Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel (13 page)

“Hm. Yes, people think so. She’s anorexic. But more to
the point, she shouldn’t have been there.” Simon glanced at Maddie. “If you’re
finished your milk Maddie you can go to the play area.” She spun around in her
chair and gulped her remaining milk, wiping her face on her sleeve and leaping
down in one blurred movement. Simon shook his head.

“She’s very good,” Kate smiled, drinking her hot tea
appreciatively, watching Maddie sit down in the play corner and dig with
determination into a pile of grubby dolls and cars with missing body parts.

“Yes. She is. Usually.” He added, pursing his lips. “I’m
surprised she doesn’t act out more. She has to deal with a lot of
disappointment. She’s supposed to spend every second weekend with Rachel, but
Rachel quite often cancels for some reason or another. She travels… It’s very
frustrating for both of us, as you can imagine. Maddie doesn’t understand.”

“Ah. I see. So this was Rachel’s weekend and—”

“She left her with a sitter —a stranger– after she’d been
ill last week. I was furious.” He spoke through clenched teeth, his face
darkening with his words, and Kate believed him. Clearly he only wanted what
was best for his daughter.

“I can certainly understand why that would ruin your
mood,” said Kate with sympathy. She appreciated what he had to contend with.
Not only did Maddie rarely see her mother, but poor Simon had no time to
himself.

“That’s not all. I’m afraid she made some comment about
you, and I was already so riled up, I told her we were old… lovers, just to
annoy her.” He winced. “I’m the guilty party.” Kate’s face must have shown her
dismay, because Simon nodded and looked down, continuing. “After Sharon’s snide
comments, I knew how big a mistake it was. I should have realized she would run
straight to Rachel to blab. It was foolish, and I’m truly sorry.” He looked up
at her, his eyes pleading. “Afterwards, I was as angry at myself as I was at
the two of them.”

She hesitated. It was very difficult not to be swayed.
She sighed. “Well. You’re forgiven. I wonder what will come of it.”

Simon admitted he was relieved to have a chance to
apologize before their meeting Tuesday.

“I am too,” replied Kate, “I think.” She paused. “I’m
having difficulty taking your measure.” He gazed at her, his sandy brows
pinched together. The wide swath of sunlight from the window had arced across
the table as the afternoon wore on, and now painted a brighter trapezoid of
azure like a frame on the cobalt wall behind them. Along the way it highlighted
his windswept hair, picking out pale strands among the burnished gold and
illuminating the course texture of his sheepskin collar.

“I’m not so mysterious. You know me better than you
think.” She glanced nervously at him. “Tell me about you instead. What happened
to you after graduation? What made you change fields?”

She toyed with her teacup, twirling it round and round in
her fingers. She studied Simon through the curtain of her tangled bangs.

“I guess it was the counseling experience that did it,”
she said finally. “First I was on the receiving end, after a bad spell in my…
twenties,” she paused, meeting his eyes briefly, “and it was so significant
that I later volunteered at Speakeasy; you remember that student peer
counseling service the Alma Mater Society ran?”

He nodded.

“After that, I worked for a short while at a rape crisis
center.”

His eyebrows went up like flags, but he said nothing.

She hurried on. “Like I said before, I seemed to be good
at it. Though I had intended to go back to grad school to study Urban Planning,
my heart wasn’t in it. I simply changed my mind.” She shrugged and smiled. “It
seems I was meant to help people more directly.”

“So you
did
go back to school?” he asked.

“Yes and no. I took a few of courses, just to see if I
was on the right track, in Ethics and Psychology at UBC. That’s where I first
ran into Sharon, actually.” She made a face that pretty much summed up their
experience of Sharon. “Then I discovered the Mediation Program at the Justice
Institute, and there really weren’t any prerequisites. It was quick. In about
two years I was ready to go to work.”

“Well. I think you did the right thing.” He smiled. “I
can’t picture you behind a desk at City Hall. I think you’re very effective as
a mediator, from what I’ve seen so far. Your genuine empathy shows; it
literally glows on your face,” he added, “and I think people sense it, and open
up to you.” A hot flush rose to his ear tips, turning them fuschia.

“Yourself included?” she smirked. “Or are you so sincere
with everyone you meet?”

“Uh. I don’t know how to answer that, so I won’t even
try,” he laughed. He hid his embarrassment by turning to see how Maddie was
doing in the play area. She was engrossed in some imaginary game, providing
barely audible voice-over for her broken dolls’ unfolding drama. “What about
when you’re not mediating. What entertains you?”

She suppressed another knowing smile, and clicked her
tongue thoughtfully. “I do yoga, most days,” she said, tilting her head and
staring at the ceiling. “And I draw and paint a little.” She gave him a
significant look. “But don’t ever ask to see them. And, let’s see…I read a lot.
I like to read.”

“What do you like to read?” he wondered, leaning forward
on his elbow peering into her eyes.

“Nothing so arcane as yourself. I read novels,
biographies. I like people, remember. I’m hooked on dysfunctional
relationships. People’s dramas.” She laughed at her self-deprecating humour,
and he laughed with her.

“And you like Indian food,” he prompted. She nodded and
he asked, “Have you ever been there?”

“No. No.” Shaking her head, she added, “Alexa and I
always talk about going, but work keeps us both so busy. She’s an Architect,
did you know?”

“No. I didn’t.” He paused thoughtfully, and his lips
quirked. “I imagine she does well in that environment.”

“You mean, in a traditionally male profession?” enquired
Kate with an arch smile. “Yes. You should see her in a hard hat. She kicks some
butt.” That prompted a full grin from him, and Kate found herself mimicking
him. She sobered. “She’s also a really talented designer.”

“That is interesting. It always amazes me what people
turn out to be good at.” They continued along this vein for some time, talking
about various people they knew and their latent talents, laughing. Then, Maddie
appeared at his elbow, tugging.

“Daddy. I have to pee,” she offered in a stage whisper
that had the other café patrons smiling. He moved to stand up.

“Excuse me. We’ll be just a moment,” he said.

“I’d better push off, anyway,” said Kate. “It’s getting
late, and I was planning to shop on my way home.”

“Can we give you a lift?” he offered. “I was hoping to
talk about Sharon, maybe figure out some strategy before Tuesday.”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath. “Why don’t we wait and see
what she does. I think our best bet might be to be honest but play it down. We
don’t want to jeopardize the case. It really was such a long time ago, we might
have forgotten altogether, you know.” She blushed, avoiding his gaze. “The
details aren’t important to anyone, right?”

“Ri-ight,” he answered skeptically. “Although, there’s no
crime in reminiscing a bit,” he added, “or in getting to know each other again,
for that matter.”

She forced a smile to cover the thrill and terror his
words inspired.

“Daddy!” Madison urged.

“Okay. Well. See you Tuesday, then,” Kate said, and stood
up, reaching for her canvas backpack.

Maddie dragged Simon toward the narrow corridor at the
back of the café, and he disappeared with an apologetic glance over his
shoulder.

Kate
had just returned from an
emergency trip to the corner store for fresh coffee cream when the buzzer rang,
sounding not unlike the gears grinding in the transmission of a very large
truck and jarring her, as it always did. She plucked at her sweater nervously
and went to the phone to answer it.

“Kate. It’s me D'arcy, and Simon’s here, too.”

She glanced around her loft once more to make sure she
hadn’t forgotten to put away any personal stuff. Everything looked tidy, the
cool grey light flooding in through industrial sized windows.
Okay. I’m ready.
“Come on up,”
she said and pressed the buttons.

A few minutes later, Kate flung open the door, welcoming
them in with a smile, and an invitation to make themselves comfortable,
hurrying back to the kitchen in pursuit of a whistling kettle.

Without meaning to, she overheard snippets of their
conversation as they removed their coats and looked around her loft.

“Is this her home or her office?” said Simon.

“Hard to tell. It’s pretty slick. Look at the view! You
can see Science World though that gap. And the marina.”

She peaked around the doorjamb to see Simon tossing the
same sheepskin coat he wore on Sunday over a chair, and lean close, squinting
at the art on the long brick wall.

“What’s this?” asked D'arcy. Kate ducked back into the
kitchen and checked on her muffins.

“Looks like an old cable spool,” said Simon. Kate missed
the mumbled discussion that followed, smiling at their reaction to her coffee
table. Alexa hated it, but she’d never regretted saving that old piece of junk,
and people always commented.

“I can’t believe this place,” D'arcy gasped. “It ’s
really gorgeous.” Kate heard D’arcy’s heels click in her direction. “Kate?” she
called.

“In here,” Kate called from the archway, noting Simon
wandering around, touching things in a curious manner. A vase here, a book
there. She watched him move through a strong beam of sunlight, the air filled
with suspended motes of dust, and he seemed like a character in a scene from
some old movie. He moved toward the side window, and she turned away.

“Is this your home?” D'arcy asked, leaning in the doorway
as Kate arranged mugs and plates on a tray.

“Shh. It is, but I keep my personal stuff tucked out of
sight, and my living space kind of neutral. It’s homey but not too… too, you
know?”

The buzzer sounded again, and Kate carried the tray of
dishes, resting it on the edge of her oak barley twist table, shoving a stack
of books aside, and supported it with one hip to grab the phone.

“Hello,” she sang into it. “Oh, Sharon. Hi. Come on up,
fifth floor, yellow door.” She put the phone down and picked up the tray,
heading for the sofa. “Right on time. Hi, Simon. Have a seat if you like, we’ll
be right out. I’ve got D'arcy watching the oven. My muffins are about to beep.”
She flashed him a shy smile.

“Muffins?” he said.

She blushed. “It’s nothing.” She set the tray down and
waved a hand vaguely in the air.

“This place is incredible,” he said quietly, shaking his
head. “You live here?”

She folded her arms across her chest, looking at the
floor, scuffing a foot on the concrete. “It’s Alexa’s design. I was lucky to
buy this place early. All the new so-called lofts are so small. Carved up into
little rabbit warrens,” she said. Her heart was beating a staccato rhythm, and
her breathing was far too rapid. “But I couldn’t afford an office and an
apartment, so…” She stopped abruptly, feeling her face flush with heat, and
shrugged. “I’ll just get the coffee.” She spun and strode off again. There was
a knock and she opened the door as she passed by. “Come in, Sharon.”

Sharon entered the space and looked around. “Ah. Simon,”
she said, finally, noticing him, and strode in his direction. Kate watched
Sharon pull open her brief case and set up shop like a merchant laying out her
wares in a street bazaar stall, and Simon, not surprisingly, continued his
jaunt, heading in the direction of her desk. Reference books and magazines were
piled high, even though she always carefully locked away client paperwork and
case notes. She groaned, wondering what he was thinking, and returned to the
kitchen. What was worse, having Simon snooping around her work space, or having
him sit while Sharon gave him the third degree?

A few minutes later, when she came out, she stifled a
laugh. He was talking to Oscar in a sing-song voice.

“Hullo,” he said to him. In response, Oscar uncoiled his
long thin torso, stretching his gangly legs, claws fully unsheathed, through
the spindles of the chair back, and gave him a lazy green stare. Simon
recoiled, disgusted. “Who beat you up, buddy? You are positively the ugliest
cat I have ever seen,” he said.

Kate smiled and snuck up behind him. “That’s Oscar.”
Simon jumped. “He’s had a hard life,” she laughed softly.

“I’ll say,” replied Simon, his ears turning pink.

Kate stooped to pick up the lump of bone and fur, curling
him up on her arm and scratching his skinny neck. He turned his face toward her
chest and buried it there, a loud sawing noise immediately emitting from his
belly, and kneaded at her like a lump of dough.

“He obviously knows which side his bread is buttered on.”

“I found him in a dumpster, half dead, some years ago and
took him to the shelter. But then I just couldn’t leave him there, with his
mangy fur and chewed ears. No one else would have him. He’s very happy to have
a home here now,” she said, cooing at him, “Aren’t you old boy?” and pulling
his ugly mug out of her oxter to look him in the eye. “He’s very affectionate,
if you like cats, but he does stink, I’ll warn you. He can’t help it. He has
more than a few chronic health problems.” She reached forward with the cat
hanging like a limp rag mop from her hands, and Simon had no choice but to take
him, blinking.

He curled up his nose. “I do like cats. We have one,
actually. Lucy. She’s diabetic.”

What was this, a pissing match to see who was more
compassionate towards pathetic animals? She smiled wanly and walked away,
leaving them to get acquainted.

“Ow! Fffk.” She heard Simon utter a quiet oath as she
walked away. “Alright. I’ve got it, don’t touch your undercarriage,” he
muttered, as Oscar dashed away, and she laughed to herself.

D'arcy carried in the tray of steaming muffins, and Kate
followed with a teapot in her hand. “Are we still missing Eli?” she asked no
one in particular. “What time is it?”

Simon flipped his wrist over to glance at his watch.
“It’s 9:45,” he reported. He followed Kate, sucking his finger, and sat down.

Sharon was at last off the phone, and commented to Kate
that her loft was lovely, then complained about Eli. “What’s going on? We can’t
wait all day.”

“I’ll give him a call. Maybe he’s lost or something,”
offered Simon. He dialed and waited. “No answer,” he reported. Just then,
Kate’s phone rang, and she excused herself. Sure enough, it was Eli and she
buzzed him in. He wore his usual brown leather jacket and jeans, motorcycle
helmet in hand.

“Hiya Kate. Sorry for being late. I got turned around.”
He looked around openmouthed. “Awesome place. Wow, could I live and paint here.
The light!”

“Help yourself to coffee or tea, everyone, and grab a muffin
while they’re hot. Let’s get started.”

“You baked muffins,” Sharon deadpanned, as the others
reached for plates and mugs. Sharon gave Simon a strange look, and he merely
raised his eyebrows haughtily in response, settling in next to Sharon with a muffin
balanced on his knee, the corners of his mouth quirked.

Kate sat in an armchair at the open end of the sectional
sofa, waiting for everyone else to sit down. She smiled warmly at Eli and
D'arcy, who were sitting next to each other, and at Sharon. Kate would like
nothing better than to give Sharon a piece of her mind for always finding
something to criticize, but she had to admit that at the moment Sharon held the
ace and they had to tread carefully. She was waiting for Sharon’s revelation,
but it never came. Maybe she was waiting for them to confess to some sordid
affair.

Ignoring the feeling of dread that encroached, Kate
recapped key points from the previous session, highlighting Eli and D’arcy’s
strengths, and also summarizing their concerns, distilling all their words and
actions into a tidy package that everyone could easily digest. Though she had
introduced the notion at the beginning of their sessions, she spent a half hour
explaining the purpose of a reconciliation agreement that would include an
action plan made up of wants, needs, and a commitment to changes in behavior,
as well as a statement of common goals. Many people found it a strange idea,
until she explained that its creation was the entire point of it. D'arcy and
Eli were listening intently, Eli lightly holding D’arcy’s hand in his lap, less
restless than usual.

After a while, Kate handed them both forms and asked them
to fill in the blanks as a basis for a draft agreement, after which she would
outline a document for them to review. While they scratched away, Sharon
peering over at Darcy, Simon excused himself, standing up and setting his plate
down on the table. “Erm. Where’s the… ?”

“Oh. Around the corner from the kitchen.” She pointed at
the screen divider. “Just behind there, on the left.”

Kate watched Sharon fidget, unable to keep her eyes from
following Simon’s progress across the room. Kate was just as tense waiting for
him to return. He was taking an awfully long time in the bathroom. After
several more minutes, Sharon finally stood and excused herself as well, and
Kate wished she could chase after her and prevent her from confronting Simon
about what she’d learned. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and wiped
her sweaty palms along her pant legs, wishing there was something she could do,
hoping Simon could keep his cool under pressure.

When neither of them returned, Kate worried they were
embroiled in an argument. The best she could do was wrap up the session and get
everyone out of there as soon as possible. After much mumbled discussion, it
was approaching noon as Eli and D'arcy completed their forms, so she stood up
and said her farewells as she led them in the direction of the door. It had
been a productive and peaceful session - at least on the surface.

At last Simon and Sharon emerged from the gallery, side
by side. Kate turned to face them, holding her breath, trying to read Simon’s
face. “There you are.” She tried to smile, but her face felt tight. Simon
offered her a subtle smile of reassurance, but she picked up on his tension.
She tried to put on a cheerful manner. “We’ve got the ingredients for a
reconciliation agreement hammered out here, which I’m going to draft. D'arcy
and Eli have some homework, but I’m hoping we can pull it together next week.”

“Well. Congratulations,” offered Simon, “I look forward
to going over that with you Eli.”

Eli smiled. “You’d better, Simon. Just to make sure I
haven’t promised to give up painting, or eating and drinking.” Fingering his
cigarette pack, he laughed and glanced at D'arcy.

“Eli!” she gave him an affectionate elbow in the ribs and
pouted coyly, and he wrapped an arm around her, planting a loud kiss on her
lips. She blushed and looked down, but let her body relax against his as he
continued to hold her. Eli glanced at Simon, and his smile tugged to one side,
self-conscious.

“Well, we’d better head out. ‘Til next week then,
everyone,” said Eli, turning for the door. ”Lunch, cheri?” he said against
D’arcy’s hair, his tone flirtatious.

“I’ll call you,” Simon said.

“I’ll buy you lunch too, Simon. Next time,” Eli smiled
again, placing a cigarette between his lips and heading out the door.

 “I’m afraid I have a lunch meeting, or I would
offer to take the two of you out,” Sharon said, narrowing her eyes, and peering
from Simon to Kate and back. “We could continue our little chat, Simon.” Kate
shuddered as Sharon’s eagle eyes turned toward her. “But there
is
one thing I’d like to talk
privately with
you
about, Kate. Can I call you?” She almost purred, but Kate was sure she was
dealing with a very large predatory cat.

“Sure, Sharon. I’m free tomorrow morning, any time it’s
convenient,” Kate replied, a touch of a waver in her voice. She crossed her
arms, reaching for her pendant, reminding herself there was a reason for this
too.

Sharon shot Simon a warning glare as she turned for the
door, her briefcase gripped in her tight little fist. “Can I walk you out,
Simon?”

Simon hesitated. “There’s some information I have to get
from— uh, Kate before I leave. You go on ahead.” She scowled and moved to the
door. “You were going to show me that Mediation program syllabus, remember?” he
added to Kate, showing his teeth, a hopeful expression on his face.

They both breathed an audible sigh of relief as the door
clicked behind Sharon, listening to her heels tick tock toward the elevator,
then turned toward each other with exhaled laughter.

She covered her mouth with a hand, shaking her head. “I’m
so relieved she didn’t say anything publicly,” said Kate, pressing her fingers
against her brow, “but I think she’s going to let me have it tomorrow.” She
knew perfectly well what Sharon wanted to talk to her about. “I think today
went very well. Why can’t she simply let it go?” she implored, clenching both
fists in frustration. “Obviously there’s no conflict of interest. There’s
nothing going on. And we’re nearly done with the case.”

“She seems determined to think otherwise. Everything
I
do seems suspect, anyway. I
feel like she’s policing me.”

“Oh.” said Kate, suddenly flustered, her brows knitting.
“You’d better not linger.”