Four Friends (3 page)

Bob was whistling as he walked into the kitchen, carrying his toolbox and accompanied by his Lab, Beau. When he saw her sitting at the table, he shouted out in surprise, jumped back and grabbed at the front of his shirt. For a second he looked as if he might have a heart attack. Beau jumped, as well, but then he wandered over to Andy, tail wagging.

“Lord above,” Bob said in a shaky voice.

“Sorry, Bob,” Andy replied, giving Beau a pat. “I’m home today. It never occurred to me to call and warn you.”

He took a breath. “Whew,” he said, obviously willing his heart to slow. Then he bent a little, peering at her. “Not feeling so good?” he asked.

“I’m okay. Personal family business that needs taking care of. Help yourself to coffee if you like.”

He straightened. “Thanks so much.” He resumed his whistling and hefted his toolbox onto the kitchen counter. He retrieved a crowbar and began prying the baseboards off the walls and lower cupboards. He stopped whistling and asked, “You expecting the Goodwill truck today?”

Andy laughed in spite of herself. “No, Bob. I had a huge fight with my husband and threw his stuff on the lawn. I’ll have to go clean it up.”

“Hmm,” he said, turning back to his work. He didn’t ask any more questions.

After a bit, Andy refilled her coffee cup, which put her in his space for a moment. She leaned against the torn-up cabinet and asked, “Married, Bob?”

“Hmm. In a way,” he said.

Again she couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, gee whiz, you and my husband have something in common. He’s married in a way, too.”

Bob straightened and faced her. There was a sympathetic curve to his lips. He was a few years older than her; he had a sweet face, engaging smile and twinkling eyes. He might be considered a tad overweight, but Andy thought he looked a lot like a college football coach, or maybe a farmer—large and solid. Robust and cheerful. One of the reasons she’d hired him for the job, besides glowing recommendations, was his delightful disposition. She had trusted him to be alone in her house the moment she met him and after spending many hours together during the measuring, selecting and purchasing for the renovation, they almost qualified as friends, though she knew very little about him. He seemed the kind of man who’d give comfort well. She pictured him with a happy grandchild on his knee. “I’ve been separated for a long time,” he told her.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s been years now. My wife moved out and neither of us has bothered with a divorce.”

“Oh. What if one of you wants to get married?”

“Nah, I doubt it. Well, if she wanted a divorce, I’d be happy to split the cost with her, no problem. So you see, legally I’m married, but not really.”

“Children?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, no. It was a brief marriage, an uncomplicated split.”

Andy held her cup up to her lips. “I guess you must be over the worst of it by now.”

“Oh, yes,” he said, applying the crowbar to the baseboard and with a hearty pull, separating it from the bottom of the cupboard.

“Well,” she said, pushing herself off the counter. “I have things to do.”

“Mrs. Jamison?” he asked. “I’m having a Dumpster delivered in two days for the scraps and trash. The new cabinets are in the shop, the tile is ready for me to pick up and I’ll keep moving here as much as possible. If you’d like, I’d be happy to work weekends on the kitchen.”

“Bob, you work anytime it’s convenient for you—just let me know when so I’m not trying to throw a costume party when your saw’s running, all right? Leave me a note or message on my voice mail saying when you’ll be here next. The quicker the better, huh?”

“I have a couple of hours in the evenings,” he offered.

She shrugged. “Fine with me.”

“It’ll go a little faster that way.”

“I don’t have anything to do but go to work every day and get a divorce,” she said.

His face looked pained. “Oh, Mrs. Jamison, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Actually, I think it might be a positive change. Bob, would you mind calling me Andy? Please?”

“Sure. Anything you want.” Then he tilted his head and smiled. “Short for Andrea?”

“No. Short for Anastasia. My father is Greek. Know what it means?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“One who will rise again,” she said.

He gave a friendly nod. “And of course, you will.”

She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “I just hope it’s not again and again and again.”

* * *

Gerri spent a couple of hours in her Mill Valley office. She only did the occasional home visit now. As a supervisor her job was administrative, overseeing other case workers and their files in addition to a million other things from paperwork to hiring and firing. She’d spent many a night and weekend working at home and in the field, still had to be on call for emergencies with families at risk, so taking the rare long lunch was definitely not an issue with the director. She headed for San Francisco. She could use just an hour with Phil. She’d get an update on city dramas and politics, tell him about her morning with Andy. When she was troubled about anything, she turned to Phil, her best friend. No one could give her a reality check and reassure her like he could, and she was able to do the same for him.

* * *

When she stepped into the elevator in Phil’s office building, she saw that his administrative assistant, Kelly, was standing there, looking at her feet. “Hey,” Gerri said. “How’s it going?”

Kelly looked up and the second their eyes connected, hers welled up. She couldn’t respond or even say hello; she hit the button on the elevator to let her off on the next floor, not where either of them was going. “Sorry,” she said in a shaky voice, bolting past Gerri, headed for the ladies’ room.

Gerri was paralyzed by confusion for a moment, but then, given Kelly had been with Phil for twelve years and they were friends, she put her hand in the path of the closing door, forcing it open again, and followed her. Whatever was wrong, she hoped her husband hadn’t been an ass. That would be hard to defend.

Kelly was in her late thirties, plump and lovely with ivory skin and coal-black hair like Snow White, the mother of a nine-year-old daughter. Her work was hard, her hours long, but she was devoted to Phil, and she saved his bacon daily. She made everything he did look even better than it should; she covered for him, cleaned up his messes, ran his schedule, fielded his calls, everything. They jokingly called her the Office Wife.

By the time Gerri got into the restroom, she could hear soft crying in one of the closed stalls but there was no one else there. She went directly to that stall. “Come on, Kelly,” she said. “Come out. Talk to me. We’re alone.”

It took a minute before the door opened slowly and she was faced with Kelly, who was looking down in shame, her cheeks damp and her nose red. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I kind of fell apart. I’ll be fine now.”

“That’s okay,” Gerri said, gently rubbing her upper arms. “You don’t have to apologize to me for having an emotional moment. Can I help?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just marital...stuff.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Gerri said with a soft laugh. “I’m not going to grill you, Kelly. I don’t want to pry. But if you want to tell me what’s wrong, I’ll listen. And you know I’m on your side.”

She gave a sniff and raised her eyes. “That’s just it, I have no idea what’s wrong,” she said. “It’s John. We’ve been struggling lately. I don’t know what to think. He’s become so different. Distant.”

“Now why would you say that?” Gerri asked, her mind flipping to this woman’s husband, a quiet and kind man who seemed very much in sync with his wife, his family.

“I can’t find him a lot,” she said with pleading, watery eyes. “He has a lot of lame excuses about where he’s been. He’s distracted, like he’s depressed or something. And he’s dressing up for work more often—he’s a programmer, he doesn’t have to wear a starched shirt and tie. And he’s not interested in... He’s not romantic. I keep asking him what’s wrong, but he keeps saying ‘nothing.’ And we can’t agree on anything! I haven’t said the right thing in months!”

Oh, no,
Gerri thought.
I can’t have two cheating husbands in one day.
“That doesn’t sound like John. You’ve been married how long?”

“Twelve years,” Kelly said.

“Oh, Kelly, there might be something bothering him that you haven’t considered. Work? Family pressures? Money? Stress about his age, trying to keep things together for your daughter’s future? Are you sure he’s not worried about a medical problem?”

“Nothing has changed in the checkbook and we can usually talk about those things.”

“How about your hours? I know you put in a lot of hours for Phil.”

“That’s the same, too. He hasn’t complained about my hours or asked me when I’m taking time off. I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you suggested some counseling? To help you figure things out? Get back on track?”

“He doesn’t want to go,” she said, shaking her head miserably.

“They never want to, Kelly,” Gerri said with a sympathetic laugh. “I’ll email you the names of some real good marriage counselors. I’ll include men—sometimes that goes down better with the husband. Tell him if he wants to be happy again, this is a must. Push a little, Kelly. And if he won’t go with you, go alone. You have a good benefits package.”

“I suppose,” she sniffled.

“Believe me,” Gerri said. “At least get some support for yourself. Hopefully for the two of you.”

“Is that what you did?”

“What I did?” Gerri echoed.

“Made Phil go to counseling?” she asked.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Gerri said with a small laugh. “I wouldn’t want to bruise his macho image, but Phil has succumbed to counseling once or twice. He hated it, but he went. And I think he cleaned up his act just to get out of it.”

“I can see that. You two seem to be real happy now.”

Happy now?
Gerri thought. “We’ve had our struggles. Everyone does. But there’s help out there, you know.” She took Kelly into her arms for a hug.

“I think I admire you more than anyone,” Kelly said.

“Aww, come on...”

“Being able to forgive him for something like that... That took such courage, such commitment.” Kelly’s chin was hooked over Gerri’s shoulder, their arms tight around each other, and Gerri could see her own eyes in the bathroom mirror. They were huge. Her mouth was set; she ground her teeth. Suddenly she thought she looked much older than she had that morning. “I’d forgive John an affair, if he just wanted to be forgiven, to be together again, like we were. God, I miss him so much! I know most women say they’d never forgive that, but I would.”

Gerri had to concentrate to keep from stiffening, to keep herself from either squeezing Kelly to death or throwing her against the stall doors in a fit of denial. Kelly knew everything about Phil. In some ways, she knew him better than Gerri did. He definitely checked in with Kelly more than Gerri; Kelly had to know him like a wife, a buddy, a best friend and a mother to do what she did for him.

“Some things are very hard to get beyond,” Gerri said softly. “But anything is possible.”

Kelly pulled out of Gerri’s embrace and, smiling gratefully, said, “But you did it because you’re strong and wise. You amaze me. You could have just gotten mad and thrown him out—and both of you would have lost each other forever. But you’re so good together.”

Gerri tilted her head and smiled, a completely contrived smile. Her gut was in a vise. “You like him too much,” she said. “I should be jealous. You know more about him than I do.”

“Not hardly.” Kelly laughed. “Seriously, you’re a role model for me. If you can put yourselves back together, better than ever, after another woman, then I can at least try harder to understand what’s wrong before I give up on John.”

There it was, the smoking gun. Another woman. Kelly knew Phil had had an affair, something Gerri had never once suspected. Her mind raced.
When? How?
Not Phil,
she thought. He was a complete partner! He bitched about it, sure. What he wanted was to devote himself to his work, which was important work, and come home to tranquility and order. That wasn’t happening at their house, which was full of kids, strife, challenge, noise, confusion. There was always something. He complained, true, but he always came through. Not always grinning like an idiot, but neither did she.

She was no different. Her work was equally vital and she faced the same chaos at home. Being the woman on the team, however, it seemed to fall to her to attempt to pull it together, assign jobs, schedule events. To keep things running smoothly, she needed him and she didn’t take him for granted any more than he did her. They’d made the kids together; there were obvious compromises involved in growing them up. As far as she could remember, they’d never failed to work together to get it done.

When? How?

She could remember a few rough patches, some periods of adjustment, but she could not remember noticing any of the obvious signs. She paid the bills—there were no unexpected withdrawals of cash, no charged jewelry, flowers, hotel rooms. He’d never been missing for long periods of time. There were no odd phone calls, even on his cell. He took every evening and weekend call within her hearing; he had a tendency to talk so loud she shushed him so she could hear the TV or read. He’d never come home too late to explain; he’d never smelled like another woman. Those nights he stayed in the city, she’d often called him late. He’d always answer, they’d talk for a long time—you don’t do that if someone else is lying beside you.
Oh, God,
she thought.
This isn’t happening to me. He can’t have had an affair! When the hell did I leave him alone long enough for an affair? We were on our phones all the time, checking in, working out schedules....

“Counseling,” she said to Kelly, giving her arm a pat. “Now wash your face and get a grip.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Email me those names?”

“Of course,” Gerri said.
He’s going to fire her when he finds out about this
. “Do me a favor, will you please? I invited Phil to lunch, but I had an emergency come up just as I got here and I have to handle something immediately. I was going to swing by the office and tell him myself, but I have to get moving. Please tell him we saw each other in the elevator and I’m sorry, I have to stand him up.”