“Tell her, Michael. Tell your mother there’s nothing you can do about her marriage. Ask her to please not fuck up your head over this. It’s not fair.”
“Don’t say anything to her, okay?” he said.
“I’m not getting between you and your mom,” Beau said. “But please don’t let her do this to you. You don’t have to get in the middle of this to prove you love her.”
“I can’t stand to see her hurt,” he said.
Pam had been doing that for years, putting her boys in the position of parent and protector. Drew was more resistant to that pressure. Or maybe he was just more oblivious. Good-old easygoing Drew. He seemed to have known since he was about seven there was nothing he could do about his mother or his father. When Pam went on a rant, he just withdrew until the storm passed.
“I know. It’s hard to see someone you love hurting. But remember. This was her choice. Now she’s going to have to be the grown-up and get through it. I’ll take care of her the way I always have—she has a great job and is far from broke. Michael, divorce is unpleasant as hell, but it’s not fatal. At least half your friends have been through it. All I want is that your future marriage doesn’t suffer. Learn from this.”
Michael just hung his head. He hadn’t wanted to blame Beau, Beau knew that. The poor kid couldn’t help it. His father practically abandoned him. His mother was unstable half the time.
“Hey, I was going to suggest we go out to dinner but if there’s a chance it could get emotional, let’s order in, get a pizza or something. I want you to be able to talk about this if you have questions or something. I’ll call and—”
“Nah, I gotta pass,” Michael said.
“Drew?” Beau asked.
“I’ll go out with Mike for a while,” he said, though he didn’t look too happy about it. “I won’t be late.”
“Just drive carefully,” Beau said. “I think I’ll go out for a beer or something. Just an hour or two. Then I’ll be here the rest of the night. Come here, Michael,” he said, opening his arms. “I love you, man. We’re still a family. This will settle down.”
“Yeah,” he said with a sniff. “Sure.”
When the boys had gone, Beau called Tim. “You got any cold beer?”
“I might have a couple,” he said.
“Good. Because I feel like shit. I’ll be there in twenty.”
* * *
Lauren had taken some pictures on her cell phone of Cassie’s new flat and said it was really adorable. “Looks like an adorable dump to me,” Brad said. She didn’t waste any more of his time. She did her laundry from her trip, folded it and put it away. She had prepared for this moment, organizing her things into bureau drawers so that she could quickly and effortlessly lift them out and into suitcases and duffels. She had listed exactly what household items she would need; she’d already taken two boxes of such items to Beth’s garage. Her lawyer had warned her that it might be a while before she got back into her house.
The time had come. Finally.
She had not told Lacey yet but after Cassie’s reaction, she was optimistic—obviously her daughters had witnessed some of the vulgar things that had passed between them. She would call Lacey as soon as she could.
On the lawyer’s advice, Brad would be served with not only divorce papers but a legal document instructing him that there would be penalties if he emptied out their accounts or ran up charge accounts in her name. She’d contacted her own credit card companies—the ones he routinely paid—and canceled them. She opened new ones and had a debit card from her personal bank account. She took no money from their joint accounts. She had put aside some money over the past several years, money he didn’t know about that allowed her to make the deposit on a rental and would get her through the first few weeks of separation. And then there was the money from the sale of Honey’s house. It was in a trust, safe from Brad’s hands. Beth guarded it carefully. And Lauren fully intended to give it all to Beth if she eventually received a settlement from the divorce.
With the proceeds from the sale of the house, her little stash and her job, she’d be all right even if Brad found a way to freeze her out.
She dropped her things off at Beth’s, then went to work. She told her boss first. Bea said, “Oh Lauren, what a shock! I’m so sorry.” Of course everyone at work thought she lived a charmed life—that’s what she’d intended them to think. First of all, she felt she was liked at work yet had no close friends there. She was rarely included in their away-from-work socializing, probably because they all thought they had nothing in common. She never let on that life in that big house was cold and heartless. She never complained about Brad.
Then she told some of the people who worked for her, warning them that she might run into scheduling problems if she had legal emergencies. Again, they said they were sorry, but she detected in their voices that they didn’t really feel sorry for her at all.
Brad texted her three times. Pick up my cleaning. Make an appointment for my car to be detailed while I’m at the hospital, Tuesday is best. What’s for dinner?
She answered: Okay. Okay. Maybe takeout.
Then she went home and waited for him. She sat at the kitchen counter, still dressed in work clothes, and tried to stem the trembling. He was not later than usual but it felt like she had waited for hours. She didn’t have a glass of wine but when this was behind her, she was having a big one. Very big.
He walked in through the garage door, briefcase in hand, and seemed surprised to see her sitting there. He didn’t smile or say hello. He pretty much ignored her. “Your cleaning is in the closet and you have an appointment for the detailers at noon on Tuesday. Meet them at the car. I told them it would be in the doctor’s lot. And I’m leaving.”
“Going somewhere?” he asked, leafing through the mail.
“I’m filing for divorce, Brad. I’ve arranged to have you served at the office tomorrow—you can either tell your office staff or just say you’re expecting some legal documents. If you’re not there, there’s always the hospital. But I thought you’d appreciate telling those people yourself.”
He put down the mail. “What brought this on?”
“Twenty-four years of abuse,” she said. “I’ve canceled my charge cards and had my mail forwarded.”
“Going with the clothes on your back?” he asked. Then he smiled mockingly.
“I’ve packed some clothes but I’ll wait for our settlement before taking anything else from the house.”
“And where the hell are you going?”
“My cell phone will be turned on if you need to talk to me. If you harass me, I’ll block your calls.”
“You’re such an idiot,” he said. “You’ll regret this.”
“I believe it will be difficult but I don’t think I’ll regret it.”
He continued to smile. “Oh, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Why bother? Really. Our marriage died years ago. What am I besides a housekeeper and arm piece for your social obligations?”
“A very well-paid housekeeper,” he said. “And not that much of an arm-piece anymore. You came from nothing, Lauren. Is that what you want to go back to? Nothing?”
“I came from a loving if modest home and I can support myself.”
“If you walk out that door, you won’t get another dime from me. I’ll make you suffer, wait and see.”
“I’m sure you will try,” she said. “When you get the papers, you’ll have my attorney’s contact information.”
“I won’t pay another dime of support for your daughters, not for education or living expenses,” he said.
“That would be so sad, Brad. They’re your daughters, too. Do you want them to resent you? Hate you for cutting them off?”
“I was very clear—if you divorce me, I’m done supporting any of you. You’re doing it to them, not me. You know the price you’ll pay for this is high. I’ve warned you.”
“Why?” she said imploringly. “We haven’t even shared a bedroom in years! We’re not friends! What the hell does it matter to you? I don’t delude myself that you love me! By now you’ve made it abundantly clear I mean nothing to you! On some level, you actually hate me.”
“I will if you do this. You don’t make the rules.”
“Then tell them you ended it!” she said. “Your secret is safe with me. Tell people I’m a hopeless drunk or a shoplifter or drug addict and you threw me out! Who cares? For the sake of our daughters, let’s end this amicably. Someday we’ll stare over the same baby’s head at a christening and—”
“I doubt that very much, Lauren,” he said icily. Then he went back to leafing through his mail. As though she didn’t exist.
And she left.
She had never prepared herself for the idea that he might be ready for this. Cassie wouldn’t have told him. But would she have leaked something to Lacey? Or perhaps Brad had been expecting this for a long time. He should. She’d been as compliant as was possible but when he’d pushed her into a corner, she fought back as much as she dared. He might’ve said a lot of mean things, but she hadn’t exactly been silent.
Sex came to mind. She’d always had a hard time with orgasms and it displeased him, as if she was doing it on purpose. More than once he said, “You could try a little harder, Lauren.” And more than once she’d said, “Are you sure you’re trying?” But that made him angry and when he wasn’t getting his way, he pouted or became abusive or looked for ways to punish her.
She had to see Lacey now. She hadn’t planned to see her tonight, but now she would have to. Brad would probably call his daughters. He was very good at building alliances when he needed to. So, instead of setting up some time with her oldest daughter for tomorrow evening, she called and asked if she had a little time tonight. To talk.