He Makes Her Laugh

"We have friends who practice polyamory and those who are monogamous, or claim they are. We don't hide our lifestyle, but we don't broadcast it. I wouldn't be telling you this now if I didn't believe you find yourself in a difficult situation."

"Yes, Louise and I have been together twenty-one years and been married for twenty. You don't end a long-term commitment at the snap of your fingers. On the other hand, if she is serious about this man, I can't see myself sitting back and letting their affair go on. I guess things will have to play out when I confront her."

"Now, I have a question. You say you can't conceive of letting another man into your marriage, but would you consider pursuing a relationship of your own?"

"I guess in the right circumstances, but I never have. Oh, I've fantasized about other women and even flirted a little, but that's as far as I've gone."

"Well, why don't you consider it," she said giving me a smile.

We finished dinner and at her suggestion visited a dance club briefly. I'm not much of a dancer, but she was very good and covered my lack of ability nicely. When she dropped me back at my hotel, she scheduled a morning conference after which she intended to arrange a meeting with her father. It had been a strange and thought-provoking night.

I didn't fly home again until Friday. Ann did introduce me to the president of Harper Development. Her father was a tall, stout man in his late sixties. Mr. Harper made clear to me that I would be dealing with Ann, and what she said controlled.

For her part, Ann took me on a tour of Chicago. By the time I left, we were feeling comfortable together. I'm never sure that a woman is coming on to me, but with Ann, it didn't matter. I liked her and would be happy just having her as a friend.

****

The report was short and to the point, but it was part of a bulky packet because of the extensive documentation. I got the feeling that Ms. Morgan was justifying her fee. However, I could not fault the thoroughness.

"Robert Price, semi-retired Architect, he's fifty-two?" I asked although it was clear in the report that the man my wife was seeing was better than a decade older than myself.

"Yes, but he's quite vigorous and keeps himself in good physical condition."

"I can see that from the daily and weekly routines, you have provided me."

"You wanted detail. I got you detail."

I gave her a hard look. There was a definite attitude coming across her desk toward me.

"Married I see."

"His wife is eight years older and for the last five years suffering from Alzheimer's. Eighteen months ago, he left his practice as an architect to care for her full time."

"Except of course for the time he spends with my wife."

"As I reported, they meet just the Thursday evening, and the afternoon each week that his sister-in-law comes by to take the wife out shopping."

"So, twice a week but every week, and we are not sure for how long."

"Five maybe six months if you trust the neighborhood gossip," she said.

"But you don't."

"No, I side with the waitress at the dance club a little over three months, but they possibly knew each other from somewhere else."

"St. John's," I said.

"What?"

"You say here that he attends St. John's church with his sick wife," I said pointing to the file. "When Lou and I were first married, we lived in an apartment a few blocks from St. John's and attended services there. I believe Lou still does on occasion although we moved across town when we bought our house."

Rachael Morgan made a note of the information I had given her. She was being very thorough and decidedly hostile.

"Have I done something to offend you, Ms. Morgan?" I asked.

She didn't immediately respond but looked down and away. When she turned back to me, I could see the distress on her face.

"Please call me Rachael or just Rach and let me apologize. I do mostly cheating partners in this business. It's my bread and butter, but it's a lose-lose situation. There is no way you come out a winner in this game, but I take satisfaction that I exposed the cheaters.

"That's not the situation here. Bob Price, as far as I can tell, never cheated during his twenty-eight-year marriage until now. When his wife got sick, he stood by her. Although she doesn't always remember who he is, he personally cares for her because nurses aren't all dependable.

"He could institutionalize her and return to his profession where he was very successful, but instead he takes drafting jobs and residential addition work that he can do from his home office. In short, he's a good man whose only sin is that he's seeing another man's wife," she said.

We sat in silence for a long moment. Rachael Morgan, private investigator, had done just what I had asked of her. She had told me who Bob Price was and why my wife was seeing him. Lou always had an eye for attractive men, and she was a profoundly caring woman. Every womanly inclination would have drawn her to the tall, good-looking man with the tragically afflicted wife. Bob Price must be like catnip to her, the heroically anguished figure waiting for her to come along and bring him comfort.

It was then that Rachael spoke the defining words, "I think your wife's in love with him."

"Of course, she is. Hell, you're half in love with him, and you're what thirty?"

"Thirty-two," she said without contradicting my accusation and then, "I'm sorry. I wish I could think of you as the villain of the piece, but clearly, you're the unavoidable victim."

"I will tell you this, I will not be the victim here," I said with more apparent confidence then I felt.

"Then may I ask what you will do?"

"Rach, if I could answer that I would be a far wiser man than I am."

****

Marie is a good secretary. Over the years, I've had trouble keeping good secretaries. I don't believe it's anything I have done. They seem to get stolen on a regular basis. It seems to have been a seller's market for legal secretaries for some time. Marie is different; she came to me third hand.

When the state AG let Marie and some other civil service staff go in a budget cut, she went to a large private law firm that hired her based on her resume, but her looks just didn't fit the elite firm image. She has what can only be called a plain face, but that's only part of the equation. She's model thin with the kind of butt every woman in your gym is working out for. All of that pales compared to her breasts. My legal colleagues routinely forget her name as if the French version of Mary was an impossible mnemonic problem. They refer to her as the girl with the big breasts or with some less acceptable reference to her chest.

Perhaps it says something about me that I failed to notice her body when I hired her. It was her competent attitude and clear ability that impressed me. She was a twenty-eight-year-old single mother with two small kids and in need of a job with flexibility for childcare. This I gave her, and she returned me competence and a personal loyalty I previously had not obtained in my staff.

"You had two calls," Marie informed me as I enter my office after meeting with the PI.

"Simon Rabinowitz and Ann Harper," Marie said. Simon was the legislative assistant to State Senator Majority Leader Mansfield. He would be returning my phone call. Ann, I assumed was checking on my progress. As I needed to speak to Simon to determine where Ann's hotel approval stood, I called Simon first.

"Matt, thank god you called back," Simon began.

"What's wrong?"

"Can't talk on the phone. Meet me for lunch. You free at two o'clock?" Simon asked.

Looking at the clock in was half-past twelve, and I did need to get some things done in my office, "I can meet you at the legislative dining room at two-thirty," I said.

The legislative dining room was an easy place to reach. It was not crowded in the late afternoon, and Simon meeting someone there would seem innocuous.

"Good choice, I will meet you there," he said and clicked off.

His clear agitation was troubling. I decided to put off calling Ann until I had spoken to Simon and discerned the problem.

****

"I haven't heard from her in over two months. She just walked out without a word. I don't know what to do," Simon told me.

We were in a back corner of the dining room off the south end of the State Plaza. At nearly three in the afternoon, it was all but empty. Our table was screened from the main room, and our waiter having delivered our late lunch had backed away. We had as much privacy as you could get anywhere in the state capital.

Simon was explaining his problem. He had begun by stating that it involved an "intern." If there exists a more inauspicious start to a conversation, I haven't as yet heard it. I had begun to believe that Simon had completely lost his mind, but I was trying to keep that opinion to myself.

"Look, I know what you are thinking. What kind of idiot gets involved with an intern in this political atmosphere, but she was no teenager. This was a woman past thirty and married." Simone said in his own defense.

"Unlike that legislative staffer, Simon Rabinowitz who is married with three kids," I replied

"That's so cold. You need to understand that it was more than a physical attraction."

"More than red hair, green eyes, and big tits? Mr. Rabinowitz, what would your mother say?" I said with a bit of a smirk.

"She was more like a thin Rose McGowan than what you're thinking. Don't prejudge her because her name's Patricia Kelly," Simon said, and it was more a demand than a request.

"Ok, but as you say she is gone without a farewell word or a forwarding address. So, why involve me with it."

"Because we live in the age of 'ME TOO,' I can't afford for her to pop up sometime in the future making accusations. I need an outsider to find her and assess the situation. On paper, you and I have no connection. You can find her and determine what happened. I can't even look for her for fear someone starts asking questions."

"I think you worry too much. It's simply your word against hers. How can she prove you ever were together?"

Simon hesitated and looked embarrassed, but finally, he said," she has a vile of my blood."

"What!" I said too loud for even a deserted lunch venue.

"Keep it down. It's not as crazy as it sounds."

"Of course not. It's the coming thing to go around exchanging blood with your paramours. What did you forget to mention that she's a vampire?"

"She gave me a locket with a drop of her blood and then pricked my finger and took back a drop of mine for her locket. It was rather romantic at the time."

"Big time," I said.

"What?"

"You're going to owe me big time if I get you out of this."

He gave me what he had in the way of background and former addresses for Pat Kelly, and we parted with neither of us having touched the lunches we ordered. I didn't go looking for Ms. Kelly myself. I took that job to my new-found PI, Ms. Morgan. This proved to be the right move.

*****

The Western Ave. Starbucks is a quiet place. Few remember when it was a Taco restaurant back in the last century before Taco Bell killed the competition. Starbucks completely remade the place, but it remains primarily a drive-through location. This is sad because the large interior makes an excellent place to enjoy a cup of joe.

Pat Lefkowitz clearly agreed with me as we met there at her suggestion. The interior space was cozy and uncrowded, and she was seated by the Western Avenue window as she said she would be. She didn't match the description that Simon had given me, but Rachel Morgan had been more actuate. No one would call her thin today, but her buttoned-up coat didn't completely hide the reason.

"Mrs. Lefkowitz?" I said sitting down.

"Yes, attorney Lansing?"

"I've come to inquire for Mr. Rabinowitz as to your situation, and as to why you left the senator's office so suddenly."

She gave me a droll smile in response and said, "do I need to open my coat?"

"No, I think not. Are congratulations in order?"

"Very much so. My husband and I are ecstatically happy."

"May I ask—"

"A little over four months," she replied not giving me a chance to finish the question.

The math was clear to me, but not the reason behind it. "I'm sure that Simon will be happy to hear the good news," I said.

"I'd rather you not tell him. I wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong impression. Everyone is entirely satisfied on my side, and I would like it to stay that way. I've prepared a small affidavit," she said pulling a paper from her purse.

"I state clearly that nothing happened between Mr. Rabinowitz and myself, and I think I've covered all the bases, but if I've left anything out, please let me know."

"And the blood?" I queried.

"Sorry, I used that."

"Can I ask what you were looking for?"

"Tay Sacks. My husband is an Ashkenazi Jew like Mr. Rabinowitz. Some carry the gene as do some Irish Americans. When we decided to have children, we got tested. Such a simple thing, but such a big change in our lives."

"I take it that Simon Rabinowitz passed the test."

"Oh yes. He bears a remarkable resemblance to my husband, except he carries no Tay Sacks gene. I had amniocentesis last week. We're having a healthy girl."

"I see, so what should I tell Simon."

"Tell him everything is all right. Give him the affidavit and don't mention my condition."

"Is that fair to him?"

"Would it be right to burden him with the knowledge of something that will haunt his conscience, but he can do nothing about without ruining his career, marriage, and family. Be his friend as well as his lawyer and keep your silence."

She was right, of course. In this game, she held the winning hand. Unless fate stepped in with some remarkably unfortunate chance, no one would ever know the true facts. Simon had been provided the surety of his future reputation that he sought. He had asked nothing more, and I would do him no favor by exposing the child, he could never acknowledge or claim.

"So, I'm to simply keep your secret and walk away?" I said.

"It won't be the worst thing you have ever done or will do but take solace in the happiness that my pregnancy has brought to my family. Something that brings such joy can't be wrong."

With these last words, she left me to ponder the truly cold-hearted actions that women can take in the act of childbearing.

****

The restaurant was warm on that early October night in Chicago. I sat down at a table to wait for Ann Harper. The final approvals were all in place for the hotel her firm was building. The fact that I had secured them without a bribe was something that made me a bit of a hero in her eyes. I couldn't and didn't tell her about Simon Rabinowitz's little problem. He was delighted, by the way, with the affidavit attesting that he had never behaved inappropriately with Patricia Kelly, one more irrefutable legal truth manufactured from an actual lie.

I had reached a point in my life where my faith in others had deserted me. My outlook on life was becoming as bleak as a Dicken's novel. I had agreed to meet Ann Harper in the vain hope that she could bring some flame into the embers of my life. My wife's betrayal and the cynicism of Mrs. Patricia Kelly Lefkowitz left me thinking dark thoughts.

"Hello Matt," she said standing tall in a tight black dress decorated by a single strand of pearls. Ann may not have been the loveliest woman in the world or even Chicago that night, but she sure had every pair of eyes in the restaurant trained on her. The outfit was meant to seduce, and it left the man standing next to her hard-pressed to be noticed, but he was well dressed, tall, and clearly her escort.

"May I introduce my husband Allen Lennon," Ann said.

Allen stepped forward as I rose to greet him and thrust out his hand. He was a bit on the plump side, early forties, and balding. He didn't try to overpower me with his grip, and he gave me a smile that said he was genuinely glad to meet me.

"I asked Allen, especially to come meet you. I thought you could do with his advice after we last spoke on the phone."

"Well I'm happy to have the two of you as my guests for dinner," I said.

They exchanged a look as they sat down, and Ann launched right into it.

"I thought I heard something in your voice when we spoke yesterday and knowing your personal situation, I thought we might help," she said.

"Sorry, I don't mean to let my personal situation intrude into our business."

"Nonsense," Allen protested, "Ann says you've done us a good turn better than we had the right to expect. It's only fair we pay back."

Allen nodded to his wife, and she rose saying, "I'll meet you later Matt. You two need some time alone to talk."

We watched her leave as did every other man in the place. When she was gone, Allen turned to me.

"Please, don't be upset. Ann was concerned for you and thought that I might help. I can see you are in pain, and I think I have felt that pain myself," he said.

"If you're going to try to convince me of the merits of wife sharing, I'm afraid you are going to have a very disappointing evening."

The waitress, a fairly attractive woman in her mid-twenties had arrived at our table, and Allen was quick to give her a smile, "Just two for dinner," he said, "and we will need a minute.

She began to gather up the excess dinnerware as she recited the evening specials.

"That's an exciting perfume you are wearing," Allen said his smile going on overdrive. She blushed as she thanked him for the compliment.

As the girl left, I asked, "Do you always flirt with the wait staff."

"Flirting with attractive women is one of the benefits of granting my wife her freedom. I do it right in front of Ann it drives her crazy. Mind you, it rarely goes beyond flirting, but I enjoy the prerogatives of a man who is in an open marriage.

"You sound like someone trying to justify an untenable position," I said.

"Not at all. I admit leaving monogamy behind was at first difficult, but once you accept that an alternative exists then you adjust and move on. Let me tell you how it began for me."

He paused and gathered his thoughts, "I'm not certain when Ann first crossed the line with her lover, but I remember the night she was preparing for what was their first open rendezvous. It was a dinner date at a fashionable downtown restaurant. In those days, the children were quite young. If we had been going out as a couple, we would have brought them early evening to her parents and come home early to collect them.

"This wasn't us going out but her with another. I was minding the kids. Couldn't ask her parents to help with that in the circumstances. When I arrived home, I could see she had been to the hairdressers. She passed off the care of the children to me and proceeded to get ready. As I fixed them dinner, I could hear her getting dressed up. It was like the buzz of a saw at the back of my head.

"I could feel the jealousy rising like water surrounding you in a bathtub. Soon it would reach a point where it would cut off my air supply. The children were a needed distraction. I took care of our infant first, planting the eldest girl in front of the TV. When I had the baby down, I sang her a lullaby, 'Hush, Little Baby.'

"As I was putting the eldest to bed at 8 p.m., Ann came in and gave our daughter a kiss on the cheek and me one as well saying goodbye to us. She wasn't over the top dressed. A modest black outfit not at all the all-out seductress she was dressed as tonight, just a woman going out on a casual date with her new lover. She smelled of the perfume I gave her last anniversary. It hit me in the heart like a knife blade.

"I heard his car on the drive, and before I could finish with the children, she was gone. My wife was with another man, by my consent, but none the less with him and not me. I was racked with jealousy and with a strange excitement and fear. I had read what I could about such situations and knew that jealousy is not a true emotion. It has only the power you give to it. So, I forced it back down and tried to conquer my fears.