The Devil and Danielle Webster (3 page)

“But I tried so hard.  I gave you everything.  You
were completely bored.”

“Danielle, you should be thanking me.  If I hadn’t had
the sense to break things off, we would have gone through a divorce by
now.  We had nothing in common.”

“Sex.”

“Yeah, I’ll grant you, that
was
good.  Can you think of one other thing about our time together that was
good?”

I considered.  “We both had strong feelings about
religion…”

“Yeah, I was Catholic and you weren’t, and you weren’t going
to convert.”

“I was Lutheran until I figured out that Sunday mornings
are
better without church.”

“Yeah,” he admitted glumly.

“So you’ve thought about leaving the church too!” I said
triumphantly.

“Not really.  Tina—“

“Tina makes you go to church!”

“Well, I see her point.  Besides, I’ve got the boys to
think about.  I have to be a good example.”

“Otherwise they wouldn’t go, either,” I finished,
laughing.  “So Tina’s your resident Catholic.”

“Father Fritz would say otherwise.”

“He’ll vouch for you!” I said brightly.

“Shut up, Danielle.  Besides, I’m winning this
argument.  You can’t think of anything we had in common.”

 
“Same ages, same music, same
culture.”

“I don’t think so!  I hated that classical shit you
tried to play on the piano.”

“We both liked classic rock—“

“—
Yeah
, us and three fourths of
Chicagoland
.”

“We both disliked our parents—“

“Speak for yourself, Danielle!  The only thing I argued
about with my parents was whether you were going to become Catholic!”

“Really?”
I asked, temporarily
diverted.  “I didn’t know you ever mentioned being that serious about me
to them.”

“It was after my dad almost walked in on us in the garage.”

“Oh god!
  I thought he hadn’t
seen anything!”

“He didn’t really, but he could guess.  So they started
reminding me all about how Cousin Trish had to get married, and the guy wasn’t
even a Catholic.”

“See, you had arguments with your parents too.  I knew
it then, and you’re just trying to forget.”

“It wasn’t anything like Evil Eye
Evie
.”

I burst out laughing.  Then I got mad.  “I’ll
thank you to remember that’s my mother you’re talking about.”

“That’s what you and Patty both called her!”

“I have a right, I’m her daughter.  Patty and I can
call her whatever we want.  You can’t.  Besides, I haven’t called her
that in years.”  I couldn’t help but start chuckling again. 

“Did you ever tell her your nickname for her?”

“Are you kidding me?  She’d send arctic air masses my
way for months if I did!  I have to think of the kids now.  They need
their grandma, especially after the divorce.” 

“I heard about that.  Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Doug never could stop when he was ahead.  “See, if it
hadn’t been for me, you’d have two divorces by now, instead of just one.”

“Okay, I get your point.  We were hopelessly
incompatible, and here we both tried so very hard.  That’s sarcasm, by the
way.”

“People aren’t right for each other if they both have to try
that hard right from the start,” Doug said.

“Did you try hard right from the start?” I asked with
affable curiosity.  “Somehow I never picked up on that.” 

 “I was 22.  I didn’t feel I should have to try at
all—“

“—
Tell
me something I don’t already
know,” I said, laughing mirthlessly.

“Besides, you weren’t interested in any of the things I was
interested in—”

“—
Well
, god, Doug, think about your
interests. 
Poker, hunting, fishing, throwing a Frisbee,
watching stupid TV shows.
  What a redneck.”

“You don’t have room to talk, Miss Uppity Snob.  You
were always trying to impress people with the books you’d read and your five
syllable words.  And all your piano playing, and you know what?  You
sucked at piano.”

“I know that.  You don’t need to keep telling me stuff
I already know.”

“So get over me, Danielle.  How long do you need? 
Why not think about getting over your divorce, instead?”

“I do think about the divorce.  Josh was a nice enough
guy until the kids came along.  Well, boring and by-the-book,” I amended
conscientiously, “but otherwise nice.  But after the kids were born, he
was annoyed with me nonstop for being exhausted.  He still expected to be
babied like before, and I didn’t have the stamina for it. 
All the nastiness that came out, just because I was tied up with
three babies.”

“Oh, no,” Doug said, his eyes softening.  “I’m really
sorry.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted Doug Morris’s pity, but I had to
admit it was nice to vent.  “So maybe you can see why it’s more fun in a
way to dwell on the past, when I was young, healthy, and stupid.  I think
about you when I don’t want to think about what Josh turned into, after kids. 
He just would take out all his irritation on me.  I got a lot of verbal
abuse, and he was starting to get the belt out too often for my liking, to
chase after the kids.”

“I knew you’d had kids, but fill me in?”

“Yeah, three.
  Mike’s
thirteen, Emmy is eleven,
Carter
just turned
nine.  They’re with their dad while I’m out of town.”  I remembered
my unsatisfactory conversation with Josh from earlier.  “At least, I’m
pretty sure they still are.  What about you?  Didn’t you guys just
have a baby?”

“Yeah, two years ago.
  We have
a Mike, too, who is ten.  The baby is Jason.”

“So, two in all,” I said, and he nodded.

“How’s Patty doing?” Doug said, after a pause.

“She’s still in San Jose.  The kids love her. 
They don’t see her nearly often enough,” I said regretfully.  “When they
were born, she said she was going to be their Crazy Aunt Patty, and she really
lives up to it, whenever she’s with them.”

“She was crazy even as a little kid.  I got a big kick
out of her.”

“I used to be almost jealous of you both.  You had such
a good understanding and you both joked nonstop.  Your relationship seemed
so uncomplicated and fun compared to what I had with you. “

“Ha.  ‘Uncomplicated.’ 
‘Fun.’
 
Not words I’d use to describe us,” Doug commented.  “That’s why I knew we
weren’t right, long-term.”

“It took you more than four years to decide that.”

“And you got clingier and clingier every day.”

“And you got nastier and more cutting.”

“I was trying to make you see we didn’t fit.”

“You wanted to break up, but you didn’t want the
responsibility of being the one to pull the plug.  So you just got worse
and worse.”

“It was amazing what crap you took from me,” Doug said
reminiscently. 

“Yeah, and the more crap I took the more turned on you
were.  Admit it.”

He grinned again.  “I wondered how far I could go and
still be tolerated.  Sure, it was a turn-on.”

“And that’s exactly why I kept tolerating it, because
something was still working right. 
Really right.”

“Sounds like the stuff of a perfect marriage, to me.”

“That’s too close to the bone, Doug.  That’s kind of
the marriage I had.  Only this time, I had the sense to bail out.”

“You need a guy who will really like you for being you,”
Doug said helpfully.

“No shit,” I said contemptuously.  “They’re not exactly
standing in line.”

“Lose a few pounds. 
Stop being so
bitter.”

“Wow, did you go back to college and get a psychology
degree?”  I knew Doug would consider that a low blow.  He’d started
out at community college, intending to go into architecture,
then
dropped out after less than a year, and I knew he regretted it.  

I hurried on, hoping to find a more conciliating
topic.  “I don’t need anyone.  Life is good, really.  No
complaints.  Josh remarried.  His wife,” I said with satisfaction,
“leads him around by the nose.  Men like you and Josh don’t appreciate
insecure women nearly as much as you should.  We’re easy to dump, but then
what do you go and do?  You get leashed to bossy ball-breakers who tell
you when to breathe.”

“That’s not Tina at all.”

“Well, it is, from what Sam and Cindy tell me.”

“She’s really a nice person.  She’s a good person.”

I relented.  “I’m glad you think so, Doug.  I
suppose the whole family goes camping and hunting and fishing together.”

“We do.  Jason’s too little yet to do much, but he
still likes sleeping in a tent.  Tina’s turned into a great cook. 
We’ve got a
freezerful
of venison, and we eat a lot
of smoked salmon.”

I wrinkled my nose.   I liked the outdoors, when
viewed through a picture window.  And Doug’s snide comments about my
cooking had been legendary.

Doug caught the face I made.  “See, Danielle? 
You’d have been miserable married to me.”

“I suppose,” I said.  He had a point.  “But I
still think you treated me like dirt.”

“Bullshit.”

“You did.  You never once gave me a compliment.  I
got a really different hairstyle once, got it
permed
and I looked good.  You took one look and told me I looked like my
mother.”

“Well, you did look like
Evie
! 
That’s not an insult!”

“The way you said it, it was too an insult, and you just
won’t admit it.”

The old Doug Morris emerged for a second as he grinned in
remembrance.  I wanted to kick him.  I went on, “Remember when I got
contacts?  You didn’t like my glasses.  So I go to all this trouble
to get contacts, and do you remember the only thing you said to me?”

“No clue.  I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

I ignored his dry tone.  “All you said was, ‘Your eyes
keep blinking.’  Could you have been
more cruel
? 
I’d just gotten the damn things!”

“For god sake, Danielle, this
was,
what?  Twenty years ago?”

I ignored his interruption.  “Remember when you told me
I might want to wear longer skirts so my thighs wouldn’t show?”

“No, I don’t remember.”

“Remember how you would make me beg for sex?”

His eyes gleamed and he grinned.  “That was
great!  Best part of our relationship!”

“For you, maybe.
  I felt SO
unwanted.”

He was still grinning.  My foot itched to kick him in
the balls.

“If it’s that great a memory for you,” I said, “obviously
you don’t get begged very often now.  What happened,
loverboy
? 
Tina’s not so impressed, huh?”

“Tina happens to wear the same size 5 she wore before having
babies.  For your information, she doesn’t have to beg.  I still WANT
to have sex with her!”

Perhaps it was fortunate that by then, dawn loomed on the
horizon, suffusing the sky with salmon and orchid tones.  We were both
aware of another person in the room.

I made the introductions.  “Doug Morris, this is the
Devil. 
Er
, is that what you call yourself?”

The nondescript man made a self-effacing gesture and handed
us each a cream-colored business card with “Prince of Darkness Enterprises,
Daemon Lucifer, CEO and sales manager, 555-980-6666, e-mail
[email protected]
” tastefully
embossed. 

“So, Mr. Lucifer,” Doug said a bit nervously, “I didn’t ask
to be here and I don’t want to be here and I just want to go home, that’s
Schaumburg, Illinois, and get some more sleep before work.”

“Give him what he wants,” I said.  “And I want this
deal called off. 
Night of passion, my ass.”
 

The nondescript man shook his head mournfully.  “Didn’t
you read the contract you signed?” he said reproachfully. 
“All sales FINAL.”
 

“Well, I also saw that satisfaction was guaranteed,” I
argued.  “I did NOT have satisfaction.”

Mr. Lucifer looked Doug up and down and said pityingly, “How
many years have you been doing this?  You still can’t give a woman
satisfaction?”

“You’ve got it all wrong!” and “That’s not what happened at
all!” Doug and I spoke simultaneously.  The nondescript man lifted his
eyebrows and waited for further explanation.

“I never so much as took my clothes off,” I said in
desperation.

“
Ewww
, yuck,” Doug said
involuntarily.  “I’m sorry, Danielle, but just look at you.  You’re
wearing your dinner.  And when’s the last time you washed those shorts?”

“The feeling is mutual, that’s for sure.  Keep your
smelly boxers on, Doug.  I ask on behalf of all your ex-girlfriends.”

He eyed me with loathing. 
“A night
of passion, geez, Danielle.
  Can’t you go read a crappy romance
novel instead of getting me involved?”

“Go smoke some salmon.  Better yet, do some
flossing,
I see dinner from our last date still stuck in
your front teeth.”

The nondescript man looked rather gleeful.  “I’ve
discharged my part of the bargain.  You two have certainly had your night
of passion.”

“That’s what you think!” I said with contempt.  “There
was no passion, and that’s God’s honest truth.”

“Please, watch your language,” the Devil said with
dignity.  He allowed himself a grin.  “You never specified, Ms.
Webster, what form of passion you wanted.  I can see passionate argument
going on between you two even now.  What a night of passion you have
had!  I congratulate you both!”

“That’s equivocation,” I said indignantly. 

“Objection!”
Doug said.

Mr. Lucifer and I both looked at him. 

“Still watching those courtroom dramas, Doug?” I asked him,
but not rancorously.  It’s interesting how easy it is to drop a stupid
feud when the real enemy shows up.