Reconcilable Differences: A 'Having It All' Novel (8 page)

If she called Eli
that
man
one more time Kate was going to scream. “Mrs. Duchamp,” Kate
tried again to interrupt the tirade. “I too have your daughter’s best interests
in mind… ”

“Then you do see things my way,” Mrs. Duchamp interrupted
with syrupy condescension.

“No. No I don’t. I appreciate your sharing your concerns
with me. But my job… my professional and ethical obligation is to be objective
and non-judgmental. That’s how mediation works. It’s up to them to decide what
will make them happy. Furthermore, client confidentiality prohibits me from
discussing the case with you, Mrs. Duchamp.”

“
I
know what’s best for my little girl, Miss O’Day. I only consented to these
irregular sessions because he was obstructing divorce proceedings, and she was
getting so upset. They were making it difficult for the lawyers and costing me
a fortune. This is intended to speed things up.”

Kate had had enough. “Mrs. Duchamp. Surely you’ve noticed
that your daughter is a grown woman. I trust that she can decide for herself
what is best for her. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She hung up,
wondering if that little chat would have any fallout.

The day broke clear, warm and
sunny, offering a sudden reprieve from two weeks of dull and mostly rainy
weather. It worked like a tonic. Everyone Kate passed beamed beatifically in
gratitude, and she was not immune to its effects. The city shone radiantly in its
brittle light, the shadows all-the-sharper for their equinoctal angles. Blue
and green glass curtain walls reflected rays of sunlight; creamy stone and soft
grey concrete towers gleamed, scrubbed immaculate by the rain.

She approached the nine-thirty session full of optimism.
Over the intervening week, her impressions became clearer each time she
reviewed her notes. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could help Eli
and D'arcy reconcile. All the pieces were there. As long as Eli hadn’t broken trust
by sleeping with that woman, or any other, everything would be fine. And her
instinct told her that he hadn’t. No, she thought she understood him pretty
well, though her goal was to get to know him even better.

Eli wasn’t uncaring at all, simply uninitiated. All he
really sought was respect, and he couldn’t yet tell the difference between the
fawning attention of the fashionable, and the real McCoy. That’s why she’d gone
in search of his paintings on the weekend. She knew a thing or two about art.

The paintings she’d located at the Redmond-Lightstone
Gallery had been a revelation. Far more refined than the artist appeared. The
‘dark side of the human soul’ was a phrase that came to mind. One canvas spoke
to her so powerfully that it drew tears, right there in the gallery.

It was simple to see why he had a fan club. It would be
easy to fall in love with a man who could paint like that. Combined with his
saturnine, sexy good looks and joie-de-vivre, he was dangerous indeed. Or maybe
he was the innocent, the one at risk. His adolescent personality was at odds
with the sophistication of his paintings. He could be easily misunderstood, and
possibly manipulated. A complex man.

When she arrived, she opened the blinds, and sat with her
back to them, so her clients could enjoy the spectacular view, and benefit from
all those uplifting rays of sunlight. This would be the last meeting in this
space, she determined. She was glad when Eli was the first to arrive, and he
was followed moments later by Sharon. She was back in pseudo-military form,
with a belted taupe pant-suit that Kate thought made her look even more petite
and drab. She sat with her hands folded on her notebook like the teacher’s pet
in the front row of class, lips pressed primly together.

Eli’s greeting was warm and he exuded energy like the sun
itself. His smile was disarming, Kate thought, as she admired his smooth
handsome face. He carried a motorcycle helmet, which he tossed on the table
with a pair of dark sunglasses. His personal sense of cool urban style no doubt
encouraged his fan club. His agent might even have exploited this deliberately.

Kate decided she would risk annoying Sharon and bond
anyway. “I dropped into the Redmond-Lightstone Gallery this weekend, Eli,” she
said. His eyes popped open. “I have to tell you that I was simply astounded by
your work.”

“Thank you,” he said simply, beaming at her compliment.
“Which was your favourite?” he deadpanned, a mysterious twinkle in his dark
eyes.

Had to be a trick question. “Mmm. I’d have to say …
‘Magdalene of the East Side’. The light … and her expression. She exudes a kind
of acceptance or something—a fecund receptivity.” She nodded thoughtfully, and
gave him a knowing look.

He glowed under her praise.

“I’m sure I didn’t understand half the allegorical bits.”
She shrugged. “It really got to me, though.”

His smile broadened to a grin. She’d passed the test,
apparently.

“What is it like, then?” enquired Sharon, unwilling to be
left out.

Kate shared a look with Eli, then said, as lightly as
possible, so as not to alienate, “You’d really have to see it yourself, Sharon.
It’s impossible to do Eli’s work justice with a simple description. The
canvasses are huge and complex. They are masterpieces, truly. It’s no wonder
he’s being collected.”

“You exaggerate, Kate,” Eli said, “but I’m flattered.”

Simon entered the room just then. “Greetings to you all
this glorious morn,” he said upon entering, encompassing them all with a broad
smile. Kate caught her breath. In deference to the warmer weather, he wore a
simple blue oxford cloth shirt with a preppy striped tie that had been loosened
already. The look was fabulously sexy on his tall frame. Sunlight flooding in
the window caught his golden hair, and the blue of his eyes glowed as brightly
as his shirt. It was hard not to stare.

Then he caught her eye and she faltered, returning
quickly to her notes while her every pore strained to take in more of him.

“We are blessed indeed by this Indian Summer.”

Everyone murmured words of agreement. How did he manage
to speak that way and yet not come across like a dork? Kate wondered,
mesmerized. He was hypnotic.

“We were just discussing Eli’s paintings, Simon,” Sharon
said ingratiatingly. “Have you seen them?” Kate caught Eli’s eye and they
exchanged a small smile. Sharon was plainly looking for an ally in her
ignorance, but was disappointed.

“Yes. Yes, actually,” replied Simon. “I’m quite a fan
already.”

Sharon looked peeved. Kate, however, was impressed at his
confident assessment, and noted Eli’s open pleasure at the restrained
compliment.

~*~

D’arcy’s
entrance interrupted
anything further Simon might have said. D'arcy removed sunglasses to reveal
dark circles punctuating red-rimmed eyes in a puffy face. Her dark hair hung
limp as linguini, as did the loose dull grey turtleneck sweater she wore. She
embodied the antithesis of the bright day. Kate wondered again if she was
unwell. She noted an echo of her concern reflected in Eli’s face.

“Good morning,” said D'arcy simply, and sat down next to
Eli, squinting at the bright sunlight out the window, and twirling her
sunglasses in her trim fingers as though tempted to don them again.

“Shall I draw the blinds, D'arcy?” asked Kate.

The room erupted with murmurs of protest. D'arcy
answered, “No, no. It’s fine. Enjoy the sun while it lasts.”

“Okay, then.” Kate began, and with very little preamble,
walked them quickly through a recap of the last week’s discussion, summarized
and highlighted to reveal underlying truths, conveniently erasing most of the
more obnoxious and confrontational attacks.

The expressions on their faces said it all. It was
amazing how people crumpled or unfurled like marionette’s puppets depending
upon whether they were misunderstood or validated. Confident in her initial
assessment that D'arcy and Eli really did want to reconcile, she decided to
pull another of her signature exercises out and give it a try. This one always
had interesting results, and would add color to her presentation as well.

“Today, we’re going to take a slightly unconventional
tack. Instead of rehashing the things that have gone awry this year, we’re
going to focus on memories and dreams. First I want you each to talk about the
past, how you met and got to know each other … and then the future, what you
each would like, in an ideal world, to see your lives look like in, say, five
or ten years.” Kate paused and looked at Eli and D'arcy in turn.

She stole a glance at Sharon, who was remarkably quiet,
her head bent. She focused all her attention on paring her pencil, and shaking
the shavings into a small plastic box brought, evidently, for that purpose.
Kate’s quirky methods were like a bitter pill to her, judging by the pinched
and sour expression on her round face.

Eli reminisced about meeting D'arcy and the dreams they
once shared. Kate glanced in Simon’s direction, noted him gazing thoughtfully
at her, and as quickly away, before she could catch his eye. Listening to
D'arcy and Eli recount the early days of their romance, her mind involuntarily
probed back to when she’d met Simon. Although they were young and socially
awkward at nineteen, there was that same instant connection at the dorm beer
night. Something that drew them together, making the rest of the crowd fade
away. Something that felt inevitable. For her, it wasn’t only his leonine
beauty, gangly as he was, but something compelling in his blue eyes. A deep
intelligence and seriousness, like he could really see her. With effort, she
forced her attention back to her clients.

“ … sometimes you just connect with someone, and it’s
mystical. Time stands still, like you’ve known each other forever … ” Eli stole
a glance at D'arcy and paused a moment, then glanced away again. “We couldn’t
imagine
not
being
together.” Eli stopped and glanced around, dazed.

Yes! Kate had felt the same way once. She thought Simon
had, too. But it hadn’t worked out that way at all. She pulled her lips between
her teeth and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, keeping her eyes
averted from Simon’s, lest he catch a glimpse of the pain and regret that still
haunted her.

“Thank you, Eli,” said Kate. She looked at D'arcy. “Would
you like to have a turn?”

D’arcee’s eyes were wide and glassy, and her throat
tightened and released, but she gained control of herself, and spoke of their
meeting in a quiet, meek, faraway voice, as though she’d been transported back
in time, too. After a while, she paused and clearly wasn’t going to speak
again.

Kate watched as Eli and D’arcy’s gaze met, recognition
sparking.

Time for a break. Kate suggested everyone go outside for
some sunshine, and meet back in half an hour. Sharon excused herself to make
phone calls in her office. Eli and D'arcy drifted out together, and Kate
noticed Eli gently tug her hand and smile shyly in invitation as they moved
toward the reception area.

Simon and Kate were left alone. He stood up and
stretched, turning to the window. She sat quietly making notes in her book,
head bent, but he didn’t leave.

With a mumbled, “Excuse me,” Kate
escaped to the ladies room with barely a glance in Simon’s direction. She had
to put some space between them and get control of her thoughts. She locked
herself in a toilet stall and sat down, trying to calm herself, head in hands.
The morning had gone incredibly well, but as time passed, she was unable to rid
herself of flashes of memory—things she hadn’t thought of for many, many
years—about the night she met Simon.

She could remember her response when he first banged on
the door of her dorm room at three in the morning after they’d spent the night
dancing and talking over warm beer, and said another awkward goodnight on the
sidewalk. Horror. “Kat-eee. C’n I come in? I wanna talk s’more.” His tousled
hair. His glassy, inebriated eyes and pouting, sexy lips. She refused to be
harassed by some drunk, no matter how cute he was. But he was a gentleman, and
he’d won her over. By that time, the other girls had figured out there was
something going on, and she could hear a chorus of hushed giggles from down the
hall. To them it undoubtedly seemed very romantic, though perhaps a trifle
sleazy, too. But they were only nineteen. What did they know?

She’d been in a funk for weeks after her Ben’s Dear John
letter arrived. There was nothing negotiable about Ben’s letter. She was only
his high school sweetheart and now it was over. He had moved on. To her dismay,
he obviously didn’t feel the way she had. She had thought this was
it
. Ben, apparently, had not. At
that point in her life, she’d been too frail emotionally to deal with the loss.
He’d been her familiar anchor in a disintegrating world after the attack.

In any case, Alexa and the other girls had barely managed
to urge her out into the social milieu again, and now there was this gorgeous new
guy literally throwing himself at her door, begging to be admitted to her
heart. Talk about a rebound romance. She wasn’t certain what to make of that.
Initially she’d let him in because he was so pitifully cute, and seemed
harmless. He knocked, he begged and pleaded, he whimpered, and she gave in.

“Pleash. Kate.” His voice was slurred. Why did boys have
to drink themselves into a stupor? “I jush wanna talk w’you.” When she first
met Simon, that’s exactly what they did. In public, in daylight, he was shy to
the point of being awkward. But she knew there was more to him because of the
way the other guys admired him and flocked around him. He radiated intelligence
and charm, and there was that something special in his eyes. He tried to
stiffen his spine with a few drinks, and invariably showed up at odd hours of
the night in quite a state. And made her laugh.

She knew she shouldn’t have liked it, but she also knew
it was only that he was so shy. He was deep, gentle and funny without his
inhibitions. He’d flop down on her bunk, and she’d make him a cup of tea to
sober him up. They would stare at each other for a while and then they would
talk and talk, probing, questioning each other’s ideas and dreams, until
finally, exhausted, he’d pass out on her bed, his damp golden locks spread
across her pillow, his lax, smooth face as innocent as a baby’s. If her
roommate hadn’t been out of town on weekends, she’d have spent those hours in a
chair. Well, undoubtedly she wouldn’t have let him in at all. But she’d lie
down on Sheryl’s bunk, and doze until he stirred and fumbled out early in the
morning, embarrassed and apologetic, and no doubt nursing a wicked hangover.
She thought he was adorable.

The whirlwind of attention had yanked her out of her funk
over Ben, perhaps more quickly than it ought. She really liked Simon, and soon
looked forward to his visits. It was perhaps the fourth or fifth visit, she
recalled, that he wasn’t quite so drunk, and that their long, philosophical,
intimate discussion led to other things, more intimate. They were both
surprised by the intensity.

Afterwards, it was different. They never dated, per se.
They didn’t need to, both captives of the university life. They sought each other
out on campus, at the pub, at dances. They spent a lot of time together over
the following three months, making love again and again, unable to quench their
mutual desire. By the time the term ended in May, she thought she was in love
again, though no words to that effect were ever spoken. It was implied through
looks, gestures, poetry and passion.

Kate hadn’t thought about these things in so long. The
details that came back to her were incredible. She emerged from the stall,
still feeling disoriented in time and space. She patted a damp paper towel
against her face and neck, trying to regain some composure. Her eyes were drawn
to the silver knot pendant she always wore, and she swallowed, drawing strength
from its message. How would she continue to face Simon when such memories were
flooding back? Instead of keeping a cool distance between them, she felt
herself drawn toward him as though her helpless years of obsession had never
ended. She wanted to wrap herself around him and love him all over again. She
couldn’t let that happen.

Exiting the ladies room, she let out a pitiful
high-pitched shriek as Simon materialized, as though from the fog of her
memory, springing away from the wall by the elevator like a big cat. He was
obviously waiting for her.

“Come for a cup of tea?” He grinned, and placed his
fingertips lightly on her elbow. She felt her resolve melt.

He led the way to a small, folksy café down the block.

Quelling the warning voice in her head, she pulled out
her sunglasses and donned them, tossing her head back and smiling benignly at
the sun. Warmth uncurled inside her.

Simon squinted at the glare reflecting from the glass and
chrome trim of the parked cars they passed. She was elated to discover the café
had small tables outside under the street trees where they could sit, and Simon
offered to bring her tea.

“Earl Grey this morning?” he asked.

“Mmm. No. Ceylon today, please,” she replied.

“Certainly. Anything to eat?”

“I am a bit peckish. How about a scone?” He bowed
slightly and turned in to the café. He returned shortly with just what she’d
ordered and even brought her homemade strawberry jam.

“Delightful!” she exclaimed. “If I’d known there was such
a nice café here, I wouldn’t have made plans to move the sessions to a new
location next week.”

“A new location? Why?”

She sobered. “It’s important that the space is conducive
to the relationships, and the positive outcomes we want.” He nodded, listening,
his eyes intent on her face. “I really dislike Sharon’s board room. They’ll
make better progress in a more informal and intimate setting. It’s one of the
things I do a little differently.”

Simon looked intrigued. “There’s more to it than I
imagined.” He took a sip of tea. “I’ve been really impressed with your
techniques. Today, for example. It seemed gimmicky, but then you really moved
them along. I could see what you were doing.” He paused. “I’m still impressed.”

She smiled, chewed a bit of her scone, swallowed and
said, “It’s all about timing. I manage the exchange very carefully, and build
on each step when they are receptive.”

“Are you sure they’re ready to reconcile? Surely it’s not
that simple.”

Kate nodded. “There are still issues to be resolved. But
desire and intent are there, so my gut tells me we can do it.”

He squinted up at the canopy of umber, bronze, russet and
green overhead, outlined against the intense blue of the sky. “You’re not the
way I thought.”

Her brows knit as she puzzled over that. “What?”

“I mean, when I first saw you, you seemed stiff and
distant. I thought perhaps arrogant. I assumed you were like… this other
mediator I knew, kind of hard and cold.”

“Whoa. So you wrote off my entire profession on a case
study of one?”

He scrambled to explain, lifting his palms to face her.
“Don’t take me wrong. I’m not trying to ruffle your feathers. And I’m not
trashing all mediators. It’s just a certain type I have unfortunate experience
with. I’m wary, that’s all.”

She continued to look at him through narrowed eyes. His
reticence seemed to be of a different kind than Sharon’s skepticism. A few
awkward moments of silence passed. She gave him a tentative smile. “I had good
reason to be cool. I was taken completely off guard when you came in. I didn’t
have time to think.”

Simon hesitated. “I was surprised, too. I’d had no idea
you’d be there.” He laughed softly.

She was astonished. They’d silently, politely
transitioned into acknowledging their past.

“Strange coincidence, wasn’t it?” She paused, her eyes
darting to meet his before glancing away. “I’m still worried about whether we
should have disclosed more. I didn’t think it would be a problem or I would.”
She flushed, and stared at her plate, her hand fluttering.

“It was so long ago.” He waved it away with an air of
indifference, and she was grateful. She was making too big a deal out of it.

“How is it that I’ve never seen you before, if you work
in the city?”

He nodded. “That’s relatively recent. I both lived and
worked in Richmond until last year, and had little opportunity to come downtown.
Then, when I changed firms, I couldn’t make the commute across the bridge work
anymore, with daycare and all that.”

Daycare equaled kids. Separated with kids. She nodded
while the questions swirled in her brain. She would not ask.

He continued. “I was still living in the condo we’d
bought years ago, but we were outgrowing it anyway. So I found a comfy old
bungalow in Kits. It’s nice to be back in the city.”

“I see. And I’ve always lived here, in the centre.” She
shrugged.

“So tell me,” he continued, “I’m curious. Whatever
happened to Urban Planning?”

He remembered her major? “A lot. I got involved in crisis
counseling, and had a talent for it, as it turned out. It was gratifying. I
wanted to help people. One thing led to another. I changed.” She shrugged, and
he seemed to accept her explanation at face value. At least they’d established
some ground rules for their conversations: easy, inconsequential, nonchalante.

He assessed her quietly, sipping his tea. “I believe you
have.” He grinned and wolfed down the rest of his sticky Danish, licking his
fingers.

“I see you still have a sweet tooth,” she observed. Simon
froze, finger between his lips, and his ears grew red.

“Mmhmm.” He chewed slowly.

She studied him for a moment, smiling shyly. “Are you
frustrated with being sidelined?” She closed her eyes and smoothed her eyebrow
with the fingers of one hand, shaking her head slowly. “In the mediation
process, I mean?” She watched his mouth as he licked his lips, and he lifted a
napkin to wipe them, hiding a smile, though it showed in his crinkled blue
eyes.

He pulled his face into repose. “Not at all. I’m
interested in your methods. And I’m also curious to see the outcome. Eli and I
have talked. I know he wants to reconcile. He knows he needs to compromise to
make this work, but it’s hard for him.”

“It’s not all his fault, of course. It’s complex,”
countered Kate. “D'arcy has some issues she needs to face. Today’s reminiscence
brought them forward.”

“She has issues, alright. Control issues. And trust
issues. But something else bothers me about her. I think there’s more. I mean I
hardly know her, but her behavior is … well, just weird. Edgy.”

“You know, with instincts like that, you might make a
decent mediator yourself,” Kate said, slipping her sunglasses on. “We’d better
get back.” It was going to be increasingly difficult to keep her cool and
continue to pretend that the past they shared was inconsequential.

~*~

As
Kate and Simon approached Sharon’s
office building, a warm, fuzzy feeling enveloped her, despite her nerves around
Simon. She was enjoying being around him so much, she felt a fizz of energy
tingling all through her. Her step felt as light as air, even while she
cautioned herself to be sensible. She was jolted back to earth to see D'arcy
marching indignantly toward the door, trailing hair, coat, purse, and Eli three
yards behind her. He was calling out to her, waving his arms wildly, apparently
angry, but she wasn’t waiting to hear him out, striding onward with her chin
jutting. He ran to catch her, grabbing her arm to spin her around, and Kate
could see the fury on their faces.

“Uh, oh,” said Simon.

“What’s happened?” Kate cried in despair, hurrying to
catch up with them at the elevator. They were hissing and spitting at each
other like alley cats. She stepped between them, wrapping an arm around each.
“Take a deep breath, you two. Let’s take it upstairs.” Their silent ascent was
somber, Eli and D'arcy silently fuming, Kate catching Simon’s perplexed and
sympathetic look, until they reached the relative privacy of the boardroom.

“That’s it. I’ve had enough of this charade,” D'arcy
said, sweeping inside and flinging her tight fists down to her sides just
inside the door.

Sharon, awaiting their return, shot up with an expression
of shock and concern. “What happened? What’s he done now?” she asked D'arcy.

“I’m getting out of here,” D'arcy said, twisting around
like a caged animal, tears welling in her eyes. “This is
such
a waste of time.” She
turned on Eli, “How could you be so hypocritical? How can you be so—”

“You’re hysterical!” Eli fought back. “You’re so—”

“—dishonest?” she spat. “You think you can fool me with
your romantic—”

“I told you, you can’t trust him,” Sharon said stiffly.
Kate gave her a sharp look and turned back to Eli and D'arcy. Simon quietly
closed the boardroom door and leaned against it. They stood in a huddle.

Eli ignored Sharon, jabbing his pointed finger in
D’arcy’s face. “—determined to find evidence to support your suspicions, you
can’t even see what’s —” Kate watched, tense, trying to decipher their
overlapping words. She caught Simon’s eye again, watching him listen, observe
and absorb all that was going on around them, glad to have at least one sane
person in the room.