When We Were Married Ch. 03B

"I hope you're able to re-establish your marriage, your relationship with your wife and children. I know for you personally, that is the best thing. But there are bigger, and more important things, than any one person's individual happiness."

He stopped, took a puff on his shrink pipe and tamped it down the way pipe smokers do. The aroma was nice. I wonder if he ever worried about cancer of the throat or lips.

"I know that's not what you expected to hear from me, Mr. Maitland, but since this isn't an official visit and you're not an official patient, I can be candid with my thoughts."

I hunched forward on the couch and stared at the floor.

"Do you know anything about my background, doc?"

He rubbed his chin. That's something else I think they teach them in shrink school.

"No, I'm certain we have never discussed that."

"I grew up in West Virginia. My dad was a coal miner. Big man. Strong. He went down into the mines every day. Came back black at the end of the day. Worked six days a week. We still did things. On Sundays. Went to church, to a lake where we swam.

"He had just bought me a rifle. Cheap .22, but he had promised me he was going to teach me how to use it. And then one day we'd go hunting. There were still deer around, wild turkeys. He'd even bring home rabbits sometimes and my mom would cook them after he'd skin and prepare them.

"And then one day, I'll never forget it, he'd just come home. It was about 7 p.m. It was winter and cold as hell and dark by that time. He had cleaned off, as much as he could. His skin was always grimy, no matter how much he washed. Some men came to the door. My dad talked to them and then he talked to my mother. She started crying and he hugged her.

"He put on his heavy coat and started to leave with the men. Then he turned around and came down and sat down beside me on the couch in front of our television. I was eight years old.

"There's been an explosion and cave-in at the mine, Billy," he said. "You're old enough to understand what that means."

"I just nodded my head because I had heard other kids in school talk about disasters, about fathers and uncles and brothers that went down and never came back up.

"There are 15 men trapped down there. I am going to try to get them out."

"Don't go, daddy. Don't go."

"He grabbed me and hugged me and said, 'There are little boys and girls, some of them you know, whose daddies are down there. If it was me, you'd want someone to go down and get me out, wouldn't you'?

"When I didn't answer, he rubbed my hair with one big hand and then kissed me on top of my head.

" 'I have to go, Billy. I know you don't understand now, but someday you will. Sometimes you have to do things, hard things, just because they're the right thing to do'."

"He got up from the couch and told me, 'I love you, Billy. Take care of your momma until I get back'." He hugged Momma for what seemed like a long time and then he walked out the door with those men. It was the last time I ever saw him.

"They almost got down to the trapped men and then there was another cave-in. All told, 28 men died in the mine that day. They couldn't even get the bodies out. There were two subsequent cave-ins and the company finally closed the shaft because it was way too dangerous and expensive to keep it open. We had a service, but there was no body to bury.

"The next year Momma moved to Jacksonville. She said it was for a job, but I always thought she just couldn't stand living around the mines anymore."

I looked up at Teller. I was crying, but I didn't care. It was as if I was back in our living room for just those few moments. And I could still feel my father's arms around me.

"So you tell me, doc. Why do some people have to do the right thing, no matter what it costs them? It cost my dad his life. It cost me my marriage, my kids, the only woman I've ever loved. It's cost me my life too, in a way."

Teller leaned back and let out a plume of aromatic smoke.

"Mr. Maitland, I wish I had the answer to questions like that, but as the saying goes, that is above my pay grade."

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Tuesday, July 12, 2005 – 2 p.m.

"Hello, Debbie."

"Hi mom. Why are you calling me at the house at this time?"

"I called the school but they told me you'd taken a half day off. Is something wrong? Are the kids okay?"

"Yes, they're fine. Of course, Bill Jr. is skipping summer school enrichment classes. I caught him, but I'm letting him slide this time."

"Well, why are you home at this time of day?"

"I – uh...."

"You took the day off, left your classes, to be with that man."

"He has a name, Mom. It's Doug. And yes, although it's none of your business, I did take time off to see him."

"Is he there now?"

She sniffled and said, "No, mom. He is not here. If it makes you happy, he's not going to be here today."

"You're crying. What did he do?"

"Jesus, Mom, he didn't do anything. And how did you know I was crying. Mystic Mama Knows

All, Sees All?"

"I've known you for nearly 40 years, baby. I know when you're upset. I can hear it in your voice. Is it ...Doug. Or is it Bill? Have you heard the terrible things they're saying about him. And that article in the TU? Trash journalism."

"Mom....it's just a lot of things. I must be getting ready to start my period. You know how crazy I get sometimes."

"Are you happy now?"

"What?"

"You threw your husband of nearly 20 years out. You're ending your marriage. You've turned your back on a man that risked his life for you, would have walked through fire for you. For a young good looking guy just like a thousand others that have chased you over the years. Was it worth it, Debbie?"

"Oh, shit. Mom are you my mother or his? Do you ever take my side? Have you taken my side in one thing since all this started? You're supposed to be behind me. It's hard enough...the kids...people at work looking at me...but you're my MOTHER. You're the last person that's supposed to be criticizing me now.

And still...why the hell don't you adopt him?"

"I'm always going to be on your side, Baby. I am now. I just don't think what you're doing is right – for you, for the kids and definitely not for Bill. He is such a good man.."

"Yeah, and so is the Pope. I don't want to be married to the Pope either. Saints aren't easy to live with Mom, in case you didn't know. You don't live in this house, you don't go to bed – or not go to bed – with him so you don't know what you're talking about.

"As far as being a good person, what am I? Chopped liver? I've been a good mother and a good wife. I took care of my kids and my husband for nearly 20 years. I kept them happy. But what about me, mom? Don't I deserve to be happy? With a man who wants me, a man who makes me feel good about myself. A man – I know this will shock you – but a man who's good in bed with me. Makes me remember that I am a woman.

" I know you've had a good marriage with Daddy and I've heard enough over the years to know that's never been a problem with you two. But it's been a damned big problem in my marriage."

"You should have talked to Bill more."

"Yeah, I should have held him down and forced him to listen to me. I should have made him pay attention to the way people looked at the two of us when we went somewhere together. I should have rubbed his nose in the way guys were always rubbing themselves all over me so he'd know he had a hot wife.

"You...everyone else...you keep saying I should have done this and I should have done that...well what about Bill. What about that sorry bastard, that miserable excuse for a human being, a guy I never should have married. That miserable, fat bald piece of shit. If I had known 20 years ago what I know now..."

There was a long silence and she forced herself to calm down. Where had that come from? For a minute there she'd hated Bill. Visceral hatred. And that was something she had never felt before.

"There's something wrong with you, Debbie. Where did that anger come from? You dumped him. He should be the one that's angry. It almost sounded like....Clarice."

"I had a dream about her. I do sometimes. "

"I know, baby. I think about her sometimes too. But you were always closer to her than anyone else. It's natural you remember her. But...those words...it almost sounded like Clarice talking about Frank."

"I don't know Mom. There are times when I get so angry at Bill. I know I have good reason, but..."

"Debbie, Bill is not Frank. Don't ever forget that. I know Clarice spouted a lot of poison about men. I heard some of it. And I know you got most of it, but Clarice made a lot of her own problems. Frank isn't the only guy that ever dumped his wife for a younger woman. But most women make a new life for themselves. Clarice just couldn't let go. She was a sick, troubled woman.

"I know she did her best to infect you with her twisted hatred of men. She almost took your father down into the grave with her when she killed herself. I never told you or your sister, but when I heard what had happened I drove to the store and I found him leaving. I grabbed hold of the door to his car and told him he could drag me, or let me in. He had the .38 he kept in his office for security on the seat beside him.

"He didn't say a word, but I knew he was going to kill Frank. I could see it in his eyes. Clarice was your father's baby sister. He helped raise her. He was the one that insisted that we name your sister after her. It nearly killed him when he heard she was gone.

" But I told him that she was gone. He had lost her. If he went and shot Frank, he'd lose me and both you girls. Frank was a jerk, a piece of shit, but he didn't do anything a lot of other men have done. Clarice didn't have to throw her life away for him. We all tried to help her, but some people you can't help."

"I know, but sometimes I remember her the way she was...before..."

"I do too, baby. You forget, I knew her a lot longer than you did. But, when I heard you just then, I felt a chill. I could have been listening to Clarice. Are you sure that-"

"No, Mom. I know that Bill isn't Frank. He wasn't running around on me. I had my problems with him, but not that. I don't know why I got so pissed at him just then, but I don't need a psychiatrist. We're just going through a hard time right now. I'm doing something that scares me and Doug is just a friend, no matter what you or anybody else thinks. And I'd like to talk to Bill. He's been the one person I could always talk to for nearly 20 years. But he insults me and hangs up on me when I try to talk to him."

"Do you blame him?"

"...No...I guess not. But we're going to have to talk someday. We're going to be good divorced parents. I know we will. I just wish I could talk to him now. So many things have happened...I said and did things that I...shouldn't have...but I'd like to make him understand why"

"Well, it's a shame you two aren't talking. I have a feeling that today is one of those days he could really use a friend."

"I know mom. Maybe...look, let me go. I'll talk to you later. I love you.

She dialed Cheryl.

"How is he, Cheryl?"

"As bad as I've ever seen him. He looked himself in his office and wasn't taking any calls – from anybody. About noon he went out, wouldn't tell anyone where he was going, and came back an hour or two ago. I've never seen him like this."

"Thanks, Cheryl."

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Tuesday, July 12, 2005 – 3 p.m.

The knocking started and I ignored it. Only a couple of people had dared to knock so far. I wondered who was trying their luck this time until I heard a familiar voice.

"Bill, open up. Come on. If I have to, I'll bring somebody in to take the door off."

He would probably do it, too. Oh well, time to face the music. I got up, unlocked the door and went back to my desk. I leaned back and waited.

"Why didn't you just go home? You'd have gotten away from this place and not caused such a stir. I've had to seal this place up like a mutant virus got loose to avoid news stories about 'top State Attorney Having Break-Down.' And that's not just for your benefit. I'd hate to have you prosecuting cases and have every single defense attorney trying to have you tossed off the case because of your mental problems."

"Mental problems?"

"For you, these are mental problems. The Iceman doesn't lock himself in his office and close off the world."

"I'm just having a bad day, Boss. Everybody's entitled to one of those every decade or so. And as to why I didn't go home. You forget. I don't have one of those anymore. This is as close as anything comes."

He leaned back against the doorway. Sometimes I forget just how big he is. He nearly filled the doorway. He'd been lean and mean in his basketball days. Today, nearly 40 years later, he was just big.

"I wanted to talk to you about that. I called Teller earlier. I heard you went to see him on your own. Did it have anything to do with this?"

Shit. I had trusted Teller.

After that many years he could read my mind.

"He didn't say anything. But you forget, there are eyes everywhere."

"No. It was personal. Mostly."

"I want you to come upstairs before you leave. Myra will have some paperwork and documents for you. She'll explain everything."

"About what?"

"You'll be shipping out of here Friday morning. On the 'Bonne Chance.' It's a cruise ship that's primarily staffed by the French and it has a fair number of French guests, but like all of them, they have everybody from around the world on it. Holds about 1800 guests. So it's fairly small, but it's top of the line, very expensive. They docked here yesterday and will sail out Friday. They only get by here every few years."

"A cruise? Friday? Look, you must really think I'm cracking up to be spending that kind of money on me, but-"

"No buts. The booking has been made. I'm spending a hell of a lot of money on you for one week. I'm hiding the expenses so I can explain to state auditors that I'm not lavishing luxury on an import staff member who's going through a bad divorce to keep him from cracking up. But that's the deal. Just go and enjoy."

I shook my head. The whole idea was crazier than Edwards thought I was. I hadn't been on a cruise in nearly ten years. There never seemed to be the time and there was always a case.

"No, Boss. Thank you. But the whole idea's crazy. Trials don't stop just because I'm having problems. And what kind of damned cruise would I have by myself – worried about the job and not being able to get – get my personal life off my mind."

"It wasn't a request and it wasn't optional. I've booked the cruise, you are going, and that's it."

I looked at him in disbelief.

"You know I like you, but I'm not going on any damned cruise just because you get it in your head that I need one."

He just looked at me and a little of the nice guy persona of the career politician slipped and there was a hard glint in his eyes.

"Bill, you are as good a man and as good a prosecutor as I've ever known. And I've been doing this for a long time. You're a critical cog in the working of this office. You're tough minded and you're dedicated. But you're not made out of iron. I don't know what, but something about the Bingham case got to you. It got through that armor of yours. It was probably a Perfect Storm of your personal life and the Bingham case.

"Regardless, it's damaged you, thrown you off. I'm not sure you're going to be able to get back. You won't seek professional help. I know you were only with Teller for a few minutes and that's not long enough to do anything. So I'm just trying to get you away from all the crap in your life for a little while. Give yourself a little space."

"I appreciate this, Boss, I really do, but just going away for a week-"

"It's not a request. It's an order. Much as I appreciate you, if you're not on that ship when it sails on Friday don't bother coming back to work Monday. I'm going to miss the hell out of you, but you're a disaster waiting to happen if you don't get your head back on straight. Not only will I fire you, but I'll do my best to make sure you don't land a job like this anywhere else. I've been in this life a long time and I know people all over. "

"You'd do that to me. After five years?"

"Trust me. When you get ready to board the ship I'm going to have an Assistant waiting and they're going to check your luggage to make sure you're not carrying any documents relating to any cases with you. You'll have email and Internet capability on the ship and you can take your laptop with you, but you'll be barred from any access to or communication with anybody in this office.

"I don't want you doing anything related to this office. I don't want you thinking about cases. I don't want you talking to anybody about cases. If we have a crisis come up, we'll just have to handle it without you."

"You're really serious about this?"

"Yes. Bill, I don't care what you do on this cruise. Eat some good French food. Drink some good booze and get drunk. Walk the decks and look at the stars. Pick up a lady or two and get laid. Think about things and get things sorted out. Just forget about this office."

He turned to leave.

"You know, Dallas, I do appreciate this. I know you mean well. But it's not going to do any good. The problems I've got – a week at sea isn't going to solve them."

He looked back at me and smiled.

"Who knows? It won't hurt to cut loose for once. You've been so dedicated to this office, to other people's problems, for so long, you've turned into an old man. I think in your head, you're 70. Just...have some fun. And let yourself be surprised."