Читать книгу The Look of Love - Jill Egizii - Страница 8

Weeks go by and the weather changes from cold and snowy to chilly and damp. During this time not much changes for Anna. She has been urging Erik to get a place of his own and sending out feelers for a job. She still drives back and forth to care for the kids, make meals, and run them to and from school, practice, and various lessons. The list never seems to end but, honestly, Anna doesn’t mind.

She’s had a few so-called meetings with Erik; a few lunches and dinners to discuss their divorce, which only remind her of their early dates, each one to more and more expensive, more exclusive restaurants or events. Just like now. Erik recovered nicely despite the incident and was gradually spending a few more hours a week at the office. Today they had the restaurant practically to themselves. The state Senate and House of Representatives were out of session and therefore the downtown steakhouse was unusually empty. Anna treads carefully, noting that Erik (despite doctor’s orders) is on his fourth scotch rocks.

“OK, so what I’m going to do Anna is go back to our former divorce agreement and simply have the remarriage of three years ago invalidated. That way, the original divorce will simply stand.” Erik says.

“I’m not sure what that means ‘invalidated.’” Anna replies. Over the years she learned it’s best not to ask questions directly or insinuate that he was unclear or wrong. Sure, operating this way is slower and more cumbersome, but it’s also less likely to inspire an outburst…especially after four scotch rocks.

“It means, simply, dear that our remarriage will be declared farcical, nonexistent…for all intents and purposes, invalid.” He replies.

Anna has a million questions but dares not pose them now. She gestures to the waiter, who is chatting with the hostess, that they’d like their check. “So…OK then Erik. I’ll come to the office next week to get a copy of the paperwork. Now Maggie has a campus visit scheduled this weekend so I’ll be taking her to the airport around dinnertime on Friday. And Drew wants to talk to you about going to some golf camp over spring break in a few weeks.” With this she stands up to take her leave.

“Oh don’t worry dear, the paperwork will be ready long before next week. In fact, I’m waiting to hear from Judge Ouray in Keskert County. It should be all wrapped up any minute. He’s agreed to seal the whole mess under lock and key so none of my colleagues or judges I work with will have to know the gory details. Remember, I have friends everywhere dear.” With that Erik slaps his platinum card onto the leather folder the waiter is slipping on the corner of the table.

“Quickly please if you don’t mind. I have an appointment to keep.” He nods to the waiter who hies away to do as bid.

THREE DAYS LATER, at one in the morning, Anna answers her cell phone to wild raving. From what she can gather even Erik’s pocket Judge Ouray, all the way out in Keskert county where Erik owns half the grazing cattle and the grain elevator, even that Judge Ouray finds it impossible to invalidate the remarriage and enact the old divorce without potentially being in hot water.

“Who’d you hiir?” Erik slurs over the phone. “Whodja get ta bail you out? Who tha hall dja manage to convince to go upaganst me? Huh? Who?”

Anna knows better than to argue or rationalize, or even to try to placate him at this point. These are the watering nights. Nights back when they were living together, back when they shared a room. These were the nights Erik would be so drunk that he’d piss the bed. She’d be wakened by a creeping warmth dampening her night slip, a creeping warmth spreading to encompass her entirely.

It took her a while that first time to figure it out. It just didn’t seem possible that a grown man, soused or not, wouldn’t wake up. She only wished she were able to get that drunk herself; then, time after time, month after month she wouldn’t be wakened by a hot puddle of recycled Johnnie Walker Black. Worse yet were the nights his noise and nonsense would wake her up despite the earplugs and she would get snared by a hug, or he’d throw a leg over hers and she’d be trapped. She could choose to either risk waking him up by moving (never a good idea) or laying there wide awake waiting to feel the spreading warmth. Then at least she’d be sure he was dead asleep and she could finally move. To do so beforehand was too costly—she’d learned that the hard way. The glamorous charm he exuded in public became something quite different behind closed doors, something manipulative and insistent, something capable of punishing determination.

She actually grew to prefer the nights he simply wet the bed. On other nights when he wasn’t quite so drunk, his urge would wake him and he’d stumble blindly around thinking he was in the bathroom. The first time it was Drew’s dirty clothes hamper. Next it was the linen closet. This went on until Anna simply learned to shut the bedroom door so he wouldn’t sense the opening and wander around the house. Then she managed to restrict his nocturnal accidents to his and her clothes hampers and closets. On rare miraculous nights he did her the favor of accidentally pissing in the bathtub. Still it was disgusting, but much easier to clean.

She’s glad she’s as far away as her mother’s house, but she’s not so relieved that the kids are in that house alone…with him stumbling around blind drunk. Maggie is used to it by now and she is old enough to know what’s going on. Maggie’s also a light sleeper and would be sure nothing bad happened to Betsy or Drew. Anna is almost sure Erik’d never do anything to harm the kids intentionally, but accidentally? Who knew?

Maybe she should get a lawyer and aim for sole custody? But how the hell can she manage that without money? Besides she spent almost twenty years hushing up, covering up, and keeping his problems secret. How can she expect anyone to believe her now?

WHAT SEEMS LIKE ONLY A FEW HOURS after the drunken call from Erik, Maggie phones bright and early to tell Anna she’ll be driving the kids to school. Today is a rare occasion. Her dad is letting her take a car into town. Despite his tendency toward ostentatious wealth, he never bought his children their own cars. Sure, there were extra cars in the garage they were sometimes allowed to use. But he doesn’t want to be perceived as ‘spoiling’ them.

“Is everything OK Maggie?” Anna asks in code, hoping the relationship to last night’s bender was merely a coincidence. It isn’t unusual for Erik to be in such an extra kindly mood after a night like last night.

“Sure, everything’s fine. Dad left early for golf I think. He left me a note with the keys to the Escalade.” Maggie exclaims. Anna can hear the squeal in her voice. Maggie always begged her dad to let her drive the Escalade, but he never would. “And it says… you should come by the office to pick the kids up at four.” Maggie adds.

“Really?” Anna asks. “Are you picking them up from school then?”

“Ummm” Maggie hedges. “No, not that I know of. I guess he is or something.”

“Alright, thanks for saving me the trip Maggie Mae. I appreciate it. Did everyone-”

“YES,” Maggie interrupts her, “We all ate, everyone is wearing clean clothes, and we all have our homework…OK?”

“OK…thanks” Anna replies.

PROMPTLY AT FOUR ANNA SWINGS into the parking lot of his office building. She’s already planning dinner. Since the weather is nicer she’s thinking she’ll surprise everyone by firing up the grill. Thyme and lemon marinated steak. All the receptionists nod at her as she strolls back toward his office suite. Hmmm and green bean salad maybe, Anna’s thinking, when Marge shouts her name, “Anna, oh, excuse me…Anna.” Marge is practically shouting at her. Anna wonders what has come over the woman. Is Marge suddenly going deaf ?

“Yes what is it Marge. Erik knows I’m coming. I’m here to pick up…see there they are.” Anna can see Betsy and one or two of her friends standing around in Erik’s glass office. The blinds are only partially turned. Anna waves but gets no response. So she starts forward again. Marge appears from nowhere to block her.

“Marge?” Anna says. “Is something…is everything…” “Now!” Erik shouts as he steps forward to block the doorway to his office. “Help!” he shouts. “Help! Betsy. Marge. Somebody. help.”

Anna simply stands there gaping, wondering what the hell is going on now. More of Erik’s drama? Anna tentatively tries to make her way around him toward her daughter.

“She’s beating me up. She’s trying to kill me. Help. Betsy, call the police immediately. You mother is drunk and trying to kill me.”

For a second Anna starts laughing thinking the whole thing is some practical joke gone awry. She can see Betsy through the office window. Anna waves the universal sign for ‘come on.’ Betsy, however, seems to ignore her as she dials the phone.

“See! See!” he cries as she tries to pass by, “She’s beating me about the head and face. She’s using her fists! Help somebody, call the police. She’s drunk. I can smell the stench of alcohol on her. She’s drunk.” Now he also starts jerking his six-foot four-inch frame and flailing around in the doorway.

Anna makes a split-second decision to ignore Erik’s one man melee. She gives up trying to get around or now over him and simply calls, “Betsy. I’m here to pick you up…you guys ready to go?” She tries to make herself heard over Erik’s shouting.

“Betsy,” she shouts. Because Erik stopped wailing at the same instant, it comes out sounding louder than she anticipated. “Come on honey let’s get…” The only other sound she hears is Betsy sobbing. Through the glass Anna sees the girls huddle together to comfort her daughter. Erik’s bulk is the only thing keeping Anna from giving in to her motherly instinct to rush to her crying daughter.

Anna takes a long glance at Marge, who looks pale. The older woman’s hands are shaking as she punches numbers into the phone pad. “Hello building security…” Marge says into the headset.

After surveying the scene unfolding around her, girls cowering, Erik half crouched in the doorway, and Marge speaking shakily to ‘security,’ Anna makes a second quick decision. She simply strides out of the greeting room, all the way out to her car. She couldn’t think of anything useful she could do that would diffuse the situation. Let Erik face the embarrassment of explaining his odd behavior to those girls’ parents. More than likely they’ll be scarred for life. This wasn’t Betsy’s first time witnessing Erik’s outrageous behavior. What Anna couldn’t figure out was…why didn’t she come? What kept Betsy from slipping past her father and walking out with her? Was she embarrassed in front of her friends? Was Betsy trying to manage Erik’s ‘mood’…as she’d learned growing up at her mother’s side?

Anna drives straight to her parent’s house and starts making a list of lawyers she knows personally that she can call for a reference for a divorce lawyer. Obviously Erik is losing his mind. She has to get the divorce settled and get the kids away from him.

She has a total of sixteen names jotted down when the doorbell rings. Anna puts down her pen and skips to answer it before the annoying bell went off again. She opens the door and finds herself laid flat on her stomach with some man pushing on the back of her head, slamming her face into the foyer tile. Anna struggles and kicks and tries to draw the attention of anyone who might be walking by outside with their dog. What she sees in the doorway frightens her more than the potential rapist on her back. She sees shiny black shoes and navy blue uniform trousers. Beyond that she sees a police car has pulled straight up onto the front lawn.

“Hold still,” the rabid rapist perching on her back shouts in her ear. “Hold still, or we’ll take you into the station.” Anna stops struggling. It’s no rapist ramming her head into the floor, it’s one of Cambridge’s finest.

She hears the other cop standing in the doorway hiss under his breath saying, “Enough…Ricky…enough.”

That prompts one more solid head shove into the ground before ‘Ricky’ gets off Anna’s back. Then she feels the cold metal slip around her wrists. She tries to jerk away one last time before she hears the click. It takes both of them to drag her out the door and throw all five foot, one hundred pounds of her up against the car. The more level-headed cop is looking around at the crowd gathering in the street. Neighbors, dog walkers, passers-by, all start assembling to rubberneck. Anna tries to scan the faces for someone she recognizes, but the way they have her pinned she can’t see clearly.

“So rich bitch tried to kill her husband this afternoon and thinks she can just walk away? Huh? That right?” says Ricky, who turns out to be not much bigger than her.

Anna says nothing. It’s her instinct to shout, to call to the people on the street for help, to struggle, to fight, to do something. But she stands stock still, staring straight at the other officer’s fourth brass button and saying absolutely nothing.

When Officer Ricky stops shouting and poking his finger in her face, she calmly looks Officer ‘Not Ricky’ in the eye with a cool level stare. Officer ‘Not Ricky’ looks about as old as her stepson Greg. She can see that he still misses spots shaving.

As the silence grows more and more uncomfortable and she can feel Officer Ricky starting to twitch next to her, she finally says, “If you’re charging me, take me to the station. But before we go I want you to write down your badge numbers for me, fellows.”

As she suspected ‘Not Ricky’ goes pale, drags her five feet away from the car, unlocks her cuffs, and walks around to get in the driver’s seat.

Ricky steps up into her face and says, “My badge number is six- six- six, bitch. I bet you’ll never forget it.” And then he scrambles to the cruiser with his head down.