Research Project Pt. 01

"How...?"

I handed her the morning newspaper, folded to an article about the class-action suit about the Lorings Framework. "The resort isn't very secure."

"Oh God, who else has these images?"

"I don't know. We did our best to lock out anyone else trying to watch the action."

"Watch the action?"

"I have most of your time at the resort on tape." So much for David's advice.

Marie screamed, and fled out the door. About an hour and a half later I got a text from her. "Traveller's Inn, route 18."

WEDNESDAY:

In the morning I brought David up to date. He was surprised that Marie took the initiative to disclose what she had done. It was a rare phenomenon for cheaters.

David finalized the divorce papers citing irreconcilable differences; not a word about her debauchery. She was to get half of the assets I accumulated since our marriage, she had fifteen days to get herself and all her things out of my house. No alimony or anything like that. All of this was conditional on an expedited, uncontested divorce, using the state's option for it being effective in sixty days from court approval. She was served at her hotel by late afternoon, and the next morning we got a request from her attorney for a meeting.

THURSDAY:

"I think she's squeezed for money, Rudy. I've dealt with her attorney Roy Akon a few times. He's not very good, but he's cheap. If they start making trouble, we can leverage this."

"I don't want to meet them. I could make better use of my time sticking bamboo splints under my fingernails."

"Meetings with Akon are usually fast. He reeks of cigarette smoke and he knows it. Everyone always wants to get away from him, and he counts on that as a pressure tactic. I think he showers every other week. But the real fun will be tomorrow, when we serve Greenrock, Pencer Research and the individual Harold Pencer. We're serving Gossamer Sands in Brooklyn and the Virgin Islands. We'll keep you poster on that."

David set our meeting up for five that afternoon, at our firm's grand conference room. I had my accountant prepare a financial disclosure form, and presumed Marie had asked him to do the same. We had all except five chairs removed from the long conference table; two at either end, and one in the middle for a stenographer.

Akon started off, leaning forward in his chair. "Mr. Freeland hasn't made any money in a year. He's in debt to the bank. Why are you insulting my client with this ridiculous split?"

David stared at my wife. "Marie, your hair..." I kicked his leg under the table, and he got hold of himself. "What does your client want?"

"Sell the house and give her half the sale value."

Oddly, as Akon leaned forward, Marie leaned back, shaking her head 'no' and pointing to her lawyer. It seemed he was speaking for herself, not her. She took over. "Rudy, before you get angry, and before Mr. Akon says anything further, I want you to know that I will not contest anything you propose. I asked my attorney to clarify the document, not contest it."

I smiled inwardly. That's the Marie I loved: willing to stand up and do what had to be done. Not intimidated, able to direct the course of action. Where did that woman disappear to this past weekend? I walked over and handed her and Akon copies of my financial disclosure. "It's too late, Marie. I've been angry since Friday morning."

"Um, my client doesn't have hers yet. She's waiting for Pencer Research to provide her information indicating its value." Akon's eyes lit up as he read my disclosure; Marie ignored it. He leaned over and whispered to Marie. She grimaced, either from his smell or his words. "Yes, as my client was saying, we're quite prepared to accept the proposal as is. Congratulations Mr. Freeland, on your success."

"What?" Marie picked up and scanned the disclosure, jumped up and ran towards me. She stopped halfway. "Oh, Rudy! I'm so proud of you. So that's what the newspaper article was really about."

I nodded.

"You're a wonderful man, I love you... and I don't deserve to have you."

The brightness went out from her eyes as she said the last part. Her shoulders slumped and she returned to her seat. I needed a tissue.

David smiled. "If we're all in agreement—"

"Excuse me," Marie said. "I need to speak to my attorney for a moment. Is there a room we could use?"

David looked at the stenographer and me, then turned to Akon. "We'll step out for ten minutes. That enough?"

Akon nodded and we stepped out. Over adjacent urinals David said "I wonder what the hell that's about."

I didn't answer him but had a feeling this was something to do with Marie's integrity. It was something few people understood.

When we went back in I was proven right.

"Against my advice, my client is refusing your proposal. I don't understand it, so I'll let her try to explain." Akon leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, dreams of an easy payoff dashed.

Marie fixed her eyes on me. "You have been the best husband possible: loving, empathetic, strong and faithful. You'll make a wonderful father for some lucky lady's children." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I violated your trust in the worst way possible, destroying our marriage. I don't deserve to have your children. I don't deserve to have the benefit of your success. I lost that when I got into the car going to the resort, instead of taking the next plane back to your arms."

"This is uncharted territory for me," David whispered in my ear. "What are you proposing?" he said aloud.

"That I take only what I own with me: my clothes, personal effects and car. There's maybe a couple of thousand dollars in the joint bank account, and not too much owing on our credit card. We pay it off. Everything else is in our individual hands."

Akon leaned over and whispered something to her.

I whispered to David. "You're about to travel more uncharted territory."

"We've got more than we can dream of in this offer. You're going to refuse it, aren't you?"

I touched David's arm. "Marie, Counsellors, that proposal is unacceptable."

Akon whispered urgently in Marie's ear. He turned to us. "What part?"

"A divorce is supposed to entail splitting the assets that the couple accumulated together. We accumulated my contingency together. If not for your earnings Marie, I would not have been able to devote my full attention to the Lorings class action suit. That's what a marriage is. We had two years together, two years I thought were perfect. If you refuse your share, you are refusing to acknowledge our time together. You're declaring they were a sham. I won't accept that."

David looked across the table. "Roy, have you ever experienced spouses fighting to get less money in a divorce? It's new to me." He glanced at Marie. "Mr. and Mrs. Freeland, are you planning to get back together after this is settled? Is this some kind of tax dodge?"

She wiped her eyes and shook her head.

"Getting back together is simply not possible, considering her actions this weekend," I said, a tremor in my voice. "Mrs. Freeland, Marie, you couldn't respect our marriage; please have the integrity to at least respect my wishes in the divorce."

"I can't take your money," she said voicelessly.

Akon stood up. "There's no point going back and forth like this. Let's give the parties time to reconsider, and then we'll get together again. Call me if your client modifies his position; I'll do the same." He took her by the elbow and escorted her out, talking rapidly.

"That's got to be one of Akon's longest meetings ever."

"He didn't smell that bad."

"We were far away from him. Trust me, Marie did not enjoy this meeting. Maybe the stench was distracting her." David steepled his hands. "Why did she refuse five and a half million dollars? I've seen guilty spouses try to punish themselves, but it would be over small issues, or there would be underlying psychological problems. Is she independently wealthy?"

"Nope. We've been living decently, but hand to mouth while I was working on Lorings. David, is it possible that something's wrong with her? That wasn't my wife's behavior at the resort, unless I completely misunderstood her the whole time we were together."

"I'll call Akon and suggest she see a therapist. What about you? It's not normal to give away millions of dollars to a person who cheated you in the worst possible way."

"Of course I'm sick. If I wasn't after seeing her debauchery, I would really be deranged."

"Will you keep the money?"

"No."

WEEKS LATER:

Two weeks later David tried to find out if Marie had budged. She had, but not in the manner we hoped for. Akon informed him us that he was no longer representing her. All he could provide was a phone number, not even an address. We couldn't serve her any documents if we needed to. I called her, but she didn't pick up. Her office number nor her voicemail functioned. I sent a text message asking if she was okay. A few hours later she replied "I'm fine."

David got a message from her a couple more weeks later. "I have a proposal. Can we meet?"

"Who's representing you now?"

"No one. I trust you not to screw me." The irony of her response wasn't lost on David or me. The meeting was set up for the following afternoon.

Marie looked terrible: pale, thin... she moved with a certain frailty, as if stepping too hard would cause her to shatter. We took a small conference room, and despite David's best efforts, I sat next to her.

"Well, Mrs. Freeland, I understand you have a proposal for us. Are you willing to take your share of the family income?"

"I'm not taking money that I forfeited, but I don't want to keep Mr. Freeland from moving on with his life. I would like the right to choose the payee for the funds."

"Ah, you could put it into a trust or other such vehicle, and that way you wouldn't be directly benefiting. Very clever." David was seeing a lot of new things in this divorce.

But he was wrong. I knew her better. "That's not what you have in mind, is it?"

She shook her head, grimacing.

"Marie, what's wrong?"

"I lost my husband."

"No, I mean what's wrong with you?" I suddenly remembered. "Did you see a doctor? Did you get tested? Treated?"

She shook her head again.

"Are you out of your mind? Those diseases can do permanent damage if left untreated."

She shrugged. "When you started the divorce I was off your health care. Pencer Research collapsed within a couple of days of being served. All my credit cards were from the business or you. I couldn't use them to pay for treatment."

"There are free clinics, Marie."

"I tried a few, David. They all wanted proof of eligibility, and when they saw my last year tax assessment, they threw me out."

I got up and started pacing. "I don't understand you, Marie. Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"I'm not your problem anymore."

"Yes, you are. I don't know if 'problem' is the right word. You're still Mrs. Rudy Freeland, and you're still on my health insurance."

"I don't want to take advantage of our former relationship. I forfeited—"

"Shut up!" I screamed. "Just shut the hell up!" I picked up the jug of water on the table and threw it against the wall as hard as I could. It shattered, denting the wall and raining broken glass and water over a corner of the room. My shoulders heaved as I tried to control my breathing, as I struggled to control my anger.

"You're not leaving this room till you call the firm's regular clinic and make an appointment. The divorce is on hold until you're finished your treatment. You say you don't want to keep me from getting on with my life? Then take care of this, damn it!"

"Rudy, please let me speak to Marie alone for a few minutes. Go take a breather."

"Not till she makes the appointment." I pointed at the phone and yelled at her. "Do it." I threw my health insurance card on the table in front of her. "Use that."

"Rudy, please take a break. Say goodbye now and let me speak to Marie alone.

Half an hour later David called me back in. "I got an address to serve her at."

"Okay, good."

"No, it's not good. Eighteen-thirty Holder Avenue."

"Is that supposed to mean..." I realized what he was talking about. "That's the homeless shelter our firm has been supporting. My wife is living at a god-damned homeless shelter! Did she tell you why?"

"Pencer Research Associates collapsed. She may get some money out of them eventually, but it will take time. She told you about her credit cards. She hardly has any money in her bank account. Marie has an extreme cash flow problem."

"Is she working?"

"She was offered a job at a breakfast diner, but they let her go when she couldn't confirm that she was in good health. She refused to lie."

This was too much. "If I move her into the maid's apartment of my house, will it hurt me in court?"

"It depends which court you mean. Heavenly court when you die, it will definitely help you get into the good place. Divorce court, depends what you do together when she's at the house."

"Nothing, we'll do nothing. There's a separate entrance through the garage. She'll have a hotplate and a small fridge. It won't be living together. I'll only see her when I go to the laundry—"

"Calm down Rudy. Do what you feel is right. Don't go according to what some judge may think in the future."

"I've got to go get her. I can't have her in that place, not even one more night." I stood up to go.

"Sit down. She's more devastated by her behavior than you, and I know how bad you feel. This is part of re-building herself. Don't make her feel helpless, unable to make proper decisions on her own."

I remained standing. "Well, you've seen the decisions she's been making recently. They haven't been so good."

"Yeah, but sit down anyways."

I sat.

"Rudy, you love her, you want her back."

"Desperately, but I can't have her. Not after her last research project."

"The residents aren't allowed back into the shelter till six in the evening, with lights out at ten. Don't go there now. Leave her some pride."

"What kind of pride is there for an Ivy League MBA to be living in a homeless shelter?"

"Not displaying her desperate situation to the people she knows. Even though she's effectively living on charity, it's a kind of self-sufficiency."

"An Ivy League education ain't what it used to be." I covered my face with my hands, leaning my elbows on the table. David rubbed my back briefly, a message of empathy. I heard the door close behind him. I would have spent the rest of the day there moping but was interrupted shortly after by the custodian, come to clean up my mess. I apologized, sat in my office till closing time, and left.

At seven the next evening I stood outside the door of eighteen-thirty Holder Avenue. There was a guard, or maybe he was a bouncer guarding the entrance. His arms were as thick as my thighs, you could practically feel his muscles rippling under his clothes. A bulge against his hip hinted loudly that he was armed. He eyed me warily.

"No visitors."

"Could you kindly advise Marie Freeland that I would like to speak to her? I don't have to go in; if she could come to the door I'd appreciate it."

"I told you, no visitors."

"I'm her husband"

"Especially no husbands."

Of course. This was a shelter for homeless and abused women. Time for heavier artillery. "Could you please tell Mrs. Danvil that I would like to make a donation to the shelter. I just want to speak for a moment to Mrs. Freeland." Judy Danvil had started and ran this shelter. I hoped she hadn't connected my wife's name to our law firm. We were one of the primary sponsors of their annual fundraising gala.

"How much of a donation?"

I pulled out my wallet and counted out twenty one-hundred dollar bills. He reached for the money, but I put it back in my pocket. He spoke into his walkie-talkie and Mrs. Danvil soon came to the door.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. I want to make a two-thousand-dollar donation, but I would like to first speak to my wife, to ensure that she's satisfied with how she's being treated here."

"Um, usually people who stay here don't have husbands who can afford such donations, unless those husbands are abusing them. Is your wife here because you're one of those?"

"My wife can speak for herself. You'll have to ask her."

"Wait here, please."

It took about five minutes for Marie to come to the door. The bouncer advised her that if she left, even briefly, she could lose her bed for the night if other people came. She looked ragged, she looked tired. I opened my arms and she fell into them, squeezing me as best she could, as long as she could.

"Are you taking me back?"

"I'm taking you back to the house."

"Are you taking your wife back?"

"I wish that was possible, but we both know it's not."

"So why...?"

I swept my arm out towards the shelter entrance. "You have to be able to get back on your feet; you can't do that here. I want to divorce, not destroy you."

"You didn't destroy me. I did that."

"Enough of your damned self-pity," I shouted. The bouncer started walking towards us. I put the two thousand dollars in Marie's hand. "Give that to Danvil and get your stuff. It's been a hard day, and I want to get home." Marie nodded, intercepted the bouncer and went inside. Mrs. Danvil came out again, accompanied by her goon.

"Mr. Freeland, I need the address where you're taking Marie and I need to see identification. Marie has told me she's going with you of her own free will. Our protocol requires however that we check on her, to ensure her safety and well being. A social worker will be assigned to her case. Does that bother you?"

It bothered the hell out of me; I didn't want any such interference in our lives. "Mrs. Danvil, your shelter does terrific work, and I'm proud to support its effort. I appreciate your concern for my wife's well-being, and the social worker will be welcome."

"How long are you taking her for? Any conditions, chores?"

"Until she can stand on her own two feet. She's a bright, talented woman. When looking for a good job, she'll need to project an image of success. She can't do that living in a homeless shelter. Our suburban address will help. The only conditions, chores if you want to put it that way are that she takes care of herself, and she can't bring any guys over."

"And if you get mad at her? Are you going to throw her out on the street again?"

I resisted the urge to yell at Danvil to get off her high horse. "It's up to Marie to tell you as much as she wants to about how she ended up at the shelter. It's not my place to disclose any of it."

"Are you so sure she'll tell me the truth?"

"Absolutely. My wife is a woman of impeccable integrity." Except for one research project.

The drive home was relatively quiet. Marie told me she sold her car to pay her lawyer and credit card debts. She had depleted most of the proceeds and was running on fumes, mostly unemployment insurance. Marie had moved to the city that I had grown up in. Consequently, all of our social circle was based on my previous relations with people. She couldn't bring herself to ask any of them to take her in. Fortunately, she didn't know that the shelter she went to was one of my law firm's major charity projects. She might have then chosen to sleep on the streets.

Marie had a hard time controlling her tears when she saw the boxes with her stuff in the garage. It accentuated that the house she would be staying was no longer her home. I told her she was free to unpack any of it she needed. She went to the maid's quarters without any complaint before joining me in a trip to the grocery store. When all she took was a small bottle of milk and a box of Cheerios I had a hard time containing my frustration.

"Marie, you know that grocery game reality program? Well this is the same thing. I'm giving you ten minutes to fill up your cart. I'll wait for you here, and when you come back to me within fifteen minutes, everything in your cart is free."