“We need to make sure he understands that I’m not going to take his children from him. Otherwise he’ll go crazy,” May said. There was the barest crack in her voice.
“Let me ask you this, May. Say it’s three months from now. You’re divorced, and Dale has lost half of everything he owns. He’s living with Dance Hall Barbie and they come home drunk one night. Barbie’s driving because she only had three margaritas. When they get home, the baby-sitter has let the kids demolish the house and little Billy has accidentally broken the window in Dale’s office. Are your children safe?”
“That’s a lot of things going wrong.”
“Things go wrong, May. You know that. I’m guessing that you’ve always been a buffer between your husband and kids. A human shock absorber. You probably learned how to calm him down and deflect his attention away from the children. Will Barbie know how to protect them?”
“Am I so ordinary?”
“Sadly, the situation is. The good news is, you’re giving yourself—and your children—a new start. Don’t weaken now, May. Don’t let him bully you.”
“So, what do I do?”
“Lock the doors and turn off the phone. Don’t talk to him. If you don’t feel safe, go to a relative’s or friend’s house. Or to a motel for one night. Tomorrow we’ll get together and come up with a new game plan. I’ll file some restraining orders.”
“You can keep us safe?”
“You’ll be fine, May. Trust me. Bullies are cowards. Once he sees how strong you can be, he’ll back down.”
“Okay. When can we meet?”
Meghann dug through her bag for her PalmPilot, then checked her schedule. “How about a late lunch—say two o’clock—at the Judicial Annex Café by the courthouse? I’ll schedule a meeting with Dale’s lawyer for later that afternoon.”
“Okay.”
“May, I know this is a sensitive question, but do you by any chance have a photograph of yourself … you know … when he hit you?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then May said, “I’ll check my photo albums.”
“It’s simply evidence,” Meg said.
“To you, maybe.”
“I’m sorry, May. I wish I didn’t have to ask questions like that.”
“No. I’m sorry,” May said.
That surprised Meg. “What for?”
“That no man has ever shown you the other side. My father would have killed Dale for all of this.”
Before she could stop it, Meghann felt a sharp jab of longing. It was her Achilles’ heel. She was sure she didn’t believe in love, but still, she dreamed of it. Maybe May was right. Maybe if Meg had had a father who’d loved her, everything would be different. As it was, she knew that love was a rope bridge made of the thinnest strands. It might hold your weight for a while, but sooner or later, it would break.
Oh, there were happy marriages. Her best friend, Elizabeth, had proven that.
There were also forty-eight-million-dollar-lottery winners, five-leaf clovers, Siamese twins, and full eclipses of the sun.
“So, we’ll meet at the Annex tomorrow at two?”
“I’ll see you there.”
“Good.” Meghann flipped the phone shut and dropped it in her purse, then pushed the elevator button. When the door opened, she stepped inside. As always, the mirrored walls made it feel as if she were stumbling into herself. She leaned forward, unable to stop herself; when a mirror was near, she had to look into it. In the past few years, she’d begun to search obsessively for signs of aging. Lines, wrinkles, sags.
She was forty-two years old, and since it felt as if she’d been thirty a moment ago, she had to assume it would be a blink’s worth of time before she was fifty.
That depressed her. She imagined herself at sixty. Alone, working from dawn to dusk, talking to her neighbor’s cats, and going on singles’ cruises.
She left the elevator and strode through the lobby, nodding at the night doorman as she passed.
Outside, the night was beautiful; an amethyst sky gave everything a pink and pearlized glow. Lit windows in towering skyscrapers proved that Meghann wasn’t the only workaholic in the city.
She walked briskly down the street, bypassing people without making eye contact. At her building, she paused and looked up.
There was her deck. The only one in the building without potted trees and outdoor furniture. The windows behind it were black; the rest of the building was a blaze of light. Friends and families were in those lighted spaces, having dinner, watching television, talking, making love. Connecting with one another.
I’m sorry, May had said, that no man has ever shown you the other side.
I’m sorry.
Meghann walked past her building. She didn’t want to go up there, put on her old UW sweats, eat Raisin Bran for dinner, and watch a rerun of Third Watch.