Colin left the house early, before either Maureen or the kids had woken. On the train ride into the city, he leaned his head against the window and tried to puzzle things out. It wasn't that he was depressed or heartbroken, although surely both of those things were at the core of the problem. Instead, he felt nothing whatsoever. He was neither up nor down, neither elated nor melancholy. He was numb.
All that mattered now was that he figure out his next step. No overreaction, only a thoughtful, logical review of the facts. He wanted to do the right thing and be a man of integrity who acted in the best interest of his family. But which path led to him doing the right thing?
The train arrived at his stop and he spilled out onto the platform with the other commuters. As though on autopilot, he headed in the direction of his office.
The cold, hard truth is that he and Maureen were more roommates than husband and wife. So, was it brave to stay in a loveless marriage, or did the bravery come in acknowledging that it was over? Clearly, it was not in the children's best interest to come from a broken home, but what exactly did "broken" mean? He and Maureen barely had a civil word for each other, so was the family broken already or would the break come after separation?
Then there were the finances to consider. If he stayed in the marriage, losing everything was inevitable. She had no interest in curbing her spending or earning an income. If he took a second job, she'd spend that too. However, if he left, he'd owe alimony and child support. She'd probably get half his pension too.
As he turned into Espressamente for his morning coffee, he sighed. At least the finances were easy to figure out. One way or the other, he was broke.
It was a relief when his cell phone rang. He was far from a decision, but he was getting a massive headache. Work, for once, was welcome.
He looked down at his screen. It was Gina calling. "What can I do for you?" he asked.
"What?" she replied. "Not even a 'good morning'?"
"Good morning. What can I do for you?" He paid for his coffee and stepped out of line.
"Oh my. Someone got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"Yes, I did." He was tired. So very tired. "What do you want?"
"All right then, business it is. Remember that tell-all book I mentioned? I'm giving you the first opportunity to bid on it."
"I'm not sure I'm the best person to talk to. Give Henry a call."
"Like hell."
"He's the boss."
"He's also a little shit."
"Listen, Gina . . ."
"No, you listen." The gloves were off. "You're in trouble, Colin."
Time for his brave face; she was an agent after all. "Things are in hand, not to worry."
"Without a marketing plan, Miguel's book is dead in the water."
"You know about that?"
"Colin, everyone knows about that."
"I see."
"You need a home run. This tell-all will sell itself. Guaranteed."
"Fine." He held the door open for a woman entering the café, then stepped back into the morning air. "What's it about?"
"Meet me for a late lunch, and I'll fill you in."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Nonsense. I'll meet you at New Vine Wine Bar. Three o'clock."
"I'll check my schedule."
She sighed. "I'm trying to help you. God knows someone has to."
That was an excellent point.
"Three o'clock. New Vine. Got it?" she asked.
"Got it."