Until I Saw Your Smile (42 page)

“Where you and Joy slept together,” Angela said.

Oh yeah.
“You're right.”

Later than night, Angela whispered, “You awake?”

“Yes.”

“Do you ever miss your old life?” she asked.

“The security of it, yes,” Matthew said. “There was always money.”

“How much?” she asked.

“My best year I broke seven figures with bonuses.”
I was once a millionaire, before taxes, but I wasn't happy at all.

Angela was silent for quite a while. “And where is this money now?”

Dwindling.
“I still have a decent chunk. I've been thrifty.”

“You've been so thrifty that you moved in here and the apartment doesn't look any different to me,” Angela said. “Could you be filthy rich right now?”

“If I had made partner, I could have easily broken eight figures with year-end bonuses.”
And I used to want to make partner. That seems so far away and foolish right now.

Angela grabbed his arms. “Go make partner.”

“I'm done with all that foolishness,” he said.

“I know you are.” She propped her head up on her hands. “Tell me about your average date when you were really rolling.”

“You sure you want to hear this?” Matthew asked.

“I want to know.”

“Well,” Matthew said, “first I'd call my driver.”

“You had a driver?” she asked.

“At the pinnacle of my success, yes,” Matthew said. “My BMW gathered dust in a garage because I had a driver. Max. Good guy. I'd tell Max to pick her up and bring her to my condo on Central Park West for some predinner drinking. Back then, I could mix a mean cocktail. Then we'd go to dinner at some new, overpriced, chic restaurant where the food was arranged on the plate and, gosh, it was a shame to eat all
four
bites, it was so pretty. We'd consume at least one bottle of wine or champagne with dinner, and then we'd sit drunkenly through a Broadway show, always sitting in the first few rows. After that, it was on to a nightclub for twenty-dollar drinks followed by a nightcap at my place.”

“Did . . . did these dates always end with sex?” she asked softly.

“Yes. Pretty much.” He felt Angela stiffen. “Do you forgive me?”

“Are you
sure
you don't miss it?” she asked.

She doesn't forgive me. I don't forgive me either.
“I don't miss that life at all, Angela. It wasn't really life. It was all a show, one long buzz, an alcohol-fueled carnival ride, and I had nothing to show for it after eight years of excess. I'm finally liking what I do.”

“You're finally working for a living, huh?” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

“It's hard, isn't it?” she asked.

Yes.
“But the rewards, meager as they are, are much greater.”

“You appreciate money now,” Angela asked.

Yes.
“I appreciate it much more now that I don't have as much of it.”

 

One day in early March, an elderly couple wearing vintage red 1970s tracksuits, came in, bought coffee, and stopped at Matthew's booth.

“We want a divorce,” the man said. “You do them, right?”

Matthew looked at them.
White hair. Tracksuits straight out of
The Six Million Dollar Man
TV show. More wrinkles on their bodies than on my clothes.

“I do simple divorces, yes,” Matthew said.
Why are they holding hands? This has to be a setup.
“I will need seven hundred and fifty dollars up front to start.”

The couple looked at each other. The woman scrounged up $750 from her purse and laid the bills on the table.

This isn't a setup, and old people carry far too much cash these days.
“Please be seated.”

They sat opposite Matthew, smiling at each other.

Why are they
still
holding hands?
“I'm Matthew McConnell, and you are . . .”

“Joe and Donna Bauer,” he said.

The obvious question.
“How long have you two been married?”

Joe smiled. “Sixty-one years.”

“Sixty-
two
years, dear,” Donna said, also smiling. “Ike was president, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Joe said. “Good ol' Ike. Now there was a president with integrity.”

No anger. No hostility. What are they thinking?
“Do you have any children?” Matthew asked.

“Four boys, eight grandchildren, and nine great-grandchildren so far,” Donna said sweetly.

“I'm assuming you have a home,” Matthew said.

“Paid off over twenty years ago,” Joe said. “It's a six-bedroom on Greene Avenue in Bed-Stuy.”

Matthew blinked.
They're white and live in Bed-Stuy. Wow. Bed-Stuy has been on the comeback, so their house could go for a half million or more now.
“Cars?”

“Oh, we don't drive anymore,” Joe said. “We walk or take the bus. That's how we got here today.”

“What other kinds of property do you have?” Matthew asked.

“Just a house full of furniture and memories,” Donna said. “Framed photos as far as the eye can see on nearly every wall, and not the digital kind either. Real photographs. Some have faded, of course, but the memories haven't faded at all.”

They're smiling, nice, kindly, not angry at each other, and they are still holding hands.
“I have to ask. Why do you want a divorce?”

Joe squinted at Donna. “Why do we want a divorce again?”

Donna smiled at Matthew. “We want to play the field.”

“Oh yeah,” Joe said. “That's the reason. We want to sow our wild oats.”

“You see,” Donna said, “we were eighteen when we married. Joe was going over to Korea, and we had been dating since we were in junior high, so we tied the knot. It was a beautiful wedding.”

“It was,” Joe said. “You looked so lovely.”

“Thank you, Joe,” Donna said. “He was the most handsome man I'd ever known.”

Joe waved his free hand. “Oh, go on.”

“You
were,
all spiffy in your uniform,” Donna said. “You're still a handsome man.”

“And you're still beautiful.” He kissed her cheek. “So how soon can you divorce us?”

And he kisses her.
“You two obviously still love each other.”

“Oh yes,” Donna said. “Joe is the only man I've ever loved.”

“And yet you want a divorce,” Matthew said.

“Right,” Joe said.

“I don't think I understand,” Matthew said.

Donna sighed. “We have only ever been with each other.”

“Through thick and thin,” Joe said.

“And we were thinking the other day,” Donna said, “what it would be like to be with someone else.”

“I was against the idea at first,” Joe said. “I couldn't imagine being with anyone else.”

“Oh, neither could I,” Donna said. “Except for a few business trips Joe took over the years, I have gone to sleep with Joe by my side every night since he came back from Korea.”

“I never could sleep on the road,” Joe said. “We would talk on the phone for hours, and our phone bills! They were huge.”

“I still don't understand why you want a divorce,” Matthew said. “You two are obviously made for each other.”

“But we really don't know that for sure,” Donna said. “How can we know we're made for each other when we've only ever been with each other? We have no one else to compare each other to.”

I can't fault her logic, but . . .
“Did it occur to you that you might be soul mates? That you were destined to marry and grow old together?”

“Where's the fun in that?” Joe asked. He winked at Donna. “We want to take a walk on the wild side.”

At your age? Just the walk could kill you. I can't take these people's money! And I can't believe I'm about to say this.
“You don't have to get divorced to do that.”

“Oh, we know that,” Donna said. “But how would it look if I brought Larry Pearson home one night?”

“Larry?” Joe said. “You'd bring Larry Pearson to our house?”

“For the sake of argument, Joe,” Donna said. “You know he has a bad back.”

“Oh, right,” Joe said.

“I don't want our neighbors to think we're swingers,” Donna said.

How can I dissuade them?
“Well, it would be a good idea for you to sell your house now that the market is coming back.”

“Oh no,” Joe said. “Donna would keep the house. It's her dream house.”

“It really is,” Donna said. “It's the prettiest house on the block. Joe painted all the shutters just last year. Burgundy.”

“Her favorite color,” Joe said.

“And where would you live, Joe?” Matthew said.

“I've already picked out the place,” Joe said. “The SoHotel on the Bowery. Chinatown, Little Italy, and Soho are right there. It's a restaurant paradise.”

“Joe likes to eat out,” Donna said.

“Mrs. and Mrs. Bauer, I have to tell you,” Matthew said, putting his legal pad away, “I don't think you should get a divorce.”

Joe frowned. “You don't?”

“No,” Matthew said. “You've been married for sixty-two years. You're still holding hands. You're still smiling at each other. You still kiss your wife, Joe, and you're still in love.”

“What's your point?” Donna asked.

Matthew gave back the money. “If you really want to go through with this, I can't be your divorce lawyer.”

Joe left the money on the table. “Why not?”

“Usually, but not always, there's a reason, a
cause
for the divorce,” Matthew said. “You haven't provided me with one. For instance, has there been cruel and inhuman treatment in your marriage?”

“Oh, of course not,” Donna said. “Joe is gentle as a lamb. He has been the perfect gentleman ever since I've known him.”

“Have either of you abandoned the other or lived apart for a year or more?” Matthew asked.

“Except for my tour in Korea, no,” Joe said.

“Have either of you been in prison for three years or more?” Matthew asked.

“Heavens, no,” Donna said.

“Has there been any adultery?” Matthew asked.

“Not yet,” Joe said.

I can't believe I'm hearing this.
“Have you ever had an irretrievable breakdown in your relationship for at least six months?”

“No,” Donna said. “We've had our spats, but we always agree to kiss and make up before the sun goes down.”

These two have had the perfect marriage.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bauer, you have no irreconcilable differences, neither of you has been unfaithful, and I doubt either of you has ever raised a hand to the other.” Matthew shook his head. “There is no just cause or grounds for a divorce here.”

“Even if we want to play the field for the first time in our lives?” Joe asked.

“I've played the field,” Matthew said. “And trust me, what you two have is
golden,
a billion
billion
times better than anything else out there.”

“It's easy for you to say,” Donna said. “You've been out there. I've only ever been with Joe.”

“As God intended marriage to be,” Matthew said.

Joe turned to Donna. “You said lawyers weren't usually religious.”

“That's what Joanie
told
us, Joe,” Donna said. “Joanie's our oldest daughter. She's been divorced three times and is working on a fourth. She lives with us from time to time.”

An opening!
“And how has her life been?” Matthew asked.

“I love her to death,” Joe said, “but she's always been a mess.”

“There you go,” Matthew said, sitting back. “Divorce is messy.”

“Maybe our divorce will be like our marriage, Mr. McConnell,” Donna said. “We've been friends for a long time, and we will continue to be friends until the day we die. Did you ever think of that?”

This would be the easiest money I've ever made, but I can't do this.
“Won't you miss each other?”

“Oh, I'll still call her every day,” Joe said. “I couldn't go a day without talking to Donna.”

“Thank you, Joe,” Donna said. “That means so much to me.”

Now what?
“I . . . I can't facilitate your divorce. You'll either have to find another lawyer, who will tell you the same things, or you two will have to stay together.”

“Oh.” Donna turned to Joe. “What do we do?”

“I don't know,” Joe said. “What do we do, Mr. McConnell?”

“We need our space,” Donna said.

“Right.”

They need their space. Okay. I'll give them a way.
“You know,” Matthew said, “if you really want to spend some time apart, you could spend
weekends
at the SoHotel, Joe.”

Joe nodded. “I could do that.” He smiled at Donna. “Couldn't I?”

“And then we could be together during the week,” Donna said.

“That's an idea,” Joe said. “You won't get lonely without me?”