A Better Next Read online

  Enough for this day, she thought as she drove to meet Diane and Claire at La Puesta del Sol, the tapas place in Diane’s neighborhood.

  Chapter 20

  That night, she awoke with an incredible thought. Pictures of her. Pictures of her taken by Arthur over the years. Pictures of her that he had convinced her he needed when he traveled without her. Pictures that should not be seen by anyone, ever. The memory of these pictures made her almost physically ill with regret and shame. What a fool she was. How could she have been so stupid?

  She went through desk drawers and boxes, hiding places in the closet. Anywhere she thought he might have kept them. She looked through what remained of his travel gear, the pockets of his old jackets, then realized she would have been furious if they could be found so easily. Where were they?

  “Damn, I’ll have to ask him for them.” She hated adding this to the conversation she already dreaded, but it couldn’t be helped. By the time he called her from Portugal the next day, the delayed discussion was anticlimactic. Neither of them went through the charade of pretending there was a marriage left to save.

  “It’s an endowed chair with support for my lab and free rein to follow my research where it takes me.” Arthur didn’t try hard enough to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. “The formal announcement will be coordinated between Midwest and the Portland people, but I wanted you to know before any of that happens.” He went on to describe his new team and his hopes for his research in a more responsive academic environment.

  Jess listened but couldn’t emote. She recognized this as another in a long history of conversations centered on Arthur and his exploits, and on his expecting her to be supportive. Rather, she realized the end of her marriage had come and gone and she was well rid of him. It was the family unit she grieved.

  “Jess, I’ve wanted to tell you all of this for a while now.”

  “Arthur, it feels like you want me to be happy for you. That’s not where I am. But, out of respect for me and our twenty-two-year marriage, at least be honest with me. Tell me, are you leaving me or going to a new opportunity?” What she left unsaid was “or another woman?” She knew she couldn’t handle that right now.

  For once, Arthur was speechless.

  She waited a full minute. “OK, so ponder that, then. It’s a rhetorical question, really, for your contemplation, and will not hold us up from taking the necessary steps to end our marriage . . .” Her voice broke then, and she took a moment to collect herself, knowing she still needed to talk to him about the pictures.

  Then she said, “The pictures of me that you took . . .” The pause on the telephone line told her that he knew what she was referring to.

  “They’re in the safe deposit box.”

  “They’re where?” She was so surprised that it took her a few moments to take it in.

  “I wanted to avoid someone happening upon them.”

  Did that make sense? Was he being thoughtless or thoughtful?

  Arthur quickly added, “I’ll go to the bank when I’m back in town next week and get them.”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “I’ll go to the bank.” Beyond her sense of humiliation, she realized that she didn’t want him to see the pictures again, or have any further control over her body, or images thereof. Then it also dawned on her that she should go through the contents of the safety deposit box anyway. She wondered whether any further surprises awaited her there.

  He challenged her a bit but backed down when he realized she would not allow him to win this battle. There was some confusion about where the key was, and she wondered why she didn’t even know that. But he did tell her where to find it, in his desk, without any more discussion.

  She found the key easily, but then, in her frenzied grab to do something, anything, to take control of her situation, she dropped it deep between the desk and the wall and had to crawl behind the desk to retrieve it. She had never been to the bank to deal with the safe deposit box. Not one of her jobs. Arthur’s job. Why would she not have trusted him with that?

  For a moment, she reflected on whether she had misplaced trust in him throughout their marriage. When had it eroded so badly? Had she missed some kind of signal? Still on the floor, she grabbed her phone to read an arriving text: “Lab tests clear, Jess. Let me know if you need anything else, my friend.”

  “Thank God for that.” She quickly wrote a thank-you text back to Valerie, then checked the time. It was still early enough to get to the bank.

  Jess approached the clerk and said, “I’d like access to my safe deposit box, please.” The twentysomething young man looked at her and said, “ID, please.”

  She dug in her purse, pulled out her driver’s license, and handed it to him.

  He scrutinized it and asked, “Are you Jess Steele?”

  “No, Jess Lawson; my husband is Arthur Steele. I didn’t change my name.” She tried to peer across to see what he was looking at. She saw a card with typesetting and handwriting on it, but she couldn’t make out the words.

  “Just one minute. I’ll need to consult with my manager. Your name isn’t on the card.”

  “Wait. If you have Arthur Steele’s name, you can look up our account, which has both of our names and should match this address.” She pointed at her ID.

  “I’ll be just a moment.” He disappeared.

  An older woman came out from the back office and made quick eye contact with Jess. “I’m sorry about this, but I’m going to have to call Mr. Steele and make sure this is authorized by the safe deposit box owner. The number we have on file is this one.” She showed Jess a slip of paper. “Is this where we can reach him?”

  Jess felt herself filling up with raging mortification but managed to find her angry but controlled voice. “Unbelievable! We’ve had a mortgage and personal and professional accounts here for over twenty years. I can’t believe this is an issue.”

  “Again, I’m sorry about this. But it’s a safety precaution for our customers.”

  “Of which I am one—soon to be a very angry one.”

  “I’ll make the call now and get this sorted out for you, Ms. Lawson, as quickly as I possibly can.”

  “Wait. You’ll have to call his cell phone, not his office. He’s out of the country,” Jess managed to tell the manager before she disappeared into the back room again. She noted that it would be evening in Lisbon—too bad . . .

  Jess’s suppressed fury had overcome her fear, and now she absolutely would not leave the bank without seeing the contents of that box.

  Five minutes later, the woman reappeared and apologized again. “Your husband confirmed that you should have access to the safe deposit box. And to avoid this in the future, I’d like to get your name and signature on this authorization card. Then you’ll have full access to all of your accounts together, as well as the box.” She handed Jess the card.

  Relief kicked in. “Thank you. Of course.” She signed the card and was escorted into the vault.

  After signing in again in the vault, she asked to have a few minutes to go through the contents of the box. Was the clerk eyeing her with more curiosity than warranted a typical customer in this situation?

  Tears of anger and humiliation threatened as she closed the door and sat in the cubicle. She took a few deep breaths and tried to get herself ready. How could it all have come to this? she wondered. She opened the box and began to sort through the contents. Stock certificates, Social Security cards, passports, deeds to the houses, and then, underneath everything else, an envelope. With pictures.

  Waves of shame came over her as she looked through the photos. At least they were all there—as far as she could remember. Her heartbeat returned to a tamer rhythm, and her breathing evened out. She looked again at the images, more closely this time. She felt herself blush when she saw the one of her decked out in the corset and black lace. And even as she attempted to squint for a clearer look through her tearful eyes, she realized she didn’t look half bad. Then, surprisingly, she started
to laugh. Great guffaws came from her as she allowed her emotions to find release, followed by sheer joy when she realized that she had looked pretty good in all of the pictures. Oh, how ridiculous life could be at times.

  It was then that she knew she would survive. The “how” part was what puzzled her.

  Chapter 21

  Arthur and Jess moved forward on divorce arrangements, now all by telephone. Once he was in Portland and the kids were safely ensconced at their colleges, Jess started to breathe on her own and take care of the legal details. She retained an attorney, had their properties appraised and their finances reviewed, and made checklists of everything. No problem.

  “How do you think we should tell the kids?” Arthur softened his voice to ask at the end of one of their calls.

  This was a problem. For several moments, Jess said nothing. She knew they couldn’t keep the charade going much longer, but she hated the thought of bursting the children’s bubble.

  “Jessica, I know this is hard to think about and will be even harder to do, but you know it needs to be done. They’ll be—”

  She broke in. She couldn’t let him tell her they’d be fine. “Let’s get them home for a weekend. We should both be here.” She knew firsthand how much of an emotional whack this news would be, and how it would temper every move they made for the rest of their lives. There was no good way to do this.

  When they ended the call, Jess was caught in her own memories. She knew how the conversation should not be done. Finding out from the school counselor that you were excused from classes the next day to testify at your parents’ divorce hearing was not an option. Even though Jess had already begun living at Diane’s and hadn’t been returning calls from her parents by then, the public humiliation had still stung her.

  “Your mother couldn’t reach you at Diane’s.” At least Mrs. Busch, the school counselor, was a friend. Her help with securing Jess a college scholarship was a lifeline that Jess couldn’t have found alone at that point.

  But even Mrs. Busch couldn’t cushion the blow when Jess learned that each parent expected her to sling dirt at the other.

  Arthur flew in from Portland, Beth from Palo Alto, and Tom from Boston. As Jess drove to the airport to pick them all up, she prepared for the performance ahead. They had used a false pretense to get the kids home, advertising the trip as an opportunity to enjoy a beautiful October weekend together, not to rattle their world. What a joke.

  Beth and Tom were glowing, abuzz with chatter and light teasing. Arthur joined them at baggage claim. He gave each of the kids a hearty hug but approached Jess carefully, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. Sure, she thought, now that the kids are watching, you’ll touch me to make it count. She accepted the peck but turned away quickly. They got their luggage and followed Jess to the car.

  “Hey, what’s up with this, Dad? You’re letting Mom drive?” Tom challenged as Jess headed to the driver’s side. “Something’s changed!”

  Jess cringed but kept moving.

  “Your mom’s a fine driver.” Arthur clipped his answer and saved himself. “So, Tom, are you still liking your roommate?”

  They arrived home just after dusk. The red maple and gold birch leaves in the front yard swirled around the tree trunks, as if seeking a safe haven.

  Dinner was festive enough. Jess thought how easy it was for parents to be subdued when kids were the focus. The plan was to tell them after the main course and before dessert.

  Tom gave her a grateful squeeze as they walked to the living room. “Mom, I’ve smelled that apple cake since I walked in. Did you make it with your apple cider glaze on top? I can hardly wait. Nothing like that in the dorm. Right, Beth?”

  The four of them sat in a small grouping, the kids in the love seat and Jess and Arthur in chairs facing them. Tom had brought a new CD and put it on. Tom and Beth sat close together, looking at the CD cover and enjoying each other’s company. There was no hint of what was to come. Arthur fidgeted and left the room a couple of times, getting tea, fussing with the dishes.

  While Arthur had agreed that both parents should talk, it appeared that Jess would need to take the lead. She swallowed hard. “I’m afraid we brought you home because we have something upsetting to tell you.” She looked at each child in turn.

  “Your mother and I are getting a divorce,” Arthur blurted out. “We’ve been talking about it for a few months and have decided it’s for the best.”

  Jess felt as if every responsible parenting moment of the past twenty years was wiped out in a flash right then. She watched her children fall into a vortex of pain, her own body’s nerve endings instantly hotwired. Time seemed to stop.

  Tom gasped. Beth collapsed into herself. Both made immediate eye contact with Jess that started all three crying. Tom blinked and looked away quickly. Beth looked from her mother to her father, tears streaming down her face. Jess leaped out of her seat and crouched between her children, embracing each of them as they leaned into her. Arthur hovered, then circled behind the love seat and patted Beth and Tom on their shoulders.

  For several minutes, Jess watched the newsreel version of her family’s life play in her head. She didn’t want it to end. Tom cleared his throat and moved to Jess’s chair. Beth didn’t let go of her, so Jess sat next to her on the love seat.

  Arthur sat back down across from them. “Of course, we both love you very much and are sorry that this will be hard on you, but we think this is the right thing for us.”

  Neither child spoke. Beth’s face was still streaked with tears, but she managed to sit up straight and let go of her mother. Tom avoided looking at anyone but his father, who was blathering on and on about how he loved them and would always be there for them.

  Finally, Tom said, “Mom?”

  For the first time, Jess used words that would become a common refrain. “I’m so sorry—so, so sorry—that this is happening.” She looked to her husband to continue the next chapter of the story, as promised: the why.

  Instead, Arthur went to the kitchen to get tissues. No more discussion. Jess could only assume the kids were too shocked to get to questions.

  Beth slept with Jess that night and cried herself to sleep, her mother at her side, repeating, “It’ll be OK; we’ll all be OK.” Jess crept out of the bedroom briefly to check on Tom but heard Arthur leaving Tom’s room after some muffled conversation, so decided against it. She returned to her bedroom to find Beth curled up in a ball on her side, sleeping soundly in the same position she had used since she was two years old.

  Arthur slept in the guest room and left early in the morning to meet with someone at the lab about the research transition. Jess walked through her home like a zombie but felt the sad house reaching out to her as she noted floorboards creaking and a new wall crack in the corner of the den.

  The kids slept in. Each shuffled into the kitchen in turn with red, swollen eyes. Jess knew they would ask their questions in time, but for now, she served them untouched apple cake with breakfast.

  “I’m scrambling some eggs. Who wants spinach and tomatoes added?” Jess peered over at Tom, who seemed very quiet. As she did so, she spilled some milk on the countertop and watched as it started dripping onto the floor. She grabbed the last paper towel and stopped the worst of it. “Tom, could you grab some more paper towels, please?” She pointed to the corner storage area.

  When Tom went to retrieve a roll, she saw him glance at the family calendar. October was blank except for this weekend, circled in black Sharpie. He averted his eyes as he sat again, “Mom, what about Thanksgiving and Christmas?”

  “We haven’t thought that far ahead yet, love, but we will soon. I promise,” Jess replied, feeling every maternal bone in her body revolt. “I do think you two should stick with your plans today. It will do you good to see your friends.” She poured herself a fourth cup of coffee.

  She instantly deciphered her children’s body language. “And, yes, you can tell them. No need to keep secrets.” She saw relief in their eyes.<
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  They left to meet up with their various friends attending local colleges, and Beth called later to ask permission for her and Tom to go out together on their own Saturday night. Jess was glad they had a chance to huddle a bit and support each other.

  Arthur called Jess when he couldn’t reach the kids, and she told him of their plan. “I came all this way, and they go out? How did you allow this?”

  She gave him a minute to cool off. She imagined the hard drive in his mind computing how far he could take this. Old habits died hard. She met him halfway. The cold silence on the phone told her he was fighting to control the urge to go after her for this decision their children had made. “Arthur, they need to process this. This is how they have chosen to do so.” Her voice was even but weary.

  “Fine.”

  She could imagine his exact expression and, with some unexpected relief, realized she wouldn’t have to see it much more.

  Jess and Arthur took Beth and Tom to the airport Sunday morning, and there were tears and hugs all around. Nobody had slept well over the weekend, and Jess hoped the kids could nap on their flights.

  They made the usual promises to call after safe arrivals, and then it was over. Jess felt numb as she and Arthur drove home one last time, in silence.

  When they arrived at the house, Jess watched from the living room as he walked through each room, as if to check for forgotten items at a hotel. Finally, he approached her slowly—his final assignment. “Jess, I haven’t forgotten your question ‘Am I leaving you or going to a new opportunity?’ As usual, you always get to the core of an issue.” He smiled then and softened his tone. “It’s a very good question, and you deserve an answer. The opportunity is one I feel I can’t pass up. It’s a perfect match for me right now.” He looked away.