The Corner Table at Mickey's Pt. 02

He nodded. "I'll send you a check for two hundred."

She wrinkled her nose. "A buck will do. You didn't need my real lawyerly advice. And"—a wink—"I suspect you already know the answer to your question about separation."

"Spouses must convey the intent to the other that he or she no longer desires to remain married. This may be by informing the other spouse of the end of the marriage verbally, in writing, or by actions including cessation of marital relations and inhabiting a separate portion of the marital residence," he recited.

She burst into laughter.

Three hours later, a loud hooting startled her paralegal as Robin opened the couriered envelope to find a certified check. "Pay One and 00/100 Dollars to the Order of Robin Danieli, Esq." In the Memo field was written: "For Real Lawyerly Advice."

"I said no!" Mallory's voice was tight.

"Come on, babe," Brandon pleaded. "We were good together."

"Your definition of good together just means that you got your rocks off regularly, and you didn't have to use your hand to do it," she replied waspishly. She pushed past him, stopping at the hand-check to face him defiantly.

"Really?" She stared pointedly at the hand on her arm, then up at his face.

He let go and raised both hands in surrender. "Okay. But we were good together, and you were having just as much fun as I was. We gotta talk about this."

"No, we don't." She had intended to head over to Mickey's for lunch but the thought of remaining in his vicinity drove her to her car. She stopped a block later and sent a text to Jim.

≫ Sorry. Something came up and I can't make it.

Her phone dinged a couple of times in succession. At the light, she glanced down.

≪ Wanted to ask you. Blue Buffalo Plaid playing Thu. at Odie's. Managed to score a few tickets and wondered if you wanted to go?

≫ LOL. Already going. Sorry. Thx though.

"Well, damn," Jim said to Shannon. "I guess it's just the three of us. I shoulda known; she loves them."

"What about Addison?"

"She's in Toledo that day. Too far to get here in time."

"Well, two lads on my arm. Aren't I the lucky lady?"

They enjoyed the band. Shannon had been a little dubious at first about Jim's description of "roots rock with a touch of punk and maybe some Appalachia." But when they launched into a fiddle-heavy version of Flogging Molly's "The Days We've Yet To Meet," she was on her feet, arms aloft, hips going a mile a minute until Tom laughingly pulled her back into her seat.

She planted a huge one on his lips. "My man!" She turned to Jim who was sitting on her other side and did the same. "This is deadly. Thanks!" She looked past Jim. "You," she said, pointing at her brother who had gotten the fourth ticket. "None for you seeing as how you're a fecker." He responded by blowing her a kiss, and she went back to gyrating in her seat.

Jim looked over and saw Mallory smiling at them, her eye caught by Shannon's antics. He nodded and she gave a little wave. Josh— Jim assumed it was Josh. He hadn't met him, but Mallory had mentioned she was getting exclusive. Josh smiled in greeting. Mallory settled back into his arm, and everyone turned back to the music.

When the last set was over and everyone stood, Jim noticed Mallory lean into Josh for more than just a peck. It bothered him. While he was glad for her, it accentuated the void he felt in his own life. A once- or twice-a-month visit with Addison isn't exactly what I hoped for out of life. His mood plummeted. He shook himself mentally. Think happy thoughts, Jim. He put a smile back on his face and turned to trail Shannon's brother out of the row. It didn't register with him that Shannon was looking at his face while she waited to follow him out.

Jim's first thought was Uh oh! as he came in the door after the gym. It had been a long day at work, and he hadn't been able to make it to his workout in the morning the way he normally did. He came within an inch of skipping altogether. His mood had remained a little black for several days now, and the thought of sweating and fighting for breath held about as much appeal as a root canal. More actually, you had anesthesia for root canals.

Now all he wanted was a shower, but Lori was sitting in the kitchen, clearly in a waiting-for-you posture.

"What?" he asked.

"I wanted to talk to you." She waited for him to respond, but he just stood there expectantly. "I'm sorry for how I sounded the other night. I would do absolutely anything to fix the mess, but you're not leaving me anything to work with."

"I know."

"Please!"

"Lori," he said in exasperation, "the whole 'a marriage without trust' thing is a fucking Hallmark-card cliché."

"You can trust me! I'll never do anything like that again."

"I can't even trust you to be honest with me now."

"What are you talking about? I owned up to Kevin. And I answered you when you asked when I first did something wrong. I told you the truth!" Her voice was rising.

Frustration that I'm not giving her what she wants? he mused. Or fear? I know where my money is placed.

Exasperation and fatigue pushed him beyond where he wanted to go. He picked up his laptop case and pulled a folder out of it.

"You did own up to Kevin and to fooling around a little—your exact words—before that," he acknowledged. "But if this is what you call fooling around a little, then ..."

He spun a photograph across the table at her. It was poorly lit and reflections on the glass obscured slightly. But not enough to leave any doubt.

"My attorney says the legal term for that is sucking some guy's dick in a car." His voice was acid.

"That's not me!"

"It is you. I took the picture myself with my phone." She gasped and looked at it again. Taken from near the back wheel of the car, out of the man's peripheral vision, assuming his eyes were even open. The woman's didn't matter, only the back of her hair was visible.

"And that's not Kevin," Jim continued. "Kevin has dark hair, and that was months before you started with him."

Lori deflated. "I was so drunk that night. I barely remember it. It scared me and I didn't get that drunk again."

"So you say."

"Jim, I'm—"

He cut her off. "I don't care what you're going to say. You've shown you can't be honest, and I can't stay with someone I'll always be wondering about. No!" He cut off a second attempt to plead. "I'll say it one last time. We're done."

He walked away, sighing as the pleading tone turned tougher.

"I'm going to miss our Tuesday lunch next week," Mallory said. "My birthday is this Friday, and Josh and I are going to take the long weekend plus a day on either side. We're going up to a B&B in Vermont."

"Oh. Well, Happy Birthday in advance." Jim had known her birthday was coming up. He made a point of ferreting out all his customers' birthdays for the card and bottle of their favorite delivered on the day.

"Hey," she said, "a bunch of us are going for a drink this Thursday to celebrate. Why don't you come along?"

"I wouldn't know anyone."

"You'd know me. And Robin will be there."

He thought about it for a second. "I think I'll pass. It'd feel weird. I have a present for you, by the way," he said, forestalling any continuation, "but I didn't think to bring it. I was going to send it over on Friday, but now maybe Thursday." He waved off her protests that he needn't have. "You'll be there? I don't want it sitting around."

She nodded.

"Okay. Well, I should go," he said. "I've got a lot of work." He dropped his share on the table and headed out.

Thursday, a slightly buzzed Robin and a slightly buzzed Mallory were fixing things in the mirror of the restaurant's restroom. "So, this weekend?" Robin asked slyly.

Mallory grinned back. "Assuming he doesn't forget what day tomorrow is, and assuming he doesn't pull some total boner like accidentally calling me some other woman's name, Josh's long wait will likely pay off."

Probably because it was a holiday weekend, things were slow in Mickey's that Friday. Jim sat alone and nursed his drink. The salad he'd just finished hadn't been that satisfying. His body hurt. Robin's promise that things would get better hadn't been a lie, but better was a relative term, and he still ached even if he wasn't winded within the first thirty seconds of doing something.

I wonder if Mallory liked the wine.

A couple of years ago, she'd laughed, "Wouldn't it be fun learning what these people know?" She and her staff were out with Jim at a local restaurant where a wine tasting was going on in the side room. They'd all accepted the invitation to try a thimbleful of a couple.

"Whites are nice, but I like reds," she'd said. The man acting as sommelier had nodded, and Jim had filed it away in his mental customer database. Each year, he sent her a pair of different varieties: here a pinot and a Barolo, there a Rioja and a Chilean cab. Always in a range where she could afford more if she liked them.

This year, in gratitude, he'd made an exception. He'd sent over a Stag's Leap Cask 23 and a Château Figeac. "A couple of my favorites as thanks to my favorite good listener. Thanks, J," the card read.

I hope so because that Fig would taste good right now. He looked at the remains of the salad grumpily. He wasn't even allowing himself a Guinness. He'd made a rule: only one a week until he lost ten pounds, and he'd had it on Tuesday. Yeah, it sure would hit the spot. I wonder if she's tried it yet.

His mind conjured an image of her seeing the bottle and recognizing the name from when he talked about it. Her turning and saying, "This is supposed to be good." Then that laughing, "No, you moron! We have to let it breathe for a little bit. Don't you know anything?"

She'd laugh so that Josh would know her mocking was just kidding. She'd wait for the half-hour or so, probably shaving a little in impatience, if I know her, and ... His mental vision pulled back to show the two of them curled together against the headboard with the sheet pulled up so that only their shoulders were exposed.

"Wow! This is good," she'd say.

He didn't like the image. His mood turned blacker.

He started as a lowball filled with amber was set in front of him and Shannon dropped on the other side of the table, setting hers down. "You look like you need this."

"I'm on a diet."

"Thomas, tell the man about cheat days."

Jim looked over to see Tom smiling at his girlfriend. Tom's eyes shifted to Jim and he gave a little shrug of apology. "All diets have cheat days. It's like a mulligan in golf. Or so I'm told I have to say."

"Sláinte!" She had her glass in the air, waiting expectantly.

Jim gave in. "Sláinte."

"So," she said briskly, "no Addison this weekend?"

"I'm meeting her Sunday. She has a family thing tomorrow and I felt awkward going."

"And that's okay with her? Going alone?"

"I assume so." He paused. "I don't know that she's going alone."

Her eyebrows went up. "And how are you feeling about that?"

He thought. She let him. "Mildly annoyed."

Her eyebrows went up again, even higher. "Ah, an ego thing then. Someone might be treading on your man turf." She laughed. "Don't give out. If you think that girls don't feel it too, then you're an eejit. Thomas!" she yelled over to the bar. "You can see all three customers from here. Pour one and join us."

Sunday, Jim stood enjoying the cooling mist kicked up by Buttermilk Falls. "Are we exclusive?" he asked.

Addison glanced up at his face, then over at another couple about fifteen feet away. "Let's keep walking." They headed back along the access trail. "I haven't been with anyone else since I started seeing you."

He could hear the suspension in her voice. "But?"

"Not really a 'but'; more an 'and.' And this is a talk I knew we'd be having soon." A flicker of a smile. "I'll go first. As I said, I haven't been seeing anyone else. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't. In a couple of months, there's a big trade show. A guy I used to be close to when I was out on the West Coast goes, and we usually renew our ... acquaintance"—a little droll undertone on that word—"when we go."

She turned and put her hand on his arm to stop him. "I would have done you the courtesy of talking about it well in advance. That's why I knew we'd be having this talk."

"And if I had a problem with it?" His back was up a little. She could tell from his tone.

"Don't get angry. You're allowed to have a problem with it. And if you did, we'd talk until we reached a resolution. Maybe you'd come to the show with me and I'd tell him, 'Not this year.' Maybe you'd realize you were okay with it. Maybe we'd stop seeing each other. I don't know where we'd have ended up. I only know I wouldn't have hidden it."

They walked in silence for a while as he digested that. He felt the anger ease. "I'm touchy because of Lori."

"I know that."

After a while, she said, "The thing is, if you want to be exclusive, we need to figure out how that works. Right now, I'm juggling my schedule so that I'm close pretty often. I can't do that forever; I eventually need to spend some time a little farther afield. My region is a quarter of the United States. But a roll in the hay every two or three months isn't ideal for me and I bet not for you."

Jim was content to let her talk.

"You could come and join me on those trips, but I know that you've got a business of your own to run, and you're very busy doing it. I could lease my condo and relocate out here, but I have to go into the office fairly often and that's in Cincinnati. Plus, my parents are elderly and they're down in Louisville. That would mean I'm putting in five- and six-hour drives regularly. Not great."

The conversation paused while another couple walking briskly came up and passed them.

"Another thing ... maybe one of the most important things ... is that it's a relationship that's only going to go so far. I made a choice years ago: career over family. The career I want is CEO someday or, at a bare minimum, CSO or CMO of some Fortune 500-type company. That means being willing to drop everything at a moment's notice and go put out a fire, to spend time on schmooze junkets living out of a suitcase, to hang on the golf course on the weekends." Her voice got an edge. "Just like the boys do." She looked over at him. "No offense."

He shook his head.

"I know they say you can have it all, and maybe I should be stripped of my feminist credentials, but I don't see it. If I just wanted a good solid career, yeah, I could see that, but not with my goals.

"But my vision of a family is spending a lot of time with your spouse. And children, definitely children, being home while they're growing. It's a family, like mine was, not just a home base. I know there are ways to make it work, but I won't raise kids with nannies and boarding schools, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be attracted to a man who was a stay-at-home guy.

"I didn't want my choice to be a non-choice." She shrugged. "So, I chose."

She glanced over at him. "The thing is, I don't think you're the kind of guy who's okay with that life. It'd be enough for me, but I think you'd tire of it." They walked a bit longer. "You're awfully quiet."

"Just listening. Thinking. What will you do if your career doesn't go the way you want?"

"I'll look around somewhere in my forties and see if I think I'm within striking distance. If not, Plan B kicks in. Accept where I'm at and stop pushing. Find a guy I feel affection and respect for ... someone like you, for example." They shared a brief smile. "Indulge the rudimentary maternal instincts I have with my nieces and nephews. Be reasonably happy if not completely content."

"Wow."

"I made the choice with my eyes open. So"—she took his arm—"now we lighten this conversation up by stopping it. I've told you where I stand. You need some time to think. We'll talk later in the week and you can tell me if it's you flying to San Diego with me, or you're content to let me go alone, or just goodbye. For the rest of today, I could use a drink and some food. And some lovin'," she added.

It took a while to get back to being relaxed, but copious tequila shots, three-alarm wings, a hot tub, and a little blue pill turned it around, followed by a "Just shoot me!" morning of groans.

Mallory walked into Mickey's at six thirty. She noticed Jim's table was empty.

"How're ya keepin'?" Shannon asked her.

"I'm well. You?"

"Grand." Shannon automatically started pouring a seltzer over some ice and a lime, then poured one for herself.

"I guess Jim's running late."

"Seems like it."

Mallory dropped down at the bar to wait for Jim. "Why's it called Mickey's?" she asked.

"He was Thomas's da," Shannon answered.

"Do you seriously talk like that, or is it part of the schtick?" Mallory asked with a smile.

"A little brogue, a toss of the curls, and the Yank boys shower down the tips." Shannon giggled. "When I'm not here, not so much. My family thinks I talk like an American now, while you lot think I'm pure Erin go Bragh." She cringed. "Which just proves my family's point." At Mallory's quizzical look, "Éirinn go Brách" — this time it was full of gutturals and sibilants.

Mallory laughed with her. The two women sipped companionably.

"I'm surprised you didn't know why this place was called Mickey's," Shannon said after a moment. It took a half-second for Mallory to recognize the level look that came with that.

"He told me he'd told you," she answered obliquely. After a pause. "Do we have an issue? It's absolutely just friends now."

Shannon smiled. "No. He was the wrong size for you, so you put him back on the shelf. I took him down and he fits. You know what that's like."

The intonation of that, the slight emphasis on "you," puzzled Mallory. "Did you meet Josh when he came in that one time?" She struggled to remember.

Shannon kept her face blank. There was no way for Mallory to see the mental eyebrow rise in surprise, the mental tilt of the head to the side in speculation. After a hesitation, Shannon temporized. "Maybe I'm wrong."

Mallory's thoughts turned inward. I wish Robin had been at spin class tonight. I wanted— Her musing was interrupted by Tom coming up out of the cellar with an armload of bottles.

"Did Jim call?" Mallory asked him.

"He's not coming tonight." Since that was the first time he'd missed a Friday in months, Mallory was surprised. Huh. I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening of chat. Oh well. "Can I eat at the bar?"

"What will ya have?" said Shannon, pushing upright and heading for the kitchen. "As if I have to ask."

It had been a thoughtful week for Jim. Not a particularly bad one—Lori was lying low; work was humming along smoothly; workouts, well, they sucked no more than usual. But he spent a couple of evenings over at Largie's Pub, nursing a single Jameson for an hour or so. He felt a little guilty "cheating" on Tom, but home could suddenly turn into an ambush, and he didn't know any of the regulars at Largie's. That suited him fine.

He was unsettled. He didn't know why at first. Bit of a surprise about Addison, was his explanation early on. But as the week wore on, he found he wasn't in a twist about her. In fact, he got more worked up thinking about Lori, and that was an almost-dead ember at this point. The whiskey loosened a few brain cells, and a little clarity arrived.

"I reserve the right to change my mind when I realize that I'm an idiot who doesn't know his own mind," he said when Addison answered the phone.