Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel (24 page)

“What about Jay?” Alexa sobered. “Did you give him an
answer yet?”

Kate gave her a sad smile and shook her head. “On
Halloween. I finally told him I just didn’t have the right feelings for him.
That I never would. Do you honestly think I could have been with Simon if I
hadn’t broken off with Jay?”

“I guess not. Not you.” Alexa shook her head sadly. “What
a waste. But you do have feelings for Simon.”

“Yes. I don’t know. I mean, how do I know it’s
real
and not imaginary? I mean,
he’s still married, and has a daughter. How can I trust this thing? I don’t
know what’s worse, blithely carrying on and then getting dumped because I’ve
imagined some grand love affair, and having to crawl out of the ashes again, or
waking up in a few years and thinking, ‘Who the hell
is
this guy? I don’t even know him!”

Alexa frowned, understanding Kate’s fear. “You’ve got
trust issues, you know that. But Simon is the one man you seem to feel strongly
about. From what you’ve told me, what’s not to love? Just because you fell in
love with him before, and are falling again, doesn’t mean it’s
not
real. Maybe he
is
the one. Maybe that’s exactly
what it feels like.” She made a wry face. “Hey. What do I know about love? I’m
not even convinced it exists.”

Kate reached across and squeezed her hand.

“How does he compare to Jay, or Grant, for example? Grant
was great, too, and that fizzled.” Grant was Kate’s previous boyfriend, almost
three years ago, a darkly handsome architect that Alex had introduced her to,
who had finally stormed out in frustration at Kate’s lack of commitment, or,
she had to admit to herself, attention. She had been content to sail along in a
static state of semi-attachment, relieved that there were at least no
difficulties to overcome. So she had thought. She had felt safe. There hadn’t
really been anything wrong with Grant, either. Not quite tall enough, perhaps…
It was all kind of lukewarm, that’s all, just like Jay, and she hadn’t missed
him when he was gone.

Kate sighed deeply in reply. “I agree with you. When I’m
calm, and I’m with him, I love everything about Simon. But I’m a nervous wreck
lately. These attacks— I’ve been getting paranoid. I-I think Simon has
triggered memories. I’ve been having dreams. I know I’ve made the right
decision with Jay, but I’ve passed up an opportunity to be with a really good
man –handsome, successful, fun, and I know he really loved me– because of
something that’s wrong with
me
.
What if I broke up with him for the wrong reasons? What if my past has ruined
me forever, Alex? Am I so damaged I can’t make a relationship work with
anyone?”

Alexa thought about that for a long time. It was so quiet
it was clear the aestheticians had stopped breathing altogether.

Then Alex met Kate’s eye with a steady gaze. “I don’t
have the answers, Kate, but you might be onto something. Let me throw this idea
at you. What if it isn’t about the guy, and whether he’s the right one for you?
What if your focus on the perfect partnership is a way to avoid commitment?
Because if you made a commitment to someone, you’d have to open up completely,
and give more of yourself than you’re comfortable giving.”

Kate scowled. Simon’s voice suddenly echoed in her head.
The morning she’d stormed out of his bedroom, he’d said,
Nobody’s perfect, Kate. But we all need
someone.

Do we?

After their pedicure, Kate finished her story in the
locker room, with the news of Sharon’s aggressive stance on professional
conduct, and a general idea of her tough day with her clients.

“That’s good. It can’t hurt the conduct claim if nothing
happens for a while. It will probably blow over. It’ll become clearer with more
time to think.” Trust Alex to see the upside of even the long delay.

“It looks like time away from Simon is exactly what I’m
going to get, whether I need it or not. It’s another week until the wife
returns, and who knows if I’ll be able to get the husband back to the table.”
She bent to slip on flip-flops. Thinking uncomfortably of how long her obsession
with Simon had gone on with no encouragement at all, she said with a wry smile,
“Time isn’t always the best test, you know.”

Alexa buttoned her shirt and studied Kate intently for a
few moments. “You know, I wouldn’t worry, honey. You may be feeling confused,
but there’s a little fantasy in every love story. What’s important is, is it
mutual? Is there mutual liking and respect? Enough to make it last? Honestly, I
don’t know anyone that agonizes over relationships the way you do. I think
you’re over-thinking the whole thing. That’s your problem– too
much
therapy. You’ve done the
work. You’re not deluded, just phobic. But falling in love again doesn’t mean
you’re going to have another nervous breakdown. That doesn’t even make sense.”
She stood up. “You have to learn to trust yourself. I suppose, any real
meaningful relationship is going to require the kind of intimacy that means putting
yourself out there, getting vulnerable. You’ve got to believe that you’ll
survive no matter what happens. Believe in yourself, that you’re worth it.”
Opening her black leather handbag, she pulled out her wallet and dropped a
ten-dollar bill on the credenza.

It sounded like Alexa wasn’t sure if Kate could trust
herself either, understandably, since she’d dragged her through her every
emotional trial of the past sixteen years.

“So you’re an expert on intimacy all of a sudden,” Kate
said, smirking at her friend.

“Yeah, well…” Alexa opened her arms for a hug. “I know
it’s different this time, honey. You seem really wound up. You’ve been through
a lot. Maybe you need some more time. Take it slow.”

Kate wrapped her arms around Alexa and gave her a big bear
hug and an air kiss.

“I’ve gotta run. Believe it or not, I’ve got some
drawings to review before I can go to bed.”

“You work way too hard.” Kate watched her friend rush out
into the wet night, wondering if Alexa was right. In any case, it made her feel
much better to have her say so. Funny, she’d been half expecting Alex to tell
her to forget about Simon. She was always the one who was hardest on men,
especially the ones Kate had dated over the years. No one was ever good enough
for her friend Kate. It hadn’t stopped Alex from dating the longest string of
losers Kate had ever met, including Krystof. But then, Alex could always take
care of herself.
The question now
is, can I?

Kate
spent most of the next day
meeting with her other clients away from her loft, which was an exhausting
affair because of the endless rain, and the challenge of driving, parking and
getting around without getting soaked. Vancouver was a dreadfully dreary place
in November, and it could be very discouraging. It was a relief to finally
return home in the late afternoon. Her chat with Alexa had been oddly
energizing, and despite the long tiring day, Kate had gathered her courage and
decided to take the bull by the horns—that bull being Sharon, of course. She
hung up her drenched overcoat, left her umbrella open to dry, and quickly made
a cup of tea before she lost her nerve.

Picking up the phone, she called Sharon’s office and
asked to speak to her directly. “Hello Sharon. How are you?” she greeted her
matter-of-factly when she came on the line.

“How can I help you?” Sharon’s voice held its usual icy
inflection. Always polite and anything but friendly.

“I don’t want to beat around the bush. I’d like to deal
as honestly and directly with this concern of yours as possible, put it to bed
so we can get on with our work.”

“Interesting choice of words,” replied Sharon cattily.

Good grief, would she not let up? “It’s not my way to
play power games. I want to speak frankly with you about Simon.”

“Go on. I’m listening.” Sharon sounded intrigued.

“I’m not denying that we knew each other back in
university. I’m not even trying to tell you we didn’t have a very close
relationship. But we’re talking about sixteen years ago, when we were very
young students, and relationships then could be quite superficial. It’s more of
an embarrassment than anything, to find ourselves working together now. You can
imagine how we felt that day he walked in the board room.”

“Mmm. Perhaps.”

“The point is, it was a mistake not to disclose the depth
of our relationship to the group, I admit that, but in the moment we were taken
by surprise. Afterwards, it seemed petty to bring it up, so we let it slide.
That was an error in protocol, but not one that was motivated by a concern for
our performance. There is no conflict of interest here, Sharon.” As she spoke
the words, Kate believed them wholeheartedly. Under the surface, however, there
still lingered the fear that while her judgment was not impaired, her
concentration was.

“Your explanation for the distant past is all well and
good, Kate, but you can’t deny that there is a new relationship growing,
whether on the foundations of the old one or not is immaterial. You can’t deny
that you’re interested in Simon… romantically, I mean, of course.”

“Simon is an interesting man, as you well know. I won’t
deny that we’ve become reacquainted, but how is that different from any two
people who work together? It has nothing to do with our prior relationship, in
any case.”
Not the way you think
.
“You’ve known Simon better than I do, and for longer. If I didn’t know better,
I could easily assume that you were interested in romance with Simon. He’s a
very eligible man, after all.”

It was a very veiled counter-threat. It was a dangerous
move, Kate knew, but if she could just get Sharon down off her high horse long
enough to agree to give her some breathing space, she might get through this
case.

“Nice try.” Sharon didn’t sound particularly amused.
Perhaps Kate had touched a nerve. Who could tell with this ice-maiden? “I’ll
admit one thing. Simon is a friend, and he’s been through quite the ordeal with
his marriage and separation. Anyone who cares about him would try to protect
him from further pain. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt the need to
intervene when some ambitious woman has pursued him.”

Really?!
Simon would undoubtedly be interested to discover that Sharon had been
functioning for some time as his unofficial chaperone. But why? “That’s not my
business.
I’m
not
pursuing Simon. In fact I’m trying very hard to avoid any entanglements.”
And it isn’t always easy!
“But
I’ve always been devoted to my clients, and you
know
me to be highly ethical in my practice. We may
not always agree on methodology, but I know my business, and I also know that
I’m good at what I do. In fact I may be D'arcy and Eli’s only hope of
reconciliation. Everyone else seems quite willing to let them self-destruct,
though it’s plain to me they want to work it out.”

“I’ll concede that point. Though I’m still not convinced
it’s in my client’s best interest,” Sharon said.

“I believe it is. They both have growing up to do. Eli is
as capable of being as devoted, responsible a husband as any man. I’m convinced
of it.” Kate took a breath. She knew she couldn’t trust Sharon, but she somehow
felt much better for having had a frank discussion. “Anyway, I really am
looking forward to meeting with D'arcy next week when she returns. I’m sure Eli
will be ready to resume by then.”

“I understand… her mother is traveling back to Vancouver
with her,” Sharon offered.

 Interesting. “I see.” She paused. “Well, perhaps I
can meet with the two of them. Maybe we’ll make some progress.”

Sharon’s response was to laugh, a cynical cackle that
made Kate shudder. “Good luck with that.”

Perhaps she ought to get a little more information from
Eli before venturing forward with that plan. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to get
rid of Sharon and call Eli. She hated to broach the subject again, but she had
to know what her situation at the Society would be. “So, will you drop the
conflict claim?”

“Too late, I’m afraid. I faxed over the Breach of Society
Standards complaint form and letter this morning. It’s done.”

It felt as if a great weight pressed down on Kate’s
heart. Sharon’s voice didn’t carry a hint of regret.
Damn it!
“I see.” What was there left for her to
say? It was unstoppable now. She would be forced to make a formal response, and
deal with the consequences. So much for keeping the whole thing private. She
forced her words though her tight throat when she replied. “Good-bye, then.
I’ll see you next week.” This was the last thing she needed, and it put a sour
note on her special award. She’d be too humiliated to accept it, never mind
stand at the podium and crow about her methodology. She couldn’t think about it
right now. She’d do her job, and deal with it as necessary, but still she felt
hot tears of frustration sting her eyes as she hung up the phone.

Then she forced herself to dial Eli, despite her shaking
hand, and as quickly hung up again. No. This was too important to put herself
at the mercy of his evasive maneuvers. Too much depended on getting Eli and
D'arcy back to the table. Too much was at stake. If this case fell apart, in
the midst of a unprofessional conduct claim, she would look even more foolish.

And even more important than her reputation was her
responsibility to her clients. What if she had missed something critical, as
Simon suggested, misdirected them, abused their trust, because she was absorbed
in her own problems? She’d never forgive herself.

She grabbed her coat and flew out the door. It was four
o’clock Friday afternoon. How long did she have before Eli decided it was time
to quit work for the day and join his friends for a drink? She fled down to his
studio at the docks.

~*~

A
skeptical porcelain moon stared down at Kate through
a shadowed veil of secrecy and shame, tracing her slow progress through “the
stroll” on Powell Street. She cruised through the Downtown East Side past the
old Rogers’ sugar refinery on the harbour side of the railroad tracks, trying
to locate the warehouse where she knew Eli’s studio was located, but her
knowledge of the area was sketchy. She prayed he would still be there,
if
she could find
him.

She slowed,
searching in the dying light for the entry gate in the chain link fence that
ran parallel to the road. Kate felt the pull of dark eyes upon her like
daggers, and was compelled to return the haunted stares of the prostitutes
lingering on every street corner, huddled under umbrellas, their gaunt shadowed
faces and bare legs portents to their past and future. She shivered and her
mission suddenly felt ominous and foolhardy. Mediators don’t make house calls.
What do I
think I’m doing?

But Kate knew she
had to go on. Her reputation, her very career could rest on getting Eli and
Darcy back to the table. It was a matter of personal integrity now.

It got harder to
see as daylight ebbed, though the rain had let up a little. She slipped her car
slowly into a narrow laneway between two identical long corrugated metal
dockyard buildings, her sense of doom mounting, and was about to surrender when
she noticed a sign that indicated the building address. A little further along
she spotted a garage door with a big green 14E painted on it.
That’s
it!

Stepping out of
the car into the deepening shadows of the dockyard, her anxiety increased, and
she glanced over her shoulder more than once. Tentatively she knocked on the
metal door adjacent to the large number. No sound but the softly lapping waves
on the concrete dockside. She tried the knob and, finding it open, crept warily
inside.

“Eli,” she called
out tremulously.
I must be mad, coming here alone at this hour
. “Eli, are you
here?”

The corridor was
dimly lit by a single bare bulb hanging a few yards along. Pungent odors of oil
paint and turpentine, tobacco, dust and decaying sea life assaulted her
nostrils. She squinted at piles of debris, a haphazard stack of wood framing,
rolls of canvas, cardboard boxes, bits of wire cable, empty paint cans and
crumpled rags. A fire waiting to happen. “Eli?” She ought to leave. This was
insane.

 Picking her
way through the junk, she reminded herself why she had come… how important this
was, both for her clients and her career. She made her way to the end, where
the space suddenly opened up into a cavernous warehouse with a dusty concrete
floor. She stepped in, turning around to scan the space with wide, darting
eyes. The last cool glow of daylight on this dull, drizzling day was fading
fast. She could make out only vague shapes in the dusky light. Her heart sank.
Even though he couldn’t possibly be far, he didn’t appear to be here.

Turning to leave,
her breath caught in her throat as the large round factory lights that swung on
long cords from the ceiling suddenly blinked and gradually, eerily awoke, first
with a dull orange glow, then a soft yellow flicker and finally bright
sulphurous greenish-white light. “Is someone here?” she said in a small voice.
“Eli?”

There was no
reply, and blinking in the brightness, she stepped quickly toward the doorway,
her tense shoulders pulled up to her ears, her arms crossed.
I have to
get out of here.

A disembodied
voice came from behind her. “If you’re planning to steal one of my paintings,
you should have brought a panel van. I don’t have anything that will fit into
that little coupe.”

“Aaaahhh!” she
half gasped, half yelped, a hand flying to her throat. Her body went rigid.

Eli chuckled.
“Over here.” She turned towards his voice, and found there was a small doorway
in the wall concealed between the stacked paintings. He leaned lazily on the
jamb, holding a beer and cigarette in one hand, a thread of smoke curling up
around his ears.

She let out a
deep sigh, shuddering. “Thank God.” She held a hand against the heart pounding
against her ribcage. “How did you know it was me?”

He laughed again.
“I have security cameras mounted outside and in. I watched you approach and
unlocked the door for you.” He shifted his weight. “Can I offer you a drink?”
He held his beer bottle aloft, grinning. His normally smooth, handsome face was
almost masked by a heavy weeks’ worth of black facial hair. A length of rag
held back his curling dark locks, grimy with dust, tendrils of which hung
forward over his face. He wore a paint-smeared plaid work shirt and tattered
and splattered jeans.

Security cameras?
She gazed around. “Well, you are full of surprises,” Kate replied, smiling and
shaking her head. No wonder he didn’t bother to lock the door.

 “Come in,”
he turned and disappeared through the doorway, past a tiny yellow kitchen,
where she could see her car flickering in grainy black and white on an old
laptop resting on the counter, along with stacks of unwashed dishes and greasy take-out
boxes, paper cups, empty beer bottles and Coke cans. She followed Eli into
another smallish room cluttered with more of the same, along with ashtrays and
mugs teaming with cigarette butts and murky moldy liquid. A rumpled blue
sleeping bag lay on the ugliest threadbare brown sofa Kate had ever seen. What
sparse furniture there was seemed to have been salvaged from a back lane
dumpster in East Van in the late sixties.

“This is quite
the place,” she observed, looking around. “Have you been…
living
here?” It
certainly looked like he hadn’t left in a while.

“Yeah. Well. Sort
of.” He shrugged, chagrinned. “How ‘bout that drink?”

She waved a hand
in protest. “Oh, no thanks. I shouldn’t even be here, never mind drink. Good
God, if Sharon found out… ” She thought of asking for a Coke, but was uncertain
whether he owned a clean glass.

He lifted his
index finger, his face opening in thoughtful delight. “I have just the thing.”
He jogged into his kitchen, and she heard cupboard doors banging and a thud on
the countertop. A moment later he returned with a Styrofoam cup that he proudly
handed to her. “I remembered I had a bottle of twelve-year old single malt
someone gave me long ago. It’s even older now.” At her expression he added, “Go
on. I won’t tell if you don’t. Let’s assume you’re off duty, hey?” He pushed
the cup into her hand.