| Chapter 22 |
David was back home and moving around fairly well by Saturday. The bandage was
off his head, exposing a stitched gash under his hairline certain to leave a scar. He
would have to wear the cast on his arm for thirty days. James was still in the room at
the Anatole. He had arrived early to spend a little time with David before the others got
there. They were sitting near the pool in cool early autumn air.
“Are you nervous?” James asked.
David looked at him. “I wasn’t this nervous bribing Tim out of jail.”
“My stomach’s churning.” James looked toward the house. Linda and Shasha were
inside preparing some snacks. “Shasha let me come by the house last night to see the
girls. It was so tense I couldn’t stay long. Plus the girls had a lot of questions I don’t
have answers for.”
“Do they know about you and me?”
“No. They’re just upset their parents are separated. They can’t understand it.”
“James, I have to believe things will be back to normal in time.”
“Maybe.” He looked around David’s back yard. “Bet you didn’t realize that wreck was
a piece of luck.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It got you back home.”
“It didn’t feel so lucky at the time.”
“I’d flip my car in a minute if Shasha would take me back.”
“Don’t try it. The results aren’t that predictable.”
“I’ve picked up the phone a half dozen times to call that guy who owns the condo.
Couldn’t bring myself to dial his number. Moving into an apartment makes it seem too
permanent.”
“I guess it would. Maybe you won’t have to stay in the hotel much longer. It’s just taking
Shasha a while to sort things out.”
“Is that what Linda says?”
David looked at him. He didn’t want to tell James what Linda had said about Shasha.
“Is it?” James insisted.
“Linda’s not sure what to think. She’s working on me and her.”
James sat quietly for a moment, contemplating the thoughts that came to him in the
night, the same thoughts that came every night. Now he was sitting next to the man that
had caused them. “I can’t sleep at night. Can’t stop thinking about you. It’s tough not
being able to look forward to being with you, knowing we can’t ...”
David’s eyes drifted from the side of his face to the shimmering surface of the pool.
“That’s hard to think about, James. But it seems like I think about it constantly. I’m
worried about the future.”
“I think about Shasha, too, how we’ve spent our entire lives together. She’s the mother
of my children. Supported my career from the very beginning. But laying there, thinking
about you both, I realized you’re the one who accepts me for who I really am. You’re
the only one who allows me to live with unconditional truth.”
David’s head snapped in James’s direction. He wasn’t quite sure why, but the
statement alarmed him. Nevertheless, it was true—their love for each other was
unconditional. “My God, James. Don’t say things like that. You’re making it harder for
me.”
“That’s not my intent. Just a simple truth. Our love has no flaws. We understand each
other in ways no one else does. It’s you, David. When I think of the two of you, you’re
the one I long to hold.”
“James, please ...”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m being selfish, but I think you already knew. In your heart you know
the day will come it’ll rise to the surface. It’ll haunt you like it’s haunting me.”
“It’s haunting me this very moment. We can’t dwell on it. We have to cope just like we
did in the past.”
“Cope? I’m not coping well at all to tell you the truth. Can’t get past this sense of loss. I
sat in the bathtub last night and sobbed like a baby. I can’t imagine going back to work
and being any kind of a lawyer, or being the father my daughters expect me to be. I
can’t imagine life if Shasha doesn’t take me back, or what’ll happen if she does.”
This struck David on a more frightening level. It sounded like, no matter what
happened now, James felt his life was hopeless. There was nothing he could do, other
than believe his best friend was strong enough to tough through it.
Tim arrived with Rosemary after taking the children to her mother’s. Though she had
returned home, Rosemary still had not come to grips with her emotions. They sat next
to James, the tension between them obvious.
James reached over to turn Tim’s face. “Looks like that black eye has just about
healed.”
“It has,” Tim said, looking at his wife. “Now we’re working on our hearts.”
David leaned back against the chair with James’s words echoing in his ears,
saddened twice over by what he had to give up. How many sleepless nights did he
face? How many hours of distraction? He looked at Tim, wishing he could spend the
afternoon with him, to relay his fears and hear the words that might hold the answer.
But it was most likely that even Tim had not yet sorted everything out. Time was all
David could depend on, for they say time heals all wounds; but in their case, he couldn’t
help but think that time would only make it worse.
Jorge and Michelle arrived shortly after Jake and Sally. All ten sat in a semi-circle next
to the pool. The conversation began awkwardly with small talk. Rosemary described
how Todd’s breathing machine stabilized his breathing when his difficulties set in.
Jorge mentioned he thought it might have come down to breaking Tim out of that
Mexican jail; that he knew two men who had become mercenaries after their years in
the Navy Seals that would have been up to the task. Sally had a story about an
overweight woman that had been in the restaurant the day before, who fell on the floor
in the restroom when the toilet seat broke.
Then Shasha came to the point.
“It seems you all are doing rather well with what we’re going through. Sorry, I’m not. It’s
like you’ve forgotten these men lied to us.” She paused with growing anger. “They’ve
been going to bed together for godsake. Just so you all know, I’m not doing very well
with it at all.”
There was a long silence. The women looked at their husbands.
Michelle spoke: “I’ve been thinking Jorge and I would be better off if we went back to
New York.”
Sally was disappointed. “Why would you think that, Michelle?”
“I don’t know. A diversion I guess. We wouldn’t be reminded of it everyday there.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Sally said. “I told Jake the other day I’ve never
had friends I value so much. I know we have a dilemma to work through; but that aside,
we sure have gotten comfortable with each other. I actually believe my husband’s
sexuality has made me feel even closer to you all. We’ve shared a lot. Now we’re
sharing something most people never even think about. Why throw that kind of
friendship away?” She sighed with exasperation. “Can you imagine having friends
who would desert you if they discovered a secret like this? That’s the kind of friends
most people have. People aren’t compassionate or sympathetic anymore. So many
are superficial and judgmental.”
“It’s an issue I prefer not having to share with my friends,” said Shasha.
“Well,” said Linda, “to answer Sally’s question, I for one couldn’t be more grateful for
our friendship.” She looked at Shasha. “None of us asked for this problem. It landed
in our laps. Thinking about it these last few days, I realize something now. These guys
didn’t choose to be bisexual. Actually, I don’t think that’s my problem. My problem is
they acted on it and they lied. I’m not happy that David has known all along and kept it
from me.”
“That’s right, they made a choice,” said Michelle defensively. “I’ve tried to understand
why. I’m convinced it’s not because I failed him, or that we have a flawed marriage.
None of us do. To them it’s something their wives can’t address, so they dealt with it
themselves. If you look past what they’ve done, they’re caring, devoted husbands. We
loved them before we knew—why should it change now?”
“Yes,” said Rosemary. “Tim’s always been attracted to men. He was when I fell in love
with him. He hasn’t changed all of a sudden. It's something I’ve only recently found out
about. He’s still the same man."
“This making me sick to my stomach,” Shasha fumed. “Don’t you all grasp what you’re
trying to condone? We’re married to men who have sex with other men. So what if
they’ve gotten it off their chests and admitted their sins? That’s just not good enough
for me. Next Thursday night, when you sit down to watch a movie, you’re all going to be
thinking about what the man sitting next to you would rather be doing. How in hell are
you going to live with that?”
James found the courage to speak. “Doesn’t it mean anything knowing it won’t happen
again?”
“No, James, it doesn’t. For one thing, I don’t believe it. That’s what you thought when
you were in college, sleeping with your roommate. You thought that would end it, but
with three daughters at home and a wife who trusted you, you’ve done it again. You
lied then and you lied now, to me and to yourself. Only a fool would believe you won’t
lie again in the future.”
The other women could not find fault with Shasha’s position; in fact, they admired her
for the courage of her convictions, yet they ached for her and James’s loss. It had been
so much easier to give in to their love, even if it meant a long time to heal, even if it was
a matter of risk.
Shasha continued. “I not only loved you all those years, James, I admired you. God
knows how proud I was to have a husband like you. I really think, if you had been
truthful with me before we were married, I would have understood. We might have
worked through this. But I never really knew you, did I?” She came to her feet. “Look
at you now. You look pathetic. As far as working it out is concerned, I’ve had enough.
I'm going home.”
They watched in stunned silence as she abruptly turned and then disappeared into the
house.
The men were reluctant to say anything, fearing most that Shasha had influenced their
own wives; and she had, though her anger had not changed any minds.
“Quite a lumpy bed you’ve made to sleep in, James,” said Linda.
“Don’t give up, buddy,” David was quick to add. “She’s venting her anger. Give her a
while longer.”
“You heard her. You all did. She’s not venting anger—she’s stating her position.” He
stood and walked to the edge of the pool and stared at the water.
When he heard Shasha’s car pull out of the drive, he turned and looked at the others.
“I'm going back to the hotel.”
As James turned and started toward the house, David stood and rushed after him,
placing his hand on his arm. “Would you like me to come over there tonight for a
while? We can talk.”
James glanced over his shoulder at Linda. As badly as he wanted David to come, he
couldn’t allow him to. ”You know better than that. Maybe one day, but not now, not until
Linda feels comfortable with it.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow then.”
“Okay.”
David turned and looked at the others. He stood there a moment, despondent,
wondering if what he felt was a premonition Still he clung to the last threads of hope,
convincing himself, in time, things would return to normal.
Tim sat silently, staring down at his feet. He had not said a word. He, like David, was
worried about James, and for the same reasons. Where the others opted to be
optimistic for James, they both had interpreted the same signs. They glanced at each
other as David sat back down.
“At least we all know where we stand,” said Sally. “It seems we have a long way to go.”
No one stayed much longer.
♦ ♦ ♦
James awoke the next day to the hotel room smell he had become accustomed to. He
had lain awake most of the night. Now the glare of midday sun brightened the window.
He pushed his weight wearily up against the headboard and reached for the remote
control. Staring at the silent TV, he put the control back down. What could possibly be
happening in the news that mattered?
Moving to the edge of the bed, he sat and stared at the floor for a long while. He lifted
the coffee cup from the nightstand and looked at the dry remnants inside. The maid
had left only one packet of coffee and he had used it during the night. He picked up the
phone, replacing it a moment later with-out pushing the button for room service.
Glancing around the room, the gloom that had become his constant companion had not
lifted.
Maybe I’ll go down to the atrium to get some coffee.
His body felt heavy when he got to his feet. He wondered if he really wanted to get out
of bed. He looked at the floor, at the pile of wrinkled clothes he couldn’t remember
taking off. After pulling them on, he walked out of the room without brushing his teeth
and made his way to the elevator. Inside, when the doors closed, a woman reached up
to brush her nose and took a step back. James remembered he hadn’t bothered to
shower or put on deodorant after sweating all night.
He didn’t care about that either.
In the atrium he sat alone with a cup of coffee, holding the small pitcher of cream,
staring at nothing as if he were fixed in time. His mind drifted with scattered thought.
He would have a go at breakfast but had no appetite to put anything solid in his
stomach. There weren’t many people about, but those few who were all looked busy,
happy, like their lives had real purpose. He stirred in the cream and sipped the coffee,
thinking he might just go back to bed. If only he had something to read, to get his mind
on something else; but of course all of his favorite books were at the house, the last
place on earth he’d go without being invited. He remembered a colleague had given
him a couple of novels and he had forgotten to take them home from the office. He
wondered if they were still there. It was closer than any bookstore he could think of. He
looked at his watch, but it was not there. Perhaps for the first time in his entire life, he
had forgotten to put it on.
Three drivers honked angrily as he drove to the office. He wondered if they were
honking at him. Harriet, the firm’s middle-age receptionist on the lower floor lobby
looked at him twice before she recognized the man that had approached her desk.
She had never seen Mr. Cooper in such a rumpled state before.
“Why, hello, Mr. Cooper. We’ve missed you the last few days.” She glanced over him
again. “It looks like you’re still on vacation.”
“It’s a leave of absence, Harriet. I came by to pick up a few things.”
“Yes sir, a leave of absence. I remember.” She began fingering through a stack of
chits. “Let me see if you have any messages.”
“I don’t want any messages.”
“Oh ... okay,” she said, looking up at him, thinking he seemed to be upset about
something.
He attempted a smile and nodded and walked past her to the elegant stairway that
spiraled up to the next floor. It was used less than the private elevator, so he climbed
the stairs hoping to avoid the chore of socializing. Looking around the lushly paneled
suite, he felt even less like a lawyer than he did before he got there. Entering his office,
he took a seat behind his desk. There was brandy in the lower drawer and he took a
large gulp right from the bottle. He wiped his lips, trying to remember why he had come.
Slumped back against the chair, the neck of the bottle in his grip, there was no way of
knowing how much time had passed when he heard Harriet buzzing him on the
intercom. He looked over at the voice machine as if he had been asleep with his eyes
open. He had been wondering if David was right. Maybe Shasha hasn’t had enough
time to vent all of her anger. Surely, given time, she’ll realize how wonderful their lives
were together. She’ll forgive him. They’ll get this ordeal behind them and he’ll find a
way to face life without David. Without David… How he wanted to hold him, to feel
their lips together, to breathe the scent of his hair. It had to be this way though, it had
to—it meant hanging on to his sanity.
He pressed a button on the intercom.
“A man is here to see you, Mr. Cooper,” came Harriet’s voice.
James closed his eyes and his jaw muscles tightened. “I have no appointments today,
Harriet,” he said with tried patience.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper, but he doesn’t have an appointment. He only asked to see you
when I told him you were here. Says he’s your wife’s lawyer.”
His shoulders fell. It was exactly the worst thing anyone could have said to him. A
sense of dread shuddered through his brain and settled in his hands. His fingers
clenched and his heart pounded noticeably harder. Then, after a few deep breaths, a
strange wave of serenity settled over him. His shoulders had melted into a mass of
frail muscle. It took a moment before he found his voice to respond.
“Send him up, Harriet,” he said calmly.
He sat motionless, staring at the open door like a man that had lost his identity. It was
a train coming at him. His legs were frozen. His feet would not move him from the
track. And in that final moment before the train bore down on him, he realized he was
being called home. Come home. Leave the pain behind and walk forever in the
warmth of a glorious light.
A dapper young lawyer appeared in the doorway. “Are you James Cooper?”
James heard the voice. He had distinguished the words. But it seemed the man’s lips
had moved in slow motion. Strange, he thought, this dreamlike image. The lips moved
again and he heard the same words—it was like he was caught up in some vague
comedy. Then the young man took a step into the room. Still, it didn’t occur to James
to respond, pondering as he was whether or not this person was even real, this Hun
incarnate that had appeared in his doorway. For all he knew, the panic welling inside
him had brought on this most dreaded image; for he knew so well that no one could
deliver a bitter pill as effectively as a lawyer, especially a lawyer representing one’s
wife. So who would do this to him? Who would send these hallucinations? Certainly
not the Almighty. God would not push a man over the edge, not a man in the throes of
losing everything.
“Are you James Cooper, sir?”
The mysterious voice in James’s ears abated and the lawyer’s words registered with
clear meaning. He nodded in his suddenly calm, almost hypnotic state.
“Do you mind if I come in?”
James stared at him a long moment before glancing at the chair across from his desk.
The young lawyer picked up the signal and stepped forward to sit down. Accustomed
to spousal resentment, he wasn’t quite prepared for James’s odd reaction. Studying
his hapless new opponent, he set his briefcase on the floor beside the chair.
“I’m Chip Rosen.” He placed his business card on the desk. “I represent your wife in
your pending divorce.”
Divorce. A word that made James think of those awful South American frogs, when
touched their poison absorbs through the skin and begins to dissolve one’s vital
organs. Ah yes, divorce. Isn’t that supposed to be something that happens to
someone else?
Young Mr. Rosen, trying to get a read on his wordless foe, found himself at a complete
loss. The man he had walked in on was staring at his desktop and had yet to get upset
or utter a syllable.
“Uh, do you have representation, Mr. Cooper?”
Representation. He knew this word, but he had become aware of another problem.
He looked down at his fingers. They felt numb and he was certain if someone pricked
them with a pin he wouldn’t feel it.
The acid had stopped roiling in his belly and the panic had settled into the recesses of
his mind, a permanent home, a place it could incubate and begin its transformation into
insanity. He felt a compelling urge to stand and walk out of the room, a great need for
fresh air; but then, he couldn’t imagine making it down the hall without someone’s help.
“If you have a lawyer, perhaps that’s who I should contact.”
Another wave of that pleasant calm came over him, as though someone had injected
him with something. James felt it first in his shoulders and it traveled down his arms
and settled in his sweating hands. It filled his mind like sunlight spreading across a
meadow when the clouds drift away. He looked at his hands to see if his fingers were
still numb, but couldn’t remember what numb fingers looked like. He wondered where
the demon might have gone. It was no longer in his head.
“Is something wrong with you, Mr. Cooper?”
James looked at the young lawyer. “No ... I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me.”
“Did you know your wife planned to serve papers?”
“Yes. Yes, I guess I did know that. Do you have them?”
“No. I wasn’t expecting to find you here. I came to find out where to serve the papers,
and only asked for a moment of your time when I learned you were here.”
“It would seem I’m here. Indeed, I am.” James looked around the room, not exactly
sure just where he was, but it looked very familiar and he was certain it would come to
him eventually.
“Well, I didn’t mean to take much of your time. I only wanted to suggest you hire a
lawyer if you haven’t already. And you might consider how you would like to divide your
assets.”
“My assets?”
“Yes. I believe you have cash savings, real estate, equity stocks and a number of
mutual funds. Mrs. Cooper’s instructions were that this was to be a civil divorce, that
we could expect you to be fair with your proposal.”
“Oh yes, I am fair about things like that. She can have it all.”
“What did you say?”
“She can have it all.”
“Do you understand what you just said to me, Mr. Cooper?”
“Understand?” he smiled. “I can’t think of anything I understand. Not with any certainty
anyway. Surely you know what I mean. Do you? Do you know someone who can say
they really understand anything with certainty?”
Staring at James with alarm, Chip Rosen got to his feet. “I’m going to leave now.
There anything I can do for you before I go?”
James tilted his head in thought, flattered by the offer. “No, nothing I can think of.”
He watched the young lawyer turn and walk abruptly out of the room. A moment later
his eyes drifted to the left side desk drawer. He reached into his pocket to take out a
key ring. Of the half dozen keys, he inserted the smallest into the keyhole and turned
the lock. His face softened with a sense of relief as he pulled open the drawer.
Resting atop a stack of papers lay the dull blue color of a .357 Magnum. His hand
moved toward it with no hesitation and he took its cold weight from the drawer.
Chip Rosen stopped at the first desk he came to at the end of the long hallway. The
stylish young secretary looked puzzled as he explained his concern for the man he had
just tried to talk to.
Their heads snapped in the direction of the explosion.
The secretary gasped and Chip Rosen’s briefcase fell to the floor. A stunned silence
fell over the entire thirty-first floor. Then heads and faces began to appear from
cubicles and from open doorways. There was alarm and murmurs, and momentarily a
collective migration of those faces moved with trepidation in the direction of what
sounded like gunfire. They stood in a nervous queue just inside the room, stunned.
And as more people collected in the hallway, their eyes remained locked in horror on
the same image sprawled atop James’s desk. One of the older lawyers had seen it
before. He quietly took from his vest pocket a cell phone and punched in the numbers
911.
♦ ♦ ♦
It was an overcast day. Shasha stood zombie-like a few feet from the casket, still
disbelieving her husband could be inside. Just like that, almost twenty years of her life
had become a closed chapter. Her face was puffy with tears. A hundred times she
had had second thoughts—her struggle to forgive him had been the worst torment of
her life. So the final choice had been made for her. The sun would come up
tomorrow. Birdsong would fill the trees outside the house. Children’s voices would be
heard in the park. But she would not pick up the phone and dial his number—she
couldn’t. He would not be there to answer it. The angst of it stabbed at her heart.
What had Linda said the other day? If you leave him, will you ever find his equal? Now
her children were fatherless. Now it was too late.
“We’re selling the restaurant,” Jake said, standing amid the crowd next to Jorge and
Tim, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Gonna move out to our place in Arizona. Just
me and Sally. Get this summer behind us and get on with our lives. …God, I loved
him. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss all of you.”
Jorge nodded. “I understand. Michelle and I are going back to New York for the same
reason.” He shook his head sadly. “Who could have predicted it would turn out this
way?”
Tim handed them his business card. “Let’s write from time to time. Let each other
know how things are going.” What else could he say without risking tears? He shifted
his head for a glimpse of how David was doing, then started toward him.
David’s empty gaze lifted when Tim approached. “I’ll live with this the rest of my life,”
Tim said, watching the coffin as it was lowered into the ground. “I knew he was in bad
shape. I didn’t want to believe something like this could happen.”
David scanned the sizable crowd, still desperate to make sense of what was unfolding
before his eyes. He had known all along that he should never have left James alone,
not for a single minute. His gaze returned to the open grave.
“You gonna be alright?” Tim asked. He understood why David didn’t answer, couldn’t
answer. He placed his hand on David’s shoulder. “I’ll be there if you need to talk.” He
looked at Linda, nodded and stepped away.
David stared at the hole. How does one face the future when his center has become
nothing but empty space, when having something with such meaning vanishes into thin
air? What would he think about everyday for the rest of his life, when his days had
been filled by looking forward to seeing James? How could it not have been right to
love him, when his love was as vital as each breath of air; when this man, now lifeless
and cold, gave his life balance? He pictured the two of them on that beach James had
talked about, frolicking in the waves, laughing, throwing their arms around each other
for another embrace; and the next tear formed in his eye.
Tim and Jorge and Jake were the first to turn and start back toward their cars, followed
by their wives. None of them could stand another moment of such a somber scene.
On the morning of the next day, Linda looked around the kitchen for something to
prepare for breakfast. Why, she didn’t know—there was no one there who would eat.
She slammed the cabinet door, then stood weak shouldered and bowed her head and
rubbed her wet red eyes. She glanced over at the window overlooking the backyard,
not comforted by what she would see out there. She moved closer and looked out,
letting her weight slump against the counter as her eyes settled on David.
He was still in the same chair he had gone to in the middle of the night, staring just as
he was then. Three or four times—she couldn’t remember how many—she had gone
out to talk to him; he did nothing but continue to stare. A vital part of his world had
vanished, which seemed to have withered his soul. Not four days ago, they had
opened the door to rebuilding their lives. They had set out with a new understanding,
taking that first step on a whole new path, having survived the worst trauma their
marriage has ever endured. Their love rekindled, their vows reconfirmed, he held her
close all that night.
Now this.
She drew a breath and closed her eyes, wrought by that same awful misgiving.
Somehow, no matter how desperately she tried to deny the feeling, the man she knew
and loved and had been married to for twenty years, the man who made her life so
wonderful, who made her feel like the most exquisite woman alive; that man, she would
never see again.
♦ ♦ ♦
Six months passed before Tim gathered the courage to pay David a visit. It was the
middle of spring. He parked his car in the driveway, approached the front door and
rang the bell. It had taken three days just to decide whether to call or simply show up at
the house. How many times had he picked up the phone, only to hang up without a clue
as to what he might say? Now, standing alone in front of the door, rubbing the knuckles
of one hand with the palm of the other, he hoped this visit would serve a greater
purpose than simply opening an old wound.
David opened the door, wearing blue-jeans, nothing more. Both men fell into a
motionless gaze, as if setting eyes on each other had transported them into a private
realm of memories. As the reality of the visit settled on both, it seemed the rest of the
world had fallen away, that the past and the obscure perceptions of the future had been
drawn into this moment in time; two men overcome by a short but potent legacy, gazing
at each other and struggling with a sudden flood of emotions. A tear welled in David’s
eye.
One step forward on Tim’s part was all it took for them to throw their arms around each
other; an embrace which finally planted them solidly in the here and now. Tim took hold
of David’s shoulders and held him at arm’s length and gazed into his eyes.
“I didn’t know if I should come.”
Finally David smiled, a welcoming, though somewhat pained gesture accompanied by
the hint of a glimmer in his eyes.
“If it’s a bad time, I …”
David shook his head as if he had not yet found his voice. His chest swelled on an
intake of air. He pulled Tim in for another hug. “I’m just surprised to see you.” He
smiled again. “And glad.”
“I’ve missed you.”
David closed his eyes. It seemed his heart suddenly felt lighter than it had in a long
time. He was beginning to regain his composure. “Come in. Let’s sit down and talk.”
Tim followed him into the house and on through the den.
“We’ll go out back,” said David.
The back yard reminded Tim of the wonderful times they had had there. It saddened
him a little.
They sat on chairs by the pool, quietly for a moment, glancing at each other as if to
determine where to begin.
“How are you doing,” Tim asked.
David shrugged. He looked across the pool for a moment in thought. “Still one day at
a time, I guess.”
“Are you working?” Tim hadn’t heard about any projects connected to David in some
time.
“Sold out in January. I wasn’t into it any more. Couldn’t get motivated. …How about
you?”
“Well, thanks to you, I’ve been pretty busy.” Tim had wondered if David had had time to
heal. Obviously not. “There’s more work out there than I can handle.”
“You haven’t expanded?”
“No. I just take the interesting projects I can handle with a small crew.”
David smiled. “You haven’t changed.”
Tim looked around. “Linda’s not here today?”
“No. A friend invited her to go to First Monday in Canton. She’s gotten into antiques.
She’ll be gone for the weekend.”
“How’s she doing?”
David considered the question for a moment, then replied: “She’s trying to move on.
It's not the same around here anymore ... because of me. At least one of us is picking
up the pieces.”
Tim looked at him for a moment. He had worried about this; that the pit David had
fallen into was too deep to climb out of without help. “At least your marriage survived.”
“Yeah, but like I said, it’s different. Doesn’t seem like we’re as close. We don’t talk as
much as we used to. Some things we don’t talk about at all. It’s like we’ve settled into
some kind of neutrality, waiting for something to change.” He looked over at Tim.
“How about you and Rosemary.”
“We’re back to normal, I guess. Never talk about last summer. I still get a little
depressed from time-to-time. I’m sure she knows what’s on my mind when I’m quiet.
I'll start thinking about what happened and catch myself just sitting there, staring into
space. Then it’s like waking up from a trance. She avoids me for a while, and then it
passes.”
“We shouldn’t have told them.”
“I know.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do, but it wasn’t. Everything would have stayed the
same. I miss our friendship. I miss …” David stopped mid-sentence, lowered his head
and rubbed his brow with his fingers. It was still painful to say James’s name.
Tim sighed and another silence fell over them. It was the time of year the sun was
beginning to feel hot. All the trees had their new crowns and the live oaks had dropped
their tired leaves and recaptured their youthful green. The birds were lively in the
shaded branches. A determined fly buzzed Tim’s ears and he shooed it away.
“Ever hear from Jorge or Jake?” David asked.
“I called them New Years day. They’re okay. Still have their regrets. Jake likes living
in Arizona. He met someone. Calls the guy a special friend.”
“At least Sally understood.” David shook his head. “She was the exception, wasn’t
she?” David looked at him. “What about you? Have you met anyone?”
“No. Don’t intend to.” Tim turned his head and looked at him, aware David didn’t know
where his heart had taken him during the past summer; he had no intention of telling
him now.
“Me either. Not after…” David looked off in another direction.
Tim realized David couldn’t say James’s name. His heart ached for his old friend. “I’m
glad I came.”
“I’m glad you came, too.”
Tim hesitated, thinking this would be a good time to tell him about his idea. “I had
another reason for coming today.”
David seemed curious.
“I ran across an old house over in Forest Hills. A great price but it’s in bad shape.”
“You thinking about moving out of Arlington?”
“No. I’m thinking about changing course a little. I wanna buy it and fix it up. It’s like an
itch. Hit me the moment I saw it. It’s close to White Rock Lake. I picture stripping it
down to the studs and completely redoing the interior, the electrical, everything. Hop
on my bike once in a while and take a spin around the lake. Maybe spend a year or so
making the place perfect. No deadlines. No pressure. Just take my time and turn it
into a masterpiece.”
David was staring at the sparkling surface of the pool.
“I’d like you to join me,” Tim continued. “We could be partners. Fix the place up and
then figure out what to do with it.”
David remained silent. Tim didn’t notice that he was breathing just a little bit faster.
Something inside David had stirred. Nothing inspired him more than bringing an old
house back to life.
“You interested?”
David nodded vaguely, thinking, visualizing the many phases of rebuilding a house.
His sense of purpose had been dead for months; either that or it had been hibernating.
Tim’s suggestion seemed to have sparked a reawakening, which felt much like the
warm morning sun on the side of his face. The decision was instantaneous, like a
need for something like this had been a prisoner in his subconscious.
“Yeah,” he said as their eyes met. “I’m interested.”
“Wanna drive over and take a look at it?”
David’s mood had changed as his thoughts shifted away from the past, from a sort of
emptiness to a kind of vibrancy in the making, a feeling inside him that he had not felt in
months. It was as if a page had been turned, a whispered promise with much left
unsaid; still a little unclear, but telling him to grab on, to recapture life, to take that first
step in this direction.
David looked at him and smiled. “Yeah, let’s go have a look.”
He stood, as did Tim, and they walked back through the house, out the front door and
on to Tim’s truck. Tim backed out into the street and started in the direction of the old
house, both of them silent, both pondering the birth of a new dream.
off his head, exposing a stitched gash under his hairline certain to leave a scar. He
would have to wear the cast on his arm for thirty days. James was still in the room at
the Anatole. He had arrived early to spend a little time with David before the others got
there. They were sitting near the pool in cool early autumn air.
“Are you nervous?” James asked.
David looked at him. “I wasn’t this nervous bribing Tim out of jail.”
“My stomach’s churning.” James looked toward the house. Linda and Shasha were
inside preparing some snacks. “Shasha let me come by the house last night to see the
girls. It was so tense I couldn’t stay long. Plus the girls had a lot of questions I don’t
have answers for.”
“Do they know about you and me?”
“No. They’re just upset their parents are separated. They can’t understand it.”
“James, I have to believe things will be back to normal in time.”
“Maybe.” He looked around David’s back yard. “Bet you didn’t realize that wreck was
a piece of luck.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It got you back home.”
“It didn’t feel so lucky at the time.”
“I’d flip my car in a minute if Shasha would take me back.”
“Don’t try it. The results aren’t that predictable.”
“I’ve picked up the phone a half dozen times to call that guy who owns the condo.
Couldn’t bring myself to dial his number. Moving into an apartment makes it seem too
permanent.”
“I guess it would. Maybe you won’t have to stay in the hotel much longer. It’s just taking
Shasha a while to sort things out.”
“Is that what Linda says?”
David looked at him. He didn’t want to tell James what Linda had said about Shasha.
“Is it?” James insisted.
“Linda’s not sure what to think. She’s working on me and her.”
James sat quietly for a moment, contemplating the thoughts that came to him in the
night, the same thoughts that came every night. Now he was sitting next to the man that
had caused them. “I can’t sleep at night. Can’t stop thinking about you. It’s tough not
being able to look forward to being with you, knowing we can’t ...”
David’s eyes drifted from the side of his face to the shimmering surface of the pool.
“That’s hard to think about, James. But it seems like I think about it constantly. I’m
worried about the future.”
“I think about Shasha, too, how we’ve spent our entire lives together. She’s the mother
of my children. Supported my career from the very beginning. But laying there, thinking
about you both, I realized you’re the one who accepts me for who I really am. You’re
the only one who allows me to live with unconditional truth.”
David’s head snapped in James’s direction. He wasn’t quite sure why, but the
statement alarmed him. Nevertheless, it was true—their love for each other was
unconditional. “My God, James. Don’t say things like that. You’re making it harder for
me.”
“That’s not my intent. Just a simple truth. Our love has no flaws. We understand each
other in ways no one else does. It’s you, David. When I think of the two of you, you’re
the one I long to hold.”
“James, please ...”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m being selfish, but I think you already knew. In your heart you know
the day will come it’ll rise to the surface. It’ll haunt you like it’s haunting me.”
“It’s haunting me this very moment. We can’t dwell on it. We have to cope just like we
did in the past.”
“Cope? I’m not coping well at all to tell you the truth. Can’t get past this sense of loss. I
sat in the bathtub last night and sobbed like a baby. I can’t imagine going back to work
and being any kind of a lawyer, or being the father my daughters expect me to be. I
can’t imagine life if Shasha doesn’t take me back, or what’ll happen if she does.”
This struck David on a more frightening level. It sounded like, no matter what
happened now, James felt his life was hopeless. There was nothing he could do, other
than believe his best friend was strong enough to tough through it.
Tim arrived with Rosemary after taking the children to her mother’s. Though she had
returned home, Rosemary still had not come to grips with her emotions. They sat next
to James, the tension between them obvious.
James reached over to turn Tim’s face. “Looks like that black eye has just about
healed.”
“It has,” Tim said, looking at his wife. “Now we’re working on our hearts.”
David leaned back against the chair with James’s words echoing in his ears,
saddened twice over by what he had to give up. How many sleepless nights did he
face? How many hours of distraction? He looked at Tim, wishing he could spend the
afternoon with him, to relay his fears and hear the words that might hold the answer.
But it was most likely that even Tim had not yet sorted everything out. Time was all
David could depend on, for they say time heals all wounds; but in their case, he couldn’t
help but think that time would only make it worse.
Jorge and Michelle arrived shortly after Jake and Sally. All ten sat in a semi-circle next
to the pool. The conversation began awkwardly with small talk. Rosemary described
how Todd’s breathing machine stabilized his breathing when his difficulties set in.
Jorge mentioned he thought it might have come down to breaking Tim out of that
Mexican jail; that he knew two men who had become mercenaries after their years in
the Navy Seals that would have been up to the task. Sally had a story about an
overweight woman that had been in the restaurant the day before, who fell on the floor
in the restroom when the toilet seat broke.
Then Shasha came to the point.
“It seems you all are doing rather well with what we’re going through. Sorry, I’m not. It’s
like you’ve forgotten these men lied to us.” She paused with growing anger. “They’ve
been going to bed together for godsake. Just so you all know, I’m not doing very well
with it at all.”
There was a long silence. The women looked at their husbands.
Michelle spoke: “I’ve been thinking Jorge and I would be better off if we went back to
New York.”
Sally was disappointed. “Why would you think that, Michelle?”
“I don’t know. A diversion I guess. We wouldn’t be reminded of it everyday there.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Sally said. “I told Jake the other day I’ve never
had friends I value so much. I know we have a dilemma to work through; but that aside,
we sure have gotten comfortable with each other. I actually believe my husband’s
sexuality has made me feel even closer to you all. We’ve shared a lot. Now we’re
sharing something most people never even think about. Why throw that kind of
friendship away?” She sighed with exasperation. “Can you imagine having friends
who would desert you if they discovered a secret like this? That’s the kind of friends
most people have. People aren’t compassionate or sympathetic anymore. So many
are superficial and judgmental.”
“It’s an issue I prefer not having to share with my friends,” said Shasha.
“Well,” said Linda, “to answer Sally’s question, I for one couldn’t be more grateful for
our friendship.” She looked at Shasha. “None of us asked for this problem. It landed
in our laps. Thinking about it these last few days, I realize something now. These guys
didn’t choose to be bisexual. Actually, I don’t think that’s my problem. My problem is
they acted on it and they lied. I’m not happy that David has known all along and kept it
from me.”
“That’s right, they made a choice,” said Michelle defensively. “I’ve tried to understand
why. I’m convinced it’s not because I failed him, or that we have a flawed marriage.
None of us do. To them it’s something their wives can’t address, so they dealt with it
themselves. If you look past what they’ve done, they’re caring, devoted husbands. We
loved them before we knew—why should it change now?”
“Yes,” said Rosemary. “Tim’s always been attracted to men. He was when I fell in love
with him. He hasn’t changed all of a sudden. It's something I’ve only recently found out
about. He’s still the same man."
“This making me sick to my stomach,” Shasha fumed. “Don’t you all grasp what you’re
trying to condone? We’re married to men who have sex with other men. So what if
they’ve gotten it off their chests and admitted their sins? That’s just not good enough
for me. Next Thursday night, when you sit down to watch a movie, you’re all going to be
thinking about what the man sitting next to you would rather be doing. How in hell are
you going to live with that?”
James found the courage to speak. “Doesn’t it mean anything knowing it won’t happen
again?”
“No, James, it doesn’t. For one thing, I don’t believe it. That’s what you thought when
you were in college, sleeping with your roommate. You thought that would end it, but
with three daughters at home and a wife who trusted you, you’ve done it again. You
lied then and you lied now, to me and to yourself. Only a fool would believe you won’t
lie again in the future.”
The other women could not find fault with Shasha’s position; in fact, they admired her
for the courage of her convictions, yet they ached for her and James’s loss. It had been
so much easier to give in to their love, even if it meant a long time to heal, even if it was
a matter of risk.
Shasha continued. “I not only loved you all those years, James, I admired you. God
knows how proud I was to have a husband like you. I really think, if you had been
truthful with me before we were married, I would have understood. We might have
worked through this. But I never really knew you, did I?” She came to her feet. “Look
at you now. You look pathetic. As far as working it out is concerned, I’ve had enough.
I'm going home.”
They watched in stunned silence as she abruptly turned and then disappeared into the
house.
The men were reluctant to say anything, fearing most that Shasha had influenced their
own wives; and she had, though her anger had not changed any minds.
“Quite a lumpy bed you’ve made to sleep in, James,” said Linda.
“Don’t give up, buddy,” David was quick to add. “She’s venting her anger. Give her a
while longer.”
“You heard her. You all did. She’s not venting anger—she’s stating her position.” He
stood and walked to the edge of the pool and stared at the water.
When he heard Shasha’s car pull out of the drive, he turned and looked at the others.
“I'm going back to the hotel.”
As James turned and started toward the house, David stood and rushed after him,
placing his hand on his arm. “Would you like me to come over there tonight for a
while? We can talk.”
James glanced over his shoulder at Linda. As badly as he wanted David to come, he
couldn’t allow him to. ”You know better than that. Maybe one day, but not now, not until
Linda feels comfortable with it.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow then.”
“Okay.”
David turned and looked at the others. He stood there a moment, despondent,
wondering if what he felt was a premonition Still he clung to the last threads of hope,
convincing himself, in time, things would return to normal.
Tim sat silently, staring down at his feet. He had not said a word. He, like David, was
worried about James, and for the same reasons. Where the others opted to be
optimistic for James, they both had interpreted the same signs. They glanced at each
other as David sat back down.
“At least we all know where we stand,” said Sally. “It seems we have a long way to go.”
No one stayed much longer.
♦ ♦ ♦
James awoke the next day to the hotel room smell he had become accustomed to. He
had lain awake most of the night. Now the glare of midday sun brightened the window.
He pushed his weight wearily up against the headboard and reached for the remote
control. Staring at the silent TV, he put the control back down. What could possibly be
happening in the news that mattered?
Moving to the edge of the bed, he sat and stared at the floor for a long while. He lifted
the coffee cup from the nightstand and looked at the dry remnants inside. The maid
had left only one packet of coffee and he had used it during the night. He picked up the
phone, replacing it a moment later with-out pushing the button for room service.
Glancing around the room, the gloom that had become his constant companion had not
lifted.
Maybe I’ll go down to the atrium to get some coffee.
His body felt heavy when he got to his feet. He wondered if he really wanted to get out
of bed. He looked at the floor, at the pile of wrinkled clothes he couldn’t remember
taking off. After pulling them on, he walked out of the room without brushing his teeth
and made his way to the elevator. Inside, when the doors closed, a woman reached up
to brush her nose and took a step back. James remembered he hadn’t bothered to
shower or put on deodorant after sweating all night.
He didn’t care about that either.
In the atrium he sat alone with a cup of coffee, holding the small pitcher of cream,
staring at nothing as if he were fixed in time. His mind drifted with scattered thought.
He would have a go at breakfast but had no appetite to put anything solid in his
stomach. There weren’t many people about, but those few who were all looked busy,
happy, like their lives had real purpose. He stirred in the cream and sipped the coffee,
thinking he might just go back to bed. If only he had something to read, to get his mind
on something else; but of course all of his favorite books were at the house, the last
place on earth he’d go without being invited. He remembered a colleague had given
him a couple of novels and he had forgotten to take them home from the office. He
wondered if they were still there. It was closer than any bookstore he could think of. He
looked at his watch, but it was not there. Perhaps for the first time in his entire life, he
had forgotten to put it on.
Three drivers honked angrily as he drove to the office. He wondered if they were
honking at him. Harriet, the firm’s middle-age receptionist on the lower floor lobby
looked at him twice before she recognized the man that had approached her desk.
She had never seen Mr. Cooper in such a rumpled state before.
“Why, hello, Mr. Cooper. We’ve missed you the last few days.” She glanced over him
again. “It looks like you’re still on vacation.”
“It’s a leave of absence, Harriet. I came by to pick up a few things.”
“Yes sir, a leave of absence. I remember.” She began fingering through a stack of
chits. “Let me see if you have any messages.”
“I don’t want any messages.”
“Oh ... okay,” she said, looking up at him, thinking he seemed to be upset about
something.
He attempted a smile and nodded and walked past her to the elegant stairway that
spiraled up to the next floor. It was used less than the private elevator, so he climbed
the stairs hoping to avoid the chore of socializing. Looking around the lushly paneled
suite, he felt even less like a lawyer than he did before he got there. Entering his office,
he took a seat behind his desk. There was brandy in the lower drawer and he took a
large gulp right from the bottle. He wiped his lips, trying to remember why he had come.
Slumped back against the chair, the neck of the bottle in his grip, there was no way of
knowing how much time had passed when he heard Harriet buzzing him on the
intercom. He looked over at the voice machine as if he had been asleep with his eyes
open. He had been wondering if David was right. Maybe Shasha hasn’t had enough
time to vent all of her anger. Surely, given time, she’ll realize how wonderful their lives
were together. She’ll forgive him. They’ll get this ordeal behind them and he’ll find a
way to face life without David. Without David… How he wanted to hold him, to feel
their lips together, to breathe the scent of his hair. It had to be this way though, it had
to—it meant hanging on to his sanity.
He pressed a button on the intercom.
“A man is here to see you, Mr. Cooper,” came Harriet’s voice.
James closed his eyes and his jaw muscles tightened. “I have no appointments today,
Harriet,” he said with tried patience.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper, but he doesn’t have an appointment. He only asked to see you
when I told him you were here. Says he’s your wife’s lawyer.”
His shoulders fell. It was exactly the worst thing anyone could have said to him. A
sense of dread shuddered through his brain and settled in his hands. His fingers
clenched and his heart pounded noticeably harder. Then, after a few deep breaths, a
strange wave of serenity settled over him. His shoulders had melted into a mass of
frail muscle. It took a moment before he found his voice to respond.
“Send him up, Harriet,” he said calmly.
He sat motionless, staring at the open door like a man that had lost his identity. It was
a train coming at him. His legs were frozen. His feet would not move him from the
track. And in that final moment before the train bore down on him, he realized he was
being called home. Come home. Leave the pain behind and walk forever in the
warmth of a glorious light.
A dapper young lawyer appeared in the doorway. “Are you James Cooper?”
James heard the voice. He had distinguished the words. But it seemed the man’s lips
had moved in slow motion. Strange, he thought, this dreamlike image. The lips moved
again and he heard the same words—it was like he was caught up in some vague
comedy. Then the young man took a step into the room. Still, it didn’t occur to James
to respond, pondering as he was whether or not this person was even real, this Hun
incarnate that had appeared in his doorway. For all he knew, the panic welling inside
him had brought on this most dreaded image; for he knew so well that no one could
deliver a bitter pill as effectively as a lawyer, especially a lawyer representing one’s
wife. So who would do this to him? Who would send these hallucinations? Certainly
not the Almighty. God would not push a man over the edge, not a man in the throes of
losing everything.
“Are you James Cooper, sir?”
The mysterious voice in James’s ears abated and the lawyer’s words registered with
clear meaning. He nodded in his suddenly calm, almost hypnotic state.
“Do you mind if I come in?”
James stared at him a long moment before glancing at the chair across from his desk.
The young lawyer picked up the signal and stepped forward to sit down. Accustomed
to spousal resentment, he wasn’t quite prepared for James’s odd reaction. Studying
his hapless new opponent, he set his briefcase on the floor beside the chair.
“I’m Chip Rosen.” He placed his business card on the desk. “I represent your wife in
your pending divorce.”
Divorce. A word that made James think of those awful South American frogs, when
touched their poison absorbs through the skin and begins to dissolve one’s vital
organs. Ah yes, divorce. Isn’t that supposed to be something that happens to
someone else?
Young Mr. Rosen, trying to get a read on his wordless foe, found himself at a complete
loss. The man he had walked in on was staring at his desktop and had yet to get upset
or utter a syllable.
“Uh, do you have representation, Mr. Cooper?”
Representation. He knew this word, but he had become aware of another problem.
He looked down at his fingers. They felt numb and he was certain if someone pricked
them with a pin he wouldn’t feel it.
The acid had stopped roiling in his belly and the panic had settled into the recesses of
his mind, a permanent home, a place it could incubate and begin its transformation into
insanity. He felt a compelling urge to stand and walk out of the room, a great need for
fresh air; but then, he couldn’t imagine making it down the hall without someone’s help.
“If you have a lawyer, perhaps that’s who I should contact.”
Another wave of that pleasant calm came over him, as though someone had injected
him with something. James felt it first in his shoulders and it traveled down his arms
and settled in his sweating hands. It filled his mind like sunlight spreading across a
meadow when the clouds drift away. He looked at his hands to see if his fingers were
still numb, but couldn’t remember what numb fingers looked like. He wondered where
the demon might have gone. It was no longer in his head.
“Is something wrong with you, Mr. Cooper?”
James looked at the young lawyer. “No ... I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me.”
“Did you know your wife planned to serve papers?”
“Yes. Yes, I guess I did know that. Do you have them?”
“No. I wasn’t expecting to find you here. I came to find out where to serve the papers,
and only asked for a moment of your time when I learned you were here.”
“It would seem I’m here. Indeed, I am.” James looked around the room, not exactly
sure just where he was, but it looked very familiar and he was certain it would come to
him eventually.
“Well, I didn’t mean to take much of your time. I only wanted to suggest you hire a
lawyer if you haven’t already. And you might consider how you would like to divide your
assets.”
“My assets?”
“Yes. I believe you have cash savings, real estate, equity stocks and a number of
mutual funds. Mrs. Cooper’s instructions were that this was to be a civil divorce, that
we could expect you to be fair with your proposal.”
“Oh yes, I am fair about things like that. She can have it all.”
“What did you say?”
“She can have it all.”
“Do you understand what you just said to me, Mr. Cooper?”
“Understand?” he smiled. “I can’t think of anything I understand. Not with any certainty
anyway. Surely you know what I mean. Do you? Do you know someone who can say
they really understand anything with certainty?”
Staring at James with alarm, Chip Rosen got to his feet. “I’m going to leave now.
There anything I can do for you before I go?”
James tilted his head in thought, flattered by the offer. “No, nothing I can think of.”
He watched the young lawyer turn and walk abruptly out of the room. A moment later
his eyes drifted to the left side desk drawer. He reached into his pocket to take out a
key ring. Of the half dozen keys, he inserted the smallest into the keyhole and turned
the lock. His face softened with a sense of relief as he pulled open the drawer.
Resting atop a stack of papers lay the dull blue color of a .357 Magnum. His hand
moved toward it with no hesitation and he took its cold weight from the drawer.
Chip Rosen stopped at the first desk he came to at the end of the long hallway. The
stylish young secretary looked puzzled as he explained his concern for the man he had
just tried to talk to.
Their heads snapped in the direction of the explosion.
The secretary gasped and Chip Rosen’s briefcase fell to the floor. A stunned silence
fell over the entire thirty-first floor. Then heads and faces began to appear from
cubicles and from open doorways. There was alarm and murmurs, and momentarily a
collective migration of those faces moved with trepidation in the direction of what
sounded like gunfire. They stood in a nervous queue just inside the room, stunned.
And as more people collected in the hallway, their eyes remained locked in horror on
the same image sprawled atop James’s desk. One of the older lawyers had seen it
before. He quietly took from his vest pocket a cell phone and punched in the numbers
911.
♦ ♦ ♦
It was an overcast day. Shasha stood zombie-like a few feet from the casket, still
disbelieving her husband could be inside. Just like that, almost twenty years of her life
had become a closed chapter. Her face was puffy with tears. A hundred times she
had had second thoughts—her struggle to forgive him had been the worst torment of
her life. So the final choice had been made for her. The sun would come up
tomorrow. Birdsong would fill the trees outside the house. Children’s voices would be
heard in the park. But she would not pick up the phone and dial his number—she
couldn’t. He would not be there to answer it. The angst of it stabbed at her heart.
What had Linda said the other day? If you leave him, will you ever find his equal? Now
her children were fatherless. Now it was too late.
“We’re selling the restaurant,” Jake said, standing amid the crowd next to Jorge and
Tim, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Gonna move out to our place in Arizona. Just
me and Sally. Get this summer behind us and get on with our lives. …God, I loved
him. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss all of you.”
Jorge nodded. “I understand. Michelle and I are going back to New York for the same
reason.” He shook his head sadly. “Who could have predicted it would turn out this
way?”
Tim handed them his business card. “Let’s write from time to time. Let each other
know how things are going.” What else could he say without risking tears? He shifted
his head for a glimpse of how David was doing, then started toward him.
David’s empty gaze lifted when Tim approached. “I’ll live with this the rest of my life,”
Tim said, watching the coffin as it was lowered into the ground. “I knew he was in bad
shape. I didn’t want to believe something like this could happen.”
David scanned the sizable crowd, still desperate to make sense of what was unfolding
before his eyes. He had known all along that he should never have left James alone,
not for a single minute. His gaze returned to the open grave.
“You gonna be alright?” Tim asked. He understood why David didn’t answer, couldn’t
answer. He placed his hand on David’s shoulder. “I’ll be there if you need to talk.” He
looked at Linda, nodded and stepped away.
David stared at the hole. How does one face the future when his center has become
nothing but empty space, when having something with such meaning vanishes into thin
air? What would he think about everyday for the rest of his life, when his days had
been filled by looking forward to seeing James? How could it not have been right to
love him, when his love was as vital as each breath of air; when this man, now lifeless
and cold, gave his life balance? He pictured the two of them on that beach James had
talked about, frolicking in the waves, laughing, throwing their arms around each other
for another embrace; and the next tear formed in his eye.
Tim and Jorge and Jake were the first to turn and start back toward their cars, followed
by their wives. None of them could stand another moment of such a somber scene.
On the morning of the next day, Linda looked around the kitchen for something to
prepare for breakfast. Why, she didn’t know—there was no one there who would eat.
She slammed the cabinet door, then stood weak shouldered and bowed her head and
rubbed her wet red eyes. She glanced over at the window overlooking the backyard,
not comforted by what she would see out there. She moved closer and looked out,
letting her weight slump against the counter as her eyes settled on David.
He was still in the same chair he had gone to in the middle of the night, staring just as
he was then. Three or four times—she couldn’t remember how many—she had gone
out to talk to him; he did nothing but continue to stare. A vital part of his world had
vanished, which seemed to have withered his soul. Not four days ago, they had
opened the door to rebuilding their lives. They had set out with a new understanding,
taking that first step on a whole new path, having survived the worst trauma their
marriage has ever endured. Their love rekindled, their vows reconfirmed, he held her
close all that night.
Now this.
She drew a breath and closed her eyes, wrought by that same awful misgiving.
Somehow, no matter how desperately she tried to deny the feeling, the man she knew
and loved and had been married to for twenty years, the man who made her life so
wonderful, who made her feel like the most exquisite woman alive; that man, she would
never see again.
♦ ♦ ♦
Six months passed before Tim gathered the courage to pay David a visit. It was the
middle of spring. He parked his car in the driveway, approached the front door and
rang the bell. It had taken three days just to decide whether to call or simply show up at
the house. How many times had he picked up the phone, only to hang up without a clue
as to what he might say? Now, standing alone in front of the door, rubbing the knuckles
of one hand with the palm of the other, he hoped this visit would serve a greater
purpose than simply opening an old wound.
David opened the door, wearing blue-jeans, nothing more. Both men fell into a
motionless gaze, as if setting eyes on each other had transported them into a private
realm of memories. As the reality of the visit settled on both, it seemed the rest of the
world had fallen away, that the past and the obscure perceptions of the future had been
drawn into this moment in time; two men overcome by a short but potent legacy, gazing
at each other and struggling with a sudden flood of emotions. A tear welled in David’s
eye.
One step forward on Tim’s part was all it took for them to throw their arms around each
other; an embrace which finally planted them solidly in the here and now. Tim took hold
of David’s shoulders and held him at arm’s length and gazed into his eyes.
“I didn’t know if I should come.”
Finally David smiled, a welcoming, though somewhat pained gesture accompanied by
the hint of a glimmer in his eyes.
“If it’s a bad time, I …”
David shook his head as if he had not yet found his voice. His chest swelled on an
intake of air. He pulled Tim in for another hug. “I’m just surprised to see you.” He
smiled again. “And glad.”
“I’ve missed you.”
David closed his eyes. It seemed his heart suddenly felt lighter than it had in a long
time. He was beginning to regain his composure. “Come in. Let’s sit down and talk.”
Tim followed him into the house and on through the den.
“We’ll go out back,” said David.
The back yard reminded Tim of the wonderful times they had had there. It saddened
him a little.
They sat on chairs by the pool, quietly for a moment, glancing at each other as if to
determine where to begin.
“How are you doing,” Tim asked.
David shrugged. He looked across the pool for a moment in thought. “Still one day at
a time, I guess.”
“Are you working?” Tim hadn’t heard about any projects connected to David in some
time.
“Sold out in January. I wasn’t into it any more. Couldn’t get motivated. …How about
you?”
“Well, thanks to you, I’ve been pretty busy.” Tim had wondered if David had had time to
heal. Obviously not. “There’s more work out there than I can handle.”
“You haven’t expanded?”
“No. I just take the interesting projects I can handle with a small crew.”
David smiled. “You haven’t changed.”
Tim looked around. “Linda’s not here today?”
“No. A friend invited her to go to First Monday in Canton. She’s gotten into antiques.
She’ll be gone for the weekend.”
“How’s she doing?”
David considered the question for a moment, then replied: “She’s trying to move on.
It's not the same around here anymore ... because of me. At least one of us is picking
up the pieces.”
Tim looked at him for a moment. He had worried about this; that the pit David had
fallen into was too deep to climb out of without help. “At least your marriage survived.”
“Yeah, but like I said, it’s different. Doesn’t seem like we’re as close. We don’t talk as
much as we used to. Some things we don’t talk about at all. It’s like we’ve settled into
some kind of neutrality, waiting for something to change.” He looked over at Tim.
“How about you and Rosemary.”
“We’re back to normal, I guess. Never talk about last summer. I still get a little
depressed from time-to-time. I’m sure she knows what’s on my mind when I’m quiet.
I'll start thinking about what happened and catch myself just sitting there, staring into
space. Then it’s like waking up from a trance. She avoids me for a while, and then it
passes.”
“We shouldn’t have told them.”
“I know.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do, but it wasn’t. Everything would have stayed the
same. I miss our friendship. I miss …” David stopped mid-sentence, lowered his head
and rubbed his brow with his fingers. It was still painful to say James’s name.
Tim sighed and another silence fell over them. It was the time of year the sun was
beginning to feel hot. All the trees had their new crowns and the live oaks had dropped
their tired leaves and recaptured their youthful green. The birds were lively in the
shaded branches. A determined fly buzzed Tim’s ears and he shooed it away.
“Ever hear from Jorge or Jake?” David asked.
“I called them New Years day. They’re okay. Still have their regrets. Jake likes living
in Arizona. He met someone. Calls the guy a special friend.”
“At least Sally understood.” David shook his head. “She was the exception, wasn’t
she?” David looked at him. “What about you? Have you met anyone?”
“No. Don’t intend to.” Tim turned his head and looked at him, aware David didn’t know
where his heart had taken him during the past summer; he had no intention of telling
him now.
“Me either. Not after…” David looked off in another direction.
Tim realized David couldn’t say James’s name. His heart ached for his old friend. “I’m
glad I came.”
“I’m glad you came, too.”
Tim hesitated, thinking this would be a good time to tell him about his idea. “I had
another reason for coming today.”
David seemed curious.
“I ran across an old house over in Forest Hills. A great price but it’s in bad shape.”
“You thinking about moving out of Arlington?”
“No. I’m thinking about changing course a little. I wanna buy it and fix it up. It’s like an
itch. Hit me the moment I saw it. It’s close to White Rock Lake. I picture stripping it
down to the studs and completely redoing the interior, the electrical, everything. Hop
on my bike once in a while and take a spin around the lake. Maybe spend a year or so
making the place perfect. No deadlines. No pressure. Just take my time and turn it
into a masterpiece.”
David was staring at the sparkling surface of the pool.
“I’d like you to join me,” Tim continued. “We could be partners. Fix the place up and
then figure out what to do with it.”
David remained silent. Tim didn’t notice that he was breathing just a little bit faster.
Something inside David had stirred. Nothing inspired him more than bringing an old
house back to life.
“You interested?”
David nodded vaguely, thinking, visualizing the many phases of rebuilding a house.
His sense of purpose had been dead for months; either that or it had been hibernating.
Tim’s suggestion seemed to have sparked a reawakening, which felt much like the
warm morning sun on the side of his face. The decision was instantaneous, like a
need for something like this had been a prisoner in his subconscious.
“Yeah,” he said as their eyes met. “I’m interested.”
“Wanna drive over and take a look at it?”
David’s mood had changed as his thoughts shifted away from the past, from a sort of
emptiness to a kind of vibrancy in the making, a feeling inside him that he had not felt in
months. It was as if a page had been turned, a whispered promise with much left
unsaid; still a little unclear, but telling him to grab on, to recapture life, to take that first
step in this direction.
David looked at him and smiled. “Yeah, let’s go have a look.”
He stood, as did Tim, and they walked back through the house, out the front door and
on to Tim’s truck. Tim backed out into the street and started in the direction of the old
house, both of them silent, both pondering the birth of a new dream.
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
