CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CALIFORNIA SAND

The next day, Claire left work a few minutes early so she could drop off her retainer to Mr. Trevor Smiley. He wouldn’t file any paperwork until the bloodwork came back from Melanie, but there were a lot of preliminary things he wanted to get started on.

Claire wrote the check from her personal account, but she had to take fifteen hundred dollars from their joint savings to cover it. George wasn’t too involved with the bill-paying side of their marriage, but he did check their balances every so often.

Claire knew it was a gamble, but fifteen hundred was a pretty small percentage of the bulk they had in there. Plus George had a birthday coming up in a couple of months. If worse came to worst, Claire could say she was planning something very special for him. Technically, that wasn’t even a lie.

Before she left his office, Mr. Smiley reached to shake her hand. Claire offered it, and he stared longingly into her eyes when he shook. Claire knew his advances were serious, but she didn’t have him figured out yet. She’d been out of the dating game for a long time; almost two decades. She had no idea what men really wanted anymore. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to find out. But then again…

“What do you want from me, Trevor? Seriously…” she asked him.

The lawyer leaned back against his desk and smiled warmly. He wore a suit today. The coat and slacks were a soft maroon. His shirt was tan. He was smooth, poised, and confident.

“That’s not a fair question.”

“Why not?”

He shook his head. “Because if I say I just want to be friends, you’ll know I’m lying. And if I say anything but that, then I’m out of line. You’re a married woman, Claire. You’re not even separated yet. And as soon as your check clears, you’re officially my client. I’m not in a position to want anything at all from you.”

“So why do you persist?”

“Why does a moth chase a flame that might devour him?” he asked. “I can’t explain my actions anymore than he can. All I can say is this: When you walked out of my office after that first meeting, I knew you were a good woman. I knew you were beautiful, strong, kind, and intelligent. I didn’t think it was possible for a man to cheat on you. I thought you would discover you were wrong, and I’d never hear from you again.”

Claire listened intently and she watched his eyes. She didn’t believe he was lying.

“When you came back,” Trevor went on, “I was torn. I knew how much it hurt you to find out your suspicions were true, but I also believed you deserved a better man who would never cause you pain like that. I felt that right away. I told you, George is stark raving mad to disrespect you in this manner.”

“But what do you want?”

“I want to make you happy,” the lawyer said. “I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t. I’m going to win this case for you, and if that’s the only happiness I can ever give you, I’ll accept that. But you’re no old maid, Mrs. Hudgens. It may not feel like it right now, but you will date and probably marry again. That may not be any time soon, but when you’re ready, I’d sure like to take you out sometime.” He threw up his hands. “That’s it. That’s my story; the whole truth.”

Claire liked his answer, but this guy was starting to sound too good. “I think you’re a player,” she said.

He chuckled softly. “A player? No, ma’am. I grew up in a household with seven sisters and no brothers. Plus my dad left when I was two, so I was the only boy in our home. I respect women to the utmost. I’ve never hit a woman or cheated on one. I’ve broken a few hearts in my time, but I was the recipient of the heartbreaks more often than not. Girls used to tell me I was sensitive. They thought I was the nice-guy type—which wasn’t so good, considering I grew up in the ghetto.”

Claire smiled. “Well, if you’re such an all-around good guy, why are you not married yourself?”

“I was,” Trevor said, and his smile went away completely. “My wife died of breast cancer four years ago.”

Claire felt bad for being so nosey. “I’m sorry.”

“You had no way of knowing,” he said. “I’ve dated a few women since then, but none who struck me as marriage material. The game’s changed a lot since I was young. A lot of women don’t like to cook nowadays. They don’t like to take care of kids. They act like I cursed them out when I ask them to do my laundry.”

Claire laughed.

“The game’s going to be a lot different for you, too,” Trevor warned. “There aren’t too many straight-laced, hard-working black men out there.”

Aye, there’s the rub.

“So you think I should hook up with you so I don’t waste my time searching.”

He grinned. “I knew you were smart.”

“I’m married, too.”

“I’m working on that.”

“Well, let’s take care of that first,” Claire said. She knew she was giving him hope, but what was wrong with that? George had a whole family on the side. Maybe she should have an ace in the hole as well.

“Do you ever look at my card?” he asked. “There’s a cell phone number on there. That’s my personal line. I have it with me all the time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Claire said.

She left his office with a tight squeeze in her stomach, and it didn’t go away until she got to her car. She sat behind the steering wheel breathing slowly, trying to calm her heartbeats. She knew it was wrong to carry on with her lawyer in that manner, but it was thrilling, and it was different. Nothing George could do right now would put a smile on her face, but when Trevor said she was beautiful, Claire felt like she might float out of the room. And she believed he meant it, too.

She wouldn’t call his personal number, but a fine man like Mr. Smiley could compliment her as often as he wanted. If that violated some lawyer/client protocol, then so be it. She sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to report it.

* * *

With the retainer paid, Claire knew the façade of her happy marriage would collapse in a matter of weeks rather than months. She felt it was time to have a long talk with the only parties still left in the dark, but discussing DIVORCE with the kids was a worst case scenario. How do you tell them their life is going to be altered in ways that might still affect them twenty years from now? How do you explain that their father is not the fair and honest man they looked up to?

Originally, Claire wanted to wait until the papers were filed. George would move out, and she could sit her babies down and explain why Daddy was never coming back home. But Becky thought that might be too much of a shock, especially if they didn’t think Mom and Dad had problems previously. Claire definitely wasn’t ready to tell them today, but she thought she’d test the waters a little bit.

She started with George Jr. since he was the first one to be picked up. She pulled in front of Wedgwood Elementary and got out so she could stand under the large awning that shaded the front door. The bell rang a few minutes later, and the students started marching out in orderly lines, headed by their teachers. George Jr. rushed from the pack as soon as he saw his mother.

“Hey, Mama!” He threw his arms around her waist, and Claire patted his back.

“Did you tell your teacher you’re leaving?” she asked.

“I saw him,” a flustered Mrs. Flores called over her shoulder. She turned quickly to yell at another student. “Justin! Justin, get over here! Sit down! I mean it!”

Claire walked away hand-in-hand with her little one. “You don’t hang around with Justin, do you?” she asked.

“No, I don’t like Justin. He never shuts up, and he never makes good grades. He can make milk squirt out of his nose, though.”

“Well that’s special,” Claire quipped.

“I know,” George Jr. said. “He’s got a girlfriend and everything.”

When they got to the car, Claire found she didn’t have to work too hard to get little George’s opinion of his dad. She didn’t even have to initiate the conversation, as a matter of fact.

“Is Daddy coming home today?”

“He just left a couple days ago,” Claire said. “Do you miss him already?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you miss your Dad?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Because I love him?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I’m telling you,” he said. “Don’t you miss Daddy?”

“We’re not talking about me. Tell me, what do you like to do with your Dad?”

“I like when he’s not at work and he can take us to the race track, and sometimes he takes us fishing. He taught me how to swim, and we swimmed in the lake before.”

“You swam in the lake,” Claire corrected.

“Oh yeah, swammed.”

Claire giggled. “What about when he’s gone all the time?” she asked.

“I miss him.”

“What if he left one day and didn’t come back to live with us anymore?” she asked with a straight face.

George Jr. had to think about that. “Why not?”

Claire shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he wanted to live somewhere else…”

Now he was confused. “Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know,” Claire said. “I’m just asking how you think you would feel about it if that happened.”

“If he didn’t come home?”

“Mmm, hmm.”

“Could I go live with Daddy, too?” he asked.

Oh, God, Claire thought. She’d forgotten that was even an option. “No, you’d still be with me.”

“Why couldn’t we all stay with you?” he asked. “I don’t like it when Daddy doesn’t come home.” He folded his arms and pouted.

“Daddy is coming home,” Claire said, realizing what a total mess this was. “I was just asking a hypothetical question.”

“What’s hypothetical?”

“It’s when you ask a question that can’t really happen. Like if I asked you, ‘Would you like it if you had cauliflowers for ears?’ ”

She tugged his earlobe and he giggled.

“There’s no way you could have cauliflowers for ears,” Claire said. “That’s why it’s called a hypothetical question.”

She was glad to get the smile back on his face, but George Jr. never came across a bit of new knowledge without sharing. As soon as Stacy got into the car, he showed off his new word.

“I got a hypo-medical question.” He turned and grinned at her. “What would you do if Daddy didn’t come home?”

Claire’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at him with wide eyes. But the damage was done. Stacy’s face fell also. She glared at her mom in the rearview mirror.

“Daddy’s not coming home?”

“Daddy’s coming home,” Claire assured her daughter.

“Did he get in a plane crash?” Stacy asked.

“No.”

“Train wreck?”

“No.”

“Hurricane Katrina?”

“No! Girl, where are you coming up with this stuff?”

“That’s how they did my friend when her brother died. Instead of coming right out with it, they asked how she would feel it he didn’t come home anymore.”

“Well, that was wrong,” Claire said, “but there’s nothing wrong with your father. I talked to him earlier today. And Hurricane Katrina was a one-time thing. You can’t get the same hurricane twice.”

Stacy kicked the back of George’s seat. “Why you playing?”

“I’m not playing. Mama asked me that.”

Stacy’s angst went back to her mom. “Mama, why’d you ask us that?”

“I didn’t ask you anything,” Claire pointed out. “I asked George Jr. And I didn’t tell you to ask your sister,” she scolded her son.

“But are you asking because it really is happening?” Stacy asked.

“No,” Claire said.

“So there’s nothing wrong with Dad?”

“Nothing.”

“He’s not dead?”

“I promise you, he’s not dead. He’s just fine, and he’ll be back in less than a week. So can we just drop it?”

They did, until Nikki got in the car.

“I got a hypo-medical question,” George Jr. announced as soon as she sat down.

“What did I tell you?” Claire snapped.

“Oh yea.”

“What?” Nikki asked.

“Nothing,” Claire said.

“Mama asked George what he would do if Daddy didn’t come home,” Stacy blurted.

Claire couldn’t believe her ears.

“Daddy’s not coming home?” Nikki asked.

Rather than exit the parking lot, Claire pulled up the emergency brake. She turned in her seat so she could look at all three of her crumb-snatchers at the same time.

“Your father will be home in four days,” she told Nikki. “He’s not dead,” she told Stacy. “And I was just making conversation,” she told George Jr. “If I would’ve known it was going to turn into this, I wouldn’t have said anything. So we’re going to drop it, okay?”

Everyone nodded.

“I’ll let you guys call him as soon as we get home.”

“I wanna talk first,” George Jr. shouted, and that seemed to settle things.

* * *

Unfortunately, none of Claire’s children rode the short bus to school. Nikki crept into her mother’s room a little after eleven that night. Claire was lying down, but she wasn’t asleep yet. She was actually daydreaming, thinking about her two-timing husband. She wondered if he was making love to Ms. Pate at that exact moment, or if they were simply in bed together snuggling and spooning.

Nikki sat on the corner of her mother’s mattress wearing the long Scooby Doo shirt she slept in. Claire sat up and studied her forlorn features.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I wasn’t sleepy.” Nikki always looked somewhat depressed, but she appeared to be on the verge of tears now.

“Come here.” Claire patted the spot next to her. Nikki got up and sat closer. Claire put an arm around her and touched her cheek with the back of her hand. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m not sick,” Nikki said.

“So what’s going on?”

“Are you still mad at Dad?” she asked, and Claire knew she should have kept her mouth shut earlier.

“Is that what’s bothering you? You still thinking about what your brother said?”

“Why’d you ask him that?”

Claire hated to be dishonest with her children. She didn’t think she could even pull off a lie of this magnitude. “Is Stacy still tripping about that, too?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then why are you?”

“Stacy’s still a kid,” Nikki informed. “She doesn’t understand things.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“I’m fourteen.”

“Really?”

Nikki frowned at her.

“Listen,” Claire said, “I know you think you’re a big girl, but you’re not so old. You’ve still got a lot of growing up to do. Take your time and enjoy it.”

“I will,” Nikki promised, “after you tell me what’s going on with Daddy.”

“Your father’s fine,” Claire said.

“Are y’all getting a divorce?”

Claire almost choked on her own tongue. “Uh, ahem—where did you get that idea?”

“If there’s nothing wrong with him, why else wouldn’t he come home?” Nikki asked.

“He is coming home,” Claire said. “I told you that. You talked to him just today.”

“Tell the truth, Mama. I know you and Dad have been mad at each other. And then you asked George how he would feel if Daddy didn’t come home.”

Claire wondered if she had a child psychology book in the office somewhere. If so, she should have read it before free-styling with such a delicate subject. “Married people don’t get divorces just because they’re mad at each other sometimes,” Claire said. “Your dad’s fine, and he’s coming home, and I wish I never said anything. It was just a hypothetical question that got blown all out of proportion.”

“Hypo-medical,” Nikki teased.

“Right, hypo-medical,” Claire said with a smile. She pulled her daughter close and held her tightly. “It’s time for you to go to bed. You feel better?”

Nikki nodded, and it broke Claire’s heart to comfort her child with a fib. This wasn’t Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. This was a real live grown-up lie that was going to bite her in the ass within a month. She wondered if her daughter would hold it against her when the bottom finally fell out from under them.

“I love you, pumpkin,” she said and kissed her temple softly.

“I love you, too, Mama,” Nikki said and squeezed a little tighter.

* * *

The next four days without George were nothing special to the kids, but Melanie’s prediction took hold and became an actuality for Claire. It was nearly impossible to get her adulterous husband off her mind. Claire wondered if Ms. Kimberly Pate cooked big breakfasts for George. She wondered if Kim liked to jump on him after his morning push ups like his real wife used to.

During the sunlight hours Claire was able to occupy her mind with trivial things, like work, cooking and child-rearing. But at night she tossed in her sheets like a ship lost in a storm. Claire knew exactly what George’s mistress looked like, and that travesty helped her imagine awful, horrible things. When she closed her eyes at night, Claire not only saw them making love, but she saw candle wax, rose petals and satin sheets.

Before George gave her the wrong anniversary gift, he could make Claire smile with just a goofy look or a simple gesture of kindness. It broke her heart to know that he was making another woman smile with his silly antics. George used to play with Claire’s toes when they were spent and exhausted but still caught up in the raptures of love, and she wondered if he bonded with Ms. Pate in this way.

Imagining the sex was torment enough, but it was the little things that set Claire’s soul on fire.

* * *

She didn’t think it was possible to literally hate her husband, but by the time George returned from California, Claire wanted nothing to do with him. He came in at dinnertime wearing tan shorts with a white shirt and a brown Cuban fedora. He had his suitcase in one hand and a large paper bag in the other. The kids left their seats and rushed to him like he was returning from war.

“Daddy!”

He picked up his son with one arm and threw the other one around his daughters. He smiled brightly and passed out kisses like candy. “Heh, hey! You guys miss me?”

“Yes!” they screamed in unison. “What’d you bring us?”

“Whoa! I thought y’all missed me!” he said with a big grin. “Well, come on over here and let’s see what we got.” He moved to the dining room with three monkeys hanging on his arms. “Hey, baby,” he said to Claire. “I got something for you, too.”

He put the bag on the table and the kids crowded around like it was Christmastime. “These are for my middle child,” he said, producing a pair of leather sandals with large soles and long straps. Stacy grabbed the shoes and pirouetted like a ballerina.

“Thanks, Dad!”

George Jr. got a remote-controlled Hummer, and Nikki got a new journal, complete with pens, bookmarks, and a small locking mechanism. Claire made a mental note that none of those gifts necessarily came from California, but George didn’t pull off a decade-long affair by being foolish. The next item he retrieved from his big bag of treats was a plastic bottle filled with sand, just as Claire had requested. The sand was layered and colored blue, yellow, purple and pink.

“Here, baby. I don’t know what you want this for, but I’d do anything for you.”

Claire took it and forced a smile as best she could.

“I got something else for you,” he said, still digging in the bag. He produced a jewelry box this time, and it suddenly struck Claire that George always brought her a nice gift when he came back from his long business trips. He opened the box for her, but the glimmer from the gold bracelet was all but lost in a fire that raged behind Claire’s pupils.

This asshole’s trying to buy me off, she realized. Just like the husband who brought flowers after giving his wife a black eye, George was trying to lessen the guilt he felt for living with his second family for the past week. Claire felt like an idiot for letting him do this to her for so long. How many times had she run to mirror with a new trinket while Kimberly Pate’s perfume lingered on his lapel?

“Thank you,” she said.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

“I do. It’s fine.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m home,” George said with a hearty grin. “Shouldn’t have to go back for a week or two.”

“That’s fine,” Claire said numbly, knowing that if everything went the way she wanted it, the next time he went to Irving it would be a permanent move.