“Say, Julia,” Ms. Thea called, “when you get back, would you like to walk the labyrinth again? It’s not a bad idea to check in every now and then, particularly when you’re going through a big life change.”
“And divorce is a big life change,” Ms. Elsie added.
Julia looked back and forth between the two women. “Sure,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t see why not.
“Good,” Ms. Elsie said. “We’ll see you in a few days, dear.”
~
Elsie sat before her loom, rubbing her upper arms and peering nervously at her weaving. After a moment, she looked up. “Well?”
Thea blew out a breath and turned away from the window. “She’s gone.”
Elsie’s posture eased, but her arms remained crossed. “That’s a relief.” She looked over her work again. “Do you really think Ron will come by in the morning?”
“I don’t see how he could,” Thea said. “I did a very thorough job of convincing him that he was not Julia’s keeper.” She glanced over her shoulder at the window. “Or as thorough a job as I could on such short notice. It should hold for several days.”
“Oh, Thea,” said Elsie. “I wish we’d never gotten mixed up in this. Why couldn’t we have left well enough alone, all those years ago?” She looked as if she were about to cry.
Thea glared at her. “Now, dear, we’ve been over this,” she said sharply. “We could not have known that plane had a mechanical problem.”
“I know,” Elsie said. “But if we had only….” She glanced over her weaving again. “And now we’re meddling again, and things are just getting more and more complicated. What if all we do is ruin everything again?” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “That poor child.”
Thea crossed the room and crouched beside Elsie’s chair. “Listen to me,” she said, putting a gentle hand on Elsie’s cheek and turning her face to hers. “Everything that happens, happens for a reason. You know it, and I know it. All we can do is give a little nudge here and there. Right?”
Elsie nodded.
“And if The All nudges things in a different direction, there’s a reason for that, too,” Thea went on. “We don’t have the big picture, so all we can see is poor, dear Julia, bereft of her family, and poor Dave, saddled with too many worries. But something good – or at least something necessary – will come of it all. We’ve seen it happen before, haven’t we?”
Elsie nodded again. “We have,” she said. “Of course, you’re right. It’s just so hard.” She covered Thea’s hand with her own.
Thea leaned forward and kissed her. “Come to bed,” she said. “It will all look better in the morning.” She bounced a bit, and then consternation crossed her face. “Would you give me a hand up?” she asked. “I seem to be stuck.”
Elsie laughed and lifted her to her feet.
~
Julia drove with the radio off and thought about her gut.
She had heard Ms. Elsie’s advice before, of course. The problem was that sometimes her gut steered her wrong.
Actually, her gut had been steering her wrong for most of the past fifteen years.
Her gut had told her to say yes to Lance, after all. She had craved safety and stability, and Lance seemed to offer that in spades.
And it had told her to pursue Jesse until he noticed her. It had told her to major in political science, of all things, even though her heart had always been in the arts – theater first, and then writing.
If she had followed her heart instead, she would now be that much farther along in her writing career. She might never have married Dave – too many things had been against them – but she might have met someone who was kinder than Lance. Someone who actually cared about her, instead of only about himself.
She might still have been attracted to Jesse, but she wouldn’t have been tempted by him if her marriage had been in better shape to start with.
She snorted a laugh. Who are you kidding? You would have fallen for him anyway. He was the sort of free spirit you always thought you wanted to be. What you didn’t know was that in his case, “free spirit” was synonymous with “irresponsible narcissist.”
And what had her gut told her about Ron? Nothing, to start with. He was attractive, and he knew it. So he was egotistical. Like Lance.
And like Jesse, who seemed to have no scruples about lying, as long as it got him what he wanted.
Oh, my God. Why am I always attracted to narcissists? Is my own self-esteem so lacking that I need a partner whose ego is big enough for both of us?
At that point, a tiny voice in the back of her mind said, Dave’s not a narcissist. And you’ve been attracted to him since you were seventeen.
If she’d listened to her heart all those years ago, she would have married Dave – no matter what their parents said.
It’s not too late, the little voice insisted.
“Maybe. But a lot would have to happen first,” she said aloud.
Don’t give up hope, the little voice said.
She snorted again. Hope was enticing. It was exhilarating. But it could also lead you down the garden path. Why else had she gone after Jesse, if not for the hope of a better relationship than the one she’d had with Lance? Why had she stuck with him, even after he turned out to be an asshat?
And why did she keep going out with Ron?
Moreover, did she have a shred of evidence that Dave would ever leave his wife? No, there was nothing there to hang even the tiniest hope on.
She needed to stay in the real world. One thing at a time. Baby steps. And the first order of business was to finalize her divorce.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, and kept driving.
~
The docket was long and the wait was tedious. It wasn’t until shortly before noon – three hours after Julia and Elaine had arrived at the courthouse in Skokie – that the judge called her case.
Julia looked at Lance as she took her seat at the plaintiff’s table. He had worn one of his better suits, and had carefully arranged his hair – in case there were cameras lying in wait, she supposed. She glanced behind him to the first row of seats on the other side of the railing, where his girlfriend Tina sat. For a moment, Julia impishly considered whether to ask the woman whether Lance still used that old-fashioned girly hairspray, or whether she’d convinced him to graduate to something more modern, like gel. Then she realized she didn’t care to know. Lance’s weird grooming habits weren’t her problem any more.
First Elaine spoke, and then Lance’s lawyer. The judge glanced over their paperwork, mumbled a few perfunctory words, and it was over. The divorce was granted. Julia’s marriage to Lance was dissolved. She was Julia Morton again, just as she’d wanted.
She stood and thanked the judge, feeling curiously deflated. She’d expected something more momentous. Something grander. This felt like an anticlimax.
Lance strode away without a glance in her direction, leaving even Tina and his lawyer in the dust. As she and Elaine turned to go, she heard Lance say, “What the hell are you doing here?”
And then Dave’s voice: “It’s a public place. I can be here if I want to be.”
In a moment, she had slid herself between the two men. “Guys,” she said.
“Come on, Lance,” his lawyer said, striding rapidly past them toward the door. “We’ve got a lunch reservation, remember?”
“Yeah,” said Tina, her blonde curls bobbing as she hurried up the aisle after them. “Let’s go, honey. I don’t want us to lose our table.” She took hold of Lance’s elbow and propelled him toward the door, but not before Lance shot a withering look at both Dave and her.
“Such a nice guy,” Dave said as the door shut behind them. “You know her?”
“Yeah,” Julia said, looking at the door. “That’s the chickie he moved into the condo before we split up. I’d figured she would have dumped him by now. Guess I was wrong.” She turned to him. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He looked as if he expected
her to scold him.
“You didn’t have to come.” Her lips curled into a smile, unbidden. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I told you not to.”
He shrugged, giving her a tentative smile in return. “I had a break in my schedule.”
Her lawyer stepped forward, her hand extended. “Hi. I’m Elaine Haddon.”
“Sorry, Elaine,” Julia said, suddenly feeling flustered. “This is David Turner.”
“So you’re Dave,” Elaine said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh?” He looked at Julia, brows raised.
“Join us for lunch?” Elaine asked. “There’s a great Thai place near Old Orchard Mall. Or we can go all-out and go to McCormick and Schmick’s.”
“Steak sounds great,” Dave said, and held the door open for the women.
As they exited the courthouse into the cold, brilliant day, a man approached Julia. “Mrs. Michaud?” he asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Are you Julia Morton Michaud?”
“I was,” she said. “Now it’s just Julia Morton. Why?”
In response, he handed her an envelope. She took it automatically, and the man departed without another word.
Elaine snatched the envelope from her hand and ripped it open. “Oh, my God,” she said, riffling through the contents. “No wonder Lance booked out of here so fast. I wonder if he knew.” She looked up at Julia. “This is a subpoena. The government wants you to testify against him.”
“What?” She felt the color drain from her face. “When?”
Elaine flipped to the front. “Trial date is April 20th, but I bet they’ll get a continuance.” She glanced up at Julia. “I can’t represent you. I’m not a member of the federal bar. But I’ll help you find someone.”
“Can I get out of it?” Julia asked, her head whirling. Dave slipped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, grateful for the support.
Elaine gave her a sympathetic look. “Probably not.”
“Mrs. Michaud?” a different man said at her elbow said.
Without thinking, Julia turned and said, “Yes?”
This man, too, gave her an envelope and departed.
“Now what?” Elaine said, ripping open the new envelope. As she looked over the new set of documents, her dismay was plain. “Oh, swell.”
“What?”
“Lance has subpoenaed you, too.” Elaine handed her both envelopes.
“Can they do that?” Dave asked.
Elaine shrugged. “Sure. It happens a lot, in fact.” She put a hand on Julia’s arm. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I know somebody who’ll be perfect for this. I’m going to give him a call right after lunch. Will you still be in town tomorrow?”
Julia nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be in Evanston.”
“Good. I’ll get him to work you in.”
~
After lunch, Dave drove her to the Evanston house. Elaine promised to have her husband drop off Julia’s car later that evening.
“Are you going to be okay?” Dave asked as they stopped in front of the house.
“I don’t know,” Julia said. “No. Yes. I’ll be fine.” She put her hand on the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.”
He rolled his eyes and got out of the car.
“I’m fine,” she repeated as he tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and escorted her to the front door.
“You’ve been out of it since you got the first subpoena,” he said. “Come on. Let’s see if Lance drank up all the liquor before he left.”
That made her giggle.
At the door, she fumbled the code for the alarm twice, and wondered if Lance had changed it while she was gone. She had never thought to ask him. But it worked on the third try, and they were in.
“Technically, this isn’t my place any more,” she said. “But Elaine worked it out with his lawyer so that I could stay the weekend.” She plopped her purse in its accustomed spot on the half-moon table in the foyer, surprised briefly by the muscle memory.
“It’s like a mausoleum in here,” Dave said, walking past her into the living room. “Looks like he hasn’t touched a thing.”
Julia joined him, and realized he was right. Everything was exactly as it had been when she left to move into the cottage in the fall. “Oh, God,” she said aloud. “I bet he didn’t clean out the fridge.”
She was right; he hadn’t. The two of them spent several disgusted minutes tossing moldy mayonnaise and pouring curdled milk down the sink.
Disgusted, but enjoyable, too. Dave had her laughing – something she wouldn’t have thought possible a few hours before. He was always so good at making her laugh.
As he toted the detritus outside, he passed the liquor cabinet and took a look behind its doors. “Believe it or not, he didn’t even take the hooch,” he called back.
“Finders, keepers,” she crowed. “I’ll get the glasses.”
They sat in the sunroom, in wicker chairs at opposite ends of the coffee table, and toasted one another with Lance’s best whiskey. Then Dave checked his watch. “I need to go,” he said. “I have to pick up the kids and take Randi to dance class.”
Julia’s stomach flipped. For a little while, she had felt safe – as if the two of them were snug inside a cocoon where their friendship, or whatever it was, had never taken a wrong turn into the surreal for either one. His words tore a hole in the cotton batting that had insulated them from reality.
“Can’t your wife do it?” It slipped out before she could stop herself. She cringed inwardly at the harshness of her tone. “Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
Dave shrugged. “It’s a fair question. In a normal marriage, she could.” His implication hung in midair.
You could leave her. Could you leave her? Would you? She didn’t feel as if she had the right to ask him. Not after rejecting him. Not after choosing Ron instead.
I’m dumping Ron. The words clogged her throat, blocking her breath. What would he think of her, if she told him? What would he do? What did she want him to do?
What did she think he would do? This was real life. He had to pick up his kids.
He finished his drink in one swallow and set his glass down on the coffee table. Then he stepped around the table and leaned over her, his hands braced on the arms of her chair. “Will you be okay?” he asked. She caught the scent of whiskey on his breath.
No. I don’t know. She set down her own glass and put her hands on his shoulders; of their own volition, they traveled to either side of his face. With the tiniest of movements, she shook her head.
He took her left hand in his and pressed a kiss into her palm. Then he walked away. She heard the front door close softly as he let himself out.
She sat in the gathering dusk with her left arm, hand clenched, wrapped around her.
~
Dave felt as if he were straddling two worlds: the shadow/real one, in which he picked up the kids and heard about their day, dropped Randi off at dance and picked her up, and got dinner started; and the real/shadow one, in which he yearned to tell them all to shut the hell up and go away, so he could go back to Julia and finish what she had pretty obviously wanted him to start.
He thought of her by herself, wandering the corridors of that big house that wasn’t hers anymore. He thought about putting the kids to bed early and joining her there. He longed to do it. Neither of them should be alone.
Then Nina emerged from the bedroom, blinking in the harsh light from the overhead kitchen fixture. Ritchie got up from the table and ran to hug her; her response was perfunctory, her gaze locked on Dave’s face.
She approached him, the little boy still clinging to her, and slapped him.
“Mom!” Randi cried.
“You’ve been drinking,” Nina said, spitting the words at him as if she were attempting to drive nails into his heart. “I can smell it on your breath. Drinking and whoring around behind my back.”
“I had a drink,” he said
.
“With who?” she demanded. “Never mind. I know who. It’s that bitch from your deep, dark past, isn’t it?”
“The children, Nina,” he reminded her, feeling his face grow warm.
“I know you slept with her,” she said. “I can smell her on you.”
“That’s enough,” he said.
“Mama?” said Ritchie, still clinging to her leg.
“Get off of me!” she sneered, brushing him away. He collapsed to the floor and began sobbing. “Oh, stop sniveling,” she said, poking him with a foot. “Look at the leaky waterworks.”
“Leave him alone!” said Randi, getting between her brother and her mother.
“You little traitor,” Nina hissed, raising her hand to slap her daughter, but Dave intercepted it.
“Stop it,” he said. “Leave the kids alone. They’ve done nothing to you. The only thing they’ve ever done is love their mother.”
“They don’t love me! Nobody loves me!” she yelled. “You’ve never loved me – you were always in love with her. Why don’t you just leave me and move in with her? Take these ungrateful brats with you. Let her have a taste of what it’s like!” Her face crumpled suddenly, and she turned on her heel and fled.
Dave heard the bedroom door slam as he crouched on the floor and gathered both kids into his arms. “I do love Mama,” Ritchie was saying, over and over. “I do love Mama.”
“Sssh. Of course, you do, buddy.”
“Who did she mean, Daddy?” Randi asked.
Dave froze. “What?”
“Who’s the lady from your past?”
The smoke alarm chose that moment to go off. “Oh, no! Dinner’s burning!” Randi cried, breaking free to open the back door.
Dave gave Ritchie one last squeeze before he rose to rescue their dinner. This, too, was normal. Too normal. He smacked the vent fan switch and slammed open windows as if the whole situation were the windows’ fault.
Later, after the kids were in bed, Dave went to check on Nina. She had locked herself in their bedroom, which was not unusual when she was on a tear. He jimmied the lock and swung the door open.
Seasons of the Fool Page 8
