Collateral Damage Pt. 02

"So, Grant, we've reviewed everything about this division and we think we'd like to consolidate leadership. What we're going to do is move Teri over to marketing and have you take over her duties along with yours."

I had been so sure I'd be sacked that I wasn't quite sure I'd heard him right. When I didn't answer right away, he got a little nervous, adding some more words quickly.

"Of course, Grant, you'll get some extra compensation for the extra duties. I think you'll find it fairly generous." He gave me a hopeful, somewhat anxious look and I suddenly processed what he'd said and realized I needed to answer.

"Well, yes...yes, that sounds...it sounds great. I think I'm up to this and I think this should work out."

We spent the next half hour or so going over his expectations, my duties and the compensation package. I was feeling a little disoriented, but I managed to act business like through the whole process. At the end, he turned he shook my hand, offered his congratulations and I turned to leave his office.

"Uh...one more thing Grant." His voice had taken on a concerned quality and I turned to face him with a slight feeling of trepidation.

"Yes?"

"I...well, we...have to be sure that...we don't have to worry about any unpleasant surprises."

I gave him a questioning look and he cleared his throat and continued.

"Bluntly, Grant. You didn't have anything to do with the assault on Ms. Lee did you?"

I shook my head and gave my most sincere look. "No sir. No I didn't."

"And you...uh...don't know who did?"

"No sir, no I don't."

I left the room feeling much better than when I entered it and made it back to my apartment, musing about the odd way things had worked out. I'd been struggling for months, really for years, to decrease the influence Teri had in my division and, after trying all kinds of diplomatic maneuvers, I finally got what I wanted when some mystery man, almost certainly one of the workers themselves, maybe even Devin Tinian himself, had beaten her to a pulp. I tried to tell myself that 'it couldn't happen to a nicer girl', but somehow it felt wrong to gloat, even to myself, under these circumstances.

But still, for the first time in weeks I felt something akin to happiness, that maybe things were going to be all right, that the tension at work would go away and life would be more bearable again. That feeling lasted until I checked my planner and was reminded that the next day I'd be meeting at my lawyers with Rosie to start the ball rolling on our separation.

--@--

My lawyer was a sharply dressed, balding, little man who wore wire spectacles and a three piece suit. He was sitting by me in his office, shuffling through papers, when Rosie came in alone.

She was dressed modestly with a long skirt and a conservative peasant blouse and her hair was done up in French braids. It was hardly what anyone would consider sexy, but she looked beautiful to me and I fought the urge to say she looked great. She paused before the table and gave me a weak, hesitant smile.

"Hello Grant."

"Hey Rosie. Thanks...uh...thanks for coming."

My lawyer stood and shook her hand while introducing himself.

"Mrs. Simmons, I'm Lincoln Parker and I'm representing your husband. Why don't you sit here and we'll get started.

Rosie nodded and gave a half smile before carefully smoothing her skirt as she sat in the chair across from me.

"Ok now," Parker started as he began sliding papers across the desk to Rosie. "We just need you to look over some of this paperwork to be sure that..."

Rosie cleared her throat and interrupted.

"Look, I don't think...I don't think Grant and I have the same goals here. I'm only doing this because I feel I have to, not because I want to or because I think it's necessary."

Parker nodded to indicate he understood. "This is just to...uh...formalize your separation. It's not meant to be anything permanent. It will make things...easier, regardless of how you two work things out."

"But it is the preliminary step to divorce, isn't it Mr. Parker?"

"Yes, yes it can be, but it doesn't mean that the divorce is inevitable."

Rosie nodded sadly and picked up the papers, glancing over each page while she shook her head from time to time, occasionally letting out a melancholy sigh. Finally she looked up, her eyes somewhat glassy he lips pressed together in a bitter frown.

"I'm sorry, but, I just really don't want to sign off on this. I really want to work on our marriage. I don't think that..."

"Rosie, please." I tried to make my voice gentle but firm and unyielding. "I need time and space. We aren't going to be able to paper over this easily."

She chewed her lip pensively, evidently considering what I'd said before she replied.

"Will you work with me at least? Will you think about this? I know I messed up, I know that. But, Grant, please, I'm not a cheater. I didn't go looking for it and I won't go looking for it again. Deep down, I think you know that. I think you know I wasn't ever going to do it again whether I'd been caught or not."

I thought about that for a minute and felt, for the most part that she was right. She hadn't been looking to cheat, had been tricked into it to some degree, and I knew she didn't have the personality to be a serial cheater. Still, though, I was wounded, deeply, and her actions had been the principle weapon, so I cleared my throat and chose my words carefully.

"If somehow I can find a way through this, maybe. If I can find a way to trust you, some way to get around this...betrayal, I will Rosie. But, until then I don't see any way but to separate. I just don't."

For a moment, I thought she was going to argue, to tell me that I was wrong and that the separation was a huge mistake, but she seemed to swallow her own aggression and paused before speaking.

"OK." She finally said, meekly nodding her head while a small tear formed and dripped down her cheek. "OK, I'll sign."

Lincoln nodded and picked up a form. "All right, then, this is the official agreement. It will need both your signatures." He slid the form across the table to Rosie, for her to sign first. She picked up a pen, hesitated for a moment and then slowly inked her name at the bottom. She held the form for a moment and then picked up her purse and carefully filed it away.

"Uh, I'm sorry Ms. Simmons, but that's not for you to keep. Mr. Simmons has to sign that also and I'll be retaining it. You'll both get copies."

"Oh...ok, I'm sorry." She answered awkwardly and with some embarrassment and then took the form out of her purse, unfolded it and stood to hand the paper to me.

As she was reaching across the desk , stretching to hand me the paper, the sleeve of her blouse rode up her arm half a foot, and as quickly as it happened, she immediately snatched the sleeve and abruptly pulled it down to her wrist as she sat back down.

Now, the inadvertent passage of someone's sleeve up their arm is one of those things that occurs so commonly and is generally so utterly unimportant that it barely grazes the consciousness of anyone who observes it, an action lost in the million other little things that are happening at any given time.

But, in this case, it completely fractured my state of mind.

In the moment her forearm was uncovered, I glimpsed a sudden flash of dark discoloration staining all of the exposed skin, a massive bruise that seemed to be painted on her arm like an ugly watercolor of blue and green and yellow, flowing away from a dark purple center and a gauze bandage. It was stark and it was painful looking and it was exactly what the police had been looking for when they asked to see my arms.

I sat there for a moment in stunned silence contemplating what I'd just seen and what it meant. I'd heard the stories about women who'd lifted trees or cars or some other impossibly heavy object off of their children in times of extreme stress, stories that spoke of untold fountains of strength that could be called on when absolutely necessary. But I'd never of such an attack borne out of anger, a pure, unadulterated desire to punish another woman who had set her up to sabotage her own marriage.

Still, I had seen it. Direct evidence that a woman half my size had summoned up enough strength and anger to launch a personal attack so fundamentally violent that the victim and the police never even considered the possibility that it was perpetrated by anyone other than a large, very hostile man.

I must have been staring into space for a while as the implications of what I'd just seen continued to sink in, because Parker cleared his throat to get my attention and when I looked over at him, he gestured to the paper as though to say 'sign it so we can get out of here'. I looked down at the form, but my mind was so preoccupied with what I was just learning about my wife that I couldn't make myself understand what it said, couldn't even really see the words.

I lifted my head up to look at Rosie again, and there was little doubt my expression was still one of incredulity and surprise, my mouth open and my eyes wide in amazement. Rosie looked back, at first with a look of anxiety or maybe even concern, but then an enigmatic smile spread across her face, a knowing, slightly mischievous Mona Lisa grin that affirmed to me everything I suspected.

We sat there, staring at each other for some time before Parker cleared his throat again. This time, I didn't even glance over to him, refusing to take my eyes off of Rosie, trying to decide what, exactly I should make of this strange new revelation.

Finally, Rosie broke the stalemate and began to move, standing lazily and then walking smoothly, like a cat, around the table to my side. She leaned into me and whispered, huskily and sensuously, into my ear and her breath made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"You can sign the paper if you want, Grant. Or, you can put the pen down and follow me outside and try to fix our marriage. We could start tonight by celebrating the ass kicking the queen bitch got last Friday night. It's really up to you."

With that, she carefully moved out of the room at a slow, measured pace, looking back to flash a nervous, hopeful smile and raise her eyebrows as she shut the door, all the while I sat woodenly in my chair, still utterly stunned at what I'd just discovered.

I wasn't at all sure what to do. I'd been thinking for weeks, in the darkest terms, about the depth of betrayal and the destruction of trust that attached to Rosie's infidelity and I'd come to the conclusion that even if somehow I could let it go, that it would take time and separation before I could attempt to move forward with her again. But now what? What should I make of what Rosie had done?

I suppose a better man would have been horrified or disgusted by her actions, but, God help me, the image in my mind of her beating the shit out of our mutual tormentor somehow changed my entire outlook. She was a woman who was literally fighting for her marriage and had been doing it in an inconceivably dangerous and aggressive manner. How could I possibly let a woman like that go?

Parker cleared his throat one more time and I glanced over at him. "Well?" He said, holding his hands out in an exasperated, expectant gesture.

I slowly shook my head as I put the pen down, shrugged in a sort of surrender and began to stand.

"I'm sorry, but I can't sign. I just can't," I said, shaking my head in apology as he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I really am sorry."

With my heart pounding and with a sense of relief and anticipation I turned away from him and moved quickly toward the door and to my errant, violent, lovely little wife.