“Why Jacob? Did you do something wrong? Are you afraid someone might hear about how you raped your wife?”
In front of the bench, I noticed a blade of grass that had somehow found its way to the surface through a crack in the pavement. It now stood naked twisting in green and brown amid the concrete.
“You see that blade of grass,” I said, pointing. “That was my life with you. Struggling to stay above the surface but fearing any minute you would snuff out my life by stepping on me. But ‘you have changed.’”
“Please lower your voice,” he pleaded.
“Why? Are you feeling guilty that you raped your wife?”
Each time that I have used that word, Jacob reacted like someone had hit him with a Taser gun.
“I came here to talk,” he insisted.
“Did you also want to talk to Tristan after you attacked her?” I asked.
Jacob looked bewildered.
“You sister clued me in. And it was easy to figure out the rest. But I had a friend in the DA’s office do some checking and she found the police report.”
“That was different.”
“The only difference, Jacob, is that she had the balls to call the police. So you said you wanted to talk. So I am listening,” I said, glancing at my wrist watch. “And then I will talk.”
“I have sought help. I am in counseling. What I did, I know you cannot forget. But I ask you to forgive. I am sorry. And I want you to come back to me so we can start over.” Jacob again lowered his head, staring at the cold pavement.
“Are you done? Is that it? Is that your big speech? And you think you can just waltz back into my life?”
I had wanted Jacob to break down, to cry, to show some form of emotion so perhaps his tears would help wash away my pain. But Jacob’s performance was robotic.
“Did you think what happened between us was some moving storm, and a rain cloud burst but now the sun is shining?” I continued. “Do you really think I will do the nice wifely thing and throw away my new life to come home to you?”
Jacob did not respond but his eyes widened and he looked confused.
“Well then it is now my turn,” I said.
I gave him a long, penetrating look and then abruptly rose.
“First of all, forgiveness isn’t on my timetable and I don’t see it ever being scheduled. I was 29 years old when we were married. I didn’t have a lot of experience but I knew what was supposed to feel right. But on our honeymoon night, instead of being tender and loving, you climbed on me like an animal. And it hurt. It hurt very badly. And I cried. But you were deaf to my tears. Afterwards I said to myself, maybe this is the way it is supposed to be. And I was a good wife. I cleaned your clothes and cooked your meals, and gave you of myself, thinking it would get better. But it never did, as you only saw me as an outlet for your needs. When you wanted me, you were indifferent to me. It never got better but got worse. And despite my objections, you ruled. Oh yes, I was your wife. I was your property and you could have me anytime you wanted. Well guess what. I will never let anyone ever touch me again against my will. So now what do you have to say?”
As I was talking, the two pigeons walked by oblivious to my discord in search of a handout while Jacob sat stiff. And despite the cold, there appeared to be perspiration on his forehead.
“Now you say that you have sought counseling. What a joke. And how ironic. You want us to try again? You want another chance? Jacob, the one thing you have never said before, not even today, is that you love me. So you have not changed. You are incapable of change,” I finished.
“You are still my wife,” he insisted.
His voice was bitter as he rose to his feet. But I stopped him before he could continue.
“I am filing for divorce when I get back to California. You can have whatever is in the apartment. I don’t want to have any memories. I only pray that if you ever meet someone again and do what you did to her what you did to me, that you are prosecuted like the criminal that you are. My regret is that I did not do something about it.”
Jacob continued standing in silence.
“I have to go,” I said as I stood looking at the gray smoke rising from the chimneys.
Jacob also did not move but stared at me like a wounded animal. I felt a soft wind cascade through the naked trees and the sun released its remaining rays of light before disappearing into the horizon.
“Wait,” he said.
“I have nothing more to say,” I said calmly.
Jacob reached into his pocket.
“Here.”
In his hand was Nana’s brush.
“You left this.”
As I took the brush from his hand, the metal handle was cold like the air. But I could feel the warmth of my grandmother as a tear rolled from my eye.
“Thank you. That is the nicest thing you have ever done.”
With that, I got up and walked away, never turning around to say goodbye.
Chapter Twenty One
I was delighted that the two seats next to me were not occupied on my flight back to Los Angeles. And with the extra space, I arranged my day planner, attache case, and magazines on the open seats.
Learning from my first flight that meals are not served prior to boarding I had purchased a chicken Caesar salad. But after eating the bland tasting wilted lettuce, I was feeling tired and raised my arm to turn off the overhead light. As I did, I looked at my ring finger and remembered the moment Jacob placed the wedding ring on my finger. The thought upset me. So, I took out my legal yellow pad and numbered the sheet from one to ten of the things that I needed to do once I returned to California.
Number one on the list was to file for divorce. Not having any children or property, I knew that it would be a simple procedure. But until I began the process, I was still married to Jacob and I needed to finally terminate that part of my past.
Number two was to go on a diet. I had been struggling for my entire adult life with what my father still referred to as baby fat. And I knew that unless I cut out the apple turnovers and the other garbage food I was eating, I would never lose the weight.
Related to going on a diet, the third item was exercising. And since Marcia was always begging me to go to her gym, I would use her as my motivation and join.
Number four was to pass the California Bar exam which I was taking this July. And my boss had already authorized me to have the month before the test off so that I could study.
Number five was to cut my hair. I had had the same haircut since high school and it was time to lose the bangs and join the 21st century.
Number six was stay on a diet, which was self-explanatory.
Everyone drives in Los Angeles and I was tired of taking the bus or asking Marcia or a friend for a ride. So number seven was to get my driver’s license.
And to further establish my independence, it was time that I lived on my own. Therefore, my eighth entry was to get my own apartment.
Growing up, my father would never allow my brother and me to have a pet. He always made up some nonsense that we were allergic to animals. But how did he know if we never had a pet? So number nine was to adopt a pet.
Struggling to find an entry to place next to the number 10, I kept reading and rereading the list and asking myself what was missing. What would complete the list?
Suddenly, as I doodled a heart on the notepad, the answered appeared in my mind and I drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
The next day on my lunch hour, I walked over to the family law clerk’s office and obtained the forms to file for divorce. In checking the boxes, I laughed as the only two choices for seeking a divorce were incurable insanity or irreconcilable differences. Knowing that the court would want proof of Jacob’s state of mind beyond what I could offer, I checked the second box. I also requested that that the court restore my maiden name. I had never liked how Danielle Liebowitz sounded anyway.
Upon completing the forms and paying the filing fee, I mailed a copy to Jacob. Since t
here was nothing for Jacob to contest, I knew that my nightmare would soon be over.
Chapter Twenty Two
The California State Bar had posted on their web site that the test results from my exam were going to be released at 10 a.m. the Friday before Thanksgiving. Yesterday, I told my boss that I would not be coming in tomorrow. And this morning, restless from a poor night’s sleep, I got up early and made a mushroom and cheese omelet only using egg whites and low fat cheese. But with my legal career as a practicing attorney on hold for almost a year, I was too nervous to eat.
Looking at the wall clock as it counted down to the 10 o’clock hour when I would learn my fate, I found the remote that was buried in the couch cushions and turned on Regis and Kelly. But after a few minutes, my nervous energy prevented me from sitting still. So I decided now was a perfect time to break out those pant hangers that I had bought on sale at Bed, Bath & Beyond. Leg by leg, I neatly hung each of my pants before moving on to my tops, which I arranged by color starting with white, followed by black and then the other shades of the rainbow.
Getting lost in time, and surprisingly enjoying what I was doing, I was jolted back to reality as I heard the TV announce the ladies of “The View” – that meant it was ten. So, hurdling over the two piles of clothes that I had made on the floor outside of my closet, I raced to my laptop and typed in the State Bar’s web site as I felt my heart race. After entering my name in the sign-in box, I was prompted for my password.
“ROSE”
And then, the message that I was praying for appeared:
“Congratulations, you have successfully completed the test requirements of the State Bar of California.”
I read it again and again, just to make sure, before I jumped for joy and let out a large shrill. But Marcia was at work and there was no one else there to share my excitement. I picked up the phone.
“I passed, I passed,” I shouted into the phone.
“That is wonderful my sweetie. I am so proud of you.”
“Dad, I wish you were here.”
“I promise. I will make plans.”
I wanted to talk more but my dad said he was busy with a customer. And after calling my brother and Marcia, the one person who I wished I could call was Nana. So I held her photo frame and told her the good news. And she sent me a sweet smile like only Nana could.
Chapter Twenty Three
While most of the Northeast woke up on New Year’s Day under an arctic blanket with daytime temperatures barely above freezing, I felt guilty giving my dad the weather report.
“Dad, it is so beautiful. Remember, you said you would make plans.”
“I know, sweetie. I will. And I think your brother is also planning a trip to LA. Did he mention anything?”
“Nope, but knowing David, until he works out everything, he won’t say. But you would love this weather.”
“What’s the temperature?”
“It has been in the high 80s.”
“It looked warm. I watched the Rose Parade.”
“Dad, I want you to come out here.”
“Ok. We’ll see.”
“No, I am serious.”
“Alright, alright. So how’s my LA Law attorney?”
“Well, I have exciting news.”
“What? Something about the Dodgers. They’re moving back to Brooklyn?”
“No Dad, nothing like that. But…. I am getting my own apartment.”
That weekend was even warmer. I worked out at the gym, feeling energized that I was up from barely two minutes on the treadmill when I started nine months ago to thirty minutes, with 25 pounds lost. After my workout, I borrowed Marcia’s car and set out to my find my new residence.
Unlike New York where city dwellers depend on the subway system, working in Los Angeles often means that you are a slave to the freeway, spending a good part of your day in bumper to bumper traffic at 20 miles an hour. I did not want to have a long daily commute, so I looked for places that were within a short drive of the Santa Monica courthouse.
By noon I had seen four apartments and was feeling frustrated as their online descriptions were greatly misleading. “Charming” really meant old and small. And “breezy” was code for no air conditioning. After viewing two more apartments that sounded amazing but were not, I was really angry and mad that I had not accepted my friend’s invitation to go to the beach. But I had one more listing. And though I was unable to confirm an appointment, I decided to take a chance and stop by.
“Hi, I am here to see the apartment,” I said, smiling at the young boy who answered the door.
“Hold on. I will get my grandmother,” he said before running back inside.
As I waited, I noticed a Mezuoth mounted on the door post. Seconds later, an older woman appeared.
“Hello. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I was wondering if the apartment was still available? I tried calling but….”
“My grandson knocked off the phone. I am babysitting.” The woman spoke with a very distinctive New York accent. “My daughter is working. Anyway, you’re in luck. Someone looked at it two days ago and was supposed to come back with a security deposit but never showed. So, if you like it, we can talk. I am sorry. I didn’t get your name.”
“It is Danielle.”
“Nice to meet you, Danielle. That’s a pretty name. I am Beatrice. Let me get the key.”
The apartment was actually a separate guest house behind Beatrice’s home and was accessible by walking up the driveway.
“I just had it painted so you may smell….”
“That’s ok,” I reassured her.
“And the carpet is new,” Beatrice boasted as she opened the door and immediately went to the front window and opened the drapes. “The apartment gets plenty of sunlight and is very cheery. I had the nicest couple living here for the past three years. But the husband got a transfer out of state. They were good people. Always paid on time. That’s what I like.”
I cringed when I heard Beatrice say “cheery” as from the other listings I learned that the word really meant “depressing.” But the apartment was bright and cheery and spacious with a large bedroom and modern kitchen. There was even a small patio in the back with a barbeque.
“Do you live alone?” Beatrice asked.
“I do.”
“And what do you do?”
Ordinarily, I would be annoyed when a stranger asked me so many questions. But Beatrice seemed very sweet and I did not mind.
“I am an attorney with the LA District Attorney’s office.”
“Oh. And so young.”
Beatrice seemed impressed.
“The listing said that you allow pets,” I said.
“What kind of animal do you have?” Beatrice asked.
“Oh, I don’t yet but I am thinking about it.”
“Well, when you do, there is an additional security deposit. But we can talk about that later. So what you do think? Do you like it?”
Beatrice would have made a good car salesperson as she was pushy to close the deal. But the apartment was really nice.
“I think it is amazing,” I said as I opened the large guest closet in the hallway. “I’ll take it.”
“Mazel Tov,” Beatrice shouted. “That means good luck.”
“I know.”
“You do. You’re Jewish?” She seemed surprised.
“I am,” I replied.
“Even better. Do I know a nice boy for you! Come inside. We’ll sign some papers and you can give me a check. You hungry? “
“I am always hungry.”
A week later, I moved into my own apartment. I could now check off number eight on my to do list.
Chapter Twenty Four
My apartment was wonderful and I was enjoying living on my own. Even when I would start to feel lonely and miss my family, my case load at work kept me very busy. In fact, after only six months of being sworn in as a deputy DA, I had handled two felony trials that ended in convictions, which went a long
way to gaining the respect of my colleagues and my boss.
With the little free time that I did have, however, Beatrice did her best to set me up with who she thought would be my next husband, though her idea and my idea of a perfect match was not the same. There was Aaron the geologist, who was as exciting as a rock. Then there was Henry. He and his father imported tile from Italy. After one date, I thought he would be a perfect match for Aaron.
And there was Brian. Brian loved me and all but proposed by the end of our third date. But, as Nana once said, he didn’t make my heart go pitter patter and I gently led Brian away.
But my rejections did not stop Beatrice. One night, as I was getting out of my car, she was waiting for me.
“Sweetheart, let me help you.”
I had a banker’s box filled with files in one hand and my purse in the other.
“Thanks, Beatrice. How are you?”
“I am fine. But I am worried for you. Such a pretty girl and you work so hard.”
“It’s ok. I love my job.”
“But you should also be in love. Come. Put your things down. I have enough dessert to feed Coxey’s Army. Unless you have plans?”
I had been so good on my diet. But it was Friday and I was going to the gym in the morning.
“OK, let me just freshen up and I will come over.”
Visiting with Beatrice in her home always reminded me of sitting in Nana’s apartment. And tonight, with her Shabbos candles lit, I especially missed Nana.
“Good Shabbos,” Beatrice said, giving me a hug as I entered the kitchen.
“Good Shabbos to you,” I replied.
“Come. Sit down. I have something good.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
I had now lost 25 pounds and was being very careful.
“What? A little piece. You’re shrinking away! And I will make some tea.”
I didn’t want to insult Beatrice, so I promised myself to spend extra time tomorrow morning on the treadmill and took a bite out of the most amazing apple turnover I had ever had.
“My dad would go crazy over this,” I exclaimed.
Against My Will Page 15
