Acts of Desperation (4 page)

“Hi.”

It was him, the guy from Satu
rday night, standing at my door in a perfectly tailored, deep black suit, and silver tie, looking more handsome than he had Saturday night. Had he followed Liz and me home and somehow found out where I worked? It would be a little crazy, but if someone that looked like him were obsessed with me, I could probably get over it.

He stepped into my office
. “I’m Jax,” he said, grinning and giving me a close-up of his perfectly aligned, pearly whites. He chuckled, and I knew from that chuckle that he recognized me too.

I walked around my desk and reached for his hand. “Sembe
r,” I said, but I was confused, and my expression read like an open book.

“From the Ne
w York office. Bernie’s grandson,” he said.

Then it hit me. I remembered Bernie mentioning on Frid
ay that his grandson was transferring, but with everything that had happened over the weekend, I’d completely forgotten.

“Oh! I
t’s nice to meet you,” I said, feeling a blush rising to my cheeks.

“It’s nice t
o meet you too,” he said.

After that, I
half-listened to everything he said. I plastered a smile on my face while I replayed the scenes from Saturday night. I hoped I hadn’t made a complete idiot out of myself in front my boss’s grandson. I went through my hazy memories. I didn’t stop at anything too embarrassing until I came to when Liz and I danced to Salt and Pepa’s, “Push It”. I cringed, remembering bumping our booties together and doing some suggestive poses—probably not one of my proudest moments. I’d had a sufficient amount to drink by that point, but I couldn’t recall if he was at the bar when we did that dance. My thought was halted when I realized he was staring at me, expectantly.

“I’m sorry…” I said, hoping he’d repeat whatever it was he
said.

“I said, how’s everything
been going here for you?” he said. “Bernie mentioned you’re our newest associate.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. Things are going pretty well. I’m doing what I love and am working with great people, so I have no complaints.”

“Good. Well…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I just wanted to say a quick hello. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.” He gave me one final killer smile, but before he walked out, he added, “You’ve got nice moves by the way.”

I bit my lip
. “Thanks,” I said and smiled.

H
e gave me a raise of his brows and walked out into the hallway, chuckling. I went back to my desk with a racing heart. I continued about my morning and talked with a few clients then, when my stomach growled, I knew it was time for lunch.

Down at the coffee shop, I picked up a ready-to-eat Greek salad and a diet Coke
—I needed a dose of fake sugar and caffeine to compliment my healthy salad. I took a seat by a set of large windows that looked out onto the busy city streets. I listened to the rumble of the
diesel engines going by and horns honking as I scrolled through my newsfeed, blindly stabbing bundles of lettuce. I was caught off guard when a picture of John popped up. One of his friend’s had tagged him in a photo that had been taken over the weekend at one of our local watering holes. He was laughing with his arm draped over a random girl’s shoulders. I don’t know why I was even surprised, but seeing the image stung. Sure I’d gone out and had had a great time too, but I wanted him to be stuck at home wallowing in misery. Men don’t usually work that way though, do they?

I
n a feeble attempt to hurt his feelings, I went over to my profile page and changed my relationship status to “single” and blocked him so I would never be surprised by any picture of him again. I picked at the last bits of my salad before shutting my phone off. Then, I threw the rest of my lunch away. 

When I arrived back on my floor,
the elevator doors opened to Jax’s rear end as he leaned over the front of Dee’s desk. He’d lost the jacket he wore earlier and had the sleeves rolled up on his crisp white shirt. His tie was slung over his shoulder as he pointed at a piece of paper. He was rattling off a list of requests and saying he wanted to put pressure on someone by burying them in paperwork. Dee sat fervently scribbling her notes as Jax shifted his weight, luring my eyes to the firm mounds of his ass.

I walked toward Dee’s desk
to collect my messages and smoothed the creases from my silk blouse just as Jax straightened up and turned to me. I took a few more steps hoping to give him a little show then my heel snagged on one of the loops of the industrial, gray Berber carpeting, and I tripped.

I
stumbled like a new born calf taking its first steps and grasped at any hope of stability. Finally, when all was lost, I gave up and went down—hard. My hands landed wide, and I was paralyzed for a second trying to figure out what had happened. Jax was quickly at my side and helping me up as a strange sensation crept over my body—I was so hot I almost felt cold. I rationalized that this had to be some new kind of physical reaction to embarrassment since I wasn’t spontaneously combusting on the spot despite my silent prayers.

“Well that was embarrassing,” I said under my breath. You probably could have lit a match off my cheeks. “Thanks.”

Jax looked at me then his eyes drifted down to my chest, and he stifled a laugh before looking down to the floor. “I think you lost something.”

“What?” I said, glanc
ing down. “Oh my God!” I said and frantically grabbed at my shirt. Apparently, when I landed, I’d popped one of my pearl buttons and was displaying all of my
assets
…and my very sensible nude bra.

He released a subtle chuckle. “
I’ll just let you take care of that.” He nodded his head. “Ladies,” he said before walking down the hall.

I waited until he was out of range. “Oh God, Dee…did that
just
happen?”

“Emm hmm,” she said then released the
laughed she’d been suppressing. “Here, I think I have a safety pin in my drawer that you can use to keep your blouse shut for the rest of the day.” She dug through her desk drawer and came up with a pin.

I awkwardly fumbled to close my blouse and thanked Dee
then strolled back to my office rolling my eyes. My day carried on without further incident, and when I wrapped everything up, I stayed at my desk and made out my grocery list. By the time I stepped out of my office, only a few lights were still on in the hallway. The sun had set hours before making it feel deceptively late. Except for a phone ringing in an office somewhere down the hall and hearing the faint rumble of Jax’s deep, gravelly voice, the floor was mostly quiet as well. It looked like Jax had taken over the oversized office a few doors down from mine.

I shut my door and started walking down the hall. I got halfway to the elevator wh
en I heard Jax say my name—and there was just something about the sound of it rolling off his tongue.

“Sember,” he repeated a little louder.

I took a deep breath and turned. “Yes?”

He walked up to me and gave me a once over with his eyes
, and my heart beat a little faster. “Would you—”

“Jax, Rittger’s office is on the line and they sound pissed,”
Evan said leaning out of Jax’s office. Evan was another attorney at the firm. He was tall and slender and everything about him screamed lawyer. His short mousy-brown hair was a bit too poufy but held firmly in place with lots of hairspray. I guessed that he was somewhere in his mid-forties judging by the hint of gray highlighting his temples. His pleated pants always hit at just the top of his black, shiny wingtips, and I often thought he could use just one more inch of length to avoid the “where’s the flood” look. On the several occasions that I’d spoken with him though, he gave me the impression that he was a pretty decent lawyer.

Jax looked back at him. “Give me just a second
. I’ll be right there.”

“
Sorry man, I don’t think this can wait,” he said. I thought good lawyer or not, his timing was terrible.

He sighed then he turned to me. “Um, have a good night,” he said, and my heart sank.

“You too,” I said. “I hope they’re not too mad.” I nudged my head in Evan’s direction, who was smiling pleasantly at me.

“If I’m doing my job
right, they should be.” He smirked. “See you tomorrow.”

The next morning, I headed out early to beat the traffic and to keep from disturbing Liz. I picked up a café mocha at the coffee shop
in my building and grabbed a salad to tuck away till lunch. I couldn’t get Jax out of my mind, and despite repeated trips to the bathroom, the water cooler, and the lounge, trying to bump into him, I never did; it must have been a busy day in court.

Just after lunch, I got a
text from Sarah asking me to come to Will’s soccer practice because my parents weren’t able to go. It had become the norm that my parents had to accompany Sarah almost everywhere if Anders was going to be there. He’d become aggressive and used various methods of intimidation to attempt to bully her into calling off the divorce. He’d been bitter about it from the beginning.

In a conversation with m
y mom in the past months, she’d described to me one scene that she’d witnessed. Anders had cornered Sarah after a soccer practice. He never touched her but backed her up against a video game and screamed in her face. My mom said his face was beet red, inches from Sarah’s, and even when tears were streaming down her cheeks, he didn’t back off. My mom had to take the children to the bathroom so they didn’t see it, and my dad had to pull Anders away from Sarah. Sarah was terrified of Anders, and my parents and I had grown more and more concerned for her safety.

I walked
through the doors and into the bustling indoor sports center. I scanned the area for Sarah and the boys. Buzzers were going off as games were wrapping up, and adults and children shuffled around looking for their fields as new games were starting. Multiple soccer balls were rolling on the beaten up linoleum floor as children warmed up with their teammates, the smell of popcorn and sweat permeated the air. I spotted Will and Sam, but no Sarah.

I walked up t
o them. “Hey, buddies. Where’s Mommy?” I asked.

Their heads turned and their faces instantly lit up. Sam said, “Aunt Sember! What are you doin’ here?”

“I came here to see you two of course.” I patted his curly, blond locks. “Holy cow buddy, what did you do, grow two inches since I saw you last?” His face lit up with pride. Sam was two years younger than Will, but now at five years old he was only about an inch shorter than his big brother. “Where’s Mommy?” I asked. With as protective as Sarah was with Sam and Will, warning bells were going off in my head. It was out of character for her to leave the kids alone.

“She said she had to go potty and to stay put,” Sam said, pointing straight down to the ground with his hands, mimicking a gesture I’d seen my sister do a million times.

Then, from behind me, I heard Sarah’s voice. “Hey, glad you made it.”

“No pr
oblem,” I said turning around. Then, I noticed something in her demeanor was off, and her eyes were red. “What’s wrong?” I whispered.

Before she had a chance to respond, Sam slammed himself into her
hip. “Momma! You’re back!”

She grunted and wrapped an arm around him.
“Of course I’m back, silly. Where else would I be? I said I just needed to go potty,” she said.

“Why you cryin’, M
omma?” He looked up at her with his big blue eyes, tilting his head, innocently confused. “You didn’t have a n’accident did ya? Did Daddy have to go, too?” he asked.

“Oh I was just sneezing—I think I’m catching Will’s cold, that
’s all,” she said.  “And, Daddy couldn’t remember where the potties were, can you believe that?
He
had an emergency,” she said.

Anders
had long suffered from irritable bowel syndrome. Earlier on in their relationship, Sarah learned the hard way that garlic was a trigger for Anders when she almost killed him with a pot of homemade potato soup. She misread the recipe and added an entire bulb of garlic instead of a clove. Consequently, he spent the rest of the night in the bathroom. So, the kids knew that if Anders said he needed to go the bathroom then they needed to get out of the way.

“Daddy’s so silly.” He giggled. “He should have gone potty before he left the house.”

“I think you’re right.” She looked down to Sam and smiled then looked over to Will, “You’re all set to go in, buddy. Field B.”

“Ok, M
ommy,” Will said. He grabbed his ball and ran out onto the field.

She looked at Sam. “You sit right here with me, ok baby?” She patted the bleacher
next to her.

He scooted up next to her. “Momma, can I play with your phone?” he asked
. She reached into her pocket and handed it over without a moment’s thought.

I waited until Sam was
preoccupied in his game. “So, what did he do?” I asked, assuming Anders was to blame for her appearance.

Sarah leaned into me. “He grabbed my arm and was pulling me aside. He was starting to cause a scene, and I didn’t want to scare the kids so I told them I was going to the bathroom. Will was already kicking his ball around, and not really paying attention, but Sammy was there and saw it. His eyes got so wide…” She took a deep breath. “He backed me up against the wall by the bathrooms, and got right up in my face, and kept repeating for me to call off my lawyer.
”

“Why is he pushing that so hard? He was the one who
’s been cheating on you all along. I’d think he’d want out,” I asked.

“
He doesn’t want out.” She laughed. “It’s only because it’s cheaper and easier for him to stay married to me. Seriously, why wouldn’t he want to keep me around so he can have me cook, clean, and take care of everything else while he plays and does whatever he wants? It’s all about money and has nothing to do with loving me or the kids,” she said, shaking her head and her voice raised an octave louder than its normal tone. “He keeps calling Chuck an idiot and says I won’t get anything better financially than what he’s offering.”

“
He’s still representing himself, I assume.”

“He sure is.”

“Well, I highly doubt that his offer is the best you’ll get,” I said.

“I
hope so. He’s made so much money these last couple of years, and he’s offering me barely enough to get by. I don’t believe him, and I refuse to stop the divorce even if he does scream in my face every chance he gets. I just won’t,” she said, taking a shaky breath and looking out to the field. “And there he is now. Look at him, it’s soccer practice for seven year olds. He acts like it’s training for the Olympics.”

I looked out onto the field and
was struck by Anders’s growing midsection. His t-shirt, which normally would have fallen straight down to his pants, now protruded out and mimicked a second trimester pregnant belly. Even his jawline was noticeably different. He always had a weak chin but it was almost nonexistent now—it simply melded into his neck. He really had packed on some pounds in the last few months.

His short, blond hair was spiked with ample amounts of gel, and h
e was clapping his hands and yelling at the boys to get in their positions. With a whistle positioned between his front teeth, he began blowing it every second like a drill sergeant to get the boys to move faster and faster. But, what really threw me was his patience with the other boys. If one of Will’s teammates needed guidance, he got down to their level and spoke to them. But, when it came to Will, he yelled in his face.

T
here was a small break, and the kids puttered around while the assistant coach set up the next drill. Four cones were lined up in a straight line, and all the boys waited behind the first one. Anders selected Will to show all the other kids how the drill was supposed to be done. It was Will’s opportunity to shine and to make his dad proud. He stood tall and smiled up at Anders then started off strong. He kicked the ball perfectly, zigzagging it flawlessly between the first three cones, but on the fourth, he kicked it too hard, and it went off course. The piercing shrill of his whistle cut through the complex loud enough to make your ears bleed. “Come on! Focus, Will! You’re not focusing! What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m trying, D
addy,” he said. His cheeks were a fiery red, no doubt from a combination of both exertion and embarrassment.

“Damn it! You’re not trying hard enough! Go! Go! GO!” he said, clapping his hands.
I took note of the shocked expressions from other parents on the neighboring bleachers as they whispered into each other’s ears, not-so-discretely judging him.

I said, “Geez
, how can he yell at him like that? Will looks like he’s going to lose it.”

Sarah shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “I guarantee he’ll be crying later when we get home. Anders is always ho
arse by the end of the session because he yells so much. What’s worse is Will hates that Anders is his coach, but I can’t do anything about it. I’m helpless against this issue.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “By the way, how are you feeling about the John thing? You look pretty good.”

“Thanks. It is what it is, you know?” I said. “Liz and I talked
it out, and I’m where I’m supposed to be. And, we did have a lot of fun this weekend so that helped.”

She laughed. “I knew
you would,” she said, and stared blankly out onto the field.

“So, h
ow’s therapy going for you and the kids?” I asked.

“As good as it can I guess. They’re teaching us ways to deal with a narcissist,” she said
with a slight roll of her eyes.

“I remember you calling him that before
, after you saw Father Berger. He called him that too, right?” Sarah nodded her head. She’d sought help from various sources after she learned of Anders’s infidelity, trying to understand what was happening. She started at her church and learned the priest there actually counseled people in her position. I added, “I guess I don’t fully get what you’re talking about then because it sounds like you’re all just calling him a self-centered A-hole.”

Sarah laughed. “That’s what I thought too, but it’s been a lesson in psychiatry since the social worker
said the same thing as Father Berger. Without getting too technical, Anders can’t think about anyone but himself. And everything he does is only to make himself look better. Like here.” She motioned her head toward the field. “He’s obsessed with Will being the best at soccer because it makes him look better as a coach, not because he wants Will to have fun playing the game. He has no idea how much he’s hurting Will’s feelings when he yells at him like that—he’s completely oblivious.” She sighed. “He craves all this attention and feeds off of it.”

“That’s really sad,
” I said.

“It is
, and the kids and I take all the abuse. It sucks, but at least I can identify what he’s doing now where I never saw it before and try to do damage control. You know, I’ve been looking back at our entire relationship, and I’ve been seeing everything in a whole new light. The big, flashy jewelry purchases, the expensive purses, my car…even his proposal on the plane over the loud speaker—all of it was about him, not me. It was just a big show.” She shrugged her shoulders again. “All we can do is live, knowing what he is because it’s not like I can use it against him in court. I’d have to do that psyche evaluation thing and those are expensive. No first grade teacher can afford that, so I’m out of luck.” She was interrupted by another mom walking across the bleachers. They said a quick hello then she turned back to me. “I am glad the social worker recommended counseling though—I never would have thought to do this on my own.”

“So it’s been helpful, then?” I asked.

“A little. They’re teaching us
coping skills,
which is just a fancy term for teaching us how to deal with his bull.”

“Knowledge is power, right?”
I smirked.

“Yeah…right.”

I looked out on to the field as Anders continued to yell and blow his whistle. Will had sweat dripping off his face, and his silky brown hair was plastered to his forehead.

“Man, Will’s a powerhouse out there. I can’t
see very many seven year olds that play soccer as well as he does. But
geez
Anders is pretty relentless,” I said.

“Well, he’s gotta push him hard, right?” Sarah laughed uneasily. “Failure isn’t an option.” Then she leaned in closer, “You know at Sam’s
lollipop game last week he said,
‘
Let’s face it, Sam just doesn’t have the skills that Will has, he sucks. He’s got no talent. We should put him in ballet so he can tiptoe around with the other girls.’
Then, he threw his hands up and stormed off. I was speechless.” I sat with my mouth hanging open, speechless as well. I hated hearing stories like that.

Sarah and I continued to talk through the rest of practice. Sam snuggled up next to me and showed me the latest level of Angry Birds that he’d mastered just as the buzzer went off, signifying the end of the practice.

“Ok, get ready to run defense for me. He always tries something when we’re walking out to the car.” Sarah looked at me nervously.

“You better believe I’ll run defense—with pleasure.” I s
tood as Will ran off the field and met him at the base of the bleachers. “Look at you superstar. You kicked butt out there,” I said, inhaling the deliciously sweet puppy smell that only little boys get.