He thought a few glasses of wine once the children had gone to bed could perhaps improve his chances of getting Eleanor to help him. In a state bordering on delusional hope, one from which he would inexorably lurch after a short time to a kind of numb fatalism, Maserov walked himself through a list of the tasks confronting him.
Tonight’s strategy, one born of desperation, was to pour Eleanor a glass of wine and then begin the kitchen-cleaning ritual by going down on his knees and vigorously scouring the floor under the kitchen table with damp paper towels.
‘You want me to what?’ Eleanor’s disbelief was palpable.
Maserov had asked her to help him get a swab of Carla Monterosso’s infant daughter’s saliva for the purpose of proving that A.A. Betga was the little girl’s father.
‘I know it sounds appalling —’
‘It’s child molestation. It’s a violation of the person,’ interrupted Eleanor.
‘Yeah, sure, I agree it looks like that but it’s actually a highly moral thing to be doing,’ Maserov countered from the floor underneath the kitchen table. ‘We’d be reuniting a little girl with her father.’
‘You want me to trick Carla into enabling you to get a paternity test done to determine whether the lawyer representing the victim can have all the rights of a father to her infant daughter. Establishing his paternity has become some kind of bargaining chip. It’s wrong and I’m not going to do it. How do you expect her to trust you?’
‘I don’t expect her to trust me. I expect her to trust her own lawyer.’
‘Yeah, but he started sleeping with her and then screwed around behind her back.’
‘He wasn’t merely sleeping with her, they were in a committed relationship.’
‘That makes it worse, don’t you see that? She was committed to him and he was committed to his own immediate gratification.’
‘He slipped up, I’ll grant you, and he’s desperately sorry. He wants to be a father to her daughter, his daughter.’
‘He says she’s his daughter,’ countered Eleanor.
‘Yes, but isn’t that better than getting Carla pregnant and then denying paternity? That would make him a deadbeat dad. But this, wanting to be in both their lives, it’s kind of noble.’
‘Noble! You’re good.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And did you say he wants to be in both their lives?’ Eleanor asked, sipping the pinot grigio he’d poured her.
‘Yes.’
‘So he wants to reconcile with Carla as well as be a father to Marietta?’
‘Yes,’ said Maserov, sensing that he was making some headway. ‘And he only slipped up once,’ he went on, which he recognised was counter-productive when the amount of blood flowing to Eleanor’s face increased perceptibly.
‘How many times is it acceptable to cheat on your partner?’
‘None,’ Maserov shot back. ‘No times.’
‘Right,’ snapped Eleanor.
‘I’m just saying, as wrong as once is, surely once is much better than many times.’
‘I’ll grant you that.’
‘Listen.’ Maserov was not giving up. ‘Let me take you through a few propositions and you tell me if you agree with them or not.’
‘Okay.’
‘Every child deserves the opportunity to have a relationship with his or her father.’
At this Eleanor looked up at him and he could see that this was really perhaps the only point worth making, that this was what made getting a paternity test right.
‘Agreed,’ Eleanor responded reluctantly.
‘So don’t see it as doing a favour for Betga but rather as giving a little girl another chance to have her father in her life.’ Maserov could see that Eleanor momentarily looked at him with the tenderness she used to bestow on him before he’d embarked on a legal career.
‘But why do we have to deceive her, to go around there with the pretext of a play date for the children and slip an ice-cream stick in her daughter’s mouth when she’s not looking? It feels so dishonest. Why can’t we just tell her the truth?’
‘It’s just that if she knows in advance that you want to talk about Betga’s putative paternity of Marietta she may not agree to the play date.’
‘You realise you’re pimping out your children now? You do realise that?’
‘Do you realise,’ Maserov countered, ‘that you’re scanning, ransacking your mind for reasons to not help me?’
‘Why do you need your wife and children to prop up your career?’
‘Eleanor, can we separate this . . . this suggested course of action, which is admittedly for my career but also for the house, the mortgage, for our family, from —’
‘Now he talks about the good of the family,’ she said to an invisible audience. ‘I’m bringing up two kids on my own while you swan around the city in a suit with all those other corporate lawyers.’
‘I don’t swan, I flap, I flounder. I’m just trying to stay employed. It’s not just for me, it’s for all of us. And as for helping out more with the kids, you kicked me out!’
‘I did, didn’t I?’ she said, almost with pride. ‘You never thought I’d actually go through with it. You thought I was too scared to live without you, didn’t have the guts.’
‘Not because you didn’t have the guts but because when your transient discontent with this or that subsided you’d realise that we love each other, that we’re good together —’
‘We were never together . . . well, not for years.’
‘— that it’s good for the kids. I’m a good father.’
‘You are a good father,’ she conceded.
‘Maybe Betga would be a good father.’
That made her stop and think. ‘Okay, I’ll call Carla and see if I can set up a play date.’
‘Great, it’s the right thing to do.’
‘But I’m not going to take any ice-cream sticks or plastic bags. I’m going to tell her the truth.’
‘You’ve got to do whatever you’re comfortable doing,’ he said, knowing this was the best he could do.
‘I think she liked me. I’ll call you as soon as we’ve got a time and date.’
‘She definitely responded to you . . . I could see that.’
‘I simply chose to be honest. And I’m going to be honest with her again.’
‘Yep. Sure. Go with your instincts,’ Maserov agreed. ‘But don’t tell her why you’re there until you’re inside and she’s closed the door.’