In Between Days (20 page)

He knew that Ted wasn’t going to be too happy about this, of course, knew that he’d probably flip his lid, but at the same time he didn’t really see what else he could do, what other options he had. Still, it had felt a little strange writing something so formal to a man he’d known for almost thirty years, a man who had attended his wedding and his children’s birthday parties, a man who he used to consider a friend.

He’d sent the e-mail off just before ten while Ted was off at a meeting and then had spent the rest of the morning busying himself with the final details for his two current projects: the modest private residence outside of Houston and a renovated town house downtown. Neither of these projects was very interesting to him, nor rewarding, but he hadn’t mentioned this to Ted in his e-mail. He hadn’t wanted to seem ungrateful or unhappy. He hadn’t wanted to give him the wrong impression. This had nothing to do with his past complaints, he’d wanted to emphasize. It had nothing to do with that. Still, he knew that Ted wasn’t going to like it. They were already majorly understaffed in several departments and were already having trouble meeting the deadlines for the projects they currently had. If Elson pulled out now, they’d be in even worse shit. They’d have to limit their new commissions, ask others to work overtime, maybe even lose some of the commissions they currently had. Potentially, this could cost the firm a lot of money, he knew that, just as he knows now, sitting at his desk, watching the door, waiting for Ted’s return, that this is not going to go well.

• • •

As it turns out, however, Ted doesn’t return until almost three o’clock, and when he does, he goes straight into his office and closes the door behind him. It was strange, but Ted had always handled his business dealings at the office behind closed doors. Even in those early years, when things were a lot more casual, Ted had always stayed holed up in his office, leaving the social interaction, the rallying of the troops, the boosting of morale, to Lewis Gordon. Lewis would hang out in the break room, chatting with the interns, arguing about the Rockets, making plans for dinner or drinks after work. Meanwhile, Ted would be going over the numbers in his office, calling up the clients, trying to figure out who was expendable and who wasn’t. Still, Elson had always felt a closer connection to Ted for some reason—maybe because a part of him pitied him, or maybe because it was Ted who had first hired him, or maybe it was simply because he had always seen in Ted a small part of himself. It is this that he’s considering when he receives the phone call from Ted’s secretary informing him that Ted would like to see him now.

Bracing himself, he stands up from his desk and adjusts his tie. Then he starts down the hallway toward the partners’ offices, knowing what will happen now, knowing what Ted will say to him even before he says it. And when he enters Ted’s office, he finds Ted sitting behind his desk, as usual, brooding.

“What the hell?” Ted says, holding up the e-mail, which he’d apparently printed out.

“I need a vacation,” Elson says.

“No shit,” Ted says. “We all need a vacation. Find me one person in this office who doesn’t need a vacation.”

“I mean, I need some time off,” Elson says. “For personal reasons.”

Ted stares at him. “Is this because of Cadence?”

“No, no,” he says. “Chloe.”

“Chloe?” Ted says, squinting at him. “What’s going on?”

Elson shrugs. “Can’t really say.”

“Elson.”

Suddenly he can feel Ted’s eyes on him. “Well, she dropped out of school for one thing,” he says, finally, looking down.

“School?”

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“No, no,” he says. “It’s more complicated than that actually, but I can’t really get into it right now.”

Ted looks at him, perplexed. If at all possible, he’d like to avoid telling Ted anything specific about Chloe’s situation, knowing the type of scandal this would cause in the office, knowing the way this would undoubtedly reflect on him.

“You’re gonna have to do a little better than that, El.”

Elson looks out the window behind Ted’s desk at the towering skyscrapers of downtown Houston, shimmering in the light. He considers his alternatives, what he might say, then finally shrugs. “Look, Ted,” he says. “She’s gone missing.”

“What do you mean she’s gone missing?”

“I mean, we don’t know where she is.”

Ted looks at him suspiciously. “Elson, come on now. This all sounds a little strange.”

“I know it does.”

“Have you called the police?”

“No,” he says. “I mean, we can’t really. It’s complicated.”

Ted sighs, shakes his head. “Jesus, Elson.”

“But this has gotta stay between us, okay?” he says, feeling suddenly as if he’s said too much. “This can’t leave the office.”

Ted nods and pauses for a long time. “I don’t have to tell you what this is going to do to us, El.”

“I know,” Elson says.

“And I can’t make any promises.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you said ‘indefinite.’ Depending on what ‘indefinite’ means, I can’t make any promises.”

Elson stares at him, not quite comprehending. Is he actually saying what he thinks he’s saying? Is he making a threat? For some time now, Elson had known that his job was in jeopardy, that everyone’s job was in jeopardy, but this had been more of an abstract thought, not something he’d actually believed. Still, looking at Ted now, he feels suddenly unnerved. “What are you saying exactly?”

“I’m not saying anything, Elson.”

“Really? Because it almost sounded like you were making a threat.”

“Nobody’s threatening anyone here, Elson. Jesus. All I’m saying is that you need to put yourself in my position for a second, okay? I’m not saying I’m not sympathetic, but you disappear for a few weeks, and it’s going to cost me money. That’s the bottom line.”

“I’m talking about two weeks,” Elson says.

“You didn’t say that,” Ted says. “You said ‘indefinite.’ ”

“Okay,” Elson says. “Well, I’m saying it now. Okay? Two weeks. Can I please have off two fucking weeks to find my daughter?” He realizes now that he’s standing up, shouting, that Ted is suddenly frightened. He tries to apologize, but Ted waves him off, looks away, shakes his head.

“Go home, Elson,” he says finally. “Okay? Why don’t you just go home.”

“Two weeks,” Elson says. “Okay? That’s it. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Fine,” Ted says. “Whatever.” Then he turns around and begins to go through the filing cabinet behind his desk, busying himself until Elson finally leaves.

At five, Elson meets Dave Millhauser at a tiny German beer garden outside of Montrose. They sit at an outdoor table and smoke cigarettes, drink beer, order food. Though Elson had called Dave up in a state of panic, Dave spends the first half hour talking about himself, complaining about his dire living conditions, his bleak job prospects, his inability to get past what has happened to him at Rice. He talks about the fights he’s been having with Cheryl, how he’s gained weight, how he doesn’t feel like himself anymore. He tells him how Cheryl has been spending more and more time away from the house, how he feels like he’s losing her, how he suspects she might be having an affair. There’s a tinge of paranoia to almost everything Dave is saying, and yet Elson just sits there patiently and listens, nods earnestly, waiting for Dave to change the subject, which he eventually does, and when he does, Elson takes this opportunity to tell him about Chloe and then to ask him if he’s had a chance to talk with his friend up at Stratham. Dave pauses for a long time, staring out at the palm trees on the far end of the courtyard, then finally says yes, he has, and reaches for his beer and takes a sip. “But I have to tell you, El. It doesn’t look good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it doesn’t look good.”

“Well, what did he say?”

“Not much. Just that those kids are in a whole heap of trouble, you know. Apparently the administration’s having a cow over this shit. They’re having to do some major damage control, you know, trying to keep the whole thing under wraps. I mean, something like this, El, it could kill a school.”

Elson nods. “Did he say anything about Chloe?”

Dave shakes his head. “Not once. Just talked about the other two. The two boys.”

Elson nods.

“My advice,” Dave says, “is to keep her as far away from this shit as possible.”

“I would,” Elson says, “if I knew where the hell she was.”

“You think she may have gone back up there to be with that boy?”

Elson shrugs. “Who knows? That’s what Cadence seems to think. I mean, Richard said something about her leaving Houston, and so Cadence thinks that if she went anywhere she would have gone back there, you know, to be with him, but really, who knows?”

Dave reaches across the table and pats Elson’s arm. “I’m sorry, El. Really. I wish I had better news.”

Elson nods and reaches for his cigarettes. Across from them, on the other side of the patio, a group of kids roughly Chloe’s age are laughing and talking, raising their glasses of beer in a toast. He feels something tightening in his stomach, a pinching, and then looks away.

For the next half hour they talk about various things unrelated to the current crisis in Elson’s life, or the current crisis in Dave’s life, but after a while the conversation inevitably comes back to Chloe, and Dave asks him how Cadence is taking the whole thing, how she’s handling it. Before he arrived, Elson had decided not to mention anything to Dave about Cadence or the fact that she is now seeing someone else, but now that Dave has brought it up, and now that he’s had a few beers, he sees no reason not to. As he tells him about what happened the night before, about what Cadence told him, he can see Dave’s face softening.

“Jesus,” he says finally. “So she’s actually seeing someone else?”

“Apparently.”

Dave shakes his head. “Man,” he says. “So how do you feel about that?”

“How do I feel about it?” Elson laughs. “How do you think I feel about it? I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.”

Dave looks at him and nods. “You know who it is?”

“No,” Elson says. “I was hoping you might be able to help me out with that.”

“Me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I was hoping Cadence might have said something to Cheryl about it.”

“Cheryl?” Dave laughs. “El, I don’t think those two have talked in like six months or so. Maybe longer.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“They’re not friends anymore?”

“Friends?” Dave laughs. “Are you serious?”

Dave shakes his head, and for some reason this makes Elson sad. For so long now, Cadence and Cheryl had been like sisters, even tighter than sisters, and it suddenly seems strange to him that Cadence had never mentioned it.

“It’s funny,” he says finally. “I didn’t think I’d care this much, you know? I mean, I thought I could handle it. But I guess you never really know how you’re going to feel until it happens.”

“You think it’s serious?” Dave says after a moment, picking up his beer.

“No idea,” he says. “Probably not. Maybe about as serious as me and Lorna, you know.” He looks at Dave. “And speaking of, she’s not talking to me either.”

“Yeah, I heard about that.”

“She told you?”

“Well, she told me you were looking on her computer or something and that you broke into her e-mail account.”

“That’s not the whole story,” Elson says.

Dave raises up his arms. “Look, El, I don’t want to get involved.”

“I’m just saying that there are two sides to every story.”

“I’m sure there are,” Dave says. “And I’m just saying that I don’t want to get involved.”

Elson looks at Dave and decides to drop it. “You think there’s any chance she’ll take me back?”

“Who? Lorna?”

“Yeah.”

“If I was a betting man,” Dave says and starts to laugh. “If I was a betting man, El, I’d have to say no.”

“Great,” Elson says. “So I’m screwed on all sides. Every woman in my life hates me.”

“Chloe doesn’t hate you.”

“No,” Elson says, sipping on his beer, feeling a sudden sadness in his gut. “I think you’d be wrong about that.”

On the ride home, Elson thinks about calling Cadence but doesn’t. He’s still feeling a little embarrassed about the way they’d left things the night before, the way he’d just sat there like a stone, unable to tell her all the things he’d wanted to tell her. He wonders what she must have thought about it all, how pathetic he must have seemed. He wonders if he should have just given her what she wanted: a fight. Then he considers what it’s going to be like from here on out, whether he’ll actually have to meet this man, whether he’ll have to see him on the children’s birthdays or on special occasions. The thought of Cadence with someone else, someone other than him, is so unsettling to him, so disturbing, that he can barely think about it for more than a minute without wincing. And of course he recognizes the double standard in this—the fact that he feels entitled to date himself while incensed that Cadence might do the same—but that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach. It doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

The night before, after he’d left her at the house, he had driven over to the Brunswick Hotel by himself and sat for a long time at the bar. He had found himself wondering what would happen to him now and what would happen to him if he never met someone else to spend his life with, if he ended up all alone in an empty house with no one around to take care of him. What if he woke up one morning, he’d wondered then, and suddenly lacked the desire to get out of bed? Would anyone notice? Would anyone care? Or what if there were something physically wrong with him? Who would take care of him then? He likes to think that his children would, but would they really? Would Cadence? Hadn’t he burned a few too many bridges there? And what in the end would he be left with? A couple dozen buildings he was proud of, two children who despised him, an ex-wife who had since moved on and remarried. At the end of the day, how would they sum up his life? What would they say
about him? For so long he had cared only about making beautiful buildings, and then only about Cadence, and then only about his children, but what in the end was he left with? What in the end did he have to show for it?