Chapter 10

 

 

 

     For the first time in the four years I'd lived in Seattle, the cold, dark days of winter seemed to pass quickly.  The birds returned from southern regions just as the grass began to turn a luscious shade of deep green, and the tulips and crocuses began to bloom in Janet's flowerbeds. 

 

     Mom called in April to cancel her annual trip up in late May.  She had the opportunity to go on a cruise with a group of friends during the same week she usually visited us.  She rescheduled her visit for the last week in July, saying she'd look forward to helping me celebrate my birthday for the first time since I'd gotten married.

 

     In the end it was a blessing that Mom didn't come in May.  By then things between Janet and myself had taken a final turn for the worst.

 

     I suppose I should have seen it coming.  Because of Janet's responsibilities at work, and the P.I. jobs I had taken on that she still knew nothing about, we barely saw one another as the weather grew warmer.   No longer were Saturday's reserved for just the two of us.  More often than not Janet spent the day at the office.  Come Sunday she was too tired to engage in the activities we had enjoyed in the past - sailing, entertaining friends, taking in a movie, or picnicking in the park.  And our sex life began to suffer from her weariness, as well.   The rare occasions that we joined together as man and wife that spring were, for the first time in close to four years of marriage, hurried and unsatisfying.  She no longer wanted to take the time to play as had been our custom.   Long sessions of lovemaking in the jacuzzi or shower soon became a thing of the past.  Her mind always seemed to be on her work.  When I'd mention it she'd snap at me sharply, "I can't afford not to think about my work, A.J.!  Don't you understand?  This city's never had a chief prosecutor who also happens to be female.  It's up to me to prove that it's a job a woman can do and do well.  There are men standing in line just waiting for me to screw up."

 

     I did try to understand, but maybe the way she felt was not something any man can fully understand.  All I knew was that her job was putting great stress on our marriage.  It was getting to the point that I didn't think the additional money was worth the time we were forced to spend apart.

 

     It had been a beautiful spring day that Thursday, May 19th.  Summer was teasing us with the promise of her arrival.  The temperature had hit eighty-five degrees that afternoon.  As I drove through my neighborhood at six-thirty that evening with the Camaro's top down, the smell of freshly mowed grass hung heavily in the air.  The sidewalks were full of little girls on roller-skates and little boys on their bikes.  I had to brake for a moment to allow a group of kids to finish out the inning of a baseball game that was being played in the middle of my quiet street.  I waved to the ones I knew and heard called in return, "Hi, Mr. Simon!" as I pulled in my driveway.

 

     I shouldn't have allowed my mind to do it, but as I climbed out of the Camaro I envisioned a blond boy of about six breaking away from the group to run over to me in excited greeting.   How I longed for a child of my own to throw himself into my arms at the end of the day, much like I'd thrown myself into my father's embrace many years earlier when he'd arrive home from work.

 

     I had been thinking a lot that spring on how to carefully broach the subject of children with Janet once more.  Even if it meant adoption, I felt it was time.  Past time.  And I had decided that I wasn't going to take no for an answer.  That somehow, we were going to have to figure out how to meet in the middle where this subject was concerned. 

 

     I was surprised to see Janet's car in the garage when I walked through on my way to the family room.  Considering what our sex life had been like recently, I wondered if she'd arrived home early so that we could finally take a night to thoroughly enjoy one another as we had in the not-so-distant past.

 

     A wicked smile touched the corners of my mouth as I daydreamed of my slender, sexy wife waiting for me in the family room in a new negligee.  I pictured her slowly undressing me, then offering my body unselfish pleasure, as I would in turn offer hers.

 

     I walked in the house whistling, my suit coat flung casually over my shoulder.  When I didn't see her in the family room, my smile grew broader. 

 

     She's already up in the bedroom, my mind gleefully told me.  I pictured her naked and anxiously awaiting me in the middle of our big bed.  I hurried onto the foyer. 

 

     My foot had just hit the bottom stair when I heard a noise coming from the kitchen.  I laid my suit coat over the banister, then peeked around the corner.   My wife, still dressed in the suit she'd worn to work, stood at the counter viciously chopping carrots on a wooden cutting board for that evening's pot roast.

 

     I thought that was rather strange - for Janet to be making supper in the expensive linen suit and silk blouse she'd worn to work.  I also thought it was strange that she'd come home early just to make supper in the first place.  To make love, yes.  To make supper, no.  Because I like to cook, and Janet worked such long hours, supper was usually my area of responsibility during the week.  Janet generally took over the chore only on weekends. 

 

     She didn't turn around as I walked up behind her, though she had to have heard my shoes on the hardwood floor.

 

     I snaked an arm around her waist and lifted her hair.  I began to nuzzle her neck, while at the same time letting my hand roam over silk covered breasts.

 

     She laid down the knife and wriggled out of my grasp.  "A.J. don't," she commanded. 

 

     In all our years of marriage she'd never spurned my advances.  If she could read the hurt in my eyes she chose to ignore it.

 

     She must have been able to read my mind though, because as she took a few steps away from me she stated firmly, "I didn't come home early tonight to make love."

 

     To cover the hurt I was feeling, I snapped, "You haven't come home early to make love in quite a while now.  Why should tonight be any different?"

     She chose to ignore my sarcasm.  "I came home to ask you something."

 

     I leaned casually back against the counter top.  "So ask."

 

     "I saw Ken Hershaw in court today.  He couldn't sing your praises enough.  Funny thing though, A.J., he wasn't praising your abilities as a lawyer, but rather your abilities as 'one hell of a P.I.,' as he put it."  She folded her arms across her chest.  "Now, would you mind telling me just what's going on here?"

 

     I didn't care to be talked to by my wife like a fifteen- year-old kid who had skipped a day of school.  "I already think you know what's going on," was the only reply I deemed necessary.

 

     "And I thought we agreed that you weren't going to do that type of work any longer."

 

     Technically we had, back in the spring of 1990 when I'd told Rick I wanted out of the business.  But things had changed since then.  It certainly wasn't my fault that she was too damn busy to realize that.

 

     "That was a long time ago, Janet.  I--"

 

     "No, A.J.  I'm not talking about before we were married.  I'm talking about a year ago in January when I was pregnant.  When I found out you were doing investigation jobs for the firm.  I asked you not to."

 

     "And I told you I couldn't tell them no."

 

     "And I told you that you'd better tell them no! I told you why I didn't want you doing that kind of work anymore!"

 

     "Janet, give me a break! Nothing I'm doing for the firm is dangerous."

 

     "I don't care if it's dangerous or not!  You're a lawyer now, A.J.  Not a private investigator."

 

     "And just why is that fact so damn important to you anyway?"  I had to know.

 

     For once she didn't have a ready-made answer.

 

"Because...just because it is."

 

     I took a step toward her.  "Come on, Janet.  The truth here.  It's important to you because, as the chief prosecutor for the District Attorney's Office of Seattle, it gives you prestige to be able to say your husband's a lawyer for the largest and most respected firm in the city.  Heaven forbid if you had to confess that he was nothing but a lowly gumshoe."

 

     "And I'm not going to confess to that!"  Her eyes flashed.  "Because that's not what you are!"

 

     "But maybe it's what I want to be!  Maybe I'm tired of being a  mindless puppet for Bloomdecker, Hershaw, and Clark.  Maybe I'm tired of being the trinket you hang off your arm when you drag me to some judge's house for a dinner party!"

 

     It was the first time I'd ever said such a thing to her, and probably the first time I'd ever acknowledged to myself that's how I felt.  That sometimes I felt like Mr. Janet Simon, the man with no identity of his own.  The man who was just one lawyer among many lawyers who worked for Bloomdecker, Hershaw, and Clark.  The man whose wife was the chief prosecutor for the city of Seattle.  The man whose wife made sixty thousand dollars more a year than he did.  Admittedly, it was starting to be a very difficult concept for my male ego to swallow.

 

      My brother and I had been born, raised, and educated in San Diego. We were both well-known there.  Granted, some of the notoriety we'd gained as a direct result of our business wasn't always favorable, but then, a lot of it was.  We'd had many friends and contacts within the police department and business community.  I'd missed that since coming to Seattle.  I'd missed that feeling of belonging.  It was even harder as I watched my wife gain the same kind of prominence that was once familiar to me, while I was nothing but the handsome escort that spirited her to the social events around town.

 

     "Oh, A.J.  Don't be ridiculous," she now scoffed.  "You're not a mindless puppet, and certainly not a trinket I hang off my arm."

 

     "Well, that's how I feel."   

 

     Her eyebrows arched with skepticism.  "And being a private investigator again is going to change all that?  Change how you feel?"

 

     "Yes.  I believe so."  I stated confidently.  "I'd at least like to give it a try."

 

     "No.  A.J., I won't--"

 

     "Janet, can't you see?" I pleaded with outstretched arms.  "Being a private investigator is what I'm good at.  It brings me a lot of satisfaction."

 

     And it did.  Between teaching the college class and doing so many jobs for the firm that winter, I'd come to acknowledge for the first time since Erika's death just how much I missed being an investigator.  Just how much being an investigator tied directly to who I was as a person.  Just how much being an investigator contributed directly to the pleasure I got out of life.

 

     My wife firmly stood her ground.  "You're good at being a lawyer, too."

 

     "I am not," I vehemently dismissed.  "And besides, how would you even know if I was?  The most difficult case I've ever tried was the time those two deli shop owners where suing one another over the rights to the name Polly's Pickle Palace."

 

     It had been an extraordinarily silly case.  One Janet and I had laughed about for weeks.  Only we weren't laughing now.

 

     "You'll get better cases," she told me with positive reassurance.   "As time goes on more challenging cases will come your way."

 

     "When?"  I asked of her.  "When I'm fifty-five?  Or maybe even sixty?  I had challenges everyday when I was a P.I., Janet.  I--"

 

     "Challenges like the Garcia case?" 

 

     I turned away from her and took a deep breath.  "That's not fair and you know it."     

 

     "It is fair, A.J.," she emphasized.  "It's fair because it's the reason you gave up being a P.I. in the first place."

 

     After a long minute had passed I turned to face her. 

 

"That's behind me now."

 

     "Yes, for now it is," she readily agreed.  "Until the next time there's a case like it.  And I'll be honest with you, A.J.  If you go back to being a private investigator, I won't be around to hold you when you wake up screaming from a nightmare."

 

     Her warning hung in the air between us as we stood facing one another like two generals on a battlefield.  Finally, I told her quietly, "I had hoped you'd feel differently about this when you realized how much it meant to me."

 

     "Well, I don't.  I don't want you to ever do that job again."

 

      I shook my head.  "You can't forbid me to change careers, Janet."

 

     "A.J., I'm your wife.  I--"

 

     I held up my hand.  "No.  Just listen to me for a minute.  I'm not happy with what I'm doing.  No matter what you want or what you say, I don't like being an attorney.  I'm not good at it.  At least I'm not good at it in the same way I'm good at being a P.I.  And there's another reason why I want to make this change, as well."

 

     "And that is?"

 

     "I want us to have a child, Janet.  I--"

 

     "A.J...we've already discussed this."  The way she said that sentence made it sound as though the subject was closed for good. 

 

     "Discussed it, yes," I agreed.  "Reached a conclusion, no."

 

     "But I thought you'd come to terms with my decision this past winter."

 

     I arched my eyebrows.  "Your decision?  And since when did you make a decision regarding children that didn't involve me?"

 

     "Well...well," she stammered,  "you never mention it anymore and--"

 

     "I never mention it because I don't know how to bring it up," I told her forcefully.   "Janet, I want children.  Or even just a child, be it a boy or a girl.  I don't care if we do that naturally, or if we adopt.  But it's a priority in my life.  A priority you've chosen to ignore."

 

     She finally let her hands fall to her side.  Her posture sagged a bit with weariness, as if this was the last subject she'd expected to ever be brought up between us again. 

 

"But I thought we'd come to the conclusion that it would never work.  You won't let me hire a nanny.  You don't want to put a child in day-care.  I will not be staying home to be a full-time mother.   And besides, I'm working even more hours now than I was last fall.  I just don't have the additional time necessary to devote to a child."

 

     I didn't hesitate to tell her what I wanted the most.  "I can do just what I suggested last November.  I can run a P.I. business out of our home and be here during the day with the baby."

 

     And once again she adamantly refused.  "I won't hear of it.   You know that."

 

     "Then what will you hear of, Janet?"  I shouted as I ran a hand through my hair.  "Maybe it would be easier on both of us if you just told me that!   No matter what I want, you don't want it!  No matter what suggestions I offer, they're not good enough for you!  So you tell me.  Just what is it that you want?"

 

     "I want us to stay the same," she said softly.  "I want us to go back to being how we used to be when we were first married."

 

     "Well, it's becoming more and more evident that we can't go back to being like that," I stated.  "Too much has changed already."

 

     She turned away from me, shaking her head in frustration.  Under her breath she hissed,  "This is all Rick's fault." 

 

     "Pardon me?"

 

     She turned to face me once more.   She didn't hesitate to increase the volume of her voice.

 

"It's all Rick's fault."

 

     I was slightly confused at this point.  Exactly

what Rick had to do with us having a child was beyond me.

 

     "What's all Rick's fault?"

 

     "Your interest in doing P.I. work again."

 

     "And just where would you get an idea like that?"

 

     "The last time he came up here by himself...in October of '92, he talked you into doing a P.I. job with him.  It was right after that when you began doing the same type of work for your firm."

     With disbelief I questioned,  "And so that's Rick's fault?" 

 

     Her answer came in the form of an adamant declaration. 

 

"Yes, it is."

 

      "Janet...for God's sake!  It was a two hour job that didn't involve anymore than tracking down a seventy-three year old woman!"

 

     Which it hadn't.  Rick's name had been given to an elderly man in San Diego who was looking for the sister he'd been separated from during childhood.   The California Welfare Department had taken children away from their alcoholic parents, then split them up by sending them to live with different foster families.  Rick had finally tracked the sister to Seattle, so since he was coming to visit Janet and me anyway, decided it was a good time to wrap up the case.  He had asked me to ride along with him when he went in search of the woman's house.  We were only there long enough to hand her brother's phone number and picture to her, and to receive hugs of gratitude. 

 

     "I don't care what it involved! It started this whole P.I. business up again with you!  If he hadn't come to visit this never would have happened.  And I told him so, too!"

 

     I could just imagine how she'd told him.  Now a lot of things were beginning to make sense.  Like why she and Rick didn't seem to be quite the pals I had once perceived.  I planted my hands on my hips and firmly demanded, "Just what did you say to him?"

 

     She stuck her chin out in defiance.  "I told him I didn't appreciate him taking you along on a job such as that.  I told him if that's what he was going to do, he didn't need to come up and visit us again."

 

     Her anger must have completely clouded over her good sense.  That's the only way I can imagine her confessing such a thing to me.  At any other time in our marriage she would have known to keep it hidden.  Just like she had been doing up until this point.

 

     "You what?"  I roared.

 

     By the sudden regret that washed over her features I could tell Janet realized her mistake.  Her very big mistake.  Softly, she confessed again, "I told him he didn't--"

 

     "I heard you the first time!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "You had no right to do that!  This is my home, too, Janet, and my brother's welcome in it any time he wants to be here!"

 

     With one clean sweep of my hand I sent the plates and glasses she'd set out for dinner flying off the counter.   Amongst the crashing and breaking of glass she cried in fright, "A.J.!  A.J., stop!"

 

     Now more things were beginning to make sense.  Like why when I'd called my brother in early October of 1993 to invite him up for his annual visit, he stammered and stuttered as he told me,  "Well...see, A.J....I guess it's just really...well, it's not gonna work out this year.  I got a lot of business comin' my way with Captain Gully's Excursions and all...so I guess I'll have to take a rain check."

 

     I had thought it was rather odd when I couldn't get him to commit to a date for that rain check.  Generally Rick does not refuse free food and lodging.  Plus, I'd thought I'd shown him a good time the two previous years when he'd come up by himself.  He'd arrived on Friday night both times and stayed until the following Wednesday.  Janet hadn't taken any time off work in honor of his visit, but I hadn't expected her to either.  I, of course, had taken time away from the office so Rick and I could be together just doing the kinds of things brothers like to do. 

 

     I had gone beyond bewilderment, and was just plain hurt, when I'd called him in late March, only six weeks prior, to invite him up again.

 

     "Hey, you haven't taken that rain check yet," I reminded him over the telephone.

 

     "Well...yeah...I know," he stammered through the line.  "But I've been pretty busy all through this winter."

 

     "How about coming up the middle of April?"  I eagerly invited.  "Baseball season opens.  The Mariners are playing at the Kingdome.  I can get us box seats."

 

     "Yeah...that sounds great, A.J.  Only I can't.  I'm just too...busy."

 

     That's when the hurt began to settle in.  I'd never known my brother not to play hooky from work when the promise of box seats was dangled in front of his face.   He usually lunged at such an offer the way a shark lunges at bloody bait.

 

     "But you could get Harvey and Preston to run things for you for a few days, couldn't you?"  I asked hopefully.  Harvey and Preston were the older gentlemen Rick employed.  I knew for a fact he trusted them to run the business when he wasn't there, and that they'd done so on various occasions with good results. 

 

     "Well...no...I just. . .I just don't think so.  I'm just too...busy."

 

     I know I didn't manage to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "Oh.  Oh, I see." 

 

     "But, hey, maybe another time.  Okay?"

 

     "Yeah.  Yeah...sure.  Another time."

 

     And when I'd hung up the phone I'd told Janet about it.  Told her how strange I thought it was that Rick didn't seem to want to come up to visit.  Told her that I was worried that I'd done something to make him mad.

 

     And she had the audacity not to say one word about the fight she'd had with him.  Not one word about the fact that she told him he didn't need to come visit us again.  I could never remember being as angry with anyone in my entire life as I was at my wife right then.

 

     "A.J.!  A.J., stop it!"  She cried as I sent a lemonade pitcher crashing to the floor.

 

     I walked over and grabbed her arm, roughly yanking her to me.  "You had no right to do that," I snarled.  "You had no right to lead me to believe that you and Rick are the best of friends."

 

     Her eyes pleaded with me to calm down.  "A.J., please.  Please.   You're hurting me."

 

     And I probably was.  I had a tight grip on her arm, and for the first time in all the years we'd known one another she was afraid of me.  I dropped my hand in shame and walked away from her. 

 

"I'm...I’m sorry," I apologized, raking my hands through my hair once more.  "I didn't mean to hurt you.  I'd never hurt you."

 

     After a moment I turned to face her.  "Just tell how long this has been going on, Janet.  How long you've been playing this little game with me where Rick is concerned?"

 

     "It wasn't a game, A.J.," she said quietly.  "It was never a game.  It was something Rick and I agreed to a long time ago."

 

     My eyes narrowed.  "What do you mean by that?"

 

     "Before I tell you, please try to understand," she begged.  "Remember how much I love you and try to understand."

 

     "Just tell me," I ordered.

 

     She splayed her hands out on the countertop and looked down at her wedding band for a minute. 

 

"It started during the trial.  I sat there with you every single day and watched you...suffer silently through each testimony.  Then when you had to testify...well, it just about killed me to hear what they'd done to you and to Erika.  And I knew than that it was all Rick's fault."

 

     I shook my head, saying softly,  "But it wasn't."

 

     Her voice was steadfast as she looked across the room at me.  "Yes, it was.  You took the job because Carlos is a friend of Rick's.  Rick knew it was dangerous.  He knew you didn't want to take it.  But he did anyway.   It's his fault you suffered what you did.  It's his fault that little girl died."

 

     I didn't bother to tell her how ridiculously untrue that last sentence was.  And most of the rest of what she'd said as well.  It wouldn't have done me any good anyway. 

 

"And even after all these years that's still how you feel?  That it's Rick's fault?" 

 

     "Yes," she nodded.  "Because it is.  At least that's my personal opinion.  That doesn't mean I don't love Rick, it just means--"

 

     "It just means that you blame him," I finished for her. 

 

     "Yes, I do," she confessed.

 

     "And I suppose you told him that, as well?" 

 

     "I...no, not really.  I went to his boat one day without you--"

 

     "He told me," I acknowledged, thinking back to the conversation Rick and I had at Christmas.

 

     "So he told you what happened?"

 

     "No," I shook my head.  "All he said is that you were angry with him for not encouraging me to get counseling."

 

     "I was.  That's why I went there actually.  But the whole thing rapidly got out of hand...like things used to get between Rick and me all those years back in Florida."

 

     "And that's when you and Rick agreed not to tell me that the two of you really don't get along as well as you'd like me to think," I guessed.

 

     She gave a slight nod of her head.  "Yes.  That's when I suggested it, and Rick agreed to it."

 

     "And that's when you told Rick you blamed him for what happened to Erika and me."

 

     "I didn't tell him that," she denied.  "He asked me that -

if I blamed him, but before I could answer him he walked out."

 

     "Because he knew you did," I stated softly.

 

     She hesitated, before agreeing just as softly, "I suppose so."

 

     "And that must have hurt him terribly, Janet," was the final thing I had to say on the subject. 

 

     Her eyes pleaded for my understanding.  "A.J...A.J. please."

 

     "No, Janet," I shook my head.  "I don't want to hear it right now.  I don't want to hear...anything right now.  How do you think I feel finding all this out four years after the fact?  You, better than anyone else on this earth, know how much I love my brother.  Know how important it is to me that my wife and my brother are friends.  How do you think I feel finding out it's all been a big charade?"

 

     She didn't have anything to say to that.

 

     I shook my head in disgust.  "You can't even deny it, can you?"

 

     I was surprised to hear her actually acknowledge, "No...no,  I can't."         

 

     "I wish you could," I told her.  "But at least you're finally being honest with me.  I just wish you'd told me all this four years ago."

 

     Candidly she questioned,  "Because if I had you wouldn't have married me?"

 

     "No...no, I probably wouldn’t have," I told her honestly, thinking of the broken promise regarding children, the fact that she was so vehemently against me changing careers, and now the situation with Rick.  "I...I wouldn't have."

 

     The last straw came when she stated with quiet bitterness, "I moved us to Seattle in the first place to get you away from Rick Simon.  But somehow his shadow seems to follow me everywhere."

 

     There was no use for me to get mad all over again at this point.   Given a little time to think about it, I would have put two and two together and come to that conclusion all by myself.  For just a fleeting moment I realized ignorance is bliss, and wished I could turn the clock back to the days when Janet and I were so much in love.  To the days when we were so happy.  But as I silently walked away from her, I knew those days were a thing of the past.  Within a short period of time, so much had died inside of me.     

      

 

 

Chapter 11

 

    

     This time it was me who moved out of our bedroom.  Janet didn't ask me to come back, and it wouldn't have mattered if she had.  I would have told her no.

 

     Ironically enough, I chose to sleep in the room that we had once planned on turning into a nursery.  Although it was good sized, it was the smallest of the four bedrooms on the second story.  It was located right next to the short stairway that led up to the master bedroom.  Probably the only reason I chose it as my new home was because it contained the queen size bed that had for so long resided in the master bedroom in the house on the Grand Canal.  At least it was something familiar in this suddenly unfamiliar world I found myself existing in.

 

     I surprised myself by not immediately quitting my job.  Nor did I file for divorce.  Nor did Janet.  We muddled through the summer, hiding our problems as best we could from friends and family.  I think close friends like Annalise and Craig came to the conclusion that something was seriously wrong, though Craig never mentioned it to me.  I assume Annalise asked Janet what was going on, but I don't think Janet told her right then.  I think that came months later, after we had both filed to terminate our marriage.

 

     Though neither of us had the heart to host summer cookouts like we'd done in the past, we were still invited to our share.  We always went as a couple, and pretended that everything was all right.  Just as we went as a couple that summer to any other social event we were invited to.

 

     But the truth of the matter is, we were no longer sleeping in the same bed.  And at home we barely spoke to each other.  That last event wasn't too difficult of a feat to accomplish, as we both buried ourselves in our work in an effort to avoid one another.  No longer did I worry about cooking supper for us during the week.  We were like two strangers sharing the same house, whose paths only crossed on their way out the door of a morning.

 

     I did a lot of thinking as I lay alone in bed night after night.  I wondered if I was being stubborn.  I wondered if there was some way we could work this out.  But then a fist of hurt would squeeze my stomach into a tight little ball and I knew I'd never be able to completely forgive her.  I felt like she'd betrayed and deceived me in much the same way Allan Cassidy had betrayed and deceived her.  Maybe the circumstances were different, but the feelings were the same.  We weren't going to have children.  She wasn't going to allow me to do P.I. work again.  She and Rick really didn't get along at all.

 

     I probably would have pinned at least some of the blame on Rick for that last fact, if it hadn't been for Janet telling me it had been her suggestion in the first place.  Not that Rick would have necessarily come running to tell me he and Janet didn't get along, but more than likely he wouldn't have tried to hide their fights and disagreements from me either.  Had that been the case, I suppose it's still possible I would have married Janet, but at least I would have known what potential problems awaited on the horizon.  Like when Janet told Rick he didn't need to visit us anymore if he was going to take me along on a case.

 

     And, it's as I told her.   Of all the women who had come and gone in my life, Janet was the one who best knew just how important my brother was to me.  And also knew that in order for a marriage to work for me, my spouse would have to look upon my brother as her brother.  Something that up until recently, I thought I had.

 

     Because Janet didn't file for divorce that summer either, and because she didn't move out of the house or suggest that I do, I can only assume she, too, was trying to figure out a way we could make things work.  But she didn't offer any suggestions, therefore, I suppose, that much like me, she wasn't able to come up with so much as a single plan.  The few times we attempted to calmly discuss our many conflicts, fireworks would soon ignite between us and quiet words of reason would give way to shouted accusations. I had half expected her to suggest marriage counseling during those times, but she never brought it up.  I probably wouldn't have gone anyway.

 

     As the end of July was drawing near the last thing Janet and I needed was a visit from Mom.  However, that doesn't mean I didn't feel the need to see my mother...or my brother, for that matter.   When Mom called to confirm our plans I told her that rather than her flying up to see us, that I was flying down to see her and Rick.

 

     "That's wonderful, honey," she stated over the phone.  "I'll have the guest room all ready for you and Janet."

 

     "Mom...Mom, Janet's not coming with me."

 

     "Oh.  Why not?"

     I suppose I should have told her then, but I wasn't ready to.  And since neither one of us had filed for divorce, there was still the off chance of a reconciliation.  Though I highly doubted that would happen, I thought it was better to keep my family in the dark for the time being in regards to my present marital situation.

 

"She's got a heavy case she's working on now," I told Mom instead.

 

     "Oh, that's too bad," she said with genuine regret.  She snickered as she added, "The two of you will just have to celebrate your birthday early then."

 

     I still have no idea as to what exactly my former wife had told my mother about our sex life.  And at that point, I certainly had no desire to find out.

 

     "Yeah...I guess we will," came my lame statement before breaking our long distance connection.

 

     Janet didn't say much of anything when I told her I was flying to San Diego for a few days to be with my family.  

 

     "I think that's a good idea," she agreed.  "It might be to both our benefits right now to spend some time apart."

 

     I wanted to remind her that we'd spent some time apart the previous Christmas without beneficial results, but didn't bother to bring it up.

 

     I flew into San Diego on Tuesday, July 25^th, and stayed until Sunday the 30th.  Mom, Rick, and I quietly celebrated my birthday on the 26th with dinner at Mom's, then ice cream, cake, and presents afterwards. 

 

     Much like I had in December, I worked for Rick every day I was there.  Once again it helped me keep my mind off my problems with Janet, and it also kept me away from Mom, who I think was beginning to wonder if something was amiss.  Whenever she asked me about Janet I gave her only vague answers before changing the subject.  I think she realized, as well, that I didn't call my wife one time throughout my visit.

 

     I was eating breakfast at five-fifteen on Friday morning when Mom joined me at the table. 

 

     She looked up at the kitchen clock and yawned.  "What time will Rick be here to pick you up?"

     "Five-thirty."

 

     We talked of things in general for a few minutes before Mom asked, "Do you and Janet have any news for me yet?"

 

     I looked over at her, wondering what she was getting at.  "News?"  Came my innocent inquiry.

 

     "Yes, news.  Baby news."

     Without realizing it, my face fell at her remark. 

 

"Oh...that.  Well...uh...no, Mom, we don't.  Janet's been...we've both been awfully busy, you know."

 

     I hurriedly fled the table in order to accomplish that oh- so-important job of washing my cereal bowl and spoon out in the sink. 

 

     "Yes," she agreed.  "That's what the two of you keep telling me every time I ask that question."

 

     With my back to her it was easier to lie.  "Well, we are.  Busy that is."

 

     "And is that why Janet's never home when I call?"  She wanted to know.  "Because she's so busy at work?  Even on Sundays?"

     Well, sometimes that was true.  Janet was working some Sundays now, though more to get away from the tension that permeated our household than for any other reason I think.  And unless Janet happened to answer the phone in recent months when Mom called, she never talked to her anymore.  She had requested that I tell Mom she was out, or busy at the office.  Janet loved my mother very much.  I believe it was painful for her to carry on a conversation with Mom, while at the same time knowing where our marriage was ultimately headed.

 

     "Yes, she's busy at work," I lied.  "Even on Sundays."

 

     I breathed an internal sigh of relief when Rick's truck pulled in the driveway.

 

     I turned around, smiling brightly.  "Rick's here.  I'd better get going.  You know how he hates to be kept waiting."

 

     She walked over to kiss me goodbye.  She wrapped her arms around my waist and gave me an extra long squeeze before looking up into my face.

 

     "A.J.--"

     I could hear the unasked questions in her tone.

 

     I had no choice but to respond, though it was with a good deal of trepidation. 

 

"Yes?"

 

     She hesitated a moment, then smiled softly with understanding before kissing me on the cheek.  "Never mind.  Have a good day with your brother."

 

     I kissed her back.  "I will."

 

____________________

 

 

     Though I was in great need of my brother's own quirky brand of humor during that visit, I wasn't on the receiving end of very much of it.  It wasn't lost on me that Rick was unusually quiet.  Somehow I sensed that he was restless, and maybe even a little dissatisfied.  Though at the time I couldn't figure out why.  He loved the ocean and he loved to fish.  He was running a successful business that brought those two things to him each day.    Yet, I got the impression that suddenly that's not what he wanted any longer.  Don't ask me how I knew that, because Rick didn't say a word to me about it.  Just like I didn't say a word to him about my own dissatisfaction over being an attorney, or my martial problems with Janet. 

 

     As I worked on Rick's boat that week I often caught him looking at me with a fond, sad smile on his face.  As if I was a reminder of something that had once been good, but that he could no longer have.

 

     I mentioned it to Mom on Friday night after Rick had gone home.  The three of us had eaten dinner at her house, then played cards.   She and I were sitting on her living room couch, only half listening to the late news that was playing at low volume on the T.V. set.

 

     "Rick's been really quiet this week," I stated with concern.   "Is he feeling all right?"

     "As far as I know he is," Mom replied.  She thought a moment before she went on to tell me, "I think with each passing year he misses being a private investigator more and more.  He took on more jobs this past winter than he has since the two of

you closed down the business."

 

     "Oh."

 

     "He's been traveling a lot, too.  Leaving the running of Captain Gully's Excursions to Harvey and Preston more often.  Frankly, A.J., I've been worried about him."

 

     "How so?"

 

     "This may sound silly, but he almost seems to be...looking for something he can't find.  Remember how he used to disappear on his motorcycle for a few days at a time when he first came home from Vietnam?"

 

     "Yes," I acknowledged.  I remembered it well.