The Letter - Chapter 32

I walked out of the school toward my school bus alongside Liz.

“What are you wearing to the dance Saturday night?” Liz asked me.

“I didn’t have time to go shopping.  I have a little black dress that I think will work.  When Uncle Bob’s wife died, he gave me her jewelry which includes a string of pearls that will go nicely with that dress.  What about you?”

Before Liz could answer, I heard a voice calling my name.  Behind the line of school buses, I saw my mother standing outside her limousine waving at me.  She was wearing a full length fur coat.  I left Liz and walked over to where she was standing. 

“Jennifer.  I’m so glad to have caught you before you got onto that bus.  I thought it might be a nice treat for you to see my home – where you might be living in the near future?”

“Dad just sent me a text saying he might be late getting home.  How long will it take?”

Mom nodded toward her chauffeur.  “Henry knows all the back roads and short cuts between here and Sewickley Heights.  What do you say, Henry?”

“Ma’am, I can get your daughter back to Mr. Leskovic’s home by 6:00 PM, which should allow her at least an hour to tour the estate.”

“There.  That’s very reasonable.  Now get in and enjoy the ride.  You can text your father that you’ll be there by six.”

Henry opened the door and took my backpack.  I slid across the seat and Mom got in beside me.  Henry closed the door and put my backpack in the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat.  I waved at Liz who had been watching in the distance.  The limo pulled away from the curb and past the line of buses onto the main road.  My mother patted me on the knee and smiled.

“So what’s new with you, Jennifer?”

I told her about the Sweetheart Dance and Jeff, giving her a quick summary of how we met.

“So this boy Jeff is the nephew of some woman that wants to get her claws into your father?”

“No, I don’t think it’s like that.  She’s a high school classmate that simply thought it might be nice to see him and reminisce about high school days.  Only they keep missing each other.”

“Believe me, Jennifer.  It’s never as simple as that.  I’ll bet she has a ring already picked out.”

“Would that be so bad?  I mean, you remarried after the divorce.  I think it would be nice for dad to meet someone that could make him happy.”

“Or break his heart.”  She stared straight ahead.  Henry continued to drive the limousine toward my mother’s house.  I looked out the window as we passed through neighborhoods that I had never seen before.  As we neared our destination, the homes got much larger.  The properties grew to gargantuan proportions separated by fences or stone walls.  They reminded me of the feudal estates we had studied in European history class.  Finally, Henry pulled the limo up to a gate in a forbidding wall.

“So you live in a gated community?”

“Jennifer,” my mother smiled at me.  “We are the community.”

Henry pulled the limo through the gate and I gaped at the huge structure in the distance.  It looked like something out of Downton Abbey.

“This is your . . . house?”  I couldn’t believe anyone I knew lived in something so massive.

“Wait till you see the inside, dear.”  Henry pulled into the circular drive and stopped at the front door.  He got out and opened the door for my mother.  I started to slide across the seat to get out, but Henry held up a hand and shut the door.  Then he came around to the side where I had been sitting and opened the door for me.

“Will you be needing your backpack, ma’am, or do you want to leave it with me?”

“Uh, thank you, Henry.  I don’t expect to be staying that long.  I’ll just leave it with you.”

“Once you see the place, you may never want to leave, dear,” my mother smiled.  The front door opened and a servant – a butler, perhaps, held it open as we walked into the entranceway.  He took our coats.

“Jennifer, this is Mr. Hughes,” my mother nodded towards the butler.

“Will the young Miss be joining you for dinner, ma’am?”

“No, I have to get back, uh, home, sir.”

“It’s Mr. Hughes or just Hughes, Jennifer, not ‘sir.’

“Thank you, ma’am,” Mr. Hughes said.

“Hughes, I’m going to take my daughter on a brief tour of the house.  I think she’ll at least stay for tea and whatever sweets are available.  Let’s say, in the parlor in about a half hour.”

“As you wish, ma’am.”  Mr. Hughes bowed and left us alone in the room. 

The entranceway was probably half the size of our house in Bethel Park.  My mother took me through what I could only describe as a megamansion.  It had a gym, racquetball court, indoor swimming pool, billiard room, two fully stocked libraries, a huge kitchen, five bedrooms, five full bathrooms, four powder rooms, a dining room that could serve 20, a parlor or sitting room, a livingroom, and a gameroom with multiple video gaming systems and a huge television screen.  For some reason as we toured the house, I thought of Doctor Zhivago which I had read last summer.  After the revolution, they will put an entire village in here, I thought.  The bedroom my mother had picked out for me was astounding.  It had an Oriental rug, a beautiful mahogany canopy bed and a gas fireplace.  No sooner had we arrived in the parlor, when Mr. Hughes entered and set down tea and some dainty pastries.

“So what do you think, Jennifer?” Mom asked as Mr. Hughes poured tea into each of our cups.

“It’s amazing, I responded.  I can’t believe there are houses this luxurious.”

“Yes, we love it here.  And of course, you haven’t even seen the outside.  There’s an Olympic sized swimming pool, which is closed right now, a tennis court and a three-hole golf course.  Richard loves to play golf.  He’s planning to put in an 18-hole disc golf course in the spring.  Ten acres is a lot of ground.”

“I’ll say.”  I was silent for a minute, then I looked at my mother.  “I’m sorry.  Seeing this place has left me kind of speechless.”

“I understand completely.  So coming to live here won’t be so painful, will it?”

I forced a smile.  “It would sure be different.”

My mother smiled back.  She nervously tapped her leg and looked at the flames in the gas fireplace.  “Jennifer, I know I haven’t been the best of parents over the past few years.”  She continued to look at the fireplace.  “But I’m really concerned for your safety.  You are a beautiful young woman.  And you’re living with your father in that small house.”

“It’s not so small, Mom.”

“Yes, well.  This is a bit awkward dear, but like I said, I’m only concerned with your safety.  Has your father ever, uh, done anything that made you feel, uh, uncomfortable.”

“You mean embarrass me in front of my friends?  I think every kid at some point feels embarrassed by their parents.”

“No, that’s not exactly what I meant.  Has he ever come into your bedroom uninvited, or walked in when you’re taking a shower, or .  . ..”

“Mother, please!  Whatever you’re suggesting, please stop.  Dad has never done anything like that!"

“You don’t have to protect him.  What about surfing the Internet?  Do you know if he’s looked for pornography on the Internet?”

“Mother, how should I know?  If he has, he’s kept it hidden from me.”  This had gotten way too awkward for me.  “I think I’d better go.”

My mother sighed and put down her tea cup.  “I’m sorry dear.  It’s just my concern for you.  Please don’t be upset with me.”  She picked up a small bell from the tea tray and rang it.  Mr. Hughes appeared.  “Hughes, please tell Henry my daughter is ready to go.”

“Yes ma’am.  I’ll fetch young Miss’s coat.”

I followed Mr. Hughes to the entranceway.  He retrieved my coat.  A few moments later Henry appeared.  My mother came in from the parlor and offered me her hand.

“Thank you for coming out, dear,” she said.  “I enjoyed showing you around.”

I took her hand, and then decided to try a hug.  I felt her grimace.

“Goodbye, mother.”

“Yes, dear.  See you again soon, I hope.” 

I followed Henry out the door to the waiting limousine.  We drove back to Bethel Park in silence.

The Letter - Chapter 31

It had been just two days since I met with Joe McKay when I got a call from his secretary. 

“Mr. Leskovic?  Joe asked me to see if you could possibly meet with him this afternoon.  He told me it was urgent.  Could you make it here by 3:00 PM?”

I sent a text message to Jennifer to let her know I might not be home when she arrived after school.  Then I drove downtown and parked.  It was a ten minute walk to Joe’s office from the parking garage.  I was a little early, but Sheila escorted me right into Joe’s office.

“George, come in.  Have a seat.”  Joe seemed more tense this time. 

“Thanks, Joe.  So what’s up?  I thought we covered everything on Monday.”

Joe looked over his notes which were scrawled over several pages of a legal pad.  “George, this case seemed a little strange to me from the start.  I mean these things, like all legal matters, generally take some time.  And as far as I was concerned, time was on our side.  So, as I told you, my basic strategy was to go slow, hoping at a minimum to keep Jennifer with you through the rest of the school year.  Or at least long enough that it wouldn’t make any sense to make her transfer to a new school.”

“That makes absolute sense to me,” I said.

“But do you know what those bastards are doing?”  He leaned toward me across his desk.

“Tell me.”

Joe settled back into his chair and picked up his pen.  “Well, I called to try to reason with them on the sole custody issue.  I said it would be insane to pull Jennifer out of her high school this far into her senior year.  I told you that Sidney Lutz is Melissa’s lawyer?  He shut me right down.  Nothing would be better, he says, than for Jennifer to graduate at a renowned private school.  It would open up greater opportunities for her to attend a more prestigious university, get a better job, rub elbows with the high and mighty, establish connections that could benefit her for a lifetime, that sort of thing.  Well, I start to argue with him that the divorce itself was a huge trauma and tearing her away from her friends and  her loving father compounds the injury.”

“Okay.  I like your line of argument.”

“Yeah, well you’re not going to like this next part.  He says, ‘Look McKay.  Let’s stop dancing around here.  We’re preparing a motion to request an emergency order to get her away from your client.  We believe he’s causing her irreparable harm.’  I say what in the hell are you talking about?  My client has been both father and mother to this girl since your client walked away from her two years ago.  Then he drops the bomb.  ‘We think your client is abusing the girl.’”

I felt a pang in my chest.  “My God!  Where in the hell did they come up with that?  That’s crazy!”

“George, these guys play dirty.  I said to him, ‘Cut the crap, Sidney.  You’ve got no evidence.  I know George Leskovic, and he’d never do anything like that.’  And he says, ‘Are you so sure?  Maybe you’d better ask your client about it and whether he’d like to settle this quietly rather than risk his dirty laundry being aired in court.’  Joe tossed his pen onto the legal pad and leaned forward.  “So as much as this pains me George, as your lawyer, I need to ask you.  Is there anything to what they’re saying?”

“Joe, please.  I love my daughter.  I’d never do anything inappropriate to her.”

“Good.  That’s what I expected.  I know you’re a good man, George.  However, and here’s my second question.  Can you think of anything you might have done that could in any way be misconstrued and used against you here?”

“No.  Absolutely not.  All of our contact has always been totally appropriate in a father-daughter way.”

“Again, just as I expected.  Now here’s my third question.  If they persist in this tactic, it could get ugly for you.  You’re a writer.  You earn a little money from your craft.  Maybe you’re working on a novel that you think could be a hit.  Could even make it to the New York Times Best Seller List.  If this kind of ugliness gets out into the public, even if it’s not true, it could tarnish your reputation.  Make you kind of untouchable to publishers.”

“Joe, let’s fight this.  It’s stupid.  It’s crazy.  It’s simply untrue.”

“It could be ugly for Jennifer too.  Lots of embarrassing questions will be asked.  It could change your relationship.  I understand that you want to fight this, but let’s not decide anything today.  I want you to think about it.  Really think.  Because they can twist innocent actions and make them seem tawdry.”  Joe stood up.  “Sleep on it, George.  I’ll be tied up in court all day tomorrow.  Give me a call on Friday.”

“Okay, Joe.”  We shook hands.  “I just never thought she’d stoop this low.”

“It might not be her fault.  Richard’s firm is known to put winning ahead of everything else.  But you did say she was evil, right?”  He gave me a pat on the back.  “Call me Friday.”

I walked out of Joe’s office and Sheila met me with my hat and coat.  I took the elevator down to the lobby and started the walk back to the parking garage racking my brain for anything they might be able to use to back up their accusations.  It was another bitter cold February day, but I didn’t feel it through the heat of my anger.

The Letter - Chapter 30

“Home sweet home,” I said to myself as I turned the key and pushed open my front door in Issaquah.  I carried my suitcase into my bedroom to unpack later.  I looked around for my mail, but Beverly must have kept it at her house.  I turned up the heat and walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.  It was about two o’clock in the afternoon.  The nice thing about flying west is that you still have a good part of the day left when you arrive.  I filled the tea strainer with Earl Gray tea leaves and poured boiling water into my cup.  The scent of the Earl Gray wafted to my nostrils.  While I waited, I decided to phone Beverly.

“Hi, Beverly.  I’m back!”

“Ellie!  I hope you enjoyed yourself.  I’ll be right over with your mail.”

“No rush.  I just got in.  Haven’t even unpacked yet.”

“I’ll give you a little time to get settled.  Be there in less than half an hour.”

I carried my tea into the bedroom and unzipped my suitcase.  I threw the clothes I had worn on the floor and put away the clean ones.  I picked up the clothes to be washed and carried them to the laundry, tossing them into a laundry basket for the time being.  I went back to fetch my tea, and the doorbell rang.

“Ellie!  Welcome home!  Beverly opened her arms.  I let her in and gave her a hug.  I took her coat and hung it in the closet. “So, tell me about your trip,” Beverly said, picking up the bag of mail she had carried in.  “Are wedding bells in your future?”

“Afraid not, at least based on this visit.  George was a no-show at the basketball game.  Turns out he was at an anti-gun vigil.  I actually saw him on the eleven o’clock news.”

“Really?  How’d he look?”

.

“Actually, pretty good.  Men age so much better than we do.”

“So did you call him to talk about his TV appearance?”

“No, Beverly.  I don’t feel I know him well enough for that.  This was all a lark anyhow.  I think this idea of connecting with my high school heartthrob has run its course.  Let me make you some tea.”  I led Beverly into the kitchen.  She set the bag with my mail on the kitchen table.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to give up.  I saw a personal letter from Pittsburgh in your mail.”  Beverly looked into the bag and shuffled its contents until she found what she was looking for.  “Ah, here it is.”  She handed me an envelope.

“My address is typed, and there’s no return address,” I said examining the envelope.  But it does have a Pittsburgh postmark.  I walked over to my desk to get my letter opener, opened the envelope and pulled out its contents.  A single sheet – typed.

“What does it say, Ellie?  Is it from George?”

I started reading it.

Eleanor, Ellie or whatever your name is . . .

I read a few lines silently and then couldn’t see to read further through the tears that filled my eyes.  “Oh, Beverly, this is horrible.”  I tried to wipe the tears away.  “I’ve made a complete and utter fool of myself for this jerk.  What could I have been thinking?”

“Let me see that.”  Beverly snatched the letter from my hands and started reading it out loud:

Your recent letter was quite amusing.  I really can’t say I remember any Eleanor Kosko, which means either you were quite forgettable or my early onset Alzheimer’s wiped you from my memory bank.  Your unsigned letter was downright hurtful as I struggled with my disease to remember those from my high school years that might be worth remembering.  Certainly your name was not one I’d ever come up with.  I frankly can’t understand why you would try to meet me – unless it was some misguided notion of potential romance upon hearing about my divorce.  Let me shut the door on any such notion.  Regardless of the divorce, my heart will always belong to my ex-wife, as I pray that she will someday return to me.  By the way, a perfumed letter?  Really?  Please leave me alone.  George Leskovic

“Wow!”  Beverly waved the letter like a fan.  “Did you have any idea this George was such an ass?”

“Of course not.  He always seemed so nice.  Early onset Alzheimer’s?  I’ve heard there is a stage where patients turn nasty.  Could that be the cause of him being so hurtful?”

“I don’t know, Ellie.  How did he seem when you saw him on television?”

“He seemed normal.  Nice actually.  Articulate.   He spoke about the vigil and why it was important.  He did slug that guy who grabbed him.  Maybe that was the real George coming through.”

“You know he has a blog don’t you, Ellie?”

“No, I had no idea.”

“I guess I found it while you were traveling.  He writes humorous stories and occasionally editorials about current topics – global warming, gun control.  I actually enjoyed reading his stuff and had planned to show the blog to you when you returned.  That’s why I find this letter so jarring.  It just doesn’t sound like the same guy.  In fact, after reading his blog, I was going to tell you that if you aren’t interested in him, I might take a shot myself.  Just kidding.  But, this letter.   It’s crazy.

“I have half a notion of sending a nastygram back to old George to give him a piece of my mind.”

“I don’t blame you.”  Beverly gulped down the last of her tea and stood up.  “But my advice is hold your fire for now.  I want to check a few things out.  Don’t do anything rash until I get back to you.”  Beverly came around behind me, draped an arm over my shoulder and hugged.  “Don’t let this bother you too much Ellie dear.  Methinks I smell a rat.  Let me ponder this development, and I will be in touch.”

I got up and followed Beverly to the front door.  “What do you plan to do?”

‘Let dear Aunt Beverly do a little ciphering, honey.  I think there’s a puzzle here and I’m determined to figure it out.  Ta, Ta dear.  Keep up a stiff upper lip!” 

Beverly put on her coat walked out the door and down the front sidewalk.  I waved as she turned in the direction of her neighborhood.

The Letter - Chapter 29

It was 7:00 PM on the Monday after my father got himself arrested – at a vigil to protest violence, of all things.  He met with his lawyer this morning to discuss the status of the custody case, but he wouldn’t say how the meeting went.  I was just getting started on my math homework when my cell phone rang.  I looked at the screen to see if it was Liz or anyone else I wanted to talk to.  It was just a number – not anyone on my contact list.  Nevertheless, the number looked sort of familiar.  Answering would at least be a momentary distraction from doing my homework.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello, Sylvia?” 

Where had I heard that voice before?  A boy.  Maybe that Neanderthal, Terry Morrison pranking me?  “Uh, I’m sorry.  I think you have the wrong number.”  I got ready to hang up.

“Wait!  Isn’t this Sylvia Barrett?  The high school teacher?”

Then I recognized the voice.  “Jeff?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Jeff Radakovic.  Thanks for not hanging up.”

“Sure.  You had me puzzled for a moment.  What’s up?”

“Well, I have some news, and thought you might appreciate it.  I told some of my teammates, and their reaction was, well . . . they sort of accused me of being a dork.”

“I can’t imagine they’d say that about the best player on their team.”

“That’s hardly me.  I’ve just been lucky our last few games.”

“So what’s your news?”

“Remember, after the game, I uh, told you I was going to try out for our high school musical?”

“Sure, Jeff.  West Side Story, right?”

“Yeah, good memory Jennifer.  Anyway, I got picked for a part.  I mean, that’s my news.”

I smiled.  I had thought he was such a cool jock.  But he sounded kind of shy and awkward on the other end of the phone.  “What part did you get?  Tony?”

Jeff laughed.  “No.  You’ve obviously never heard me sing.  And this is my first venture on the stage.  I mean, I can carry a tune, but the big parts went to guys that have been doing this kind of thing for a while.”

“Officer Krupke?” I giggled.

Jeff laughed.  “Actually, that’s a pretty big part, but no.”

 

I thought of his curly blond hair.  “Then you’ve got to be a Jet, right?”

“Yeah.  They cast me as Action.  I watched the movie over the weekend.  Action actually gets to sing a little on the Officer Krupke song.”

“Jeff, that’s great.  When will you guys be performing?”

“Late April.  I’m not sure of the dates yet.  Will you come to see it?”

“I’d love to – if I can.”  I told him about the custody fight with mom.  “So I’m not sure where I’ll be in late April.”

“What about early March?  Like the 11^th?”

“Uh, I’m a little confused, Jeff.  What about March 11^th?”

“Um, I’m not doing this very well.  So let me just straightaway ask.  Would you consider going to TJ’s Spring Semi-Formal with me?  It’s a Saturday night.”

“Jeff.  Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, I mean, sort of – just as a friend.  I mean, I’m not dating anyone and I wasn’t sure I was even going to go, but then I thought of you, and we could just go as friends.  Uh, I’m sorry.  Maybe you’re dating someone.  Are you?”

I was glad he couldn’t see me blush.  No Jeff, I’m not dating anyone.  And as far as the Semi-formal, I’d love to go – but I can’t give you a guarantee that I’ll be able.  I might be stranded out in Sewickley.  So maybe you should ask another, uh, friend.”

“No, that’s okay.  Maybe I can get my dad to let me drive to Sewickley to pick you up.”

“That’s a pretty long drive, Jeff.

“Yeah, well, maybe I can convince one of them to drive out to get you.  Or maybe meet you halfway.  I’ll bet we can work something out.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Just then a thought occurred to me.  Uh, speaking of forward, as in being a bit forward, Bethel is having its dance this coming Saturday.  I wasn’t going to go, but . . ..”

“Sure, Jennifer.  I’m not doing anything this Saturday.  I wouldn’t need a tuxedo or anything, would I?”

“No, it’s semi-formal.  I mean, it’s called The Sweetheart Dance, but we’d just be going as friends, right?”  I felt my heart quicken.  Calm down, Jennifer.  This is crazy!  “I apologize for the short notice.  You sure you don’t have a game or something?”

“Nope.  Our games are mostly Tuesdays and Fridays.”  He sounded more relaxed.  “So I heard that your dad was on TV.”

“That’s right,” I said, happy to move on to a less stressful subject.  “He got arrested, but no charges were filed.”

“He was supporting a good cause.  At least that’s what I think.  I mean, I go deer hunting with my dad, but I can’t believe people can so easily get their hands on guns designed to massacre people.  That’s just plain nuts.”

“I agree.  My dad’s decided to get more active in that group that organized the vigil.”

“Good for him.  You know, my aunt from Seattle was in town last week.  She was a little disappointed that your father didn’t show up at my game.  Apparently, she wrote a letter inviting him to come.  But she said that his decision to go to that vigil was the right choice.”

“What?  She sent him another letter?”

“Yeah, she said he should have gotten it like a week before my game.”

“That’s funny.  He never mentioned it to me.  Not that he’d have to tell me about it, but given the mystery of the first letter, it seems odd that he would have gotten another and not mentioned it to me.  Is she still at your house?”

“No, she rented a car and drove to Cleveland where her son lives.  He’s a doctor.  She’s there for a few days and then back to Seattle.”

“Hmm.  Well, I’ll mention this to my father and let you know what he says.”

“Well, I’d better go.  I haven’t started my homework yet.”

“I was just starting mine.  Thank you for calling, Jeff.  I really enjoyed talking with you.”

“Yeah, me too.  I guess I’ll see you Saturday evening.  A suit’s good then?”

“A suit or a sport coat.  I’ll text you my address.  The dance starts at seven.”

“I’ll pick you up around 6:30.  Goodnight, Jennifer.”

“Goodnight, Jeff.  I ended the call, stood up, did a triple twirl and flopped onto my bed smiling at the ceiling. After a few seconds, I leaped up, grabbed my phone and hit the speed dial for Liz.

“Liz?  Guess who’s going to the Sweetheart Dance?”

“Jen.  That’s great!  Petey finally got up the nerve to ask you.”

“Petey who?  I’m going with the star basketball player from Thomas Jefferson!”

The Letter - Chapter 28

Joe McKay stood up and came around his desk to greet me as his secretary led me into Joe’s office.  He warmly shook my hand.

“George!  So good to see you.  Come in.  Have a seat.”  Joe pointed to one of the chairs next to a small table.  Joe sat on the other chair.  A small stack of legal papers sat in front of him alongside a legal pad.  “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Sheila, could you bring Mr. Leskovic a coffee?”

Joe’s secretary smiled. “How would you like it, Mr. Leskovic?”

“Cream, no sugar.  Thank you, Sheila.”

Joe’s face broke into a huge grin.  “I wasn’t sure you’d make it here this morning.  I thought I might have to draft a writ of habeas corpus.”

“Not funny, Joe,” I smiled.  “Jennifer was in a panic when I called to tell her I was in the lock-up.”

“Hey, but now you’ve got something to write about.  How’s this for a title?  The Night I Spent in Prison.” 

“Actually, it was more like The Hour I Spent in Prison.  They separated the good guys from the bad, calmed everyone down, encouraged everyone not to press any charges and then released us.”  Sheila returned with my coffee.

“What about the guy you slugged?” asked Joe.

“He hit me first.  Anyway, the police made us shake hands and apologize to each other.  We agreed to disagree on the politics and were both happy to just let the physical stuff go.  Neither of us was hurt beyond our pride.”

Joe nodded.  “That’s probably for the best, George.  Seriously, if you had to face an assault charge, it could adversely affect your position in this damned custody case.”

“Yeah, so what’s happening on that, Joe?  What have you heard from Melissa’s attorney?”

“He’s pushing for a court date, sooner rather than later.  My original goal was to stretch this thing out as long as possible.  When does Jennifer turn 18?”

“August 28^th.”

“Yeah, so he says you’ve had Jennifer to yourself for something like two years, and now you want to deprive her mother from having the same pleasure for a mere six months?”

“She walked out on us, Joe.  Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Hey, George.  I’m just trying to give you an idea of how Richard’s firm is pitching this.  You have to admit she’s got a sympathetic story when you look at it from her perspective.”

Yes, but let’s look at it from my perspective.  And Jennifer’s.  Melissa walked out on us.  Outside of some limited contact during our divorce proceedings, we never heard from her for almost two years.  Now, all of a sudden she wants back in.  And she’s evil.  So why should she get anything?”

“Calm down, George.  You know as well as I do, that evil is pretty hard to prove in a court of law.”

“Has a judge been assigned yet?” 

“Not yet.  Let’s hope it’s not Judge Shaulis.  He’s got a plaque behind his desk that quotes the Second Amendment.  It won’t be pretty if he saw your television debut.”

“God.  That would be just my luck.”  I stood up and walked to the window.  Joe’s office had a great view of the Monongahela River down to the Point where it joins the Allegheny to form the Ohio River.  For a moment I watched Pittsburgh’s two inclines as they climbed up the slopes of Mt. Washington in the distance.  “Any chance of negotiating a settlement?”

“I’ve raised it with Melissa’s lawyer.”  Joe nervously tapped the legal pad with his pen.  “It’s Sidney Lutz.  He said she’s not interested in negotiating, but maybe that’s just posturing.”

I returned to the table and sat down.  “How about shared custody?  Jen is sick that she would have to leave her high school.”

“They’re adamantly against it.  They barely want to acknowledge that you have visitation rights.  As you said so eloquently a few minutes ago, your ex is evil.  For some reason, she really despises you.  Is there a reason that I should be aware of?”

“Joe, you remember our break-up.  She was having an affair with Richard Zingerman, who was her boss at the time.  I didn’t have a clue.  One day she just didn’t come home from work, confessed the affair, told me Richard’s wife had moved out and she had moved in.  Divorce papers followed.”

“Maybe she hates that you didn’t fight for her.  More coffee?”  Joe glanced at my empty mug.

“No thanks.   Joe, I wasn’t about to fight for someone who betrayed me.  Whatever love I felt for Melissa was snuffed out like a candle when she told me about the affair.  If that upsets her, it sure isn’t my fault.   Do we have anything else to cover today?”

“No, that’s it.  I’ll push back on the sole custody and argue for an arrangement that will let Jennifer attend Bethel Park High until she graduates.  I’ll let you know what I hear.”

“You know where to reach me.”  I stood up to go.

“Oh, here’s something that might interest you.  Did you hear that Richard just announced his candidacy for the 12^th Congressional District?

“You’re kidding.  Isn’t that the gerrymandered district that . . .”

“Extends across practically a third of the state.  Safe Republican distict.  It’s already represented by a conservative Republican, but Richard’s trying to outflank him on the far right.”

“You’ve given me another reason to despise Richard.”

“Here’s another.  He’s the president of the Sewickley Heights Gun Club.  That’s where he announced his candidacy – rifle in hand.”

“Joe, you’re really trying to depress me, aren’t you.” 

We shook hands and I turned to leave his office.  Joe patted me on the back.  “Keep the faith, George.  And stay out of jail!”