Waters Fall (8 page)

Leslie and Felix poked their heads in the bedroom door and blew kisses at their father. He told them he loved them, and assured them he was feeling better already. “I'll be fine by morning, I promise. I just needed to rest today.”

Nora said their prayers with them, tucked them in, and headed back to the living room to straighten things up for the night. She eyed the couch dubiously, realizing that she, not Jake, would be crashing there tonight.

She was not sleepy at all, though, so she filled the kettle with water, and while she waited for the water to boil, she hurried out to her car to pull her case from the back seat; she would try to get some work done. By the time she got back inside, the kettle began to whistle, and Jake was at the stove turning the burner off.

“Thanks,” she muttered. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to look at him. She wanted this time for herself, for her work. She didn't want him around distracting her.

Or making her feel guilty about this afternoon.

Jake, in flannel pajama pants and a white tank top, reached up to pull out two ceramic mugs from the cupboard. Nora stared at the muscles in his shoulders gliding beneath his skin. When he set the cups down on the counter, the clinking sound jarred her out of her reverie, and she experienced a momentary twisted sense of
deja vu. Any minute now, she almost expected a mug to go flying past her head and shatter on the floor.

“What kind of tea are you having?” If he’d caught her staring, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“I'll get it.” She didn't want him being nice to her, especially when he was wearing that shirt. He knew she liked it on him, and she thought perhaps he’d put it on for that very reason.

“Don’t be silly. I'm right here,” he said, indicating the basket of tea bags on the counter beside him. “Which one do you want?”

“Earl Grey, then. Real sugar.” She opened her portfolio and began spreading paperwork and prints out on the table top.

“Are you going to stay up for a while?” he asked, pouring steaming water over the teabags.

“Yes. I didn't get much work done today, and I can't afford to take any time off.”

She could hear the tinkling sound of Jake stirring their drinks as she organized piles on the table. He brought her tea and set it at a safe distance from her papers, then pulled out a chair for himself.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted last night.” He sighed deeply. “I behaved…I was a jerk.”

“I don't think it was a behavior problem, Jake. You were drunk.” She said it without looking at him.

“Yes. I was drunk. And I'm sorry.”

Nora didn't respond.

“I can hardly believe it myself, and I feel terrible.”

She really did not want to have this conversation. In fact, as she listened to his words, it occurred to her that no matter how good he looked right now, she didn't really care what he had to say. It just didn't matter. All she wanted was for him to go away and leave her alone.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” From her peripheral vision, she could see Jake cock his head to one side. “That's it?”

“I'm not sure what else you want me to say.” She still wouldn’t look at him.

“So it's okay that I went out and got drunk last night?
It's okay that I drove my truck home plastered? It's okay that I passed out in the bathtub, scaring you half to death when you came home for lunch today?”

“Actually, none of that's okay, Jake. I mean that I’m okay with you feeling terrible. You should. But no, I’m not okay with any of what happened last night, or with anything that happened today, for that matter. And because I’m not, a few things are going to change around here. I'm not going to let you and your choices affect me anymore. I'm going to do what I need to do to provide for this family, regardless of what you do. I'm not going to let you disappoint me anymore, because I'm not going to depend on you for anything anymore. And I’m okay with that, too.”

“I don't follow you.” She could hear the slight tremor in his voice. Was he afraid?
Good.

“It's not that tough,
Jakey. If you are capable of making the decisions you made last night, then you have no right to make decisions for me and the kids. You're on your own.” She picked up a pile of client files and began thumbing through them. She tried not to think about the not so great decision she’d made this afternoon.

Jake sat silent for so long that Nora's thoughts wandered of their own accord back to her afternoon with Tristan. The way he studied her had really unnerved her, but at the same time, flattered her. He wasn
’t begging her to notice him, the way Jake was right now. He stared at her as though there was something fascinating about her, intriguing.
Like a hunter eyes his prey
.

When Jake spoke, she jumped.
“I'm not leaving.”

Nora snorted derisively, hoping he wouldn
’t notice her flushed cheeks. “I'm not asking you to leave. I'm just releasing you from the responsibility of your family. Like I said, I'm tired of being disappointed by you, and it's pretty obvious from your decision to ditch your children for a night out at the bar, that you really don't want that kind of responsibility anyway. So, you're free, Jake. You’re a free man.”

“Look at me, Nora.”

Still standing, she eyed him across the length of the table. He looked like he was going to be sick. “Yes?”

“I'm sorry. It won't happen again. What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Nothing. There's nothing that can undo what you’ve done. In fact, I don't really care if it does or doesn't happen again. But,” she leaned forward a little, the chandelier over the table throwing the contours of her face into stark relief. “If you so much as
think
about putting either of my children in a car with you at the wheel at any time in the near future, I will call the police.” She glared at him with cold eyes, wanting to make certain he did not misunderstand her. She’d done some thinking this afternoon after she’d left Tristan’s studio, angry at her own naiveté and blaming Jake for it. “I will be taking them to school and picking them up from now on. I will be home with them after school, and I will take them where they need to go. You are officially relieved of your childcare duties.”

“Good grief, Nora! You can't just 'relieve me' of my duties.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“You don't get it, Jake. I'm not the one relieving you. That was your decision. I'm just enforcing it. Put my children in your truck, and I call the police.” She sat down, and opened a file, flipping through the invoices inside.

“This is ridiculous!” Now Jake pushed himself up, his chair nearly toppling over, and he scrambled to catch it, sloshing a little hot tea on his hand. He set the cup down on the counter behind him and pushed his chair in. “What about you? Why should I let you anywhere near
my
children with your violent streak? How do I know you're not going to throw a cup at my son's head?”

“Now who's being ridiculous?” Nora's derision emanated from every pore. “By the way, thank you for cleaning that up. I was glad to see it gone when the kids got home. I would not have wanted you to have to explain it to them.”

“Argh! This conversation is exhausting! You are so manipulative. I can't tell whether you're grateful or sarcastic, whether you're angry or disappointed. I can't tell whether you care about me or hate my guts! You're impossible!” Jake was pacing now.

“Well, well, well. There’s another thing that hasn’t happened since your drinking days. I don't think you've called me impossible in over ten years, Jake.
Funny how the two seem to go hand-in-hand. You drink, and I'm the one who becomes impossible. Why does that not make any sense to me?”

“Fine.
You win.” Jake raised both hands in surrender.

“No!” Nora slapped her hand hard on the table. “No, I don't win!” She was yelling again. “I lose! You lose! Your children lose! We
all
lose because of you, Jake!” Fists clenched at her side, her whole body trembled with her anger and frustration. “We all lose.”

“Mom?”
Leslie stood in the hallway, her hair soft and messy around her face. The innocence there was marred by worry, and Nora's heart twisted inside her
.

10

“It's okay, honey.” She hurried to Leslie’s side and
slipped an arm around her daughter's shoulders. She tried to steer her back to her room. “We're just working some stuff out.”

But Leslie resisted, looking over her shoulder at her father.
“Dad? What's going on?”

“
It's okay, Les. Go back to bed.” He stayed where he was, his arms akimbo, obviously at a loss for words.

“It doesn't sound like
it’s okay.” Leslie was still not convinced. “You were yelling, Mom.”

“I got frustrated, honey. I can't seem to catch up with things, and I got impatient. Your dad just stepped in the way of my frustration for a bit.”

“Well,” Leslie said, walking toward the table where Nora’s work was spread about haphazardly, files splayed out like over-sized playing cards. “Why can't you help her, Dad? You seem like you have a lot more time than she does. She's always working. Maybe she'd be around more if you helped her. Look at all this,” Leslie indicated the mess on the table. “Can't you pitch in?”

“What is this?” It was more an exclamation than a
question. “You, too? Does everyone in this house think I'm a loser?'

“I don't think you're a loser, Daddy. I just thought you might be able to help Mom some more.” Leslie scowled, but Nora could see she only did so to hide the hurt from his outburst.

“Les,” She touched her daughter's cheek. “Daddy doesn't understand my work. It's not quite that easy.”

“I don't get it. You didn't go to school for this, did you? I mean, you taught yourself how to do this, right?” She pointed at the table again.

“But I have a gift for it. It comes naturally to me.” She didn’t want to have this discussion right now. Not only was it futile suggestion, and filling Leslie with false hope, but Nora had so much she needed to get finished before morning. She longed for the quiet of her office.

“You mean
, you took the time to figure it out, right? That's what you always say to us.” She looked over at her dad again, her voice rising insistently. “I
hate
algebra, but when I take the time to figure it out, I understand it, and I get it done. Why can't you do that with this stuff?”
              “Leslie. That's enough.” Nora took her hand and pulled her away from the table. “Daddy and I will work this out. You need to go back to bed now. I'm sorry I woke you. We'll be quieter.”

Leslie went meekly this time, without a backward glance at Jake.

Nora pulled the covers up and tucked them under the girl’s chin like she did when she was little. She kissed her forehead, both eyes, both cheeks, her chin, and lastly, her nose. Leslie giggled softly.

“You haven't done that in a long time.”

“Well, you haven't asked me to.” Nora smiled back in the orange glow of the nightlight.

“I didn't ask tonight.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. In here.” Nora lightly tapped Leslie's forehead, then cupped her cheek.

“You always seem to know things, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Lester the Lion.” It was her daughter's “brave name,” something she'd christened herself with as a child to help her be brave enough to sleep in her own room.

“Are you... is everything... are you guys going to... to be okay?” Leslie stumbled over her words, unshed tears glistening like jewels in the corners of her eyes.

“We'll work it out, honey. We always do.” Nora didn't want to lie, but she didn't know how things were going to turn out.

“I wish Daddy would go get a real job. I miss you. Today was nice having you here after school with us again.” Nora saw her frown in the shadows. “Not that we don't love having Daddy around. It's just... well, he's not you. He's Dad, not Mom. That's all.”

“I know, Les.” Leslie turned onto her side, tucking her folded hands under her cheek.

“Goodnight, Mom. Sleep tight.”

“Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Nora finished. “We both love you very much. See you in the morning, honey.”

~ ~ ~

Jake leaned against the wall at the end of the
hallway as he listened to Nora and Leslie talking. The arrow of his daughter's longing pierced his heart, and he felt even worse than he had before she walked in on their argument.

A real job?
The kids just didn't understand.

Then again, maybe she was right. Maybe he simply wasn't cut out for running his own business. Maybe he wasn
’t cut out for much of anything, period. “Except being a kept man,” he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

Nora slipped out of Leslie
’s room, pulling the door closed behind her. She glanced up and saw him, and the look that crossed her face spoke volumes to him. He turned around and walked back toward the kitchen, listening to make sure she was following him.

He still could hardly believe the events of the last 24
hours. It shocked him to see how quickly things could unravel when you tugged on the right string. Why, oh
why
did he take that first drink? He ran both hands through his hair, lacing his fingers behind his neck. Why did he even go out last night?

And that was really the problem, anyway. He went out to make some stupid point to his wife. He went out to prove to her she couldn't tell him what to do, that he was busy, too; that he had a life, too. And it had all been a lie. He had no business meeting, no one to go out with. He went to the bar completely alone, on a night when he knew she'd have issues with his absence.

He just happened to stumble across a couple of guys he knew from his drinking days. Funny thing, too, finding them still sitting at the same table, at the same bar, just where he'd left them ten years ago. They welcomed him back like he was a long-lost brother, especially when he started paying for drinks.

Leaning his hips against the counter, he rotated his head in wide circles, trying to work out the kinks forming in his neck and shoulders.
Paying for drinks. He had absolutely no idea how much money he'd spent. “There goes another row of stitches unraveling around me,” he muttered under his breath. “I'm going to be naked in no time.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.” Jake refilled his mug with more hot water. “I... I was wondering something.”

“What?” Nora gave up on getting any work done, not while he was hovering around the kitchen. She carried her cup to the microwave, then started gathering things up into a few neat piles again while she waited for the tea to reheat. She would just have to work like a madwoman in the morning and hope for the best.

“Why haven't you asked me about last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don't you want to know where I was, and who I was with?”

Nora didn't answer right away as she took her cup from the microwave and sipped the steaming drink in silence. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were dark, impenetrable. The urge to squirm was almost overwhelming, and Jake clenched his fists at his sides.

“No, Jake, I don't want to know where you were and who you were with last night. For you to go out and get drunk again, after all these years, simply blows my mind. You just drew a line in the sand for us. No, I don’t want to know. In fact, I no longer care enough to want to know.” She hitched one shoulder up in a half-hearted shrug. “Besides, I think you’re hoping I’ll ask so you can unload your guilt. Exonerate yourself. Sorry, but I’m not going to relieve you of anything.”

A mental snapshot of the waitress' face, very close to his own, made him rub his eyes. He could still feel her young body pressed against his. Should he tell Nora about her? Things couldn't possibly get any worse. Besides, he'd said no to the woman. Even drunk, he'd pushed her away and refused her advances.
Kinda.

“There was this waitress....”

“Good grief, Jake!” Nora interrupted him, shaking her head. “Do you
want
me to kick you out? Don't come clean for my sake. It's too late. If you've got confessing to do, call a pastor. Call a friend. Go talk to God.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and Jake nearly cringed. She'd never looked at him like that before, not even back in his drinking days that he could remember. “Call someone who cares.” She finished her drink and set her empty cup in the sink.

“And now that I see you’re feeling better,
you
can sleep on the couch. You are not welcome in my room so do not slither in at two in the morning again. I will make a scene. If you need anything, get it now. I'm taking a shower, then I'm going to bed. Alone.”

Jake watched her walk away. Tell someone who cares, she'd said, as though she didn't. What made his heart pound in his ears was a mounting fear that it was true.

“What have I done,” he groaned despairingly. How many times had he asked himself that question in the last twenty-four hours?

Hearing the shower start, Jake pushed away from the counter and headed toward the bedroom to gather a few items. He grabbed his pillow, the extra blanket from the end of the bed, and his Bible. Then he scooped up his alarm clock; he wasn't about to let the kids wake up before him and catch him sleeping on the couch.

Jake sat down on the edge of the bed, deflated. “God? Can You hear me? Or have I screwed things up with You, too?  I don't know what I was thinking. You've got to help me. Help us. I don't want to lose my family.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head down. “I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix this.”

The shower shut off and he knew he'd better not be in the bedroom when Nora came through the door. Clutching his pitiful little pile of necessities, he turned his back on their bed. As he passed the bathroom door, he thought he heard her sniffle, but he wasn't sure. Nora cried over everything, because she felt things so acutely, but he had yet to see her shed a single tear over this whole situation, and that realization only deepened his fears.

~ ~ ~

No
ra awoke from a fitful sleep to the sound of the
bedroom door opening, the telltale squeak of one hinge giving him away. Instantly alert, and utterly amazed at her husband's audacity, she watched as Jake eased into the room.

“Get out. I'm warning you, Jacob Anderson.” She didn't yell...yet.

“Please, Nor. It's almost six, and the kids might wake up. I don't want to have to explain why I'm sleeping on the couch.”

“Not my problem. Get out.”

“Oh, come on. Don't be ridiculous. It's not like I'm climbing in bed....”

“Get out!” This time she did yell. Jake backed out of the
room, pulling the door shut behind him. She heard the bathroom door open and close across the hall.

He looked awful.
“About as bad as I feel,” she muttered, lying back on her pillow. All she wanted to do was to sink down beneath the covers, and close her eyes again. Was it really morning already?

Ten years ago, when he showed up
for what seemed like the millionth time, reeking of whiskey and cigars, smudged make-up traces on his lapels, she was waiting for him. Standing in their little apartment kitchen, her pixie cut sticking on end, distended belly stretched tight around the growing body of their second child, she asked him why. When he couldn't answer her with anything other than 'I don't know,' and ‘I’m sorry,’ she told him that if he ever got drunk again, not to bother coming home. The doors and windows would be locked to him, and he would be put out of their lives forever. They had three-year-old Leslie and a baby on the way, and she was done cleaning up after him. No more calling in sick for him, no more leaving the security locks off, hoping it would be her husband stumbling into their home at all hours of the night and not some stranger, no more lying awake in the early morning hours wondering where he was, who he was with, waiting; dying while a new life grew inside of her. She calmly slid a packet of papers across the table to him and went to bed.

He wouldn't read them, not in his condition, she knew, but she'd labeled the
manila envelope very clearly. With a black, wide-tipped marker, in all capital letters, she'd written on the front,
divorce papers
. If he bothered to look, he would also find paperwork for a restraining order, but she doubted it would come to that. She knew he had no intention of going anywhere. He loved her, she had no doubt, and he loved his little Leslie. He just loved himself and his alcohol a little more.

Jake made the decision to stay. He put in his time with Alcoholics Anonymous, he sought out accountability at church, and he stayed home at night. The money he wasn't
spending at the bars was put into a savings account for a down-payment on a home, and a month before their eighth anniversary, they moved in here.

They
’d been full of hope in those days. Jake’s sobriety, a new home, a growing family, her business, so many new beginnings. But somewhere along the way, things began to go off course a little at a time. In fact, sometimes it seemed to her that they were struggling even more than when Jake was drinking. Back then, the alcohol was the tangible source of blame. Now, there was nothing solid to put a finger on, or point a finger at, nothing to blame the anger and frustration on.