The War of the Roses: The Children (12 page)

Victoria rushed to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and used a whole bottle of mouthwash to get the taste of Tatum out of her mouth. Then she showered for a long time, soaping herself furiously. While she was in the shower the phone rang, but she ignored it. The voicemail would pick up the call. Finally, she felt cleansed and uncommonly exhilarated. Now, she vowed, she must find a way to tuck this episode into the dark recesses of memory.

She went into the garage and got into the car. It was then that she remembered she still had the tape in her handbag. At first, she thought she might put it in the strong box at the bank where she kept their birth certificates, insurance policies, and other important documents. Although she had the only key, she felt it was the wrong place both on moral grounds and the fact that if she died suddenly, a thought planted in her mind last night, Josh would have access to the box.

She got out of the car and roamed through the house looking for a suitable place where Josh or the children were not likely to discover it. There was a box on the top shelf of her closet where she kept old letters and mementos of her girlhood. It seemed like a safe place, and she carefully wrapped the tape in her plaid skirt and dropped it there.

Thankfully, she had a great many Mommy chores to do that day. Before leaving the house, she checked the answering machine to see who had called while she was in the shower. It was Josh. He sounded harried.

“Tried your cell. No answer. We've got a great communication system going. I just wanted you to know I'll be holding you to your promise on the financing issue. Tonight for sure. I'll be home for dinner. Oh yes, I love you more than I can find words.”

Her eyes misted at the message. She was delighted by the idea. Especially, that last part. It offered just the right soothing touch to the psychic bruises she had sustained earlier.

On the matter of the finances, she was amused by his concern. Why now? Perhaps Evie's plight frightened him. She was delighted by his interest. For years, she had tried to persuade him to take a more active role in their finances. He was, at that moment, the sole family breadwinner, although she had added to the family coffers through her skilled financial management. She would never give up her role in the process. She was the one with the expertise. Of course she would keep her promise to him, eagerly.

By such a gesture, perhaps, she might dismiss any residual guilt for her action. Under no circumstances could it be defined as infidelity. In fact, by most legal and moral definitions, it was the equivalent of rape. Yes, she assured herself, she had been raped.

The strange events of the day had made her slightly manic. She felt an uncommon high as she continued to rationalize what she had done. It was not easily exorcised from her psyche. She had endured humiliation, but she had prevented a monster from harming her child.

Despite her initial sense of disgust and degradation, she felt, in the end, that she had won a great victory. It was worthy of celebration, and she was determined to mark the traumatic event with a commemorative feast.

After driving Emily and her friends to their ballet class, she stopped at a florist and bought flowers for a centerpiece. Then she went to a liquor store and bought two bottles of Dom Pérignon. What was a celebration without vintage champagne? After that, she went off to the supermarket to get the ingredients for a spectacular family dinner.

She would roast a turkey and cook a wonderful array of vegetables. Brussels sprouts, carrots, peas. For starters, she would make a Waldorf salad and end with a bouquet of fresh fruits and a scoop of fat-free ice cream; a healthy feast for her beloved family.

A brief image of Evie intruded suddenly, but without malice. Poor Evie. She was to be pitied. Josh's worries about her future were certainly understandable. But the sad fact was that poor Evie probably hadn't much of a future. If only she didn't proselytize her half-baked theories about the psychic power of food. Nevertheless, Victoria's antagonism of yesterday had faded. Josh should be a loving sibling. She would want nothing less for her own children.

She couldn't wait to explain their finances to Josh. She hoped he would be surprised by their good fortune. By any measure, they were rich. They were millionaires, three times over, which put them in the .0005 percentile of Americans in terms of net worth. All in all, their lives were blessed with wonderful things. Josh had a satisfying and lucrative job. They lived in a great house in a lovely area. They had their health. Their children were lovely and smart. They all loved each other.

Yet, this exercise of counting blessings always required acknowledging that they had been lucky to escape the consequences of their past and had by courage, discipline, and self-awareness risen above their early traumas, she as a child of divorce, he as a premature orphan. She felt a great deal of pride in that achievement. They were, after all, a statistical miracle.

After preparing the turkey and putting it in the oven to roast, she went to her computer and called up their finances. As she looked over the various listings of their assets, the front door buzzer sounded. She moved to the hallway. Feeling secure and content, she opened to the door.

Before her stood a pleasant-looking man with dark curly hair, immaculately dressed in a blue blazer and gray flannel slacks.

“Mrs. Rose,” the man said. “My name is Dominic Bocci. My wife Angela has worked for your husband. May I come in?”

After a long drive in which his mind raced with a plethora of conflicting scenarios, Josh entered his home and was greeted by delicious cooking smells. Michael ran to greet him.

“Hey, Dad,” Michael said, embracing his father.

“Quite a greeting, son,” Josh said. Michael's embrace seemed to chase the blues.

He went into the kitchen where Victoria was basting the turkey and Emily was mashing the sweet potatoes. Seeing him, Emily came over and hugged him.

“To what do I owe this honor?” Josh asked.

“Because you're my daddy, that's why.”

Victoria looked up from her work and offered a smile.

“What's the occasion?” Josh asked.

“Family party,” Victoria said.

“Smells okay to me.”

In the background, he could hear the mellow strains of Mahler coming over the stereo.

He went upstairs, changed to jeans and a sport shirt, and came downstairs. The horrors of the day seemed dispelled and all his optimism came rushing back. He had his family. What else mattered? He would solve the problem with Dominic Bocci and never allow himself to get screwed up like this again.

When he came down, the table was set. An ice bucket containing a bottle of Dom Pérignon sat beside the table.

“Remember grace,” Victoria said, and the family joined hands. It was not an unusual occurrence, but there was a sense of something of importance in the air. Before Josh could assemble his thoughts, Victoria began:

“We thank the Lord for the blessing of this food and we ask his indulgence to help us cope with whatever struggles we face ahead. Grant us the wisdom and the insight to make the necessary decisions for our peace of mind and, above all, to keep and protect our lovely children. Amen.”

Josh felt oddly discomforted by her words, which made no specific mention of him. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off and busied himself with uncorking the champagne bottle, which made a large pop, much to the delight of the children. He poured Victoria and himself a glass.

“Can I, Mom, please?” Michael said.

“Just a little drop, please?” Emily whined.

Josh and Victoria exchanged glances and Victoria nodded. Josh poured a thimbleful of the champagne into each of his children's glasses.

“Might as well begin them on the best,” he said, lifting his glass. “To the greatest family in the world.” He clinked glasses with Victoria and the children. Victoria smiled and drank. He noted that she drained her glass in one swoop, which was unusual for her. He drank half his glass, then filled both glasses again.

“There must be an occasion,” he said. “Come on, you're holding back. Something good has happened, hasn't it?”

His question sounded more like a plea than an inquiry. Above all, he needed something good to happen. The air of celebration felt surreal. There was simply nothing obvious to celebrate, which was disturbing. It made him feel alien and left out.

“Not missing an important date, am I?”

His question was met with confused shrugs. Victoria avoided his glance.

“Champagne? Roast turkey and all the trimmings?” Josh persisted. “Mahler on the stereo? Must be something.”

“I guess I felt festive.” Victoria said, draining her glass again.

“It sure looks like it,” Josh said, disturbed by his own touch of sarcasm. Victoria held out her glass and he poured her another.

“What was your day like, Michael?” Josh asked suddenly, determined to deflect any overt signs of irritation.

“Super,” Michael said, turning to his mother and nodding.

“And Emily?”

“Fun day, Daddy. The teacher hung my drawing on the bulletin board.”

“How wonderful,” Josh said, turning to Victoria. “And yours?”

“Best ever, Josh. Best ever.”

Oddly, she seemed less than enthusiastic, but he let it pass. His own concerns focused on a single issue.

“After dinner, we'll go over the financial situation, won't we, Victoria?” he asked.

“Of course we will, Josh. Don't I always keep my promises?”

He nodded, surprised by the faint hint of sarcasm in her remark. He looked at her. She winked, raised her glass again, and drank.

The dinner seemed long. Perhaps it was his impatience. When they rose from the table, Michael kissed his mother and went up to his room while Emily came into the kitchen to help her mother with the dishes.

“Why not leave that 'til later?” Josh asked his daughter, anxious to get on with their financial discussion.

“It won't be long,” Victoria said, as she continued the process of cleaning up.

But it was long, longer by far than Josh had calculated. By the time Emily was sent off to bed and he had kissed her good night, it was nearly ten.

“Now?” he asked.

“Now.”

Josh followed Victoria into the den, but instead of her sitting down in front of the computer she sat on the couch and stared at him. He was confused by her sudden change of attitude.

“What's happening?” he asked, his agitation growing. He was genuinely confused.

“This,” she said. She reached behind her, and then held up what looked like a small trinket of some sort. She held it up and dangled it in front of him. His stomach lurched and he felt his chest tighten. Then she stretched it between fingers of two hands and read the inscription.

“My delicious whore. J.” She snickered. “J? Now who do you suppose that stands for?”

A wave of nausea washed over him. He began to sweat profusely.

“J for Jackass,” she cried, flinging the ankle bracelet in his face.

He tried to speak but couldn't. His mind went suddenly blank. It was as if he had fainted and remained conscious.

“How about O for Over,” Victoria snapped.

“Over?”

The other shoe had dropped. He felt as if it were a horseshoe that had landed on his head.

“I had a wonderful conversation this afternoon with Dominic Bocci,” she said, her face remarkably serene. Naming Dominic made things clear. It actually served to restore him to a feeling of equilibrium. The initial shock quickly dissipated. He knew exactly where he was now. In deep shit.

“That dirty little bastard,” Josh hissed.

“I agree. But I have to assume that his allegations about you and his wife are correct.” Her arms were crossed over her chest and she seemed strangely calm. “Nevertheless, you do have a chance of rebuttal.”

“Okay, what did he tell you?” Josh asked, his throat constricted.

“Come now, Josh. Don't be cute. He told me that you and his wife were… how shall I put it… sexually involved for the last six months, though he put it a tad more crudely.”

Her calm demeanor was disconcerting and he felt a terrible hollowness inside of him.

“I… I broke it off. I couldn't bear the tension. It was against the grain, Victoria.”

“Against the grain?” Victoria sneered. “What crap.”

“It's not as cut and dried….”

“Betrayal is betrayal. No getting around that, my darling husband.”

“I've never done anything like this.”

“Spare me,” Victoria said without emotion. She paused and shook her head. Her expression seemed one of utter disgust. “I see no legitimate reason why this marriage should not be terminated.”

“Terminated? Just like that? You make it sound so….”

“Final.”

“Cold-blooded.”

“It's my reactive choice, Josh. I'm trying to feel nothing except a desire for….”

“Termination,” he whispered.

“Exactly.”

“There's so much at stake here, really Victoria. A little compassion is called for. I made a mistake. I admit it. I understand how you feel.”

“I told you, Josh, I'm trying to feel nothing. And I must admit, I'm succeeding. Frankly, I don't want to feel anything. You violated our contract. The fact is, I no longer want to be involved with you. I can't trust you, and without trust, marriage is nothing.”

“Jeez, Victoria. You sound so….”

“Lawyerly?”

“That, too.”

“
Rational
is the word, Josh. Above all, this must be a time for reason. I would not want this little betrayal to disintegrate into something similar to what your parents went through.”

“Or yours,” he said, trying to recover some semblance of poise through this weak try at a counterattack.

Studying her, she reminded him of the first day they had met in her office. There was the same purposeful look in her eyes, the same single-mindedness. He knew she meant what she was saying. Hadn't he predicted it to Evie? He was genuinely frightened.

“Our first consideration must be the children,” she said.

“Would you expect anything less of me? They're my kids, too.” Despite the predictability of her reaction, he had secretly hoped that the gloomy fate that awaited the children might soften her stance when it came to their marriage. It hadn't.

But it did explain her conduct during dinner. She had opted for performance over reality, a kind of protective cover for the benefit of the kids. Projecting such actions into the future, he understood the tactic. An angry scene would have devastated them.

“We must do what's best for them,” Victoria said with conviction.

He shook his head and pursed his lips.

“I could have solved everything for two hundred thousand dollars.”

“You would never have gotten away with it, Josh. Never. Like your six-month peccadillo. Sooner or later these things come out.”

“I was such a damned fool,” he muttered.

“Worse, Josh. Far worse. Beneath contempt. When I think of all the lying you had to do… it makes me want to puke. Coming to my bed after being with her. Who was the damned fool here? How could I have not known?”

“I can't even believe it was me doing these things. And doing them to you, Victoria. You of all people. My wife….”

She put her hands to her ears.

“I don't want to hear it, Josh. Please. It's too revolting. I want to avoid this scene at all costs. Do you understand? Just shut up. Please.”

Never in his life had he felt such contrition. His stomach was in knots. He wished he could will himself to disappear.

“I'm so, so sorry,” he said, feeling a sob begin deep inside of him. “I'll do anything.” The sob surfaced and tears brimmed over his eyelids and slid down his cheeks.

“You're pathetic,” Victoria sighed.

“That I am,” he managed to croak. He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand.

“Unfortunately, we have to consider the practical implications. As much as I hate to do it, we have to save your job. If I had my druthers, I'd let them fire your ass.”

“I wouldn't blame you.”

“The fact is, it's too lucrative to toss away. You are, for the moment, still the family breadwinner.”

Still? The connotation was loud and clear. She was going back to work.

She looked at him without the slightest expression of understanding or sympathy. Then she bit her lip and sucked in a deep breath.

Lifting her eyes, she said, “You're right about one thing. I couldn't believe you ever again. I just can't live with that. The idea that you and that woman….” She paused and shook her head. “It just repulses me so much to think about it. Six months, Josh. Six months. How can I get it out of my mind? My God! Sharing such profound intimacy with another woman. I'm sickened by the idea of it. It was dirty, disgusting.”

She suddenly shivered as if hit by a cold wind “And dangerous. Living such a lie. How could you? I feel utterly violated. Is it a male compulsion?” Her nostrils dilated as she seemed to ponder the question for a moment. “You know, I never subscribed to my mother's paranoia on that issue, but I can see her point, and it does frighten the hell out of me. I'm sorry, Josh. I've weighed all the factors, including the impact on the children. The fact is that it can never be the way it was before. Never.”

Her logic was chilling. Worse, he could not disagree with her. He knew he would have reacted in exactly the same way. She was deliberately cutting him off from his moorings.

“I love my family,” he whispered. “It's everything to me.” In the face of her clear-eyed explanation, he felt utterly helpless.

“No, only our children are the issue. That's all I've been thinking about ever since that wonderful Mr. Bocci arrived on my doorstep. I'm not going to wallow in self-pity or regret. Disillusion will pass. I guess I put my money on the wrong horse. Let's try to work out this… this disentanglement… with a minimum of trauma for us, and especially for the children. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

He wasn't sure how to respond. He had pleaded. He had begged for mercy. Suddenly another thought crossed his mind. Suppose the shoe was on the other foot. Would he forgive and forget? Forgive, maybe, he conceded. Forget, never.

“I do understand, Victoria.”

She nodded.

“I've also been thinking about what approach we should take.”

“Approach? You'll have to be clearer.”

“I hope you'll go along with me on this, Josh. I'd like us to have joint custody. It's the closest thing to the situation we have going for them now. Two loving parents sharing their children's lives.”

He was instantly wary.

“I'd like to do what in family law is called ‘bird nesting.' It's not the usual approach. But I remember the expression from my law school days, my course in family law.”

“I would like to soften the blow for the children by maintaining the household. I would like their routine to continue in the same environment with a minimum of change.

“I haven't a clue to what you're suggesting, Victoria.”

“I really don't mean that we should continue to live together. What I'm suggesting is that we share our domicile. There I go with that legalese. I'm suggesting that we each take charge of the household for a couple of weeks at a time. We rotate. Two weeks on and two weeks off. That way the children will feel a lesser sense of desertion or loss. They'll have their dad and their mom in their own environment, in their own space, but at different times. In that way, they'll understand that they're the priority for both of us.”