Four Friends (4 page)

“Oh, too bad,” she said.

“I have to rush, Kelly. Oh, and Kelly—don’t mention our talk to Phil. About...it’s a very sensitive subject.”

“Still?” Kelly asked as if surprised.

“I’m sure he’d like to keep all that private stuff from the rest of the office.”

She laughed. “Well, the gossip died off a long time ago—years ago.”

Years ago? Years ago?
Years ago?
Where
was
I?
“Still,” Gerri said. “It is. At least for us.”

“I understand,” Kelly said.

“Good luck,” Gerri said, giving her one last squeeze. Then she almost ran out of the ladies’ room to the elevator, to the ground floor, to the parking garage, to the Golden Gate Bridge. She was in a trance of disbelief. The first thing she did was think of the many explanations he might come up with to make this all go away.
Bullshit,
he would say.
When was that supposed to have happened?
he would ask.
That’s impossible! If there was talk about something like that, I didn’t know about it! I was always too goddamn busy with games and meets and concerts and meetings to fit in an affair! Where did you get something as nuts as this?

But it was a long drive back to Mill Valley and by the time she got there, she knew. It was true. He’d had an affair. His assistant had known about it as had others in the office. And she had
not.
Not even a whiff. He had pulled it off.

She didn’t go back to her office, she took the afternoon off and went home. She spent the entire time until the kids came home in the office she shared with Phil. They had a big home, one of the largest on the street. Their office and the master bedroom were on the ground floor, four bedrooms on the second floor, one for each kid and a guest room.

The office was nicely divided with a built-in desk running along three walls in a U-shape. They shared a computer, but each had their own laptops, as well, and bookshelves to the ceiling, plus two large walk-in closets—one for each of them that held their filing cabinets and shelves for supplies.

Gerri knew Phil’s password and opened his email. But if she knew his password, he wouldn’t save anything she could see, yet she looked through all the saved files, all the old emails. Nothing, of course there was nothing. And he certainly wouldn’t keep personal, incriminating files in the prosecutor’s office—it was a political job, constantly under scrutiny.

She spent a little time looking through hard files he brought home, but in no time at all she knew she wouldn’t find anything. There wouldn’t be any evidence.

Yet she knew. She knew.

two

SONJA HAD A meditation group in the morning at the community rec center and right after that she spent a couple of hours at the health food co-op, but when she got back home in the early afternoon, she noticed that the kitchen carpenter’s truck was backed up to Andy’s open garage, and Andy’s car was there, as well. The pile of Bryce’s things was gone from the front yard. She couldn’t restrain herself any longer and she went into the house through the opened garage, guided by the sound of an electric screwdriver. When the noise paused she said, “Knock, knock.”

The carpenter turned away from the shelf he was removing. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi. Bob, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“Is Andy here, by chance?”

“She’s around here somewhere,” he said.

“Whew, this is messy work, isn’t it?” she said to him.

“I’m afraid it gets to be a real messy ordeal,” he confirmed, going back to his job.

Sonja wandered through the kitchen and into the house. She called out to Andy and Andy yelled, “Back here.”

In the master bedroom, Andy was folding clothes into a cardboard box. “Oh, boy,” Sonja said. “This doesn’t look good.”

“Depends on your point of view,” Andy answered. “It’s probably long overdue.”

“You’re moving him out?”

“I’m packing up his clothes. He didn’t bring much into the relationship. Bryce has always lived kind of loose—few attachments.” She gave a sigh and folded a pair of jeans into the box. “I should have considered that.”

“Does he have things like furniture?”

“Boy things—a big-screen TV, motorcycle, sound system, computer. Basics.”

“How are you holding up?”

“Hanging in there. Noel is coming over later. I’ll explain to him, but he won’t be surprised.” She looked back into the box. “Or disappointed.”

“Oh, Andy, I hate that this is happening...”

“Like I said, it’s overdue. If I’d had a brain, I wouldn’t have gotten into it to start with.”

“So what got you into it?” Sonja asked.

She shrugged. “I think it was his basic equipment. Handsome, young, funny, endowed.” She looked up from her work. “I was just so lonely by the time he came along. You know?”

Sonja shook her head sadly. “I’m going to go home and make you something for dinner, something healthy and fortifying. Plus, a plateful of chocolate cookies. Well, they’ll be carob without sugar, but it’ll get you over the hump, and carob is so soothing to the digestive tract. I’ll round up some tea that’ll calm you so you can think clearly and feel your body’s messages....”

“Thanks, I appreciate the thought, but my body is sending me the message that it wants a greasy burger and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, with a gin chaser. Or two.”

“Oh, I know that’s what you think you need,” Sonja admonished. “But that’ll just dull the senses and prolong the recovery. Trust me. And tomorrow morning, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to burn some sage and waft the essence through the house with feathers. To clear away his presence.”

“Shouldn’t you wait until he picks up his stuff?” Andy asked.

“I’ll do it again, after. Would you like something to equalize you? I could give you a massage and balance your chakras.”

“No one’s touching my chakras today, Sonja. Not even you.”

“I have some cleansing herbs, if you’d like to do a body cleansing. It can give you such a fresh feeling.”

“Doesn’t that sound terrific? The shits for twenty-four hours? No, thanks. What I’d really like to do is get his stuff out of my space.” Andy glanced at her watch. “I have a doctor’s appointment in two hours, then Noel will be over.”

Sonja’s face took on a startled expression. “Are you feeling sick?”

“No. Just a precaution,” she said. “It turns out Bryce hasn’t been faithful.”

“Oh, God! Oh, Andy! I’ll whip up a herbal drink for you!”

“Due respect, Sonja, but if Bryce left me any souvenirs that drink will probably have to be made up of antibiotics.”

Sonja actually got tears in her eyes. “I just hate him,” she hissed.

“Good,” Andy said. “That makes me feel way better than herbs. Let’s all just hate him for a while.”

Sonja opened her arms. “Let me hug you,” she said.

Andy dropped the clothing into the box and let herself be drawn into Sonja’s arms. There was something about the way she held her that almost brought tears to Andy’s eyes. Sonja’s remedies and hocus-pocus bored her to sleep, but she had a nurturing spirit underneath it all that was wholly genuine and, in fact, healing. She was small, soft and strong, gentle and comforting. Before letting go, Sonja whispered, “Is there anything I can do for you right now?”

Andy pulled back and smiled. “Nothing. Just let me finish all this. It will help, believe me.”

“I’ll be home this afternoon. Call me if you think of anything at all. If I can drive you to the doctor so you won’t be alone, I’d be happy to.”

Andy laughed softly. “Believe me, I know the drill. This is my second cheating husband and I was single a long time in between. I practically have a standing appointment.”

Sonja said goodbye to Bob as she left through the kitchen. It crossed her mind that the disaster in there was very bad for relationships, it being the rear right of the house. She had suggested to Andy that they find somewhere else to stay during renovations, but Andy blew her off.

Ordinarily an afternoon with no classes or appointments for her consulting would make Sonja anxious—it meant she wasn’t getting the word out through referrals from people whose lives had been enhanced, and that wasn’t a good feeling. But today, she needed the time for herself. Even though she hadn’t liked Bryce, she grieved for the marriage. It would upset the balance in the neighborhood. She thought about her friends. Their husbands didn’t have a great deal in common, but on those occasions they socialized as couples, the men found plenty to talk about. They would stand around in a little clot, holding a drink or beer, talk seriously about their work or politics, tell some off-color jokes, pick at their wives behind their backs like men do—pure, simple pleasure for them.

Sonja met George when she was twenty-eight, he thirty-eight. They dated for two years before marrying and would soon celebrate their tenth anniversary. She hadn’t had many relationships before George and she knew why. She was considered eccentric. But George being mature worked out so well—he was calm, consistent. He might not fully appreciate all her zealous care, but she was keeping him healthy and his home life serene. He didn’t like to argue; he liked stability and predictability, and she liked that he liked that. She could work with that.

She prepared a small meat loaf for him that was more loaf than meat because his cholesterol was up. She lit a few candles around the house and put on one of her soothing CDs, the kind you would hear in the background at the spa. The effect was very calming. George was a financial planner and his work was fraught with tension as he dealt with clients’ futures and moved people’s money around. She had time for a warm soak in the tub and a brief meditation so that when he walked through the door she’d smell delicious and be perfectly centered.

When he came in she smiled at him, then her eyes dropped to his shirt. “Oh, George, what did you spill?”

“I don’t know,” he said, looking down. He brushed at the spot.

“Don’t worry, I can get it out. Can I fix you a special tea? I have just the thing if you’ve had a hard day.”

“No, thanks, Sonja. My day calls for a Scotch.”

She clucked and shook her head. “If you must. I’ll have dinner in just a little while—I have to run a meal over to Andy. She’s under the weather.”

“She is?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“I’ll tell you about it over dinner. Just be a minute.”

She took two containers on a tray across the street to Andy’s. When she saw Noel’s car in the drive she knew she’d just hand them off; she didn’t want to interrupt them. When Andy opened the door, the unmistakable aroma of greasy pizza drifted through and Sonja frowned, then forced a smile. “Trust me,” Sonja said as she passed the tray. “This is better for you.”

Andy said thank-you and Sonja went back to her own kitchen. She caught George fixing a second Scotch and chose not to comment.

Once they were settled with their meals—hers was a pasta and greens salad with beans, his was the loaf-meat and vegetables—she said, “Bryce and Andy have split up. They’re getting divorced.”

“Oh?” he said, looking up from his fork briefly. “Too bad.”

“It was really dramatic. When Gerri and I went walking this morning, she was throwing his belongings out the front door onto the lawn, and they were screaming obscenities at each other.”

George smiled. “Is that so?”

“It’s not funny, George. She has to be tested for venereal diseases. Apparently he hasn’t been faithful.”

George made a face. “Really—I don’t need to know that.”

“Some people have pretty complicated, tragic relationships.”

“I guess that’s true,” he answered. He pushed his plate away.

“You haven’t eaten much. You’re not upset, are you?”

“No,” he said. “I had a late lunch.”

“Not something bad for your cholesterol, I hope.”

“Of course not, Sonja. I had a plate of grass. It was scrumptious.”

She smiled patiently. “Oh, you had something bad, I can tell. Well, that’s why I go to so much trouble to make sure you eat well in the evening. No matter how you carry on, I know you appreciate that I look after you as well as I can.”

“Indeed I do. I just wish that occasionally you could look after me with a spice or two. I’d love to taste my food briefly before it passes through my body.”

“And I’d like you to last,” she said. “Because I love you so.”

“You sure you don’t want me to last so you have someone to control into old age?” he returned, lifting a graying brow.

“George! What a thing to say! Just when one of my best friends is going through a terrible divorce!”

“And getting tested for venereal diseases,” he added. “You’d better rush her over some grains and herbs.”

Sonja laughed at him. “You love to do that, don’t you? Pick at my remedies. Well, I guess I’m smart enough to know that I don’t have what she needs for something like that—it’s prescription only. I am going over there first thing tomorrow to burn some sage and smudge the air with Indian feathers just to clear out the negative presence.”

He stood from the table and shook his head. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

* * *

Gerri ordered a pizza for the kids. Once that was devoured, they headed for their evening pastimes—family-room TV, computers, phones, homework, usually in that order.

Gerri fixed herself a drink instead of dinner, wondering briefly if Sonja had a herb for homicidal tendencies. She was going to confront Phil, of course. She’d been with the man a long time. She thought there was nothing she didn’t know about him.
I’ve been getting fart marks out of his underwear for almost twenty-five years for God’s sake.

Though it was still biting cold in the March night, she bundled up and went out onto the deck, under the starlight. At least she wasn’t hot. She’d been trying to size up her emotions all day long and still didn’t have a handle on whether she was enraged, confused, hurt or completely off base. She went over every day of their marriage—the births of the children, the fights, the really hard times. There was the year she lost both her parents, one after the other, to cancer—it was a blur. She’d been vacant, wandering around in a complete daze, but Phil had picked up the slack; he was completely there for her. No one could have comforted her better. Could he have done that and still had someone else in his life? Someone he went to and said, “You can’t believe how bad things are at home....”