The List

“There’s only one of me,” he answered, and I recognized in his words the defensive posture he had determined for a lifetime. He must have realized how that sounded, because he added, “We can get a second one if you insist, but I kinda like you here.”


I licked the cream cheese I’d smothered on a bagel from my thumb and set the mug down. “Well, it’s up to you,” I taunted him and leapt off his lap before he could grab me. He came after me, laughing and scooped me up into his arms. I wrapped mine around his neck and kissed him hard on the lips. He pulled back his head, and there was a very serious look on his face.

“I want you,” he said.

My shoulders drooped a bit as I realized the effect I’d had on him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a tease. You just made me happy.”

“I’m not talking about sex, Liane. I want you. Forever. Here. With me. I want you to marry me.”

I realized he wasn’t teasing. And it felt right. So very right. I couldn’t stop myself from nodding.

He dropped me to my feet and lifted my chin to look up at him. “Are you serious? Will you marry me?”

“Are you seriously asking me?”

“Sweet Jesus!” He picked me up in a bear hug and swung me around until I threatened to lose my breakfast. “When?”

“When will I lose my breakfast?”

“No, silly. When will you marry me? How soon?”

“Do you mean to tell me, Hawk Sansabri, that you aren’t going to give me a proper courting? You’re not going to take me to dinners and picnics and movies and for long rides in the country? You just want me to drop everything and marry you this minute?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” The look on his face told me he was overjoyed. “Hawk?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Slow down. There are two things that have to take place first.”

His face fell. “Such as?”

“Number one, you must properly ask my dad for my hand. That’s a token of respect, and it’s simply the way it’s done. You can have him on your side or make an enemy for life, but respect makes the difference.”

“That’s no problem. Let’s go now.” He pulled me by the hand toward the drive.

“Not so fast. The other thing is we have to straighten out the mess with your past. I can’t marry a man who doesn’t have a legal name. It will catch up with you eventually. You also have to come clean to your father. I don’t care whether you do it with open arms or boxing gloves, but we can’t begin anything as wonderful as our life together under the shadow of deceit.”

“Liane, you’re not serious?”

“I am, indeed.” I put my hands on my hips, and he saw the defiance in me for the first time. “If you don’t straighten that all out, we’re doomed to fail.”

“Liane, the name doesn’t matter. I have all the identification I need. I can get a marriage license. It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me. That’s the condition. I don’t care if you straighten out the name and then legally change it to Hawk Sansabri, but you need to make this right. If you don’t, you’ll continue to harbor this resentment, and that’s like an acid. You don’t need to be his son or even his friend. You don’t need to talk to him ever again. You do, however, need to stand up for yourself and walk out into the open. It’s the only way, Hawk.”

I could tell by the look on his face that although he wanted to fight me on this, he understood and agreed with everything I was saying. I didn’t want it to be hard for him, but I knew it would only become harder.

His shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

I kissed him again and this time, he held on to me as if I were a lifesaver. “It’s okay, my love. I’m here and always will be. Remember our connection? We’ll get through this together.”

Hawk

I drove Liane back to her car that day and headed home to begin my plan. As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. My sense of revenge had been the driving force behind my success. It was time that my wife to be serve as that incentive. She deserved to marry a man who was honest with the world. I couldn’t fault her for that and in reality, wanted it no other way.

When I reached home, I showered and called an attorney I used in California. He had handled the paperwork when I sold my company there. Although he suspected something wasn’t quite right in the documentation regarding my name, it was in his interest to say nothing. Since he still filed corporate paperwork for me, I was protected by client/attorney privilege. I came clean to him on the phone, and he said while he didn’t have a license to practice in Kentucky, he’d make inquiries and get me answers.

He called back within the hour. “You’ve got nothing outstanding on your real name. Those were juvenile charges that were expunged when you turned eighteen. Now, you’re a bit sticky because you re-entered this country under an assumed name and that’s a felony. Don’t ask me why when the illegals are given better treatment than the working man citizen, but hey, that’s a political game, and I don’t get into that. So, what we have to do is file for a new passport for you, then get your driver’s license, etc. Can you get me a copy of your birth certificate?”

“Probably. I was born here in Kentucky.”

“Do it. You’ll have to go in without identification and tell them you were robbed or something. Figure that out according to your law there and don’t bring my name into it. I’m not supposed to be advising you outside of California.”

“I get it. Then what?”

“Then get me the certificate and at the same time, apply for a driver’s license. Give them the same story. You might have to take the driver’s test because they won’t have anything on record for you. Shit. You might even have to get a permit first. I’ll work on a workaround for that. Tell them as little as possible and don’t bring up the Sansabri name. Use only your real name. Now comes the next question. Are you going to legally change your name to Sansabri or keep LaViere? If you decide on LaViere, we need to go to court and get a judge’s approval to change all these corporate documents. You’ve been involved in fraud, my boy. It’s a helluva tangled web you’ve woven for yourself. It might come with a slap on the wrist and some fines.”

“I get that. Let’s just get it over with. Do you need me out there?”

“Not yet. I’ll send some power of attorney documents to you, and you shoot them back. If we have to go before a judge, I’ll call you if you need to fly in.”

I hung up the phone and felt suddenly much lighter. Lies were heavy to carry around. My phone rang again. It was the attorney.

“The presiding judge is up for re-election.”

“How much?”

“Maybe fifty thousand?”

“I’ll send a draft.”

Everything, even justice, could be bought for a price.

***