No Place to Go

I motioned to Deveraux. "Drink."

He didn't move.

My voice thundered, "Give me the fucking drink, you goddamned shyster!"

He slid the tumbler across the table to me, and I knocked it back.

I have no excuse for what I have done. I loved you and Jeremy both. The two of you look very similar; as you've joked with me in the past, I have a definite type. There was no real chance of you finding out. I knew that I was his only lover, as I was your only lover, so disease was not a factor. I am sorry for what I did, but that can only go so far, and I am certain that I am far past the point where those words mean anything to you.

Our children are in danger. I know you will do the right thing. I would have, but I only had so much strength, and I had no way of explaining to you and them why I would want to have them tested for the dominant version of the abnormality. If I had simply asked you to do it, you would have discovered my infidelity with no explanation at a time when I was too weak to talk with you, and you were in too much pain to shoulder yet another tragedy. So I must do what I did at the beginning of our marriage, and ask you to be the strong one.

There is another factor as well, but it is a financial matter. It is part of why I retained Mr. Deveraux for his help in delivering this letter to you. I hand picked him not simply for his expertise in the pertinent laws, but also because of his life experience. I believe that he can help you come to the right decisions for yourself and our family; I will not presume to say what those are, because I have lost any right to claim that I am a worthy partner in your life.

I cannot say how much I wish I had not done the things I did. I can only say that, for all my faults, I do love you. You are the greatest love of my life. You are the strongest man I know, with the greatest capacity for love I have ever seen. Please, take that capacity and turn it first towards our children and then, if you can, to finding a new partner, one that truly is worthy of you. I know that I have broken your heart with this letter. I hope that I have not broken it beyond the ability of a better woman to repair.

In unending love and eternal regret,

Lynn

I gestured with the tumbler and Deveraux poured another finger. Another, more irritated gesture brought another finger. We both sipped in silence.

"What's the financial issue." It was a question phrased as a statement, dull and without affect.

"After Mr. Stein-- Jeremy's death, he donated most of his fortune, but he put a significant sum into an offshore account." He slid a piece of paper across the table to me. There were a lot of zeros on it. "Lynn was given access to it, but never withdrew any money. She told me that she felt your family was doing well enough without it, and that she couldn't come up with a way to explain the sudden windfall. The latter is no longer an issue, so she wanted you to consider-- "

"Fuck no."

" -- To consider the benefit it could give to your family. If you want no part of it, then it could still go to your children in the form of a trust, college funds-- "

With a snort, I spat, "Yeah, 'my' children." I took another drink. "Fucking bitch."

We sat quietly for a few moments, then he said, "You raised them, yes? Drove them to school, took care of them while they were sick, fussed over them? I don't know you, Kurt. But Lynn did. She was certain that, even if it turned out that one or both of your two youngest weren't your biological children, that you'd still consider yourself their father."

She was right. "Why the fuck should I care about his kids?" I grumbled. "Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Yes, goddammit. They're my kids. She's taken damn near everything else from me in the time it took me to read that fucking letter. She doesn't get to take them, too."

Marcus leaned forward slightly, a conciliatory tone in his voice. "Kurt, you have a lot of decisions to make. More than you might immediately think. Lynn asked me to be here to help you work through all of the angles and come up with the decision that you believe will work best for you."

"Bullshit."

"That I'm here to help you, or that Lynn wanted you to make a decision that was good for you?"

I cocked my head. "Definitely the latter. She clearly didn't give a fuck about me. And that means that if she sent you, it was in service to what she wanted, not what was best for me. So the former, too."

Deveraux sighed. "She did love you. You don't know me. I understand that. But I asked you some questions before you read the letter. What did you say when I asked how she was as a wife? 'A great wife. The best.' She-- "

"Yeah, before I found out she fucked another guy for half a fucking decade! Jesus, what do you want me to say? 'Oh, it was 12 years ago, it's all water under the bridge?' Or maybe 'Well, I don't want to speak ill of the dead?' Fuck that. Lynn can--" I paused, finding it hard to speak the words. "She can burn in hell for all I care."

That irritatingly even voice came out again. "I understa-- "

"No you fucking don't, asshole! My wife cheated on me! She did it for five years! You're sitting there like some kind of fucking Easter Island statue in a three piece suit because you're getting paid to calm me down. I'm not going to calm down!"

Deveraux nodded slowly. "You asked earlier why your wife hired me, and I told you that I couldn't divulge my qualifications until after you read the letter. Your wife was looking for someone with specific legal experience; that was the easiest fit. I could think of a dozen more qualified lawyers than me when it came to that, in fact.

"But then she wanted to know more personal things; she didn't disclose why except to me, although I think for one or two that she talked to before me, they could put some of it together if they tried. She wanted someone who could be fair and impartial; I've served as a temporary judge before. It's a task that gives lawyers a chance to see if they want to go for the brass ring before fully committing. I decided that wasn't for me.

"She wanted someone who had personal experience with infidelity. Someone whose life had been directly affected by it." I glanced at his left hand, and there was no ring there. He nodded. "I fit the bill there as well.

"Finally, Lynn wanted someone who would zealously advocate for their client. That's not hard; it's part of the job description. But she ran me through a number of scenarios, especially ones involving family law, and asked me which side I'd prefer to advocate for. Taken as an aggregate, they make up the bulk of your situation."

I scoffed. "So, what, because you got her pop quiz right, because you said you'd side with her, you got the job? Woopty fucking doo."

"No. I sided with the husband. She wanted someone who would be on your side, to make sure you got the best advice for your situation. I told her, after hearing her full story, that there were things I'd advocate for that she might not like, and her response was simple: 'Whatever is best for Kurt and my children.'"

I considered. He was a lawyer. That made him suspect to begin with. He had been hired by my wife. Technically she was the client, not me. He could be lying for her, or for himself; there were a lot of zeros on that piece of paper. But Lynn was right, I didn't actually need that money. I didn't even want it, the way I felt right then.

He made one more point as he saw me weighing my options. "There's one more thing to consider. Until ten minutes ago, I was the only person alive who knew what was in that envelope. If you want other counsel, you'll need to expand that pool. And you know what they say about a secret."

"'Three can keep it if two are dead.' Yeah." I scowled at him. "Fine. You're here. Let's talk."

"You have a number of important decisions to make. It's already three, and I believe you have to pick your children up by six?" I nodded. "Alright. Let's assume that not all of these decisions will be made today; you'll want to sleep on some of them, I'm certain. But let's make sure that you understand the lay of the land. Fair?" Taking my silence as assent, he moved on.

"One. No reason to think that anyone outside of you, me, and possibly Alan knows of Lynn's infidelity. There's no reason to think that Alan cares; he's happy running the charity that he and Jeremy set up. So, Lynn's infidelity can remain a secret if you choose.

"Two. You agree that your children are your children, regardless of whether they share DNA with you, yes?"

I nodded reluctantly.

"Three. Your children's lives may be in danger. They will require genetic testing to know if that's the case or not.

"Four. There is a large amount of money sitting in an offshore account; I can make that available to you in a variety of ways if you choose, all perfectly legal and clean, without divulging how you came to acquire it. You'll have to pay a varying level of taxes on it, but... " He shrugged.

"Five. Lynn and Jeremy are both dead. Jeremy has no estate anymore, having donated all of his money to charities and friends; even if he did, it's been over a decade since Lynn cheated, and there's scant proof of it."

I took a sip of the scotch. "That seems to be about the shape of it."

"Let's put the money aside for the moment, then. It's sat in an offshore account for twelve years; it can wait a few more weeks. The more immediate issue is your children. But to help you decide what you want to do there, I need to ask you to be honest about some things that you're going to have some very strong emotional reactions about right now."

With a snort and another sip, I said, "Gee, you think?" I shook my head. Being combative wasn't going to help, even if it came naturally at the moment. "Fine. Ask."

"The questions I asked about Lynn earlier, about what she was like as a person, a wife, and a mother." He raised a hand. "I know you're rethinking them right now. But if I had never darkened your doorstep, you would still think those things. Do your kids think them as well? Or at least things that are similar, just from a child's point of view?"

I contemplated his question. Jenny and Lynn had gotten into it occasionally, but that was teenage stuff, the same as when Matt and I got into it. And seeing how they grieved her, I begrudgingly said, "Yeah. Yes. She was at least a good mom to them, in their eyes. And..." Fuck. "And I suppose mine as well. I'd retroactively divorce her cheating ass if I could, but I probably wouldn't have fought her on shared custody, even knowing how she betrayed me. She was a good mom."

Marcus quietly asked, "Do you want to change that? Do you think your kids would be better or worse off if they knew what she did?"

There was a big picture window in the dining room. Lynn had loved that, loved to have the natural light in the room. I was irritated by it a lot of the time; it could be pretty, but it could also be overpowering. The afternoon sun only illuminated part of the room; Marcus was draped in shadow. I felt like I was in an interrogation room, and there were no right answers to any of the questions.

"I don't know."

He steepled his fingers. "I think you do. If the kids know, what will that do to them? Will they hate her? What will that gain them? What will it gain you? Right now, only we two know the secret; do you gain anything by having it known that your wife cheated on you for years?"

I felt my temperature rising. "It's not right. She... she shouldn't get away with it."

The old lawyer looked straight at me. "She's dead, Kurt. She died a slow, painful death, knowing that she'd have to disclose her infidelity. Knowing that the man that she claims is her greatest love will hate her. Does it seem like she got away with it to you?"

I looked into my glass. "Sort of. Yeah, it sort of does. I-- I'm never gonna get my pound of flesh. Never going to get to rail away at her, call her all the names I want to, try to hurt her like she's hurt me. Never get to kick the shit out of her lover. Never get to ask why, really why, not this--" I held up the letter " -- this pile of bullshit fucking justifications."

An echo of a memory, once cherished and now tainted, came to mind. I mumbled, "'No place to go.'"

"Hmm?"

With a shake of my head, my gaze went back to Marcus. "There was something that Lynn told me when I was trying to get through my father's death. Something I told my kids to help them get through hers. 'Grief is love with no place to go.'"

He nodded. "I've heard it before. I can see how it would be comforting."

My voice was rough with pain and anger. "Yeah. Yeah. But here's the thing." I couldn't keep a snarl off my face; not one directed at him, but instead meant for the ghost in the room. "What's hate with no place to go? Can you answer that for me?"

It was his turn to drink now. "I don't know. I'm..." He chuckled. "Lawyers use words to create precision, not to illuminate truth. If you're looking for a poet, I'm afraid I'll have to step aside." He tilted his head to one side. "But, if I had to guess? Rage."

I raised my drink in salute. "It's not a bad answer. Maybe. I'll think about it." A gulp finished the scotch in my glass. He held up the bottle; I shook my head. This was a time to be clear. "Thanks, but no. It's a good scotch. Lynn pay for that out of her slush fund?"

His teeth were brilliantly white in the shadow. "No, she paid for a much less expensive bottle. But this..." He shook his head. "This seemed like the type of thing that demanded a quality drink. This bottle's from my own collection."

"Well, thank you. It's nice to see someone's looking out for my best interests."

Marcus softly said, "She was, too, you know. At the end, I mean. I didn't spend much time with her, but I've spent a lot of time around cheating spouses, both in my job and..." He looked sadly down at his left hand. "... and, well, otherwise."

He smiled at me again, sadly this time, real emotion in his voice and face. Not the reserved but understanding lawyer, but a person with a past. "You get a feeling for the ones that are contrite and for the ones that are faking contrition. Lynn, whatever else I can say, was sorry for what she'd done. For what she'd have to do to you by disclosing it."

"Yeah, well, that and a couple bucks will get you a coffee." I shook my head. "We're getting off track. I can have a pity party on my own time." With a tap of my fingers on the table, I continued our planning session. "Fine, I agree, there's no point in telling my kids their mom was a cheating slut. But I still need to get them tested."

"I can set that up for you. Concierge doctor, very private. HIPAA will be the least restrictive covenant placed on him. The question then is, do you only want a health screening, or do you want to know if you're their biological father as well?"

"... Fuck, I don't know." I stood and looked out the window. "If I find out that one of them has... is vulnerable in a way that would require both parents to have the gene, then that tells me what I need to know, doesn't it?"

"No, unfortunately. Your wife only had it as a recessive trait. We don't know, and only suspect, that Jeremy had it as a dominant trait. We don't know if you have it as either recessive or dominant. In order to know, you'd need to go through the health screening for you as well. There's no reason not to do that, but even that won't necessarily give you a definitive answer."

It was quiet outside. Still, in the way a suburb on a school day afternoon can be. I remembered my kids playing on the swing that had hung from the tree in our front yard; that was gone now, victim of the kids all trying to climb on together. I smiled at the memory. Wanted to cry at the notion of... "I'm not sure I want one."

Marcus sighed behind me in the gloom. "I understand. Ultimately, it's your decision. But I think you need to know."

I turned slightly to look at him. "Why?"

"I don't know you well, Kurt. This conversation, some information from Lynn. I don't know if you're the type of man that can stand having knowledge available but just out of reach. For me... well, the curiosity would kill me. But more importantly, you need to know for your kids."

"I thought we'd just agreed that the kids don't ever need to know."

Marcus inclined his head. "Don't need to? Yes. Could possibly find out by accident? That's another matter. Your oldest is eighteen. What if she decides, as, I don't know, a celebration of Lynn's life to buy the whole family one of those genealogy site DNA kits at Christmas? She never met your parents or Lynn's mom. It's certainly the type of thing someone might do. And if she does that, then..." He trailed off, letting me reach my own conclusion.

"... then a few weeks later, she finds out that she has a bunch of familial connections that Matt doesn't. Or Paula. And then the questions start. And then... Fuck." My head was throbbing. "Well, thanks, Lynn. Yet another heartbreak you've left for me. I can't even have the choice between knowing or not knowing."

I waved my hand in Marcus's general direction. "Fine. Get tests for all of us. Health screens and... and the other. We'll just tell the kids we're testing for the abnormality. And then... and then if I find out, I guess... I guess I'll... I don't know. Figure it out once I know one way or the other."

He stood. "Then I believe that's all we can do for the day. Think, when you can, what you might like to see done with the money. I know you're angry at her, but consider what it could do for your children. I would tell you to try to put these matters out of your mind, but I know that's an impossible task. Instead, try to focus on your children. They need you now, more than ever, and perhaps you can find strength in service to them."

We walked to the front door, leaving behind the dining room table, the ritual objects, and the letter that destroyed the happy illusion of my marriage. Once there, he clasped me on the shoulder, an oddly intimate gesture for a man I barely knew. A welcome one, too; the human contact almost broke me. "Kurt, I... I will be honest, I thought that this would go very differently. I don't know how you were able to take all of this without crumbling or throwing me out of your house. I don't think I could have. I have no doubt that you can get through this."

I nodded, then spoke with a tremor in my voice. "Thanks."

He hesitated. "Do you need me to stay a while longer? I'd be happy to-- "

My head shook violently. "No. No. I need-- I need to have some time to myself to-- to try to process at least a little before I get the kids. I have to try to put my game face on for them."

Marcus nodded, sympathetic. "I'll let you know when the doctor will come to take the samples. I'll have him send me the results so that there's no chance of your children intercepting them. We can meet at my office once they're in to talk about next steps for both your family and the money."

We said our goodbyes, and he left. I slid down the door once his car was gone, relinquishing control of my body and my emotions now that I was alone. My sobs echoed throughout the empty house, sobs that sounded like the mournful cries of a child rather than a man. I had lost my wife once, a month before. Now I had lost her again, and the second loss was far worse than the first.

I stayed there, almost catatonic, until the alarm went off on my phone, telling me it was time to get the kids. I cleaned up both myself and the house as fast as I could, then drove along, trying to put a brave face on. They could see I had been crying, but I waved it away; they thought I was just mourning their mother and trying to be strong for them. They were right, but also so, so wrong.

My mask slipped a few times that week. Venom came into my voice as I spoke of their mother occasionally. Jenny caught me starting with hatred at Lynn's wedding photo. Of all of the kids, I think she suspected that I wasn't simply mourning her mother's death. But she let it go; we all grieve in our own ways, and I think she wanted to believe my anger was simply that of a father left alone to raise his children alone, an irrational anger that would pass. I would do my best to maintain that illusion for her.