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Back at her bungalow a couple of days later, Pauline was stumped on what to do. She had spent the last two days emailing every single one of her colleagues, no matter where any one of them was located. Her search was global. She had reached out to Franklin, who had responded positively. The Market Team Africa office in Dakar was expanding. In a few months they would be ready to start hiring. Franklin thought she was a strong candidate for the Executive Creative Director position there. The role sounded promising, but she didn’t have a few months. She was also well aware that a few months in African time could easily mean a full year. The world has clocks. Africa has time, Pauline thought, remembering the saying she heard when she first arrived in Kenya.
She had other leads, but she found nothing appealing. She didn’t want to take a job merely for the sake of having one. She wanted her next move to be the right one and on her own terms. She owed herself at least that much.
Sitting on the couch with her laptop, she scanned her emails, she saw one from her lawyer in Toronto. Reading the email, she learned Curt was officially made persona non grata, in Kenya. Apparently, this was a legal term and not only an expression. In addition to his getting deported from Kenya, he had been summoned to Ottawa to speak with Canadian authorities.
Lucky bastard. He avoided Kenyan prison. I bet he’ll be able to talk his way out of Canadian jail time too. As she read further, her sour mood shifted into something more positive. Because Curt would be in Canada, he could be served divorce papers there. She could end their marriage under Canadian jurisdiction.
In the meantime, Curt was still in Kenya. She hadn’t seen him since their fight on Tilly’s driveway. I think it’s time for one last goodbye.
#
Pauline stood outside the entrance to Harvest, the restaurant and bar at the Trademark hotel. She thought about going to the lobby of the Trademark and asking for Curt at reception, but then decided the conversation would go smoother at the hotel bar.
She had been confident when she arrived at Village Market and made her way to the Harvest entrance. Now she hesitated, losing her nerve. The clamor from the nearby, posh bowling alley and the upscale food court one floor below surrounded her, making it hard for her to think. She wanted closure, but she didn’t know what to say to Curt. She wasn’t even sure what closure meant to her.
I need to do this, she told herself. After two or three minutes of standing in front of the restaurant and staring into space, she took out her cell phone and rang Curt. He picked up right away.
“Well,” he said. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“I wanted to talk, briefly. Can we grab a drink at Harvest?”
“How did you know I was here?”
“The police told me. Can we have one, quick drink?”
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. Sure. I’ll be down there in a few minutes.”
Pauline went into Harvest and sat in the bar and lounge area, choosing one of the light blue sofas near the pane glass windows that walled the front of the establishment. It was late afternoon on a Friday and the lounge was busy. She wondered who would arrive first, Curt or the waiter. When places were this busy, service could be slow. Ten minutes after she had seated herself, a waiter came by with a drinks menu and wine list. She had him wait as she selected, knowing it would be at least another fifteen minutes before he would return should he leave before she ordered. Curt arrived as the waiter was leaving. He tried to get the waiter’s attention but failed. That’s okay. You can wait to place your order.
“So,” she said to him. “I’m lucky that you’re in a good mood?”
He sat in a club chair across from her and assumed his usual mansplaining pose: leaning back with his right arm hung over the back of the chair and his left leg stretched out before him. “Yeah. I have a dinner meeting with a law firm tonight. They’re going to help me with this situation.”
“Is that right? Seems like you’re the lucky one, not me.”
“Yeah, you see, the government personnel in Ottawa want to talk to me, but I think it’s more about what I can offer and not what I did. I mean, I got in over my head, but is that really such a crime?”
“You got Zara killed. Did you forget that part?”
“Hey, I didn’t do it. This isn’t my fault. And yes, I do feel terrible about what happened to Zara.”
Pauline couldn’t believe how callous he was. “Yeah, I can see how torn up you are about it. A woman is dead because of you, and you get to walk away clean. You’re right. You are indeed lucky.”
“Hey, I said it wasn’t my fault. And I do feel bad. Like I said, I got in over my head. I did try to tell you about it, by the way. That’s not important now, I suppose.
“What is important is that I was able to get some very valuable information. The Kenyans were happy to receive it. Our government will be too. There may be a little backlash for me to deal with, but that’s where the law firm can help me out. Ian and I have been talking about it. He’s the one introducing me to the firm.”
Pauline rolled her eyes.
“Confident as ever, I see,” she said. “What’s the name of this magical, get-out-of-jail-free firm?”
“Hey, play nice,” Curt gave her a pointed look, which made Pauline want to punch him. “It’s called Heckler and Koch.”
The waiter returned with Pauline’s wine. He asked Curt, “Can I bring you something, sir?”
“Thanks, but no,” Curt said. He shook his head and waved off the waiter. He sat up straight and focused back on Pauline. “I’ve only got a little time before I meet with these guys.”
“All right then. I’ll get to business and keep it short and sweet. I have a lawyer on retainer in Toronto. You’ll be served with divorce papers as soon as you’re back home. It’s in your best interest to not contest.”
Curt nodded his head, taking in her words. “I’ll need to see what you serve me, of course. I’m sure we’ll work it out. I haven’t thought too much about any of that yet.”
“Did you think about everything you’re leaving behind here? All your stuff is still at the bungalow.”
“Look, it’s not like I’ve had a lot of time to plan. I’m leaving tomorrow night. And it’s not that big a deal. I can manage it remotely. I know people who can take care of it for me.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Pauline finished her wine and signaled for the bill. She looked at Curt. He had cleaned up and was in better shape than when she last saw him. He was handsome and knew it. Once upon a time, he could make her weak in the knees. Now, she knew better. His smug smile hinted that he had all the answers. He was as cocky as ever. He didn’t change. This is the man I married. I just didn’t see him for what he really is until now.
“Please,” Pauline said, as she paid for her wine. “Don’t let me keep you.”
“All right. So...then, I guess this is it.”
“This is it. This is the end, Curt.”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye.” Pauline tilted her head toward the exit.
Through the glass wall, Pauline could see Curt walk away. As he walked, a large man came out of the bowling alley and strolled a few feet behind Curt. Pauline was impressed by the size of the man. Damn, he’s huge, gigantic. I can’t even see Curt anymore. This guy totally blocks him out. Then, she smiled. That’s not such a bad thing.