Eyes of a Child Read online

Chris led her to his deck. The morning sun was bright. A few sailboats flecked the bay; in the foreground, homes of pink and white stucco glistened in the light. Terri went to the railing; she leaned on it with her palms, gazing out at the water. A light breeze rippled her hair.

  Chris moved beside her. He stood there, watching with her. When he turned to her, his blue eyes were intent. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  Terri could not seem to face him. ‘Yes and no,’ she finally answered.

  Chris started to ask something, then stopped at what he saw.

  ‘I’ve left Richie,’ Terri said softly.

  Chris seemed unnaturally still. Terri wanted to ask what was wrong and then saw the realization in his face at the same moment that the sudden knowledge left her own face hot, her skin tingling. She had not come for his help, Terri realized, or his advice. She had come because she had fallen in love with him.

  Chris murmured, ‘Ah, Terri . . .’

  All at once, Terri felt alone. ‘Is this all right? My being here?’

  As if to himself, Chris shook his head. Humiliated, Terri could not look away from him.

  ‘I’m forty-five years old,’ Chris said at last, ‘with a teenage son. You’re twenty-nine. You’re newly separated. And you work for me.’ Pausing, he looked so unsettled that Terri found it painful. ‘Any counselor in America would tell you I’m a bad idea, and that you just need time to see that.’

  Chris was looking for a way out, Terri was certain, too kind to hurt her. ‘But how do you feel?’ she said miserably.

  Terri saw him search for words. He could not seem to find them. Then, quickly, he asked, ‘You’d have me live in Richie’s shadow?’

  Surprise ran through her, warm and sudden. She hesitated, afraid that she had misunderstood. And then Christopher Paget smiled at her.

  ‘Please,’ Terri managed. ‘As soon as possible.’

  She felt herself grinning. He said something, then she gave an answer. What they said went past her. As Chris reached out for her, she could feel her own pulse.

  Chris’s mouth was warm.

  Terri felt years of loneliness become wanting, something moving deep inside her. She closed her eyes, burying her face in his neck, caught between the undertow of Richie and Elena and the sudden fierce desire for Chris that pierced her exhaustion. She pressed herself against him.

  Suddenly Chris pulled back, breathing hard. ‘I should know better.’ His voice was strained. ‘You’re tired, strung out, running away from Richie . . .’

  The sentence trailed off. When Terri faced him, his eyes were filled with wanting her. ‘Don’t patronize me, Chris.’

  He shook his head again, as if to clear it. Terri walked away from him, gazing out at the bay, trying to collect herself. ‘Then tell me why you’re leaving him,’ he said gently from behind her. ‘I’d like to understand this, at least a little. As one friend to another.’

  The irony eased Terri’s hurt. After a time, she began to talk, and then the dam of her emotions broke.

  She told him everything.

  Chris leaned on the railing next to her, listening intently, careful not to touch her. But as Terri described the night she had left Richie, his hand grazed her cheek.

  ‘Has he ever hit you?’ he asked.

  Terri shook her head. ‘Until the day before yesterday, not even close. Maybe he didn’t need to. Somehow, I was always afraid of him.’

  Chris studied her. ‘You’re still afraid, aren’t you?’

  It was hard, Terri found, to speak her fears aloud. ‘It’s like he has this instinct for other people’s weaknesses,’ she answered finally, ‘but they’re not real to him. So that nothing he does to them matters. Even me.’

  ‘Whatever else, Terri, I am your friend. I can represent you, or lend you money.’

  Terri turned to him, suddenly fearful for reasons that she could not put into words. ‘That’s not why I came here. I don’t want you involved with him.’

  ‘Why? Richie’s not the same thing to you that he is to me. There’s nothing he can do to me.’

  Terri shook her head. ‘I don’t want to make him part of your life. It’s bad enough that he’s part of mine.’ Her voice became determined. ‘Whatever I feel for you has zero to do with Richie, and it can’t have anything to do with Elena. I need to do this on my own.’

  Terri watched him study her, decide not to argue. A smile appeared at one corner of his mouth. ‘Then what I should have done is make love with you. Before you changed your mind.’

  Terri felt her tension ease. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said magnanimously. ‘Sometime I may give you another chance. If you can manage to believe that I’ll respect you in the morning.’

  His grin, boyish and surprising, was like a gift. She went to him again; this time, he held her, quiet, for what seemed like minutes.

  ‘Tired?’ he murmured.

  ‘Exhausted.’ It was, Terri realized, more true than she had known.

  Chris led her to a padded couch, faded by the sun. Terri lay with her legs across his lap. When she closed her eyes, his closeness became a warmth inside her.

  ‘Whatever you do feel,’ he said, ‘I’m glad you came.’

  Terri smiled, eyes still closed. What she felt seemed too deep to explain: it was somewhat the same, she thought idly, as when her mother had held her at night when she was small, offering and perhaps seeking comfort from the rages of Terri’s father. Her mind wandered as she felt the sun on her skin and the breeze from the water. And then, for the first time since leaving Richie, Teresa Peralta fell asleep.

  Chapter 3

  Leaving Chris’s house an hour later, Terri smiled to herself, an instant before she saw Richie parked across the street.

  He leaned through the window on the driver’s side, as if waiting to pick her up. His look was almost casual; his eyes had the strange blankness that she knew meant danger.

  ‘Hi, Ter.’ His voice was friendly, curious. ‘How’re things?’

  Walking toward the car, Terri felt numb. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Waiting for him to finish with you.’ His voice was still chatty. ‘It was sheer luck. If I hadn’t decided to drop by Rosa’s to talk with you, I wouldn’t have seen you leaving.’

  That was a lie, Terri saw. He had not shaved; she guessed that he had been parked near her mother’s since the early hours, hoping she would go to Chris.

  ‘I understand,’ he said amiably, ‘you’re embarrassed,’ and he handed her a sheaf of papers.

  A form petition for divorce. The caption on the cover page read Ricardo Arias v. Teresa Peralta.

  With the odd detachment of a lawyer, Terri scanned the pleading for its essentials: the date of their marriage; Elena’s name and birth date; a listing of Terri’s sole asset – her pension plan – and Richie’s request for half of it; the much longer list of debts incurred by Richie, for which Terri shared responsibility by law; dollar amounts for Terri’s salary and Richie’s projected expenses; his demand for alimony. And at the bottom, a signature showing that Ricardo Arias, attorney at law, would serve as his own lawyer.

  ‘You look bad, Ter.’ His voice was silken. ‘What’s the problem?’

  Terri turned to him. ‘You’re representing yourself?’

  ‘I can’t afford a better lawyer.’ Terri caught the gleam of satisfaction. ‘Unless I ask the court to make you pay for one. I can do that, you know. There’s even a box for it in the form.’

  Terri stared at him. Her world seemed to have narrowed to the man in front of her, her husband, and the papers in her hand. Softly, she asked, ‘What about Elena?’

  A faint smile appeared at one corner of his mouth: it told her, as it was meant to, that she was performing on cue.

  ‘Read on,’ he said. They really do have a box for everything.’

  Beside the line that read ‘Physical custody of children’, Richie had checked the box next to ‘Petitioner.’ Himself.

  ‘Of course, I can’t support her without mon
ey,’ he added, and handed Terri another form.

  A request for child support to be paid by respondent, Teresa Peralta, collected by means of a wage assignment: a portion of her salary from the law offices of Christopher Paget, to be paid directly to Ricardo Arias.

  ‘Does your friend Chris sign the checks himself?’ Richie asked. ‘I might want to frame the first one.’

  How many hours, Terri wondered, had he spent planning this. Choosing the sequence of papers to give her. Rehearsing what he would say as she read them. Perhaps typing his lines on the computer screen, smiling as he changed a word.

  ‘This little performance of yours needs work,’ she told him. ‘Frankly, I’ve seen better.’

  ‘It’s no act, Terri. You forced me to do this.’ His voice hardened. ‘I’m just responding to the crisis in my daughter’s life. You’re so swept up in your affairs that you’ve got no time for her or me.’

  Terri felt a pounding in her temple. ‘I’ve got the time, Richie. Right now.’

  ‘Then sit down and talk to me, Terri, like the person I used to know. We’re married, remember?’

  Slowly, Terri walked to the passenger’s side and got in. The inside of his beat-up car seemed hot and close. She leaned against the door.

  He rested his hand on her knee. ‘It’s all right, Ter. It’s really not fair – someone like him picking on someone like you.’

  She turned to him, carefully removing his hand. ‘What do you want, Richie?’

  A red flush appeared on his face, the stain of anger and resentment. His mouth twisted in a smile. ‘A blow job, Ter, like the old days. If you’ve still got room.’ He raised an eyebrow in inquiry. ‘Or do you spit his out?’

  Too stunned to snap back, Terri imagined what had passed between her and Chris through the prism of Richie’s warped portrayal. Then she said, ‘You don’t need Elena, Richie. You need help.’

  ‘Help?’ She watched him decide deliberately to misunderstand her and then assume a wounded, puzzled look. ‘You did those things out of love for me, Terri. I’m sure even your new boyfriend would understand that.’

  ‘Leave Chris out of this,’ she said coldly. ‘He has nothing to do with us, and we have enough problems of our own.’

  The strange smile reappeared. ‘You leave him out of this. Because as long as you see him, he has everything to do with the welfare of my child and your ability to devote suitable attention to her in the limited time your job and relationship allow.’

  Certain phrases sounded stolen from a primer on family law. His mutability had always jarred Terri: if Richie needed to seem a compassionate parent, he would read six handbooks on what compassionate parents did, weaving what he had learned into his persona of the moment. But what scared her was how facile he was.

  ‘Giving up your boyfriend,’ he went on calmly, ‘is what’s best for our daughter and best for you. That should be obvious to anyone. Unless you’re too far gone to see.’

  Our daughter, suddenly. A phrase meant both to seduce and to confine. Like ‘our family.’ The family Richie had always seen in his mind’s eye, as he slowly worked to isolate Terri from her own family and friends, until there was no one left for her but him.

  ‘What’s obvious to me,’ Terri answered, ‘is that Elena is a five-year-old girl who needs her mother. Please don’t use her as a pawn.’

  ‘I’m not using her, Terri. I’m saving her.’ Richie reached into the back seat and gave her another document. His tone became authoritative. ‘Read this. Any expert on child custody would tell you that this is what’s best. In fact, I’ve already talked to several of them.’

  It surprised her. ‘How can you afford that?’

  ‘I can’t. I’m submitting the bills to the court as expenses to be borne by you.’ His voice took on an eerie placidity. ‘I’m sure you’ll want to pay them without a court order. I can’t imagine you’d want to tell the judge you oppose my getting the expert advice about our daughter you’ve been too busy to get yourself.’

  Our daughter again. She was tied to Richie, Terri thought bleakly, for as long as Elena was a child. That was what Elena’s birth had always meant to him.

  She stared down at the agreement he had given her. ‘What’s in this?’ she asked.

  ‘Only what’s in the best interests of the child.’ It was a catchphrase of the family courts: he sounded pleased to have mastered it so quickly. ‘Custody to me. Appropriate spousal support, and child support at forty percent of your annual income to keep me at home with Elena. And to make sure I can stay with her, you’ll assume our community debts. So that I’m not forced to work outside the home.’

  ‘That’s a real sacrifice. Considering how much you like working.’ Terri fought to control her anger. ‘Just out of curiosity, when do I get to see her? In between the two jobs I’ll need to employ you as a day care center?’

  ‘Every other weekend.’ Richie’s voice was that of a man too reasonable to be baited. ‘And under certain conditions, a dinner with Elena one night a week.’

  Something in his calm was enervating. ‘What conditions?’

  Richie nodded toward the agreement. ‘You’ll live within three miles of Elena’s and my home. So you can get her back at a reasonable time.’ He rested his hand on her knee again. ‘It’s good for you too, Ter. If I have plans some night, I can drop Elena with you instead of getting a sitter. I’m happy to make those kinds of informal accommodations as long as it doesn’t affect support.’

  He looked content, almost happy. All at once she saw the future through Richie’s eyes: a guaranteed income that would force Terri to work too hard ever to seek custody of Elena; Terri kept near him by the need to see the daughter she could not raise, grateful for the last-minute calls from Richie whenever Elena was in his way.

  ‘I may even give you more time than that,’ he added quietly. ‘But there’s another condition. Now.’ He paused for emphasis. ‘Outside of work, you will never see Christopher Paget again. If that’s too hard, find another job.’

  The car felt stifling. As Terri cracked open the door, Richie grasped her arm. ‘We’re required to meet with Family Court Services.’ His tone became confident and conversational. ‘To see if we can work out custody without going to court. Our meeting’s in ten days. Just sign this, Terri, and we won’t even need to go through that.’

  Richie had begun to sound as if she had already agreed; five years of marriage had taught Ricardo Arias that he could always break her down. He took her hand, eyes suddenly soft. ‘It’s him or me, Ter. Please get rid of him, okay?’ His fingers squeezed hers. ‘Then maybe there’s a chance for us.’

  Terri pulled her hand away, pushed open the door. ‘The only chance for us,’ she answered slowly, ‘was for me to never see you as you are. And, in a way, I wish I never had.’

  She got out of the car and, with deliberate softness, closed the door behind her.

  Chapter 4

  When Terri had returned to her mother’s from Chris’s house, still clutching Richie’s divorce papers, Elena was waiting.

  ‘Did you go to make up with Daddy?’ she asked.

  ‘I saw your daddy.’ Terri placed the papers on the mantel in Rosa’s living room; Elena could recognize her own name in print, and Terri did not wish her to see it.

  ‘Is Daddy still sad?’ When Terri did not answer, Elena followed her to the fireplace. ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘Just grown-up things,’ She knelt, hugging Elena. Her eyes were so much like Richie’s, Terri thought, except that their fear and insecurity came from deep within her daughter’s unschooled heart.

  ‘But were you nice to him?’ Elena asked. ‘Are you guys going to be married again?’

  Instinct caused Terri to look past Elena to the hallway and see her mother watching them both, eyes as dark and somber as Elena’s own. Terri focused on the child’d face; it was hard enough to find the words for her alone.

  ‘I know you’re sad, sweetheart. And I know you want your daddy and me to stay tog
ether.’ There was a spark of hope in Elena’s gaze. Gently, Terri added, ‘Your daddy and I both love you, Elena, and always will. But we don’t love each other anymore. And I don’t want you ever to see us fight.’

  She felt Elena stiffen, and then the little girl began to cry, body trembling with stifled sobs. Terri drew her close. ‘I’ll help you,’ Elena managed. ‘I’ll talk to Daddy.’

  Terri glanced up at her mother. In the gaze that passed between them, Terri saw Rosa remember, as vividly as she did, the night in this same living room when Terri had stepped between her father and her mother, begging him to stop. Terri faced her daughter again.

  ‘That’s not your job.’ Terri’s voice was firm now. ‘Kids can’t fix things for adults, and you shouldn’t worry about us. It’s your daddy’s and my job to take care of you.’

  ‘But you can’t.’ Elena leaned back, a child’s anger at deception filling her voice. ‘If you and Daddy aren’t still married, you can’t live with us.’

  It startled Terri. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Daddy.’ Elena drew herself up; Terri sensed her pride in being included in the world of adults. ‘I am going to help him take care of things. When I’m older, he says I can even cook dinner for him. When I’m seven or eight.’

  You bastard, Terri thought. She kept her voice steady. ‘Your daddy and I haven’t decided who you’re going to live with. But you’ll see both of us. Because we both love you very much.’

  Terri watched the thin veneer of the grown-up Elena vanish in the tears of a frightened five-year-old. ‘Then why can’t you love Daddy?’ Elena’s look became pleading. ‘Daddy’s nice. If you didn’t work with Chris, you could be friends again.’

  Terri stiffened. ‘Have you talked to Daddy about all this?’

  Elena nodded. ‘We went to dinner, just the two of us. At La Cantina. It’s my favorite.’

  Terri had never been to La Cantina. Distractedly, she wondered how it could have become Elena’s favorite restaurant. Then it came to her: all those nights that Terri was preparing for the Carelli trial. The thought led her to another, deeper and sadder: how could a court, or even her own daughter, understand that Terri’s career was not that of a woman who had chosen work over family but of a mother whose husband had given her no choice.