Читать книгу The View From Alameda Island - Robyn Carr, Robyn Carr - Страница 12

CHAPTER FIVE

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Lauren and Cassie flew to Boston, rented a car and proceeded to a real estate office that specialized in rental properties convenient to the Harvard area. Even though they came from California where the cost of living was high, the sticker shock almost buried their otherwise high spirits. They spent every night in their hotel room looking at the listings and discussing what Cassie needed. Cassie had brought her tape measure and recorded room sizes in a small notebook. Most of her belongings had been container-shipped, ready to be delivered when they found adequate space.

By coming early in the summer they had so many more options in the search to find a flat or apartment. Graduates had just left, new students hadn’t started to arrive and the availability was high even with waiting lists on some flats. But the prices were ridiculous.

“I don’t know how we can justify the cost of this,” Cassie said, doing some figuring.

“Harvard,” Lauren said in one word. “There’s going to be some debt here but you’ll pay it off faster than you think and I’ll help you all I can. You’ll just have to be one helluva great lawyer.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” she said. “Making as much money as I can isn’t exactly my goal. I’d like to make as much right as I can.”

That made Lauren smile because Cassie had such a good heart. It was peculiar—Cassie looked more like Brad with her light hair, short stature and blue eyes. Lacey’s temperament was more like her father but she resembled Lauren right down to those unique eyes.

Lauren got a little teary. “I’m so proud of you. You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you.”

At the end of their third straight day of looking, they were shown a small, one-bedroom flat on the third floor. A walk-up, of course. It was tiny and old; the building was quite ancient but had been remodeled a few times. The floors were wood and scarred, the bathroom tiny. “You would definitely have to take a number,” Lauren said of the bathroom. But unlike many of the student flats, at least they wouldn’t have to share a bathroom with another tenant. The kitchen was just one notch above a galley kitchen but the stove and refrigerator weren’t more than ten years old. Lauren remembered the appliances from her college days when they were either avocado green or a fleshy pink. These were white. There was room for a small table and two chairs. And the bedroom would barely hold enough furniture to accommodate a couple.

But the living room was spacious for the size of this flat. It was bright and airy, the ceiling high, with a large window that faced the park across the street and the city in the distance, rising above the trees. There was plenty of room for a sofa, a couple of chairs, a coffee table, bookcase and maybe a small desk if they arranged things cleverly.

“Oh Mama, I love it,” Cassie said, standing in front of the living room window.

“I hope you’re sure of Jeremy,” Lauren said. “If you get on each other’s nerves, there’s no escape in this little space.”

“It’s on the bus line,” Cassie said. “The street is lined with shops and eateries. I imagine we’ll be spending a lot of time at school, the library, study groups, maybe work, if we’re lucky. But really, isn’t it darling?”

Lauren tried to remember how love made the worst dump look like a honeymoon cottage. Then she recalled she’d never had that experience. “Well, IKEA here we come,” she said cheerily. “And the Home Store, etc.”

They got right on it. Lauren was determined to try to see her daughter set up before leaving her. She had planned on two weekends and her five-day workweek of vacation but in the end she called the company and took two extra days. Eleven days to find a flat, furnish it, have everything delivered and set up, and that didn’t even allow the days it took the landlord to complete a credit check. She was pretty astonished at how much thought Cassie had given this whole transition, right down to plastic storage tubs for her sweaters and boots that could slide under the bed. She bought a couple extra for Jeremy, though she said he didn’t have so much in the way of wardrobe. A few plates, four tumblers, four wineglasses, four bowls, flatware and three pots. Lauren got some extra items, place mats, serving dishes, candles, kitchen linens. “No dishwasher,” Lauren observed.

“I’m a college graduate,” Cassie said. “I’m going to be able to figure out washing dishes.”

They bought serviceable furniture. Not cheap but certainly not what Cassie was used to. The furniture store also sold area rugs and they bought an impractical fluffy one for the living room. “It’ll help this winter,” Lauren said. They put together a desk and bookcase, added two wooden folding chairs for the compact table with two chairs for the kitchen. The table had a leaf and they could host a meal for four if they wanted to.

Lauren spent the last two nights of her leave with Cassie in her new/old flat. They shared a bottle of wine, a pan of chicken stir-fry with rice and ice cream for dessert. Lauren looked around. “It’s not much, but it’s cute.”

“Aren’t these supposed to be the struggling years that we look back on with sentimental bliss and humor?” Cassie asked.

“It wasn’t like this for me,” Lauren said. “Your father was a surgeon. He came from a rich family, or so they’ve always told me. We never lived in an apartment. He bought a house. It was a perfectly nice house but he never talked to me about it. He just bought it. That should have been a red flag...”

“You’ve always made the excuse that he’s not an easy man,” Cassie said. “I was terrified all through college when people said girls marry their fathers. I love him, I can’t help it, but I definitely didn’t want someone as high-maintenance as him to share a life with.”

Lauren took a breath. “I want to give you some advice and then I want to tell you something. I haven’t told your dad that you plan to live with Jeremy. I think you should have any roommate of your choosing. You don’t need permission.”

“I’m right, aren’t I? He hates Jeremy!”

“Hate? I hope not. Jeremy isn’t tough and ambitious enough for your father. Jeremy is gentle and kind and brilliant. There’s absolutely no reason a man with those attributes can’t be hugely successful.”

“Oh, you only know the Jeremy he lets you see,” Cassie said. “Yes, he’s very kind, very fair, but he has integrity and can really dig in when he sees injustice. He’s not timid and Daddy doesn’t scare him at all. There’s more power in that integrity than in a blustering, arrogant fool who thinks he’s king. Oh! I didn’t mean Daddy. Or maybe I did, but not intentionally.”

“It’s all right, sweetheart. Everyone knows. Apparently he’s a gifted surgeon, though some nurses have said he has the personality of Attila the Hun. The ones that aren’t in love with him, at least. Listen, this is very hard for me but I can’t leave you here without telling you. I’m planning to ask him for a divorce. No, that’s not accurate. I’m going to go home and tell him I’m filing for divorce. Then I’m leaving right away. I’ve already rented a small house for myself.”

Cassie’s mouth hung open; stunned silence hung heavy in the air. And then she began leaking tears.

“Oh honey, listen, I’ve given this a lot of thought and it’s not an easy choice...”

“After all this time?” Cassie said, grabbing her mother’s hands. “I wondered if you ever would!”

“What do you mean?”

“Mama, do you think I’m completely dense? As if I don’t know about him? I’ve known since Disneyland!”

“Disney...? What?”

“Don’t you remember? Or did it just blend in with all the other times? Remember your argument over where to have lunch? Remember what he did?”

Lauren frowned, trying to remember.

“He wanted sushi. You said we girls wouldn’t eat sushi. I was seven. I wanted a hamburger or hot dog. You said you were going to take us to McDonald’s. He told you we could eat rice, but we didn’t want rice. He argued and argued and we started to act up because we were hungry and he started to pick on you and said that we were spoiled brats and it was your fault. Pretty soon you just turned to walk away and he—”

“Oh God,” Lauren said, covering her eyes with her hand. He had tripped her. She went down hard, fell flat on her face, bloodied her nose. And he rushed to her side saying honey, honey, you all right? And a man nearby also rushed to her and said, What were you doing, man? You tripped her! And Brad said, Don’t be ridiculous, this is my wife! And the man insisted, he’d seen Brad stick out a foot, hook it around her ankle...

“He tripped me,” Lauren said.

“That sort of thing happened a lot,” Cassie said.

“No, that was very rare,” Lauren said.

Cassie bit her lip and held silent for a long moment. “Even once isn’t right,” she finally said in a quiet voice. “You have to do this, Mama. Please.”

* * *

“Thanks for coming over, Mike,” Beau said. Drew, of course, already lived at the house. “I have new keys for both you guys. I’ve changed the locks. It’s official, we’re getting divorced. I’m going to do everything I can to keep this from turning into world war three.”

“You’re what?” Michael said. “I thought you were in counseling!”

“Yes, we went a few times. It wasn’t working, I’m sorry.”

“Did you try?” he demanded. “Really try?”

There was so much Beau wanted to explain. He wished he could make them understand how demoralizing it is to have your wife, your partner, completely unable to commit, unable to take responsibility. The sense of failure at never being enough for her. She was happy once... “I’ve tried several times. I was the one to say it—I think it’s time we let it end. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“So that’s it? And you changed the locks? What’s she supposed to do?”

“She’s hardly homeless—she has a pretty swank flat in the city. Her half of the closet is empty. Here’s what’s supposed to happen. Our lawyers are supposed to talk about how we divide our property. In California it’s called No Fault. That means—”

“I know what it means!” Michael said. “And you locked her out of the house. It’s her house, too!”

“Hey, Mike, back off,” Drew said. “This isn’t Beau’s fault, you know that!”

“She’s not locked out,” Beau said. “She’s welcome any time, as long as someone’s here. She can have anything she wants, but it has to be documented for the lawyers so that at the end of the day, it’s fair. When a couple goes through as many separations as we have, it doesn’t exactly look like the marriage is working. Come on, it’s obvious to you guys it’s not going to work. It was probably obvious two separations ago. I did my best.”

“You don’t seem all torn up about it,” Mike said.

“Hey, what’s up your butt?” Drew asked. “It’s not like Beau hasn’t jumped through all her hoops!”

“She’s our mother!” Mike said. “She’s brokenhearted!”

“Aw shit, she called you,” Beau said.

“Last night,” Mike said. “Crying!”

“Listen to me, don’t let anyone put this on you!” Beau said. “It was her decision to leave, her decision to move out. This is a marriage, not a revolving door!” He took a breath. “She’s only brokenhearted because she didn’t get her way. She calls it off, she wants to turn it back on, then off again, then—”

“You know she’s never happy,” Drew said to Michael. “Come on. It’s not like you didn’t expect this.”

“Neither did your mom,” Beau said. “I guess she thought we’d do this for life, back and forth. But I don’t want to spend my life like that. I’m sorry if it hurts, I’m sorry if you’re angry, but I’m done. I think a divorce will give your mom a chance to start fresh without looking back all the time. I think it’s time we all found some peace. That’s all I’m looking for. Peace.”

“So you locked her out of her own house,” Michael said, angry.

“She’s not locked out, she just can’t live here now. I bought the house. I lived in it before I met you guys and your mom. And she left. I didn’t ask her to leave. I asked her to stay and try to work it out. But she needed space and some freedom. Now she has it. And we’ll resolve this fairly. Whatever settlement the lawyers can come up with that works for everyone involved, that’s what we’ll do. I’m not punishing anyone. I just want to get on with my life. For that matter, I want you guys to be able to get on with yours.” He looked at them imploringly. “Haven’t you been through this enough?”

The View From Alameda Island

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