40 Something - Safety (4 page)

“I didn’t ask
you mom. It’s the Christian thing to do.”

“I am sure God
would have been just as happy if you’d help her find a shelter and
she could have hired someone to do this.”

“She has no
money.”

“Well. The
church has people to do this. Trained people. For a donation they’d
have moved her. You didn’t need to take it upon yourself.”

“No one made
you come mom. If you want I’m sure Justine could drive you and dad
back to the house.”

“Your father
better not be helping those boys with that couch. His heart.”

“My heart is
just fine. Stop worrying. You’re always worrying.”

“Of course I
worry, what would I do with your body if you keeled over?”

“I’m sure you
will think of something.” He gives mom a little squeeze. “So how’s
it going in here girls?”

“Good daddy. We
almost have the bedrooms emptied, then all that’s left is the
bathroom and the kitchen.”

“Sounds like
you have it all under control. The boys and I are going to go
unload the truck.”

“Howard. Your
heart.” My mom says.

“Stop your
worrying. I’m the foreman. I just stand around and give orders.” He
winks at me.

We get the
bathroom packed up in record time. It’s 2:00 when we finally finish
packing up the kitchen. She really doesn’t have that much
stuff.

“I have to run
and get the kids from school. Will you be OK ‘til I get back Rose?”
Justine ask me.

“Of course.
Thank you so much for all your help.”

Good dependable
Justine. She should have been my sister for real instead of
Charlene and Grace. I’m just thankful that Gary married her and
they live so close. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

“Justine dear
can you give me a ride back to Rose’s place?”

“You’re
abandoning me too mom?”

“You’re pretty
much done here.”

“What the
Fuck?” A male voice comes from the door. “Where is my wife?” It’s
Craig.

“Your wife?” I
ask.

He looks at me
and Justine silently assessing us, as if he’s trying to remember
where he knows us from.

“Your wife is
–“ My mom starts and I pull at her to stop her from saying
anything.

“I remember you
two. You were at the pub and the police station last night.”

“Yes we were.”
I stand tall.

“You were the
one who told the cops to arrest me. Where do you get off you fat
bitch?”

I’m caught off
guard by the remark. How dare he call me that? Now I’m angry.

“Listen here,
you had no right to pull Sophie out like that, embarrassing her and
bruising her arm.”

He moves
towards us. Anger is dripping off him. His fists are balled up and
his eyes are full of raw rage. I step back. He steps forward.

“She’s my wife.
I have every right. You stupid fat bitch whore. Where the fuck is
Sophie. My wife. Where is she?”

He’s vibrating
he’s so angry. I stand up straighter. Taller. Call me names? How
dare he? Where does he get off? I can get angry too.

“Sophie is
safe, safe from the likes of you. She’s your ex-wife.”

“She is still
my wife. Mine. I want her and my kids here, now.”

His hand goes
up and I step back some more. Justine and my mom have stepped back
too. He glares at me.

“You better
leave or I’ll call the police.” I say.

“Call ‘em. In
fact I’m gonna call ‘em and tell ‘em you kidnapped my wife, my kids
and are stealing all our things.”

He pulls out
his phone and starts to dial.

“I wouldn’t do
that.” Gary is behind him. “Unless you want to go back to
jail.”

Craig whips
around the shock and surprise evident on his face. It takes him a
moment to recover before he starts to dial again.

“Rose, call
Charlene and ask her if that restraining order has been issued
yet.” Gary says.

I pull out my
phone and start dialling my sister.

“Who are –“
Craig starts.

“Call the cops
if you want. Why don’t you come outside, with my brother and I, to
wait for them?”

“Fine. I’m
leaving. You tell my WIFE, to call me. I want to see my kids.”

“Call her
lawyer.” Gary says in a calm voice.

Craig leaves,
staying as far away from Gary and Gus as he can. My man is standing
there looking big and mean. I run to him and his arms wrap around
me, protecting me. I love him so much. I don’t want to let go. I
didn’t realize how scared I was until I am safe in his arms,
shaking.

“See what
happens when you get involved.” My mom says.

I’m tired. My
eyes are dry and itchy. I just want to lie down and close them.
Never open them again. I have too much to do though. I didn’t sleep
very well at Rose’s place last night. I kept thinking about all the
things I needed to do. In the end, I decided to get up extra early
and grab a cab to the train station. How do people commute every
day? What a waste of time.

Getting Davie
up and moving that early was nearly impossible. At one point I
considered leaving him there. He was so slow I was sure I’d be
late. By the time we got into the cab I was seething with
frustration and ready to strangle the kid.

We made it,
barely.

Everyone on the
train looked like they were trying not to fall asleep. The motion
of the train lulled me to slumber a couple of times, each time a
shock of electricity ran through my head and jolted me awake. I
really hate that. When you are so tired your body is desperate to
sleep, but you can’t, so you’re brain shocks you awake. It fuckin
hurts.

People really
do this every day?

Get up extra
early. Get on a train. And travel almost an hour into the downtown
core. For what? A house? A plot of land that they have to mow? A
place for their kids to run around in perceived safety? It’s
laughable. Their kids are in just as much danger out there as they
are in the city. Drugs, gangs, and accidents are everywhere.

By the time I
got home, got presentable, got Davie to school, me to the office,
I’d been up for three hours. With very little coffee in my system,
by the way.

I’m tired. So
tired.

“Hey Charlie,
looks like you had a fun time last night.”

Doug, one of
the lawyers at the firm I’m with, is standing in the coffee room
talking with a couple of the young paralegals. He’s always hitting
on the paralegals. No one ever hits on me. I look down at myself.
Men are such assholes. You have to be pretty and young for them to
take notice of you. “Charlie, are you OK?”

He’s standing
closer to me now. I look at him. He’s a good looking guy. About 50
years old. Still has his blonde hair, which he keeps short in a mad
men haircut. Well built. Looks great in a suit. Why is he still in
a suit? My eyes wonder down his body as I try to imagine what he
looks like beneath the dark blue material.

“Charlie.”

I look up into
his blue eyes. I never noticed his blue eyes before. He looks
confused. Concerned? Why? What?

“Charlie. Here
have a sit and let’s get some coffee in you.”

“Coffee. Yes
Coffee.”

I sit down at
the table. Cross my arms on it and put my head down, just for a
minute. Just a minute.

“Charlie.
Charlie. Wake up.”

Fuck Doug.
Screw off. I open my eyes. They focus. Shit it isn’t Doug. It’s my
legal assistant Kari.

“What?”

“You fell
asleep. You’re 9:30 is here.”

Nothing like
instant panic to wake a girl up.

My day is a
blur of meetings, law, letters, and email. The joys of being a
lawyer, it’s not all court rooms and arguments, mostly I write
letters, fill out forms, and put together offers. A few times a
week I field calls from clients and put out fires. Divorces are
messy and emotional. Managing my client’s fears and protecting
their interests is a big part of the job.

I drag my ass
all day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world to kick start my
energy levels. I’m cursing my sister, her friend, and the train for
my crappy day. I finally get time to go to the washroom in the late
afternoon. That’s how busy my day is, I can’t even take a piss.

Fuck.

I got my
fucking period. No wonder, I’m pulling a ten tonne ball of lead
around with me. Fuck. I hate this time of the month. Can’t fucking
stand it. I’m always so tired, irritable, and short tempered. Not
to mention the cramps and the mess on heavy months. If I have to
get this stupid curse of life, why can’t it be only on weekends
when I can sit around in my jammies with a hot water bottle, a
book, and some tea all day?

I can’t even
take off early because I have Shelly Granger’s divorce proceedings
to prep for. Why God? Why? Haven’t women suffered long enough for
that damn apple?

“It’s your
son’s school, on line 1.” Kari says as I walk into my office.

“Hello, Charlie
speaking, how can I help you today?”

“Ms.
Reed-Reynolds this is Mr. Bradshaw from –“

“Hello Mr.
Bradshaw what can I do for you?”

“Well, Davie
isn’t feeling very well. Wondering if you can come get him?”

“I can’t right
this moment. Can he lie down in the sick room until I can get
someone to pick him up?”

“If you could
let us know when he can be picked up.”

“Thanks.”

Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck. Fuckedy fuck fuck.

Mom and Dad are
still at Rose’s house. Shit. OK Charlie take a breath. In and out.
That’s it. I look at the pile of work on my desk and sigh. Kid or
work? I pick up the phone and dial the one number I hate to
dial.

“Hello.”

“David, it’s
Charlie.” My cheating asshole of an ex-husband.

“What do you
want Charlie?”

“It’s Davie.
He’s not feeling good. Are you busy right now?”

“Yes.”

“Doing
what?”

“It’s not my
week Charlie - it’s yours. You figure it out. Here’s an idea, put
your kid before your work.”

“I –“

He hung up.

Well that
actually went better than I thought it would. When a man cheats on
his divorce attorney wife, you’d think he’d expect to get hosed in
the deal. He’s mad because I screwed him over. He was the one who
wanted to stick his little weenie in some bimbo’s ass. Well, by the
time I was done with him he knew what it felt like to get it up the
ass all right. Fucking loser.

I am
vibrating.

My skin feels
tight and itchy.

I want to peel
my skin off.

I hate feeling
like this. I hate him. I hate my sister. I hate her friend. I hate
my son. I hate my job. I hate life. I may be taking this whole hate
thing a bit too far. Still. At the moment, I hate everything. I
scream in frustration. It doesn’t work. I scream again. Yeah
nothing. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Charlie?” Kari
pokes her head in, very reluctantly by the looks of it.

“What?” I can
hear the venom and I breath. “Sorry, what can I do for you?”

“Ah. Mr. Jenner
wants to talk to you.”

“Shut. The.
Door.” I say through clenched teeth.

I walk to the
couch in my office, grab a throw pillow, put it up to my face and
scream as loud as possible.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK”

Mr. Jenner. The
big boss. The Senior of all Senior Partners. The guy looks like he
past retirement age 20 years ago. I sit down in the chair across
the desk from him and feel very small. Insignificant. Paranoid. Why
am I here? I’m too far down the ladder to matter to Mr. Jenner.

“Ms.
Reed-Reynolds, how are you today?”

“Good sir.”

“I heard you
fell asleep in the coffee room this morning.”

I grit my
teeth. Doug. I’m certain of it. He would sell his first born to get
ahead, if he had one. The guy’s never been married and no kids he
knows of. Thank God, he’d be a terrible father.

“Uhm. Yes sir.
Was with a new client at the police station last night and didn’t
get much sleep.”

“A new
client?”

“A potential
new client. I just met her last night, had her husband
arrested.”

“Well there’s a
good start.”

“I apologize
for nodding off, it was only for a few minutes and I’ve drunk a pot
of coffee and have been firing on all cylinders since.”

“Yes, I find
cat naps to be very refreshing. Makes one more productive.”

I smile, kind
of. What can he do? Slap my hand and make life a bit miserable for
me for a short time?

“I nap every
day on my couch there. Even keep a blanket in the closet. I
wouldn’t be able to get anything done without a good 30-minute
shuteye. Glad to see you are working hard. How is your son?”

“My son? Ah.
Good. He’s at school. I have him this week, but he’s quite
independent, takes care of himself most of the time. Very good boy.
Hardly needs anything from me.”

“Good to hear.
Must be tough, all your long hours, on the boy.”

“No. No. He’s
good. We spend quality time together. It’s about the quality of the
time not the quantity. He understands that work is important and
that I have to work.”

It’s like I’m
talking to my father, who mind you is probably 15 years younger
than Mr. Jenner. What is it with old men? Can’t they see the world
has changed? Women can have it all. Careers, children,
relationships. We can have it all. The thought exhausts me.

“If you say so.
Just want to make sure you can manage everything.” He says.

“I can. I fell
asleep once. In 14 years with this firm I have always been on time,
ready to work, professional, and I bring in consistent billable
hours. It was once and because I was with a prospective client most
of the night. Most of the guys here come in so hung over every week
that they can barely function. It was 20 minutes. If you want me to
leave the firm why don’t you --”