Four Friends (32 page)

“Did either of you ever have...” She couldn’t go on.

“An affair?” Muriel asked. “Gerri, we never went through a situation like yours—interpret that any way you like. We limped along like every married couple. Some of our troubles seemed insurmountable, some stupid and piddling, but I think in the end I’d have to call it a very satisfactory marriage. Gerri, is there hope? It will be difficult to put him up for adoption at his age.”

“There is,” she said. “But until I know what kind, Phil’s staying right where he is, and I’m staying right here. And we’re not having any friends or relatives in this mix. I hope you understand.”

Muriel sighed. “My other daughters-in-law don’t take as firm a hand with me, you know. Though that doesn’t mean I actually like them better, but that’s irrelevant. Gerri—if you needed my help, would you call?”

“Of course. Muriel, I can’t stop thinking about something my mother always used to say. If the rope gets cut, you can tie it back together, but there will always be a knot in it.”

Muriel didn’t respond immediately. After a long pause she finally spoke. “Darling, when I look at the rope that belongs to Stan and me, so imperfect, so often broken and reconnected, I just assumed all those knots were there to give us something to hang on to.”

* * *

The June sun shone brightly, burning off the morning fog that tended to roll in from the coast and settle in the valley. Sonja had been digging in her yard for hours. The June sun on the fertile California land was like magic—stick something in the ground and it would grow and grow and grow. The air was moist and warm, nurturing the flowers. She’d already lined the border of her backyard with colorful blooms. Though she’d gotten them in the ground a little late, they flourished. She’d made a habit of returning to the nursery almost every afternoon so she’d have fresh plants ready to go in the ground, first thing each morning.

When she started the project, she’d worn gardening gloves, but that hadn’t lasted long. She’d come to love the feel of the rich, dark soil on her hands, caught in the crevices, stuck under her nails. As her flower beds grew deeper, she began placing patio stones in little pathways through the garden so she could get around without trampling her new babies.

While she gardened, she could think. Much of her time was spent remembering Todd, sometimes talking to him just under her breath. It would have been so sweet to grow into adulthood with her brother, see where their lives intertwined, merged. She would likely be Aunt Sonja now if he had lived.

After the group session that everyone referred to as her breakthrough Sonja cried for almost two full days. Panicked that she was retreating into madness again, she had called Dr. Kalay, who asked if anything new or significant had happened right before the crying began. Sonja told her about the upsetting group session.

“Ah, more grieving. Long overdue, it would seem. Will you be all right? Or do you need some extra help getting through this?” Dr. Kalay asked.

“Will I be all right? Tear my hair out of my head?”

“Is anything like that happening, Sonja?” she asked gently.

“No, I’m digging in the garden, planting, crying on the flowers....”

The psychiatrist laughed softly, tenderly. “I can’t think of a better place for your tears to fall. Please, call me in two days and tell me how you’re feeling.”

Two days later, there was less crying. Two more days, she was much better. After another two group sessions she could talk about her family, her brother’s death and her failed marriage without succumbing to wrenching sobs. The tears still popped into her eyes sometimes, unexpectedly, when a particularly sentimental memory came to mind. Good tears, the people in group called them. The kind of tears that got you well.

She left the back patio doors open while she worked and it was just before noon when she heard the doorbell. Since school was out, Andy sometimes popped over in the middle of the day, just for something to do. Sonja sat back on her heels, then got to her feet, brushing the dirt off her knees. She kicked off her shoes by the back door. It was a good time to take a break, anyway. When she opened the door, it wasn’t Andy, but George. He was dressed in an impeccable blue-gray pinstriped suit, his steel-gray hair perfectly combed for a day of business. She was thunderstruck for a second. Then she slammed the door in his face.

He knocked. Then he knocked again. “Go away, George,” she yelled at the door. And then she turned her back on the door and under her breath muttered, “Asshole.”

She hadn’t even made it out of the foyer when she heard a key in the lock. She whirled to face the door as it opened.

“What are you
doing?
” she demanded, aghast.

“Letting myself into my house,” he said. “I am still part owner, you know.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“I want to see you, to ask how you are,” he said simply. “You won’t talk to me or return my calls. I hear from your doctor that you’re making great progress and are feeling much better. I’d like to hear from you how much better you’re feeling.”

“She shouldn’t be telling you anything,” Sonja said angrily. “Doctor-patient privilege.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“She has to respond to me, Sonja—I’m the insurer and the one who’s paying the bills. Now, why don’t we just make things simple. Can you tell me how you’re doing without all the profanity?”

She ground her teeth for a moment. “I’m crazy. Now you can go.”

“You’re not crazy,” he said. “But you are muddy. What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve been planting flowers. Really, I’m not ready to talk to you. Especially about how I am.”

“It doesn’t have to be a long conversation,” he said, walking past her into the kitchen. He sat down at the nook table and waited patiently.

She followed him. “Aren’t you just a little afraid you’ll put me right back over the edge?”

He shook his head. “I checked with the doctor. She assures me you’ve become very resilient. You look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you,” he said.

“Duh,” she said. She yanked out the chair opposite George and plopped down. “I was on another planet the last time you saw me. Now I only visit—much too nuts for you to have to deal with.”

He smiled at her. “Do you know what today is?” he asked.

“Friday,” she said in a snotty tone.

“It’s our tenth anniversary,” he said. “It’s okay, I didn’t expect you to remember it.”

For a second the shock registered on her face. She really hadn’t spent a lot of mental energy on George and the marriage or its destruction in the past couple of weeks. She’d gone a lot further back in time. She realized her mouth was open and closed it. Then she pursed her lips. “I can’t remember things like that. I’m nuts.”

He laughed at her. “You don’t have to play the nuts game with me, Sonja. I thought I’d stop by, force my presence on you to see how you’re doing, invite you out to lunch.”

“Lunch?” she shrieked, insulted to her core. “You want me to go to
lunch?
”

“I guess that’s a no,” he said pleasantly.

“You’re damn right it’s a no! You’ve got some nerve, you know that? You drive me insane and then you pop over to check on my health and ask me out to lunch? Fuck you, George!”

He merely smiled. “Sonja, give me a little credit. Don’t you think it was important to me to understand whether I did this to you? Come on now. I talked to some professionals—I’m pretty clear on what happened. You can blame me all you want, but we both know this whole episode is no one’s fault and you’re going to be fine.”

“No thanks to
you.
I was fine before!”

“Actually, no,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table. “You had a little grenade inside you that was ready to blow. God, I wish someone else had pulled the pin—but you couldn’t have moved on until that was taken care of. I had no idea, of course. But then, neither did you.”

She clenched her teeth while she stared at him. She hated that he spoke the truth because she hated him. She would die before she ever thanked him for being the catalyst that set her free. “So,” she said, lifting her chin. “You bring papers for me to sign or something? Get your prenup in under the wire?”

He looked surprised, but just shook his head. “You still have a copy of that? I tore mine up years ago when I was cleaning out files. By the time a couple spends a few years together, either it’s no longer relevant or the relationship’s in serious trouble. Don’t you think?”

“Then why have it in the first place?” she asked, uncrossing her arms. She was astonished, and most curious.

“I had a lot of investments when we got married,” he said with a shrug. “But I knew in two or three years you had no interest in taking my money. You’re a lot of things, but you’re no gold digger.”

“Well, I want it now,” she said meanly.

“Now it’s a done deal.” He laughed.

“You’re taking it pretty well,” she said quietly, wondering what nasty trick he had up his sleeve. “You’ve always been awfully proud of your balance sheet.”

“Yes, we all have our shortcomings, I guess.” He clasped his hands together on the tabletop and leaned toward her. “Listen, when we got married, there were a lot of good reasons. Neither of us wanted children, we were almost always compatible even if we weren’t real exciting. You wanted nothing so much as to keep everything spotless and get the stains out of my shirts and all I wanted was someone as nice and beautiful as you beside me, supporting me while I worked to keep building retirement money for my clients, and my own portfolio at the same time. I didn’t want a lot. Maybe I was wrong but it seemed like you didn’t want that much. I’m not an exciting guy, Sonja, I know that. I don’t have family. Your parents are old and kind of feeble now. We were two people who really didn’t have other people—and I thought all your candles and fountains and stuff were kind of cute. And harmless.” He shrugged and smiled.

She narrowed her eyes as he spoke. “I
loved
you, you sorry son of a bitch!”

“Oh, Sonja,” he said sadly. “I loved you, too. I mean, I love you. Still. It’s just that the kind of love you get from a guy like me doesn’t have much sparkle to it. I’m dull and serious. They make jokes around the office about how I actually have a personality when I come out of my shell a little at those company functions. And I’m sorry—I never knew the whole health-spa atmosphere would get to me like it did. I kind of went over the edge, too.”

She braced her hands on the seat of her chair and looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t have some secret plan or something, do you? Some fancy lawyer behind the scenes, ready to cream me the second I let down my guard?”

“No, nothing like that. I haven’t even talked to anyone about divorce—it seemed pretty inappropriate while you were trying to recover. This whole business just scared the crap out of me. Jesus, if something really horrible had happened... If we can both get through this with our sanity, I won’t ask for more than that.”

“You want a divorce as soon as possible?”

“I don’t care about that. It really doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. “If you do...”

“But you’re paying the bills! And they’ve been huge, considering Glendale!”

“You never spent any money during our marriage,” he said. “Growing herbs doesn’t cost anything. You never put actual meat in my food. If I added up the cost of all those fountains, chimes and candles, it wouldn’t be two thousand bucks over ten years and I’m sure you earned way more than that with your classes and clients. Sonja—” He laughed. “Honey, you’re a real cheap date.”

She couldn’t remember the last time he’d called her honey. She wasn’t sure what to think about the cheap date comment. “Always so fiduciarily responsible,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest again.

“Well, now you’ve traded all that for the nursery, it seems. Want to show me what you’ve been doing?”

“No,” she said stubbornly.

“Okay,” he said, pushing his chair back. He walked to the patio doors while she remained seated. He looked out into the backyard. “Wow,” he said.

She chewed her lip. “It’s possible I have a little OCD. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,” she said. “Kind of goes along with all the other stuff. When I get into something, I go all the way.”

George looked over his shoulder at her. “Really?” he asked. “You might not want to cure that until you finish the yard. It’s stunning. Amazing.”

“You
really
like it?”

“It’s beautiful. I wouldn’t want to eat and sleep in a house that looked like a funeral parlor, but what you’ve done so far looks fantastic. You really do have a lot of talents. Seems like you just need to learn when to stop.”

“Except I’m no good at making money,” she muttered.

“Don’t sweat it, Sonja. That’s my talent. Fortunately I’m so good at it, you shouldn’t have to worry. Unless your OCD extends to shopping—in which case we’ll be tapped out pretty quick.” He turned away from the patio doors and headed for the foyer. “I don’t want to keep you, and I didn’t come here to pressure you. I just wanted to see for myself that you’re getting better. Happy anniversary. Sorry it wasn’t a good one for you. Ten should be something special, though I have no idea what kind of special.”

It was kind of special, she found herself thinking. It was actually the first time she felt George had accepted her as she was. Exactly as she was. And she had to be crazy for that to happen.

“George?” she said when he got to the door.

He turned. “Yes?”

“If you call, I’ll talk to you. For five minutes. And not too often.”

He grinned at her. “Okay, Sonja. Glad you’re feeling better.”

And then he was gone.

twelve

GERRI DID A little further local research on BJ and found a guy with the last name of Smith who had a small but lucrative electronics repair firm in Mill Valley. On her lunch hour, she dropped by. BJ was behind a counter, staring at a computer screen when Gerri walked in. When BJ looked up, she looked stunned.

“Hey,” Gerri said. “I was in the area. I thought maybe I could take you to lunch.”