Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel

by Clarke Scott, M A

  He was the last to arrive, clearly by intention, and Kate was so tense she didn’t know how she’d get through the session. Focus! Discipline! Today they had to review the preliminary draft agreement and then they were on the home stretch. This case could finally end, and the turmoil it had brought to her life could end with it. Hopefully.

  Sharon opened the door for him, and he strolled over to the seating area and quietly took his place on one of the low upholstered black cubes that closed the gap in the sectional, his long legs folding like a grasshopper’s, his knees meeting his elbows. He looked uncomfortable.

  D'arcy carefully chewed a muffin with an intensity of focus that typified her peculiar, boundless appetite. It struck Kate that D'arcy seemed always to be eating lately, and the results were becoming evident. Her round face, instead of chiseled and glamourous, looked just plain plump. She supposed it was stress.

  Kate got right down to business. When she read aloud the draft, with a few suggested modifications, Sharon pitched in. “I believe the draft is still too vague on the issue of economics. No matter how well-intentioned D'arcy and Eli are going into this, money matters are always a source of conflict and things could easily get derailed again over them, given their unusual financial history.”

  Kate conceded Sharon’s point, confessing that she had downplayed financial issues. “I agree with you, Sharon. Money will always be a sensitive topic between D'arcy and Eli, given their beginnings. Though it can never be prescriptive. The future is always an unknown.” She offered a sample clause. “How do you feel about that?” she asked, turning to Eli and D'arcy, who sat in their usual spot side-by-side on the long sofa, their thighs touching like two electrodes, an invisible but tangible current of hope passing between them.

  “That sounds reasonable,” D'arcy replied, scanning the papers she held. Eli fidgeted, drumming his long fingers on his knee and fingering the rectangular outline of the cigarette pack in his pocket with a longing caress.

  Suggestions and ideas for a framework of financial responsibilities were critiqued and discussed, until they had added a couple of clauses that satisfied everyone.

  Kate tried not to look at Simon at all, but when she, against her will and better judgment, found herself glancing in his direction, he was almost always staring at her, creases etched between his brows, his hand rubbing his mouth or jaw pensively. He hardly spoke.

  “Simon. You’re very quiet. Any comments?” Sharon asked, apparently noticing the same. Startled, he looked up, scanning the group, and his eyes caught Kate’s for the first time. She looked away quickly, as did he.

  He sat up straighter. “Not on money matters. I’m in agreement with the changes you’ve proposed there.” He paused. “I did want to suggest, however, that we go over the section on family. I think there are some loose—”

  Kate cleared her throat, irritated. “Okay. That’s fine. I’d like to tidy up the next two sections before we move on.” She glanced up, but her eyes rose only to his chin, her lips pressed tightly together.

  “Whatever,” he muttered.

  She returned to her draft, and a moment later was startled by his, “Oh, Kate?”

  She looked up sharply, this time directly into his eyes. “Yes?” He sent her a silent angry message. Are you still there? Her eyes fluttered, unable to hold his gaze. She was culpable.

  He blinked slowly and looked away, point made. “Never mind. It can wait.” Kate’s brows knit and she blinked once, twice and looked down with a glower. What kind of game was he playing? He’s trying to piss me off, behaving like a spurned lover. Even though that’s exactly what he is, a little voice nagged.

  After an uncomfortable pause, Kate lifted her chin and resumed. “The next section I’d like to review involves responsibilities in the domestic sphere. Here, in paragraph thirty-two, I think we’ve made a start, but it’s much too brief and… well, abstract, quite frankly.”

  “But I can’t cook,” complained Eli. “Not at all,” he whined.

  “Neither could I when I left home,” D'arcy rebutted. Eli made a face.

  Simon jumped in to help D'arcy and Kate persuade Eli that sharing in the family cooking was not only his responsibility, but a great opportunity to be creative.

  D'arcy leaned in and planted a big kiss on his cheek. “It’ll be fun. I promise.” They all shared a laugh. “Of course that means doing dishes, too.”

  Eli looked like he might cry, though he was hamming it up now. “Couldn’t we just hire help?” He pulled out his cigarette pack with practiced ease and tapped it nervously.

  Everyone frowned at him. “Eli!” they cried in unison.

  “Maybe eventually. You two are hardly destitute.” Kate said. “But it’s about getting yourselves established first. Working out your roles. Remember all those discussions we had about extravagant purchases and gifts. No one is saying that those things are wrong, or that your generous spirit is a bad thing. It’s about balancing that impulse with responsibility, to D'arcy and to your future.”

  Simon and Eli exchanged a meaningful look, and Eli nodded and took a deep breath, placing an unlit cigarette between his sensual lips. He leaned back and draped an arm around D’arcy’s shoulders and she shot a smile at him.

  “It’s really about outlining options and using some objective standards. So, let’s try this wording… ” suggested Kate, and she read from her notes, while the others made marks on their draft agreements.

  Simon excused himself quietly and sauntered across the loft while they finished the next two sections. A part of Kate’s mind went with him, missing him even though they could hardly look at each other, never mind talk.

  Some minutes later, Simon returned and stood behind the sofa, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Awareness slowly dawned that an unpleasant odor had wafted into the room. Oh God, Oscar. She stood up.

  “Simon?”

  “Uh… Kate. I… er… I think perhaps you might want to… ” He gestured helplessly. He looked beseechingly at Kate, his eyebrows tilted in pitiful brackets, all anger forgotten for the moment as she caught his eye.

  Just at that moment, before she could speak, the culprit himself made a dramatic entrance. Oscar dashed across the room as though pursued by the devil, up onto the hall table, leaving a vase of flowers tottering.

  “Oscar!” Kate jumped up. “You naughty boy.” She quickly bent to pick him up. “Please excuse us a moment.” Blushing, she hurried toward the bathroom with the guilty cat. “Bad kitty,” she whispered as Eli guffawed and Sharon clucked.

  “I’ll just…” Simon cleared his throat and followed her to a chorus of muffled laughter.

  “Oh, Oscar, are you feeling unwell, kitty?” She set him down in her bedroom and closed the door, then opened the connecting door between her guest bathroom and private en suite where she kept Oscar’s litter box, efficiently eliminating the problem—Oscar had missed his litter box by six inches. She flushed the offending matter away, spritzed the rooms with deodorizer, flicked on the fan, and was disinfecting the floor when she realized Simon was leaning in the door frame watching her.

  “I smelled it, but I didn’t see where… you know...” He was choking, trying not to laugh. It was too bizarre to believe.

  “Don’t be silly, it’s nothing you could deal with. I’m so embarrassed. I try hard to keep my personal… stuff separate from my workspace, but– Sometimes his illnesses get a bit messy.” She stood up and gave her hands a thorough scrubbing in her own sink, while he stood awkwardly behind her with is hands thrust like incriminating evidence into his pockets, peering through to her bedroom.

  At last she looked up and caught his eye in the mirror. Their serious expressions gave way to smirks, then grins, and finally crumpled into guffaws of laughter that brought tears to their eyes.

  She dried her hands and turned to face him, still laughing, and his smile suddenly fell. “Kate,” he whispered.

  Her heart leapt to her throat, thrashing like a trapped bird. Discerning his intent
ion, she sobered. “Don’t.”

  He grasped her shoulders and pulled her towards him earnestly. “We have to talk. We can’t leave things as they are.”

  “There is nothing to discuss.” She tried to pull away.

  “Kate.” He searched her eyes. She shook her head silently, dropping her eyes. He bent his head quickly and brushed his lips to hers, but she turned her head, and caught her breath. “Don’t run from me.” He caught her chin with his fingertips and moved to kiss her again, but she turned her body away.

  “Simon,” she hissed. “For God’s sake. Have some sense.“ She slipped out of the bathroom, shutting the connecting door, and strode away from him. Her pulse hammered, and she was sure her flushed face would give her away. How could she go on if he insisted on behaving this way?

  Kate returned to the group, covering her discomfort with strained, excited laughter and apologized for Oscar’s poor hygiene and bad timing and offered fresh coffee in a breathless, agitated voice that sounded slightly hysterical even to her own ears. Simon rejoined them and sat down sullenly without another word.

  Sharon squinted at him suspiciously and he flashed her an insincere grin, and Kate felt as though she were teetering on the edge of a precipice. Any fool could see there was something wrong now. And Sharon was no fool.

  “Alright. Where were we?” Kate resumed in a shrill, synthetic tone.

  “We were just finishing up the section on consultation and joint decision making. I drafted something while you were gone. Have a look.” Sharon handed a page to Kate, who looked it over. Sharon was being terribly helpful now, as though she couldn’t wait for these sessions to end.

  Kate nodded stiffly, made a small amendment and handed it over to D'arcy and Eli. “This might work. What do you think?” Eli held the paper while they read and then passed it to Simon, who scanned it quickly.

  As much as she would like to, she couldn’t forget that Simon had asked to make a point earlier. “Simon. You had something you wanted to add to the section on family?”

  “Yes.” He flipped a page. “Yes, here are my notes. I thought the draft was a little one-sided. I know the concern has been about interference. But, really there should be room for family in every couple’s life. D’arcee’s parents are already across the country.”

  Kate noticed Eli stiffen. “But some families truly do harm with their meddling,” Kate said pointedly, remembering Mrs. Duchamp’s officious phone call, meeting Simon’s gaze steadily and then retreating again.

  “Undoubtedly. But it’s my belief that most families interfere because they care.” He lifted his chin. “Perhaps the problem could be solved, or at least alleviated, not by excluding family involvement, but by spending enough time together to ensure there is a strong foundation to the relationship, and a better appreciation for each other’s character.”

  “You haven’t met my in-laws, Simon,” said Eli with a sharp look, his jaw jutting. “They never gave me a half a chance. Even before they met me, they’d written me off as some kind of dead-beat loser. I’ve hardly seen them since we got married, and they’re barely civil when I answer the phone.”

  “Have you gone to Montreal for a visit since you’ve been together?” enquired Kate. She didn’t want to agree with Simon, but he made a valid point.

  “Of course,” said D'arcy. “Right away, when we decided to get married. It didn’t go well.” Her voice trailed off.

  Eli snorted bitterly. “That’s an understatement.”

  “We ended up getting married here, without them.” D'arcy added.

  “And you haven’t seen them since?” Simon asked.

  “I haven’t spent time with them, no, and with good reason,” Eli replied, scowling. “They despise me.”

  “Eli! That’s not true. I know you have a hard time believing it, but Mother and Papa do like you. They just worry a lot. They are very protective of me, so the whole thing was a shock for them,” D'arcy explained.

  “It’s been six years, cherie,” said Eli, leaning back and crossing his arms.

  Simon jumped in. “That’s my point, right there.” He jabbed his forefinger into the air. “You got off to a rough start six years ago, and you’ve never recovered from it. Instead of tolerating this partial estrangement, which can hardly be easy for D'arcy and isn’t practical if you have kids and they become grandparents, why not assume that you need to start over.” He drew a long breath, and spread he hands in supplication. “I mean make a point of spending time together and getting to know each other?” Simon folded his hands together and looked around expectantly. “Bond a little.”

  “I go back regularly, but they won’t speak to each other,” D'arcy said quietly. “Every year they invite us to visit. Both of us. In fact there is a standing invitation for Christmas.” D'arcy sat forward, earnest. “Why don’t we go this year?”

  “No way!” Eli raised his hands in protest. “After the things they said to me?”

  “What things?” asked Simon.

  Wait a minute? Who’s running this show? Kate glared at Simon, her nostrils flaring in annoyance. “Stay calm, please, Eli. Maybe you could tell us what happened six years ago that got you off to such a bad start.”

  He stiffened, dropping his eyes. “There’s nothing to tell. They never liked me.”

  “Eli. They do. You have to give them a chance, too,” D'arcy said.

  Eli shot to his feet and took a few steps away from the group. Kate’s heart raced wildly. What’s going on? Kate shot Simon a look. Do something! Sharon was staring at Eli as though he might explode, and Kate thought she might be right. Simon stood up too, and moved toward Eli, speaking softly. “Sit down. Tell us more.”

  Eli’s dark eyes were tormented. He stood with clenched fists. “No. Just drop it. I won’t go groveling to those people.”

  Kate approached them, conciliatory, her voice calm and gentle. “Please sit down. Perhaps we came at this from the wrong angle. I think I understand what Simon is getting at, but it doesn’t have to be threatening for you. Let’s just talk it out a bit.” She lay a gentle hand on Eli’s arm, trying to coax him back to his seat. D’arcy’s face was grim. Eli yanked his arm free and strode a few feet away, turning his back.

  D'arcy stood up and followed him. “Babe, why don’t we call them right now. You don’t have to go back there. Maybe we could invite them here for Christmas. We can show them our place, take them on a tour of your studio and the gallery. It would be a real eye opener for them. And then you’d see too. They aren’t against you.” D’arcy’s voice rose and fell in a soothing lullaby, while Eli’s shoulders drew up, even more tense.

  Oh, this was bad. Really, really bad. Tension in the room was building. Kate could feel Eli moving closer to catastrophe. She stepped toward Simon and leaned close, hissing, “Why did you bring this up? We were so close.”

  Simon whirled on her, nothing like his usual serene self. “You call this close? You’ve got to be… It was just glossed over. I saw it right away. This is a major stumbling block...” He lowered his voice. “They have to work through it.”

  “You didn’t have to rile them up,” she said indignantly. She clenched her fists, frowning. Damn it, she was frazzled. She wasn’t behaving like a mediator at all.

  “I didn’t rile them. It’s already there. You can’t hide from old wounds. You have to face them,” he looked searchingly into her eyes, and she could see that he was speaking to her, about her, as well as Eli and D'arcy.

  “Why are you doing this?” Kate was seething, and the words escaped in a moan through her gritted teeth. They were only a few inches apart, and their conversation did not go unnoticed by the others, she knew that.

  “I’m an honest man. And I expect honesty from everyone else.” He met her eye steadily. “There are too many secrets and lies in this room.” He drew a deep breath, and dropped his shoulders, exhaling.

  Kate noticed Sharon glaring at them. She knew he was right. Not only was there something weird going on with D'arcy tha
t she hadn’t been able to figure out, but Eli held onto some deeply rooted issues with his in-laws that were always going to stand in the way of their relationship if they were never resolved. But Simon should have spoken to her privately. As if he’d had a chance. She sighed, stroking her furrowed brow with her fingertips.

  Sharon’s face suddenly appeared between them like a darting cobra, her smile rigid and hostile. “Don’t think for one second I don’t know what’s going on here,” she spat. “And you thought I would make trouble for you. It looks like you’ve brought it on yourself, this time.” She moved off toward D'arcy, who was still pleading with Eli.

  “Eli, please reconsider. If we invited them... Better yet, if you invited them for Christmas, it would mean so much. You have no idea how that would turn things around,” D'arcy begged, her voice a desolate whine.

  “That’ll be the day, D'arcy.” Eli was suddenly cool and calm, in a dangerous way that unnerved Kate, her senses prickling.

  “Eli, please.” D'arcy wailed, moving close to him, her hand on his arm.

  “Abso-fuckin’-lutely not! They would have to come crawling on hands and knees in abject apology before I would even consider it.” His smile was sardonic, and he tilted his head as he gazed at D'arcy, his ebony eyes glinting.

  D'arcy flinched, backing away. “We have to work this out. You know we do.”

  “You do, chere. You have to decide who you trust. Me or them. If you choose me, I’ll be there for you. But if you want Mother and Papa in your life, you can count me out.!”

  “Eli. No ultimatums. Please, be reasonable.” Kate tried to interject, but she knew it was too late.

  “No. It’s not an ultimatum.” He was disconcertingly calm, his voice flat. “I just realized that I’m so fucking tired of being a pawn in someone else’s game. I’ve got my own life to live. I don’t need this.” Eli grabbed his jacket from the back of a dining room chair and strolled to the door, as though he hadn’t just tossed his marriage away without a care. He opened it and left, not bothering to close it behind him.