Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel (21 page)

Her
gauzy window screens veiled a
flat silver sky, only partially mediating the imposing effect of the frigid,
wintery morning. Kate shivered. She’d tried to compensate for the cold weather
with fresh coffee and spice tea, and warm muffins, wistfully remembering her
conversation with Simon.

He was the last to arrive, clearly by intention, and Kate
was so tense she didn’t know how she’d get through the session.
Focus! Discipline!
Today they
had to review the preliminary draft agreement and then they were on the home
stretch. This case could finally end, and the turmoil it had brought to her
life could end with it. Hopefully.

Sharon opened the door for him, and he strolled over to
the seating area and quietly took his place on one of the low upholstered black
cubes that closed the gap in the sectional, his long legs folding like a
grasshopper’s, his knees meeting his elbows. He looked uncomfortable.

D'arcy carefully chewed a muffin with an intensity of
focus that typified her peculiar, boundless appetite. It struck Kate that
D'arcy seemed always to be eating lately, and the results were becoming
evident. Her round face, instead of chiseled and glamourous, looked just plain
plump. She supposed it was stress.

Kate got right down to business. When she read aloud the
draft, with a few suggested modifications, Sharon pitched in. “I believe the
draft is still too vague on the issue of economics. No matter how
well-intentioned D'arcy and Eli are going into this, money matters are always a
source of conflict and things could easily get derailed again over them, given
their unusual financial history.”

Kate conceded Sharon’s point, confessing that she had
downplayed financial issues. “I agree with you, Sharon. Money will always be a
sensitive topic between D'arcy and Eli, given their beginnings. Though it can
never be prescriptive. The future is always an unknown.” She offered a sample
clause. “How do you feel about that?” she asked, turning to Eli and D'arcy, who
sat in their usual spot side-by-side on the long sofa, their thighs touching
like two electrodes, an invisible but tangible current of hope passing between
them.

“That sounds reasonable,” D'arcy replied, scanning the
papers she held. Eli fidgeted, drumming his long fingers on his knee and
fingering the rectangular outline of the cigarette pack in his pocket with a
longing caress.

Suggestions and ideas for a framework of financial
responsibilities were critiqued and discussed, until they had added a couple of
clauses that satisfied everyone.

Kate tried not to look at Simon at all, but when she,
against her will and better judgment, found herself glancing in his direction,
he was almost always staring at her, creases etched between his brows, his hand
rubbing his mouth or jaw pensively. He hardly spoke.

“Simon. You’re very quiet. Any comments?” Sharon asked,
apparently noticing the same. Startled, he looked up, scanning the group, and
his eyes caught Kate’s for the first time. She looked away quickly, as did he.

He sat up straighter. “Not on money matters. I’m in
agreement with the changes you’ve proposed there.” He paused. “I did want to
suggest, however, that we go over the section on family. I think there are some
loose—”

Kate cleared her throat, irritated. “Okay. That’s fine.
I’d like to tidy up the next two sections before we move on.” She glanced up,
but her eyes rose only to his chin, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

She returned to her draft, and a moment later was
startled by his, “Oh, Kate?”

She looked up sharply, this time directly into his eyes.
“Yes?” He sent her a silent angry message.
Are
you still there?
Her eyes fluttered, unable to hold his gaze. She
was culpable.

He blinked slowly and looked away, point made. “Never
mind. It can wait.” Kate’s brows knit and she blinked once, twice and looked
down with a glower. What kind of game was he playing?
He’s trying to piss me off, behaving like a
spurned lover.
Even though that’s exactly what he is, a little voice
nagged.

After an uncomfortable pause, Kate lifted her chin and
resumed. “The next section I’d like to review involves responsibilities in the
domestic sphere. Here, in paragraph thirty-two, I think we’ve made a start, but
it’s much too brief and… well, abstract, quite frankly.”

“But I can’t cook,” complained Eli. “Not at all,” he whined.

“Neither could I when I left home,” D'arcy rebutted. Eli
made a face.

Simon jumped in to help D'arcy and Kate persuade Eli that
sharing in the family cooking was not only his responsibility, but a great
opportunity to be creative.

D'arcy leaned in and planted a big kiss on his cheek.
“It’ll be fun. I promise.” They all shared a laugh. “Of course that means doing
dishes, too.”

Eli looked like he might cry, though he was hamming it up
now. “Couldn’t we just hire help?” He pulled out his cigarette pack with
practiced ease and tapped it nervously.

Everyone frowned at him. “Eli!” they cried in unison.

“Maybe eventually. You two are hardly destitute.” Kate
said. “But it’s about getting yourselves established first. Working out your
roles. Remember all those discussions we had about extravagant purchases and
gifts. No one is saying that those things are wrong, or that your generous
spirit is a bad thing. It’s about balancing that impulse with responsibility,
to D'arcy and to your future.”

Simon and Eli exchanged a meaningful look, and Eli nodded
and took a deep breath, placing an unlit cigarette between his sensual lips. He
leaned back and draped an arm around D’arcy’s shoulders and she shot a smile at
him.

“It’s really about outlining options and using some
objective standards. So, let’s try this wording… ” suggested Kate, and she read
from her notes, while the others made marks on their draft agreements.

Simon excused himself quietly and sauntered across the
loft while they finished the next two sections. A part of Kate’s mind went with
him, missing him even though they could hardly look at each other, never mind
talk.

Some minutes later, Simon returned and stood behind the
sofa, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Awareness slowly dawned that an
unpleasant odor had wafted into the room.
Oh
God, Oscar.
She stood up.

“Simon?”

“Uh… Kate. I… er… I think perhaps you might want to… ” He
gestured helplessly. He looked beseechingly at Kate, his eyebrows tilted in
pitiful brackets, all anger forgotten for the moment as she caught his eye.

Just at that moment, before she could speak, the culprit
himself made a dramatic entrance. Oscar dashed across the room as though
pursued by the devil, up onto the hall table, leaving a vase of flowers
tottering.

“Oscar!” Kate jumped up. “You naughty boy.” She quickly
bent to pick him up. “Please excuse us a moment.” Blushing, she hurried toward
the bathroom with the guilty cat. “Bad kitty,” she whispered as Eli guffawed
and Sharon clucked.

“I’ll just…” Simon cleared his throat and followed her to
a chorus of muffled laughter.

“Oh, Oscar, are you feeling unwell, kitty?” She set him
down in her bedroom and closed the door, then opened the connecting door
between her guest bathroom and private en suite where she kept Oscar’s litter
box, efficiently eliminating the problem—Oscar had missed his litter box by six
inches. She flushed the offending matter away, spritzed the rooms with
deodorizer, flicked on the fan, and was disinfecting the floor when she
realized Simon was leaning in the door frame watching her.

“I smelled it, but I didn’t see where… you know...” He
was choking, trying not to laugh. It was too bizarre to believe.

“Don’t be silly, it’s nothing you could deal with. I’m so
embarrassed. I try hard to keep my personal… stuff separate from my workspace,
but– Sometimes his illnesses get a bit messy.” She stood up and gave her hands
a thorough scrubbing in her own sink, while he stood awkwardly behind her with
is hands thrust like incriminating evidence into his pockets, peering through
to her bedroom.

At last she looked up and caught his eye in the mirror.
Their serious expressions gave way to smirks, then grins, and finally crumpled
into guffaws of laughter that brought tears to their eyes.

She dried her hands and turned to face him, still
laughing, and his smile suddenly fell. “Kate,” he whispered.

Her heart leapt to her throat, thrashing like a trapped
bird. Discerning his intention, she sobered. “Don’t.”

He grasped her shoulders and pulled her towards him
earnestly. “We have to talk. We can’t leave things as they are.”

“There is nothing to discuss.” She tried to pull away.

“Kate.” He searched her eyes. She shook her head
silently, dropping her eyes. He bent his head quickly and brushed his lips to
hers, but she turned her head, and caught her breath. “Don’t run from me.” He
caught her chin with his fingertips and moved to kiss her again, but she turned
her body away.

“Simon,” she hissed. “For God’s sake. Have some sense.“
She slipped out of the bathroom, shutting the connecting door, and strode away
from him. Her pulse hammered, and she was sure her flushed face would give her
away. How could she go on if he insisted on behaving this way?

Kate returned to the group, covering her discomfort with
strained, excited laughter and apologized for Oscar’s poor hygiene and bad
timing and offered fresh coffee in a breathless, agitated voice that sounded
slightly hysterical even to her own ears. Simon rejoined them and sat down
sullenly without another word.

Sharon squinted at him suspiciously and he flashed her an
insincere grin, and Kate felt as though she were teetering on the edge of a
precipice. Any fool could see there was something wrong now. And Sharon was no
fool.

“Alright. Where were we?” Kate resumed in a shrill,
synthetic tone.

“We were just finishing up the section on consultation
and joint decision making. I drafted something while you were gone. Have a
look.” Sharon handed a page to Kate, who looked it over. Sharon was being
terribly helpful now, as though she couldn’t wait for these sessions to end.

Kate nodded stiffly, made a small amendment and handed it
over to D'arcy and Eli. “This might work. What do you think?” Eli held the
paper while they read and then passed it to Simon, who scanned it quickly.

As much as she would like to, she couldn’t forget that
Simon had asked to make a point earlier. “Simon. You had something you wanted
to add to the section on family?”

“Yes.” He flipped a page. “Yes, here are my notes. I
thought the draft was a little one-sided. I know the concern has been about
interference. But, really there should be room for family in every couple’s
life. D’arcee’s parents are already across the country.”

Kate noticed Eli stiffen. “But some families truly do
harm with their meddling,” Kate said pointedly, remembering Mrs. Duchamp’s
officious phone call, meeting Simon’s gaze steadily and then retreating again.

“Undoubtedly. But it’s my belief that most families
interfere because they care.” He lifted his chin. “Perhaps the problem could be
solved, or at least alleviated, not by excluding family involvement, but by
spending enough time together to ensure there is a strong foundation to the
relationship, and a better appreciation for each other’s character.”

“You haven’t met my in-laws, Simon,” said Eli with a
sharp look, his jaw jutting. “They never gave me a half a chance. Even before
they met me, they’d written me off as some kind of dead-beat loser. I’ve hardly
seen them since we got married, and they’re barely civil when I answer the
phone.”

“Have you gone to Montreal for a visit since you’ve been
together?” enquired Kate. She didn’t want to agree with Simon, but he made a
valid point.

“Of course,” said D'arcy. “Right away, when we decided to
get married. It didn’t go well.” Her voice trailed off.

Eli snorted bitterly. “That’s an understatement.”

“We ended up getting married here, without them.” D'arcy
added.

“And you haven’t seen them since?” Simon asked.

“I haven’t spent time with them, no, and with good
reason,” Eli replied, scowling. “They despise me.”

“Eli! That’s not true. I know you have a hard time
believing it, but Mother and Papa do like you. They just worry a lot. They are
very protective of me, so the whole thing was a shock for them,” D'arcy
explained.

“It’s been six years, cherie,” said Eli, leaning back and
crossing his arms.

Simon jumped in. “That’s my point, right there.” He
jabbed his forefinger into the air. “You got off to a rough start
six
years ago, and you’ve never
recovered from it. Instead of tolerating this partial estrangement, which can
hardly be easy for D'arcy and isn’t practical if you have kids and they become
grandparents, why not assume that you need to start over.” He drew a long
breath, and spread he hands in supplication. “I mean make a point of spending
time together and getting to know each other?” Simon folded his hands together
and looked around expectantly. “Bond a little.”

“I go back regularly, but they won’t speak to each
other,” D'arcy said quietly. “Every year they invite us to visit. Both of us.
In fact there is a standing invitation for Christmas.” D'arcy sat forward,
earnest. “Why don’t we go this year?”

“No way!” Eli raised his hands in protest. “After the
things they said to me?”

“What things?” asked Simon.

Wait a
minute? Who’s running this show?
Kate glared at Simon, her nostrils
flaring in annoyance. “Stay calm, please, Eli. Maybe you could tell us what
happened six years ago that got you off to such a bad start.”