Mercenary

"Yes, forgive Peter. I'm not suggesting that you give her a pass. You don't know the details yet. I'm merely saying that you need to not only be prepared to forgive her if the situation merits, you need to listen to her with an ear towards finding forgiveness. Otherwise, any talk you two have will be useless. I learned that too late myself, I only wish I had spent more time being prepared to forgive my husband his failings, I would have listened to him more." Her voice trailed off wistfully.

I looked away, at first unbelieving that she could feel this way. Then I remembered her personal loss. Noelle measured absolution against the finality of death. Where there was life there was hope. Forgiveness naturally followed. Death ended all possibilities.

This way of thinking might lead one to accept all human frailties as equally worthy of forgiveness. Because she was my friend I did not want to be insensitive in my response. But her comments could not go completely unchallenged.

"If you were in my shoes, could you forgive, knowing that you had been betrayed?"

"That's not fair Peter. I'm not you. This is your marriage we are discussing. I merely raised the issue about your capacity at this time to overlook a possible mistake, if it is a just a mistake. Whether you forgive or not you need to listen with an open heart. You need to seek understanding first, not condemnation."

"I received that same advice about keeping an open heart from you. Remember Kevin Connelly?" Noelle was now sitting close and I could see that mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, so that's it. I guess I'll never live that down." I couldn't help but smile after saying that. "I thought he was a nice guy. I wasn't trying to marry you off to him."

"Really? You hounded me for two months to go out with him. What a bore. All he did was talk about his dog and his damn boat. "

"Well it was a 26-footer." That got me a frown not worth noting.

"Right, it was a 26-footer, a MacGregor if I remember correctly. If that wasn't bad enough he had a tendency to park his hands on my butt when we were out together."

That snapped me back.

"I didn't know that", I said quietly. I was getting angry at knowing he had been so free with my friend.

I quickly searched Noelle's eyes. She was really trying to give me some hope in the situation. She was thinking along the same lines as me, but she didn't want to alarm me further. I loved her for that.

"OK, I made a simple mistake. I misjudged his intentions. I should have checked him out further. I get your point. Could I be doing that same thing with Paige? I might be able to forgive her, but forgiveness is not forgetfulness. I'll always remember what she did, just like you remember Kevin."

"That's not the attitude you want to bring to that discussion Peter", she said, her expression now having turned deadly serious.

"It's not that I don't understand the nature of forgiveness, I just think that sometimes we place too high a value on it. It doesn't change the underlying problem you're dealing with. I learned that much years ago. You know, up until I was eight years old my life was pretty much perfect. There was just my brother and me. He's only a year younger. We were always doing things together or with my Mom and my Dad. My Dad was my hero. He was a cop."

"When I was eight my Mom took sick. She contracted cervical cancer. The cure rate is normally about 80% for what she had. The odds were in her favor, but not in her future. She held on for two years before it took her..."

I lost my voice for a moment; even after all these years it was still hard talking about my mom.

"...anyway, my Dad sort of lost it after that. He started drinking. I don't know how he managed to keep his job, but he did. The drinking got real bad, so bad that my aunt Robin, my Dad's sister, took me and my brother to live with her. She and Uncle James already had four girls, so it was pretty crowded there with my cousins. But it worked out better that way."

"When we arrived at my aunt's we were the youngest members in the house. Libby was the closest cousin to us, and she was sixteen at the time. Being so young, and the only boys, we were pampered and spoiled from the start. We only knew love during those years there. But it wasn't enough. We still missed our mom ...and we missed our dad too."

"It took my father three years to give up the bottle, three years to remember that his sons also had their hearts broken. I know it was hard for him. He came for us right after I turned thirteen. Then we lived with him...so I know all about forgiveness."

All that time I had been talking into my lap, not really looking at Noelle. When I raised my head I looked deep into her eyes. What I found there was compassion and something else that I couldn't quite place. Somehow, I found myself half smiling. This woman wasn't the problem and I was dumping on her. She was my friend. I suddenly felt ashamed of my thoughts. I knew her too well. I couldn't imagine HER behaving like Paige in that restaurant. That was part of the reason I was so very upset with my wife.

Before I could continue Mrs. Ruggerio came into the room with a coffee service. We paused in our conversation to fix our beverages. One sip and I was again entranced by her mother. She had prepared brewed coffee for us, real brewed coffee, not the automatic drip that passed for coffee. Mrs. R was quickly becoming a very eligible bachelorette in my book.

"Mrs. ...hmmm Muriel this coffee is the best I've ever had!"

"Thank you Peter, I'm glad you like it. I'll leave you two alone now. I know you have much to discuss."

Muriel made her way to the stairs. I glanced at their grandfather clock and saw that it was approaching ten o'clock. Given the lateness of the hour I presumed she was probably turning in for the evening.

"Thanks Peter. You just made Mom very happy. We don't often get to entertain men in our home... unless they're related. She really likes you. Brewed coffee is usually reserved for family.

"Well I meant it, and please tell her that the meal was one of the best I've ever had too. I don't know how you manage to stay so thin. I'd be as big as house with her cooking."

"I'd better go. We've got an early call tomorrow. ", I added while standing. Noelle stood too and left the room for a moment. She returned with my jacket. I turned to go.

"Hold on. I'll drop you off."

"Noelle you don't have to do that. I'm only a few miles away. I can walk"

"No, I'll drive."

We covered the distance in silence. I was lost in my own thoughts about what to do about Paige. By the time I looked up we were in front of my apartment house and I hadn't remembered even giving Noelle my address.

"Noelle, thank you...I"

"Go. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."

When I walked in that night I found Paige in bed asleep. I was too wound up for bed. I took a seat in the darkness of our living room and reviewed the events of the day. Perhaps Noelle was right about being prepared to forgive Paige. It was like her to see that possibility. Her advocacy came with a bit of irony since my wife was not particularly fond of her.

I laid my head back staring at the ceiling comparing the two women whose presence helped define most of my waking hours.

Paige and Noelle had met on numerous occasions. I noted that while the two women were courteous, no relationship was ever established. Somewhat uncharacteristic of Noelle, she went out of her way to be friendly, while Paige for her part responded to Noelle but always held back. Noelle never indicated any tension so I didn't think it was noticeable. Paige could be very subtle at being standoffish.

Paige always enjoyed going to the social functions sponsored by my job. She was at her best with an audience. Charming, witty, and just a touch flirtatious; my wife could liven up any gathering. She had a knack for getting people whom she had just met to divulge some of their deepest secrets. Men were particularly susceptible. I attributed her aptitude directly to her striking good looks. Males are much more likely to try please or impress a pretty woman.

It was all an act of course; she would make fun of my colleagues when we returned to the solitude of our home. I didn't appreciate the comments and let her know that, but over the years she persisted, as if I'd never spoken on the subject. However, she never made any comments about Noelle, though I know she disliked her.

At first I thought she might be a little jealous of my friend. Paige had very few female friends herself. I detected she had some mistrust of women in general. Based upon comments she'd made much later I came to the conclusion that Paige disliked Noelle for no other reason than that she was Italian. The irony in that was that I'm half Italian on my mother's side.

After that insight about Noelle, I rarely mentioned my job when I was at home. I knew Paige resented the overtime I put in at work, so I avoided conversations about my workday or my coworkers. Given the pressures of my career, having a clearly defined work-life balance was a necessity. In hindsight, the boundary my wife forced me to establish between my job and our family wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Oddly enough, it was Noelle who continually tried to push me out the door at five so that I could get home. That tactic rarely worked and it became a running joke between us; she would show up at the end of the day, I'd say I was leaving but needed a few more minutes on a project, a couple of hours would pass, we'd go to her office and talk and then I'd go home, leaving her there to continue working into the night.

Years ago, shortly after I started working with her, during one of our talks after hours, Noelle told me about her husband. I had heard rumors that she had been married but never knew much of the story. I only knew that she was a widow. By then there was a bond of trust between us.

She told me they had met while she was in college and dated for several years. Then two years after they were married he decided to pursue his dream of having his own auditing firm. On his very first engagement, during an early morning review at a client's remote site, he was killed as the result of a chlorine spill from a train derailment. That tragedy happened shortly before I came to work for the company. Knowing this helped me to understand her better.

We didn't often talk in detail about our families. But that night was the anniversary of his death and she needed to confide in someone. I stayed with her until almost midnight as she told me about her marriage and about the husband whom she continued to mourn. From what she said, he seemed like a good guy, someone I would have liked to have met. The fact that they never had children was particularly painful.

That one conversation with her had a profound effect on me. It got me thinking more about the frailty of life and the importance of family. Like Noelle, I also thought that children would come as a natural progression of my marriage. There was always time later. Now I wasn't so sure.

It had been in the third year of our marriage that I began to approach Paige with the idea of starting a family. We were both settled in our jobs. I had been saving some money on the side, not a lot, but enough. She and I had discussed children in the early part of our relationship. At that time Paige had expressed the same desire for children. In fact, we used to joke whether we would have four (my number) or two (her preference).

She had problems with the pill so we used a diaphragm (or condoms in a pinch) to avoid pregnancy. This was a routine I adhered to religiously. I thought that children were never at issue - only the timing. How could I have been so wrong?

It was these and other disjointed thoughts that traversed my semiconscious mind as I sat in that darkened room that night. I looked over at our wall clock and realized that it was close to 2am. My thoughts had been rambling for hours. Regardless of the coffee I had consumed, I was mentally exhausted. That was the last clear thought I had before sleep overcame me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to jump up but my body refused to obey. I slowly recognized that I was being shaken. "Peter. Peter wake up. Its 7am honey. You've got to get ready."

My eyes parted to let in the vision of Paige crouching before me, the look of concern written across her face. I stretched reflexively, closed my eyes for a second and then stood. My bladder led me away towards the bathroom. Whether Paige was concerned that I had not spoken I don't know. Her face faded away as I filled the basin and splashed the first droplets of warm water upon my face.

When I returned to the bedroom Paige was putting on her makeup. Should I have found it odd that she put on makeup in preparation for a day of lectures and study groups? Did she give such attention to her appearance in those other classrooms when she had been in command? I couldn't remember, and the question gnawed at me. Was it an early warning sign I should have seen? Or was I being paranoid? That thought calmed me. I then recalled Paige always wearing makeup, regardless of the occasion.

It was too late now, I thought while unbuttoning my shirt. My descent into self pity was fortunately interrupted by my curious mate.

"You must have had a rough night. You've never fallen asleep in the chair before. You haven't been drinking have you?" Paige said that with a weak laugh escaping her lips. The accompanying smile fled her face as she saw my expression.

"What's wrong Peter? I wasn't serious, but it is unlike you."

"Something was bothering me. I don't know any other way to put this well, so I'll just come out and ask you. Are you involved with another man? "

There it was, out in the open, stated in the most awkward of terms. Was she 'involved'? Were you fucking someone else Paige? That's what I wanted to say but couldn't.

Her head tilted slightly as if she were trying to look around me. For a moment I saw her eyes grow wider, but then it was gone as she turned slowly in her seat away from me. A moment later she had turned again to face me. Her voice was strong as she responded.

"What? You're not kidding are you?" My expression must have said it all. She slowly shook her head. "I don't believe this", she said getting up and moving towards the window and staring out.

"I just don't believe this. I'm in class less than two months and you come up with this shit?" She turned around to face me as her expression now one of controlled anger. If she expected me to back down she was mistaken. I had not moved an inch since asking the question.

"You think I'm cheating on you? With who? A classmate? One of my professors? Maybe I'm screwing the Dean? Better yet, I'm doing his secretary, how's that?"

I continued to dead pan my words. "You were seen last week at the bar in Le Mas with another man, an overly friendly man I was told."

"Well your information is wrong. They didn't see ME. But you already knew that. You also know damn well I would never do something like that. Is this your way of saying you have problems with my being back in school and not working?

"Which is it Peter? Do you resent having to support us while I'm not working? Or are you upset with amount of time I have to commit? If it bothers you why not just say so, instead of...of...."

"So it wasn't you?" I said cutting off her diatribe.

Whatever Paige had been doing with her cosmetics failed to soften the glare she gave me from across the room. Daggers flew from her eyes. She looked like we were seconds away from a physical confrontation. I decided to retreat before the situation degenerated further. I had what I wanted.

I entered the bathroom closing the door behind me. Mindful of both the time and the surroundings I went through the paces of a shower and shave like a robot on autopilot. When I exited, Paige was absent the room. I heard her moving in the kitchen as I dressed, and then I heard the front door close. She had left the apartment without uttering another word.

She lied. I know it was naïve for me to expect the truth. I might not have been prepared to handle it. But damn it, I deserved the truth, not some smoke blown up my ass as she tried to make me feel guilty for asking. She lied to me. She stood across the room, looked me dead in the face and lied to me.

More than anything else, that simple act of deceit hurt more than if I had caught her in bed with that asshole. I was shaken to the core. I don't know how I managed, but something inside of me would not allow this situation to dominate my thinking. I had responsibilities that day, other duties that had claims on my time. I needed to focus on the immediate needs of work.

That morning I opted for the half-hour walk to the office. It would mean arriving within minutes of the briefing but my muscles demanded a release. With the rain it was a lousy day for a walk but I endured, and actually felt much better when I reached the building.

The executives we invited to the briefing were all in attendance. Our presentations were delivered flawlessly and the questions from the audience were frequent and insightful. We acquired several strong leads at the end, making the event an unqualified success.

Walking back to my cubicle I was surprised at how easily I had blocked out thoughts of my marriage, at least for the last few hours. I was good at compartmentalizing my life. Like the cabins on a battleship, one room is compromised the others hold to their integrity, the ship stays afloat. My mate deceives me, my marriage collapses, but I keep rolling along.

The analogy brought forth a smile. People were not battleships. Not all compartments were equal. Compartmentalizing my life meant avoiding the distasteful and the unpleasant. There were steps that still needed to be taken so that I would learn the truth; and for that I needed help.

Chapter 3: Getting Help

After work I stopped by my dad's. He still lived in the same row house where I grew up in South Philadelphia. While dad and that house had remained in place; the neighborhood however, was undergoing gentrification. What had once been part of an ethnic enclave was now a growing yuppie community.

All around him were young people. Mostly they were young families but the block was also populated with a number of young single professional women too, and somehow my dad was often the focus of their attention. For someone who claimed he wasn't bedding any of these young women, they certainly were over the house quite often. It was like he was enjoying a second childhood. Given his background, I found the change extraordinary.

As I turned the corner I saw two young women coming down the steps from his house. They looked to like students, all fresh faced and laughing, carrying books as if coming from a lecture. I could only shake my head and smile as we passed on the sidewalk.

One constant though, was his approach to problems. He had been a cop for most of his adult life and risen in the ranks to an Inspector. Now retired for five years, he still cast the same imposing figure he had when I was a child; and he still thought like a cop. He would be more objective about the evidence, and if I needed help he could direct me. I knew my father had contacts all over the city. If anyone could school me in my problem it was him.

This was new territory for us. I rarely asked the old man for help. It had been that way since before I was a teenager. I had asserted my independence early and he was never directly considered in my decisions. There were times I thought he wanted to involve himself more in my life but he held back.

It was different this time. I told him all about the discovery of Paige with another man. He sat impassively throughout the tale only nodding occasionally to indicate he had heard an important point. When I finished he spoke up.