Washington

Change

Constantina leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling faint. I’ll never set foot into another kitchen. First my mother, dead on the floor, now this. She stared at Lance, tall, dark, a bundle of documents in his hand. Her hearing, too, had taken a hit from the news. She could hear her daughter yelling at her father, but the words made little sense. Except one.

            Divorce.

“This is a joke. You have no right. After what you put mom through the past years …” Mia stood in the middle of the kitchen, between her parents, shielding her mother from the invariable disaster.

And Mia wanted answers.

            Lance tossed the papers on to the kitchen countertop and glared at his daughter. “Mia, my relationship with your mother isn’t your business. I provided for both you and your brother …”.

          “No, this is about me too, we're a family, or at least I thought so ...” Mia stared at him, lips pressed into a thin white line.

            “Mia, please leave.” Constantina whispered. When her daughter didn't react, she repeated herself, louder this time. “Mia, he's right. So please, leave us alone so we can talk.” Constantina gathered enough strength to walk toward her daughter and take her by the arm.  With protest, Mia walked out of the kitchen, slamming the house door on her way out.

“Are you serious?” She walked to the refrigerator to retrieve an open wine bottle. Then she moved toward her husband.

He cautiously retreated while watching his wife open the cabinet door to take out a wine glass. Bottle and glass in hand, she moved toward the kitchen island and sat in the chair farthest away from him.

           Lance pointed at the stack of papers.

           “I'm trying to prevent this from turning into a messy divorce. In order for me to do that, you'll need to sign this document; your signature does not mean consent. It does mean your acknowledgment and receipt of the petition for divorce. Tomorrow, you'll find a lawyer and he'll explain it to you.”

            She poured a glass of wine and drank it before the glass could form condensation from the refrigerated beverage. Then, she refilled it.

           Connie held the bottle of wine in her hand for a moment. “Damn it, you went to law school; why don't you explain it to me?”

           Lance’s hand ran through his black, short hair. “Woman, please ...”

            “I don't know why you want this divorce. We agreed we’d stick together, no matter what.” She looked pleadingly at him.

           Lance groaned, snatched the divorce papers up and stalked around the kitchen island. His six feet tall stature towered over her. He waved the papers at her. “I promised I’d take care of you. I have. When we got married, I promised I wouldn’t turn into my father. I never raised a hand toward you or the kids. Nor did I turn into your father, whoever the hell he is. We had an agreement and as far as I’m concerned, I held up my end.”

         “And I didn’t?”

          He groaned and pressed air out of his thin, hawkish nose. “Why is everything always about you? Can’t you hear me? I want out. That’s not saying that you didn’t hold up your end of the deal. You did. You raised my children. You didn’t turn into your mother, mostly. But you’re my wife. Now I want a relationship with someone I have something in common with.”

He paused, threw the documents in front of her, towering over her. “Sign the damn papers so we can move on. If you do, I’ll even pay for your lawyer, but you have to promise to not fight this.” His face was inches away from hers, growling out the words.

The cold wine glass was still in her hand and, without thinking, she drowned her third glass of wine in one gulp.  A feeling of numbness from the alcohol spread through her and the world took on a fuzzy edge. For a split second, she considered throwing the glass at him.

            The moment of silence grew into minutes. Connie sat there, unable to move, her mind working over his words. It was all true. And yet, at one point, you expected him to love you. But you never fell in love with him. It was enough for you. Apparently, it wasn’t for him. That’s what he’s been looking for with all those other women. A feeling of frustration and sudden, red-hot anger, flashed over her. I could have strayed, too, but I didn’t. And she remembered the day two years ago when she found proof that he had done more than straying with women. When she found out that he was straying financially, too.

        Lance glared at her, waiting for her response, his index finger tapping. He wouldn’t wait much longer.

Some people, when they break, they scream, they beg, they cry. Not Constantina. She always broke in silence, her anger cocooning her, strengthening her. I’m done playing this game.

“No.”

            His hands curled into fists. “No?”

            Connie didn’t back up. Instead, she smiled at him. Lance was too afraid to turn into his father. The last thing he’d ever do was use physical force.

           She watched him inhale deeply, exhale. It was his technique to calm himself. And it worked. Within a minute, he regained control and took several steps back. A businessman all around. “Look, I am trying to be nice here. I could have the Sheriff serve you. I still can, if you keep fighting with me.”

“To your credit, you never did lie to me.” She reached for the bottle of wine, glanced at the quickly decreasing content and decided against another glass. “So, this one is on me. I thought you loved me but didn’t know how to tell me any other way. But this only ever was a business arrangement for you, wasn’t it?”

          He snorted. “Good grief, woman, are you serious? You thought I was a closet romantic or something?” He rubbed his forehead, puzzled by the revelation.

She sighed, reached for the documents and began browsing through them. “Let's see: you want the house, the cars, the money, including retirement package and all you're offering me are $500,000.00 cash and the loft in Portland. How very greedy of you.” She threw the documents back on the table. 

“Well, at least now I know why you were so insistent on putting my earnings into our mutual checking account and why you wanted to control it. What did you say to me back then: I’m the investment manager, you’re just the office manager? Never mind that this lowly office manager has a college degree and put you through law school.”

           His narrow eyes stared at her. His hands hidden in the pant pockets while he deliberated his next move. However, he failed to account for her newly discovered courage, courtesy of the now half empty bottle of Pinot Grigio.

         She went for his throat. Financially speaking. “I'll sign this acceptance of service if you'll increase the settlement to a million. Now, our personal accounts total up to about that much, the house is paid off, so are the cars. Unless, of course, you mortgaged any of our assets without telling me. Oh, wait, they have my name on it, so you couldn’t have done that.

“What you’re offering is ten percent,” she tilted her head as she did a quick accounting of their asset/debt ratio, “and that’s not enough. The retirement account alone is three times that much. Did you think you could get rid of me so easily?” She spat out the words as concise as she could think. He wanted a business proposal. He would get it.

           He snatched up the documents. “This will be in court for years to come. I can see to it. You don't stand a chance.” He turned to walk out.

   “Not so fast.” Connie took three steps toward him, readying for the final strike. I can’t believe I had the sense to keep copies of these stupid documents. Who knew I’d use them to blackmail my husband?

            “Before you leave, I need to confess a transgression.” He turned as she spoke, eyebrows raised.

           “Remember we finally decided to update the house two years ago? When we opened up the first floor so that you can have a home office? The two weeks I took my vacation time from the office so that we can get that done?” Lance inhaled, his nostrils moving. It wasn’t his pissed-off face, not yet. Keep talking, he’ll get there. 

        “You showed up in the morning, having been out all night. I’m not an idiot, I knew you had other women. I accepted it because you never did talk of divorce. It was just something that happened. But that particular morning, you were so angry,” Connie balled her hand into a fist, “I wanted to slap you. All I had asked was if you want breakfast. You snapped at me, called me a controlling bitch. That hurt.” Connie spoke softly, her green eyes studying him.

            Lance grunted and opened his mouth.

            She slammed her hand onto the kitchen counter. “I am not done talking.” She yelled. His mouth closed.

         “That's when I started disliking you. When I realized that you’re just like my mother; a self-centered flake, only ever interested in what you want.” She laughed. “They say a girl will marry the same type of guy as her father is. I guess I married my mother’s type.”

          Lance narrowed his eyes, slowly approaching. He stopped in front of one of the chairs. “What did you do?” His voice a low growl.

She growled back.

“You pissed me off. You know I clean when I get upset. Including that spare nook, you repeatedly told me to leave alone. Hell, it was almost like a dare. Besides, it was a mess; dust everywhere from the contractors tearing down walls.

“The new safe hadn't arrived yet, all the documents you normally keep in there you kept in boxes in that nook. I snooped around and found bank statements to offshore accounts. Not one account, but three. With all those coded numbers instead of names. But the moment I looked at the dollar amounts, I didn’t care for names. Just one account had a balance of five million. Not to mention fifty transactions in one month, coming and going from other accounts all over the world. I recognized it immediately. You’ve been paid off. You’re laundering money.”

          Lance's hands were holding on to the back of the chair in front of him so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s all legal …”

           Connie watched as her husband's palms squeezed the solid wood. It’s not as frightening as I thought it would be. I should have fought with him long before this. Truth be told, it’s liberating, knowing I can get this reaction out of him. She smiled to herself.

            “What amazes me is you never put it together. You are so trusting. You didn’t question why I wanted to quit my job right after the remodeling was done. Finding the documents that prove embezzlement, or whatever the hell you were doing, worried me. I was afraid it’d come out and I’ll be implicated in your scheme. You bought into that whole spiel about wanting to volunteer, doing my part.” She giggled, shook her head. Lance looked like he was about to jump across the kitchen island.

“Now, to the point of this: I got copies of the documents. Just one. But that’s all I need. Monique is the only back-up I have. She knows about this. Since she’s my best friend, I called her and had her look at it. Oh, and since we’re putting it all out on the table, there was some personal notes from Regina, which I thought was strange. Are you sleeping with her?”

         Connie gleefully watched his face turn pale.

        Lance closed the distance between them, the wide eyes of surprise narrowing.

            “You told that busy body Monique? What the hell is wrong with you? Did you show these to anyone else? Did you contact Regina? Is that why you don't like her, because you’re jealous?” Lance yelled at her.

           Connie remained undeterred. “No. And why the hell would I contact that uppity bitch, anyway? This is about you. You're a selfish bastard and I'm a reasonable woman, so the chances of you winding up in prison over this are slim. And Monique will do what I ask her to do, so don't worry about her. Do worry about making me an offer that is acceptable.”

            The only noise interrupting the silence came from the creaking of the wood stairs.

            She sighed, her head tilted upward, looking straight into his dark-brown eyes.

           “As you always say; it’s pretty much black and white, what’s done is done and there’s no need to linger in the past. Now, the only thing left is your answer. What'll be? Yes, no, maybe?”

            He recoiled.

            Connie watched his agony. And she didn’t give a damn about having inflicted pain on him.

            Suppose that makes me a bad girl.