Cindy. “What do you think?” he asked.

  Cindy pressed her lips together tightly for a moment and tapped the sheet of paper on the table between her and Ray. “I think we ought to stick to what we discussed earlier,” she said, then turned
to Corbin. “But if you will promise not to drink a drop of liquor before or during your times with Billy, I guess we can see how it goes.”

  “Absolutely,” Corbin said quickly.

  “And you promise to continue going to the AA meetings and keep Ray up to date on how you’re doing. In a way it’s none of my business, except for the impact on Billy.”

  “I hear you loud and clear,” Corbin replied.

  “What’s an AA meeting?” a voice asked.

  The adults turned and saw Billy on his hands and knees in the hallway peeking around the corner.

  “How long have you been there?” Ray demanded.

  “Just a minute,” Billy replied defensively. “I solved all my math problems and checked them to make sure they were right.”

  “We were working out the details for a fishing trip on Saturday,” Corbin said. “I’ll come watch your soccer game, then we can take off for the pond. Oh, and we’ll have lunch on the boat too.”

  “It’s a soccer match, Pops,” Billy said.

  “Right. I’m learning new stuff all the time.”

  After he finished his tour of Billy’s fort, Corbin left the house and got in his truck. He shut his eyes for a moment. He’d pleaded his case to a two-person jury and won. Well, maybe won was too strong. He’d avoided summary judgment, but the final verdict was still in doubt.

  It had taken every ounce of his willpower to hold it together in the house. Toward the end of the meal his hands began to tremble involuntarily, forcing him to keep them hidden beneath the table. Ray and Cindy would have labeled the shakes delirium tremens, a charge Corbin doubted he could refute.

  He backed the truck out of the driveway. Shortly before reaching the Hopewell church, he slowed in front of The Office tavern. The parking lot was nearly full, and he recognized several vehicles. Corbin hadn’t visited the popular watering hole since before Kitty’s death. After being absent for such a long period, he knew he’d be greeted with enthusiasm by the regulars and rewarded with free beer purchased by his friends. He’d done the same thing for others many times. He felt the familiar craving for a drink rise up from the core of his being.