Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel

by Clarke Scott, M A

  She was more than curious. “Is it a secret?”

  He tilted his head. “Yes and no. You can see it. Come on.” He jumped up from the sofa and led the way back into the studio. She followed eagerly to the giant easel, thinking that he was a different man in his own environment, relaxed, energized and powerful, and waited as he climbed a step ladder and pulled back a huge, paint splattered canvas tarp from one edge. She stepped back, trying to take in what she saw.

  The stretched canvas was very large, perhaps eight feet wide, and more, maybe ten feet high. Most of it was quite bare, with large thin washes of beige and grey veiling but not covering his bold, charcoal lines. Two figures, their arms tangled as they clutched at each other, stood almost back-to-back. They were gaunt, underfed, their musculature explicitly drawn in dark lines. Even without the benefit of light, shadow and colour, Eli had been able to capture their striving, their effort, with posture and gesture alone. Kate stood transfixed.

  Finally she could speak. “It’s like a Matisse, with gravitas, angst, and anorexia. Are they fighting or dancing?”

  He chortled. “Both, I guess.”

  “My God, Eli. You really know what you’re doing.”

  “Hm. No, actually. That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” his voice was wistful, and he had clearly taken her meaning the wrong way. He shrugged and turned away.

  She studied him for a long time. “Let’s go sit down,” she suggested. He followed her back to the lounge, stopping to pick up the bottle of malt from the counter, and refilled her cup. Somehow she’d managed to drain it.

  He fetched himself another beer and sat down again next to her, tucked a cigarette between his lips and flicked on his lighter.

  “How are you feeling? Still angry?” she asked.

  “Aah. No. I’m long past anger,” he inhaled, his voice quiet, the tip of his cigarette glowing red.

  She thought for a moment, looking into her cup. He sounded desolate. “D'arcy went to Montreal.”

  He frowned. “That doesn’t surprise me.” He took a long swig of his beer.

  “She’s coming back Thursday— with her mother.” She studied his face carefully. Whatever he thought of that, he didn’t show it, but she thought she detected some tension around his dark eyes. “There’s something else I’ve been wanting to talk to you about… ”

  Eli leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his beer bottle dangling in between. “Mmm?”

  “Sharon has decided to file a professional conduct complaint against me, and maybe Simon, I don’t know.” She shot a nervous glance at him.

  He sneered. “What’s that shrew got up her ass?”

  “I should have said something right away,” Kate said. “Simon and I were quite romantically involved years ago, and Sharon found out. She’s claiming we’ve renewed our relationship.”

  “I should hope so.” He sat upright, smiling broadly. “He’s had plenty of time to make his move. How slow could the man go?”

  “What?”

  “Simon told me when we first met, about your history. I figured you’d be into a steamy affair by now,” he smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

  “We’re not allowed to do that. We’re working together. We can’t be in… in… involved with each other.”

  “Why not? How can it affect us?”

  “Well, that’s the question. I can’t see how it could bias our thinking about you two, though it has been distracting. But technically, Sharon has a case, if only because we weren’t truthful at first.”

  “Well. You can call me as a witness. I’m all for it. You two ought to be together.” He drank again.

  “Ought to be?”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re cut from the same cloth, you two.” His stomach growled viciously, and he clutched it making a face.

  What a strange thing to say. “Well. It’s not that simple.” She swept a hand through the air. “But anyway, we have to deal with Sharon and her protocol now. I wanted you to know. How ‘bout I take you out for a real meal?”

  He grimaced, gesturing across his state of dress. “I’m hardly presentable. I could get a pizza.” She smiled and nodded. Maybe she could get him to open up tonight yet, if she persevered. This may be unconventional, but it might be worthwhile in the end.

  Blue moonlight flooded in through the large bare window, and she noted that the sky was almost clear now, a dark indigo. How quickly the sun set. It was getting close to the shortest day of the year. She could hear him on the phone, and a few minutes later he was back with a fresh beer. He refilled her cup. She felt relaxed for the first time in weeks.

  “I ordered a pepperoni and a Greek. Figured I’d cover all the bases, and I can always use the leftovers,” he grinned sheepishly, another cigarette pinched between his smirking lips, “…for breakfast.”

  Before long there was a thudding on the outer door. “Be right back.”

  She jumped up and grabbed her purse. “Let me get it.”

  “No, no. I’ve got an account, don’t worry,” his muffled voice came from the hall as he headed for the door. She heard him open it and then, “Hey Stu.” Stu replied with equally colloquial greetings and bummed a smoke. “Thanks, dude.” The door closed.

  “I can’t believe they deliver here.”

  “I’m a regular.” He shrugged, and dropped the boxes on top of the cluttered coffee table. “Dig in. Oh, do you want a plate?” he asked, as an afterthought.

  Kate thought about the likelihood of there being a clean plate. She waved a hand. They settled in to eat their pizza. Afterwards they sat, sated, sipping their drinks and enjoying the quiet.

  “Tell me how you’re feeling about D'arcy now. Do you think we can get back to work?”

  “I dunno.” Eli cast his gaze at the floor, pursing his lips. Then he glanced up at her, flashed a tight smile, looked down again, shrugging, and spun his wedding ring around absently.

  She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she ventured, “What has she done that’s so upset you?”

  “I’m frustrated. I feel like she’s playing games with me. I hardly know her. I even thought she was sick, for a while. The things that she’s gotten upset about —women, money, time— well… I know they look bad, but I haven’t done anything differently than I ever did, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” He shrugged and took a drag. “But lately she’s so sensitive, so demanding.”

  He flicked the ash from his cigarette.

  “I would have thought my big break would make her feel better. It may not be secure, but I’ve been bringing in a lot of money for the first time since I met her. I didn’t expect her to flip out.”

  “Maybe she just wants to know that she can rely on you— to look out for her sometime. Maybe she’s afraid that you don’t need her anymore,” suggested Kate.

  “But, that makes me sound so mercenary. I’ve always needed D'arcy by my side, but not for the financial support. She’s my soul mate. No one understands me like D'arcy does. I just want her to trust me. Is that too much to ask? I’m the same man she fell in love with seven years ago.”

  “Are you?”

  He tossed his head. “Maybe more so. I’m a man. I want to be acknowledged as one. I want respect. Haven’t I kept my part of the bargain? Haven’t I worked my ass off? What more does she want from me?”

  “Maybe she needs something from you that’s a little more mundane. Or maybe she wants you to take care of her. Even modern women who work, and have financial independence, need a little reassurance once in a while. She may be tired of the burden of responsibility. You could try being the caregiver for a change. You could be her protector.” Where had that come from? Straight from her insecure subconscious, she imagined. “Maybe I’m just old fashioned at heart, but I think there’s a part of every woman that wants her man to put something on the line for her. To risk something. What are you prepared to give up?”

  Eli gave a cynical laugh. “That’s not who I am. I’m not good at all those details. I just ta
ke one day at a time, y’know? I’m an artist, for God’s sake!”

  Kate drew herself up, resolved. It was now or never. “Tell me about D’arcy’s parents. What happened when you met them?”

  Eli tossed his head back on the sofa with a gust of air. “So this isn’t just a social visit?” he deadpanned, gazing up at the stained grid ceiling, then back at her, his expression grim.

  She leaned forward, and looked pointedly into his eyes. “I want to get you and D'arcy back to where you were.” Kate spread her hands like wings in a plaintive gesture. “I feel responsible for missing this issue with her family. I should have been more astute.”

  He looked at her keenly. “If D'arcy and I are going to make this work, we’re going to have to do it without her folks. She has to decide where her future is.”

  “You can’t mean that! You can’t ask her to… to give up her family.” Kate felt her words sticking together as she forced them past a tongue that seemed too thick. She hadn’t meant to drink so much of the scotch. “Y’know she can’t be happy if she has to choose.” She reached across and placed a hand on his arm. She had to help him see a compromise was the only way.

  Eli’s chin was down, and his eyes flashed from under his dark brows. Even with his unkempt hair, and thick carpet of facial hair, he was still a handsome man. Dark eyes like pools burned into her own, shining like those of an animal, vulnerable yet dangerous. He seemed to be assessing her worth.

  “Trust me. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll keep your secret, if I must. But help me understand what’s wrong. I want to help you.” They held each other’s eyes, and she was uncertain who had fallen under whose hypnotic spell, for in that moment it seemed mutual. Jeez, she felt woozy. In the back of her foggy mind drifted the thought that this was so inappropriate.

  He released a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging. “They offered me money.”

  Kate was suddenly alert.

  “D’arcy’s parents. When we went to meet them. To tell them we wanted to get married. The old man took me aside and offered me money to disappear from her life.” He spoke in a monotonous drone, as though it were too painful to recall the facts with the emotions still attached.

  Comprehending, Kate felt her eyes fill with tears. She blinked. “Oh, Eli!”

  His face was cool, his mouth twisting in a bitter sneer. “It was a generous offer. I should have been flattered, I suppose. A hundred grand to pack up and leave, no explanations, never to be found again. ‘Go study at the Sorbonne. Start your career in Paris, or somewhere else far away from my daughter, if you get my drift.’ That’s what he said. It was more money than I’d ever seen in one place, and they knew it. They assumed I was a gold-digger.”

  “Poor you.”

  He nodded again, lips tight. “D'arcy never knew, never understood the degree of their opposition, and I didn’t have the heart to drive a wedge between her and her parents. When I declined his offer, they simply forbade our marriage, and D'arcy and I returned to Vancouver and did it anyway. Afterwards, they carried on as though I never existed. As though there was no marriage. It’s been a very uncomfortable co-existence ever since.”

  “So, there’s never been any acknowledgement? No apology?” Kate asked, incredulous. He shook his head. They were sitting very close together, shoulders touching. She looked hard at him for a long time, thinking. This had gone on too long. How could it be fixed? “D'arcy made her choice. She chose you. You have to tell D'arcy, and together challenge them. It’s time.”

  He turned his head and looked at her in return. “I’m not a coward, if that’s what you think. I was brought up to fight, especially against people like that. But I couldn’t do that to D’arc’.”

  “They did it to themselves. You did the right thing. And you and D'arcy have passed the trial by fire. You can’t let this come between you anymore.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “It’s time you took a stand. They’ve shown their true colours. They’re not going to give up on their daughter. I’m sure they only wanted what’s best for her, in their eyes, and are probably ashamed. Madame Duchamp found you an agent didn’t she? Think of it as an olive branch. But still, they wouldn’t be getting away with treating you like this if you didn’t keep it from D'arcy. The secret’s been festering too long.”

  This seemed to be what Eli needed to hear. His dark eyes shone with long suppressed tears, which clung to his long black lashes, and his lips curled and twitched involuntarily. He gave his head a violent shake. She reached toward him and patted his arm. This invitation was all he needed to release his pain and anger, and he wept silently for several minutes while she held his hand between hers.

  At last, he sat up straight, wiping his dripping nose and eyes on the sleeve of his work shirt, and stared across the room, his mood distant. He sniffed and rummaged in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, fishing one out and lighting it, drawing a deep breath. When he’d regained some control, he turned to her with a watery smile.

  “Another drink?”

  “Oh, God, no. I can’t. Unless you have some tea?” She smiled back.

  “No tea, but I could make a pot of strong coffee,” he offered.

  She normally didn’t drink coffee, but she needed it tonight. And she wasn’t quite through yet. “Even better, thanks.” He rose and went to the small kitchen. She heard running water and cupboards and old wooden drawers squeaking. She imagined he needed a few minutes alone to gather himself and salvage some dignity. She waited, thinking of ways to resolve the issue.

  She could smell the coffee aroma slowly permeate the stale, oily air. When he returned ten minutes later with two mismatched mugs of steaming coffee, she had a plan.

  “I hope you like it black,” he said. “I might be able to find some sugar, if you want, but I don’t have any milk.” He grinned awkwardly, his composure reclaimed.

  “Black is fine, thanks,” she said, taking a mug. “I think I’ve got enough toxins in my system for one night without adding sugar to the mix.”

  Eli guffawed. “You sound just like Simon, with your green tea and health food,” he exclaimed.

  “Oh, don’t say that.” She pressed her eyes shut, shaking her head, and looked down into her mug of coffee, smelling the strong black acidic brew. She took a bracing sip of the bitter liquid, and wondered if her stomach could handle it.

  He sat down and lit another cigarette, extracting a chocolate bar from the pocket of his shirt, and made a good-humored offer by waving in under her nose. She laughed and raised a silent hand in protest.

  “Seriously. What’s up with you two?” he slurped his hot coffee like a parched man in the desert, and set it down, ripping open the wrapper on his candy and taking a huge bite. He spoke past a mouthful of chocolate, his words garbled, “Besides the conflict thing, why aren’t you two all over each other? I can see it in your eyes as plain as day.”

  Kate felt her face flush hot, and glanced at Eli, blinking. She raised a hand to smooth her brows, her pulse fluttering. “I can’t talk about this.”

  “Why not? Confidences go both ways, you know. After hours, it’s off the record.” He smiled gently, inviting her trust.

  She sighed, and sipped her coffee again, seeking fortitude. How could she explain her obsession with Simon, her fear of him, to a client and a virtual stranger? She wanted him to trust her, but more than that, she felt she could trust him, and that their nascent friendship justified it.

  She sat back with a sigh. “When Simon and I first met, we were just teenagers. Not unlike you and D'arcy, I guess. But I was in a very vulnerable place when I met him. I was suffering from a significant trauma, followed by a huge emotional loss. I was also young and idealistic. I transferred all my idealism and emotional neediness onto him, I guess. I imagine he broke it off because I became clingy, and not very interesting, after a few months. That’s all there was, really, to our so-called relationship, though it was intense while it lasted.”

  Kate paused, and swallowed, thinking. How ironic to reduce her lo
ve for Simon, and all that it caused, to a glib summary. Eli leaned back, sucked on his cigarette, listening.

  “The worst for me came afterwards. I couldn’t let go of him—of the idea of him.” She shook her head. How could anyone understand the way she had lost any sense of reality. “It went on for a few years, though I doubt he knew. We had one unpleasant encounter the last time I saw him— maybe fourteen years ago.” That was one secret she would never tell another soul.

  Eli looked up, his eyes sympathetic.

  “You’re not disgusted?”

  He made a wry face and shrugged. “Everyone’s got embarrassing moments in their past.

  She continued. “After that, we lived our separate lives. I had to deal with depression, with very damaged self-esteem. There were a few years of counseling. Then…” She shrugged. “… a new life, a new career. I don’t have any regrets. I wouldn’t have discovered mediation if I hadn’t gone through that. But… when he walked into the board room… I… ” I don’t know what. She shook her head, reliving the shock of that moment.

  “Wow,” he said softly. “I think I get it.” He scraped a hand across his bristled chin.

  She smiled into his eyes. “It’s not easy, as you can imagine.”

  He thought a moment, then sat up abruptly and slapped his knee. “No. Life’s too short for regrets. There’s a reason you and Simon are together again. This was meant to be. I can feel it. You can’t throw it away because of a little fear.” He jabbed a finger in her direction, driving his point home.

  “A little fear… ” she chuckled under her breath.

  Eli raised a hand and held her chin, lifting her face to look carefully into her eyes. “How would you feel, if you walked away, and never found out? This is something special. You need to go for it, take the risk.”

  How ironic was that? She cocked an eyebrow at Eli, her look full of meaning, and dipped her chin. He gave her a wry smile and a gimbaled eye. “I’ll make a deal with you, Eli Benjamin. I will dig deep for the courage I need to, find out, as you say, if this is something worth fighting my demons for. But you have to promise me the same. You have to meet with Madame Duchamp. With or without D'arcy, that’s your choice. But you have to let me set it up for you.” She cocked her head at him, waiting.