5

 

On Sunday morning Annabeth sat with her daughters at the kitchen table, all three of them gloomy in the aftermath of the party.  R.J. had said he'd drop by sometime and Annabeth was nervous. 

"Oh, Mom," Sally wailed.  "Daddy with that trampy girl last night.  What was he thinking?"

"When does the bastard ever think about anything," said Laurel.

There was a pounding at the door, and Annabeth let Jackson in.  He was carrying a large bundle of mismatched flowers, which he presented to Sally.  "I stole these all over town."

Annabeth placed a glass of juice in front of Jackson, asking "Have you had your breakfast yet?"

His expression was guarded as he replied, "No, but I'm not hungry."

Annabeth looked toward Laurel.  "Come on, let's go in the other room." 

"No, Mom, I need you right here."

"I know you're upset about your dad," said Jackson in a voice that was calm and quiet.  He reached a strong hand toward Sally, enveloping her smaller hand in his.

"Daddy's a big jerk."

"I'm not your dad, you know."

Sally dissolved in tears.  "Oh, God," she mumbled, "I don't know.  I just want to stay here with Mom for a while.  Then maybe we can talk?  Okay?"

"No, it's not okay, but what choice do I have?"  Jackson sighed and rose to leave.

Annabeth walked him to the door, then spoke softly, "I wanted you to wait a bit, but I didn't want you to be hurt."

Jackson shook his head and walked through the door.

Annabeth returned to the kitchen where she sat next to her daughter, "Listen to me, Sally.  You can stay here as long as you want.  But I just want to make sure you know what you want."

"Yeah, kid what's the hurry?  Trouble with living in a small town like this is that there's nothing to do but get married.  In the real world there are other choices, you know," said Laurel, trying to be kind but sounding gruff.

"I want to stay here.  I need to think about Jackson and this whole wedding thing.  I'll go by our apartment and pick up a few outfits.  Not everything, just some clothes."

"All right, sweetie."  Annabeth patted Sally's hand.  "You come home and I'll take care of you."

At that moment, R.J. let himself in the front door, walked back to the kitchen, tossed a manila envelope on the table and smiled nonchalantly at his family.  "Hi, girls."  He was obviously none the worse for wear after the evening's debacle, because he casually reached into the refrigerator, located a beer, popped the top, then took a long swig.

Laurel got up from the table and said, "Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?"  Without waiting for his reply, she left the room.

"We're all really upset with you, Daddy, I hope you know that," said Sally, following her sister out of the room.

Annabeth scrutinized R.J.'s face.  There was no sign of guilt or remorse.  Apparently he had no intention of apologizing.  She shook her head, took a deep breath, then said quietly, "You did a terrible thing last night.  The girls and I were humiliated and everyone was embarrassed for us."

"Seemed like they were too busy pukin' up that food you served to take no notice of me." 

"How could you do that, R.J.?"

He took a deep breath, then another and said "I wanna divorce."

Annabeth swallowed hard, attempting to maintain her composure.  The tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn't stop them from running down her cheeks.

R.J. opened the envelope in front of him, removed the documents and placed them in front of Annabeth.  "I seen a lawyer and it's all took care of.  All you gotta do is sign these papers."

Her heart thudded in her chest.  She should want a divorce, should be the one flinging papers in front of him, but in spite of everything, she didn't want to let go. "I don't want a divorce."

"I'm in love with someone else.  That's all there is to it."

Annabeth wept, lifting an unused napkin now and then to her eyes to blot away the tears.  "That girl is what--Laurel's age?  This is crazy."

"Look, we haven't had no life together for a long time.  I gotta life with someone else.  Things I wanna do."

"But I love you."

His voice grew just a bit softer, just a bit more yielding.  "We were together for a long time and I love you too Annabeth.  But I'm in love with her.  What we had is more like a memory--a good memory--but not hardly part of today."

She shook her head.  "What will I do without you?"

He coughed.  "You gonna move to town.  Get a nice little apartment closer to people, closer to Sally.  You can live in Ma's apartment if you want.  And I'll take care of the rent--say for five, no ten years.  You'll find someone else.  Sure you will.  A great cook like you."

He thought she was a great cook, or was that a snide remark in light of the previous night's disaster?  Either way it didn't matter.  She had loved him all her adult life and all he could say about her was that she was a great cook.  "Move?  Why would I move?"  Annabeth cringed at the idea of moving back to her mother-in-law's garage apartment.

"I'm gonna sell this place, of course."

"Sell our home?"

"And when I sell it, don't worry, I'll give you a nice settlement.  Five, no ten thousand dollars."

"This is my house.  My home.  I spent twenty years fixing it up."

"Yeah and you did a great job.  It was a piece of shit when we got it.  A miracle it was still standing.  But it isn't your house.  It's my house."

"It's our house, R.J..  We're married."

"How did I get this house?"

She grimaced, looking at him through tears.  "You won it in a poker game."

"Exactly.  I won it.  It's not marital assets--it's poker winnings."

Annabeth thought for a moment, wiping her eyes.  No, he couldn't be right.  "It doesn't matter, R.J..  Everything we own is joint assets.  Doesn't matter how you got it.  And I don't want to leave my house."

"You got no choice," he replied, angrily leaping up.

She was about to touch his arm gently, hoping to calm his wrath, but he stormed past her, saying, "See how good you do without me to foot all your bills.  I don't gotta pay your rent for ten years, you know.  And now I'll be damned if I will."  He shoved her aside and pushed past her, striding toward the door and slamming it behind him.

Annabeth slumped down in a chair, her head buried in her hands.  She faced for the first time the fact that her marriage was over, something she had known all along but hadn't wanted to admit.  R.J. was gone.  They weren't getting back together.  He could divorce her, but could he take her home?  And what would she do without him to support her?  She had about ten dollars in her wallet.  How long could that last?  The thoughts swirled through her head like light shimmering off the overheated pavement.

The girls raced into the room then and sat down with her.  "What happened?  I hope you told him off,"  said Laurel.

For a moment she thought it would be impossible to speak, but her voice did work and Annabeth said, "We're getting a divorce.  He says he's selling the house."

Sally burst into tears and clung to Annabeth's hand, but Laurel was cool as ice.  "You're better off without the bastard.  But why sell the house?"  Annabeth shook her head miserably as Laurel continued, her voice seething with anger, "You love this house."

"This is our home," said Sally.

"Pops is a lawyer.  Hugh is a lawyer.  We're surrounded by lawyers in this family."

Laurel was right.  Why should she give up so easily?  R.J. always said he was going to do things that he never managed to do.  She could talk to her father, could fight back.  This was her home.  "You're right, of course.  I'll call your grandfather."  Annabeth squeezed her daughters' hands.  "We'll fight back."

Annabeth walked upstairs so she could talk privately.  On a hunch, she dialed the bank's number, where an electronic voice revealed to her that there was a three-dollar balance in the checking account she shared with R.J. and that the savings account had been closed.  Annabeth held her hands to her head.  She didn't have a cent.

She dialed her father's number.  "Dad!  I need your help."  She told her father the whole story, glancing at the clock now and then, hoping she wasn't taking up too much of his time.

"All right, dear, calm down.  Everything you own is joint assets, including poker winnings."  His voice was so strained, so scornful, that Annabeth hated to continue, but she had to know.

"So R.J. can't make me move out of my house?"

"Can you afford to buy his half from him?"

"Of course not.  You know I don't have any money of my own.  And R.J. won't give me any; he expected me to sign those papers just like that."

"If you sell the house, you'll split the proceeds.  That should give you a nice nest egg.  And there's his business.  You're entitled to half its worth as well."

"So I might really have to move?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet, okay? Come into the office tomorrow.  Quentin will file a petition for temporary support and begin process of disclosure.  R.J.'s lawyer will have to hand in a financial affidavit." 

"Quentin?"

"Yes, I'm retired you know.  Quentin is good though, so don't worry.  You come on over here and I'll give you some cash."

The tears streamed from Annabeth's eyes.  "Oh, Dad," was all she could say.

"And you ought to change the lock on your front door, just in case.  You have that handyman, right?"

"Yes, I could get him to do it."

"Okay, dear, the cash'll be waiting.  I need to run now, but I'll brief Quentin.  You just do what he says."  Will spoke worriedly into the phone.  "And dear?  Will you be needing to come home to live, you think?" 

"Oh, Dad, no, of course not."

The following day, in Sally's car, Annabeth dropped off her daughter at work, then she met with Quentin at her father's office.  After attending to the legal matters that the young attorney deemed necessary, she drove toward the Ford dealer.

Doug Hawkins smiled as she looked in the door of his office.  "Annabeth.  Come on in."  He rose and walked around his desk, touching her shoulder, then indicating that she should be seated.  "I have your estimate right here."

Annabeth glanced at the sheet of paper detailing the various things wrong with her car and the dollar amounts it would take to repair them.  While she reviewed the list, she noticed Doug looking at her.  His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be deep in thought, as though he were remembering something painful from the past.  He looked off into the distance, out the window of his office, toward where his brother stood talking to a customer, then back toward Annabeth, then outside yet again.  He cocked his head ever so slightly to one side, started to speak, but remained silent.

Annabeth replaced the estimate on the desk.  It was a huge amount of money.  She had been hoping that the money she'd borrowed from her father would cover the repairs, but it wasn't nearly enough.  She shook her head.  What was she going to do?

"It's a lot of money, I know," volunteered Doug.  "I would suggest you think about replacing that vehicle rather than repairing it."

Annabeth bit her lip nervously, looking first down at the repair estimate then into Doug's eyes.  There was something in his gaze that relaxed her, and she spoke unselfconsciously, "I don't think I can afford to do either one.  I'm in the process of getting a divorce.  Everything is very complicated right now."

His voice grew soft and sympathetic.  "I'm sorry.  I was divorced myself a couple of years ago.  Hardest thing I ever went through."

She shook her head in agreement.  "I bet.  Have kids?"

"They're grown, a girl and a boy.  Back in Atlanta with their mother."

"Must be strange to come back here after life in the big city." 

"I was ready for a change.  It's actually been relaxing to be back here, working with my dad.  I was a financial analyst for years.  Now I'm just a car salesman."  He smiled at her in a pleasantly self-effacing way.

"You were always good at getting people to do what you wanted them to."  He had a nice face, warm sparkly eyes, and she felt comfortable with him.

"I was?"

"Remember when you organized that whole rally and we thought we'd get in trouble but you got the teachers to join in?"

"And you drew all the signs."

"That's right," they said simultaneously.

"Remember," he started, but was interrupted by the parts' manager who had a question.

Annabeth rose then, saying. "I better let you get back to work."

"We can hold onto the car for a few days while you think about your options," he said kindly.

"Thanks so much.  That would be a great help."

He rose and walked around his desk to where she stood, saying "I hope everything works out the way you want it to."

Annabeth looked into Doug's eyes and smiled at him, "Thanks.  That's so nice of you to say."

She glanced at her watch as she drove away from the dealership.  There was plenty of time before she needed to pick up Sally.  She had tried to call Maggie for the past two mornings, but she had been out.  Surely by now she would be at home--babysitting little Peter. 

"Yes?" asked Maggie coldly.

Annabeth scrutinized Maggie's face.  "Hi, I'm glad you're here."

"What's up?" Maggie did not move away from the door or invite Annabeth in.

"I'm sorry about the whole Jambalaya mess.  Everyone recovered?"

"You had to have your way about the menu.  Nobody is still sick as far as I know.  Assuming any of them are still talking to me."

"Is Jackson all right?"

"He's heartbroken as a matter of fact.  You sure got your way about everything didn't you?"

"What?" Annabeth was incredulous.

"You went to a lot of trouble to break those kids up.  Are you happy now?  Look, I have to go in.  Peter needs me."  Maggie backed up a few steps and then closed the door as Annabeth stood there amazed.  Maggie somehow believed that she had deliberately sabotaged the party.  Annabeth shook her head.  What next?

She drove back toward the bank.  In an hour or so Sally would be off for the day.  After parking the car, she stopped into the bakery and paid the balance owed on the cakes.  She had the money her father had loaned her, but that was it.  Annabeth glanced at her watch.  It was still half an hour until Sally got off.  She couldn't just sit around waiting.  She had bills to pay.  It was time she did something on her own.  Taking a deep breath, Annabeth entered Etta's Knick Knack Shop.  "Do you still need me to paint some things for you?"

"You've changed your mind?"

Annabeth nodded.

"Great!  Now let's see." Etta walked through the shop, pulling items her husband had made and stacking them together by the cash register.  "Can you get all that done in time?"

"Yes, I paint pretty quickly.  Do you have any idea how much money they will bring in?"  Annabeth took a big gulp and then continued, "I'm getting divorced and I need to make some money."  There.  She had said it.  It was getting easier and easier to admit the truth.

"Let's see," said Etta, pulling a sheet of paper from the file drawer in her desk and scribbling on it.  She gave an estimate of Annabeth's possible earnings then said, "Maybe a little more if they sell right away and I don't have to reduce them."

Annabeth nodded again.  "That's great."  It was money all right, but not very much.  There was no way she could make a living painting on furniture.

"Did you want a small advance on them?"

"No, that's not necessary.  You pay me when you sell them.  But Etta--what if nobody wants them?"

"I'll pay you no matter what, but somebody will want them, I'm sure.  And then maybe you can paint more for me."

"Okay," agreed Annabeth, still worried that Etta would lose money on her work.

She walked toward Gleason's Drug Store, which was perpendicular to the bank.  The Help Wanted sign was still in the window.  Thinking about her father and the concern in his voice when he asked her would she be returning home to live, Annabeth steeled her nerve and decided to take a risk.  They probably wouldn't want to hire her, but she was going to ask anyway. 

"Hello," she said to Chuck Gleason.  "I was wondering about the job."

"Oh. Yes, we need help at the soda fountain.  And sometimes at the cash register.  The job only pays four..." Chuck looked at Annabeth, and he continued, "Well, all right, five dollars an hour.  Interested?"

"Yes I am."

"Would Wednesday be too soon?  I can't get a delivery of supplies before then."

"Wednesday will be just perfect."  He wanted her!  Just like that!  Annabeth couldn't believe it; somebody gave her a job!

Sally was waiting with Jackson at the car when Annabeth returned.  "Hi, Mom."

Annabeth smiled at the kids, saying, "Guess what?  I just got a job!"

"Doing what?" asked Sally.

Annabeth laughed.  "I'm Gleason's new soda jerk!"

"Oh, Mom, you shouldn't have to do that all day long.  That's a job for a kid."

"Congratulations," said Jackson.

"I think I'm lucky they wanted me.  So what are you kids up to?"

"Jackson wants me to go to dinner with him.  You don't mind do you?"

"Of course not.  You go on.  I'll see you later."

Annabeth drove back toward home, thinking about all the events of the day.  She would have to sit down with Maggie and work through the whole misunder-standing.  For the first time since her mother died, Annabeth really needed Maggie, and the thought of anger between them was really too much to bear.  She pulled up at the side of the house where she usually parked--in front of R.J.'s collection of heaps. R.J. himself was on a ladder in front of the house, painting the trim, covering over all the designs she had painted.

"What are you doing?" Annabeth spoke to R.J., who was balancing himself on the tall ladder which had been propped against the front of the house.

"I'm gettin' this place ready to sell.  Can't have all these tacky gee-gaws plastered all over the place."

Annabeth thought about the events of the last few weeks.  She remembered the humiliation of the party.  She thought about her car and the trouble it had caused her for months.  What was the point of being married to an ex-mechanic if you had to drive a car that wouldn't run?  Instead of tears rising up into her eyes, anger flooded her heart.  It was an unusual sensation for Annabeth, but one which felt appropriate at last.  She reached out toward the ladder where her husband perched and gave it a tentative shake.

"Now this is the way it's going to be," she said.  "You get down off that ladder, and you better make it quick or I'll help you down.  You get in your van and drive out of here.  This is my home and you're not taking it from me.  You want a divorce.  Fine.  Call my lawyer.  In the meantime, I don't expect you to show your face around here.  I'm finished with you, R.J. Welner."

R.J. looked astonished.  These were the first angry words she had ever spoken to him.  He grasped the ladder more tightly as she gave it another tentative shake.  The can of paint fell from his hand, spattering the grass below.  Annabeth shook the ladder a bit harder then watched her husband scramble down.  When he was three steps from the ground she had the urge to topple it completely.  In her mind she could see him sprawled on the ground, and she laughed at the vision.

By then R.J. had stepped down and was staring at her.  "What are you laughin' at?"

"Get out of here."  Annabeth watched as her husband drove away, then she let herself into the house, using the shiny new key which came with the lock Rum had installed.  She went into the kitchen, flipped open the phone book, and dialed Sam's Junk Yard, R.J.'s favorite auto salvage place.

"Hello?  I have a dozen cars to sell."