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I can’t let this lie, can I?
It’s the kind of thing he’d find out quickly enough if I actually took the job. I won’t have a family to put on his “excellent insurance” or to bring to company picnics or square dances or whatever it is they like to do. Besides, he may be the sort who likes to do a full background check on his employees.
The truth is that I never intend to get married. Now, I’m no monk. I go out on dates, occasionally. Sometimes I date the same woman for a few weeks or even months. More often, I go to bars or parties, places where I can meet someone else who wants a single-serving relationship. Dinner or drinks, followed by sex and a swift goodbye in the morning. It’s the only type of relationship I had the time or inclination for when I was at Myles & Lee, and until I get my shit together, I don’t even have the inclination for that.
Plenty of people have told me I’ll change my mind when I meet the right woman. Hell, a couple of months ago, a crackpot psychic actually told me to get ready for wedding bells because I was about to get married. They’re entitled to their opinions, but they’re wrong.
I’ve seen some truly ugly divorce cases—people who pledged to love and honor their spouse, and just a few short months or years later wanted nothing less than the complete destruction of that same person.
Then there’s my dad. He died when I was a teenager, and my mother’s never gotten over it. Never even attempted to. Love ruined her life—and it might have ruined his too, only in a different way. It made him think small. He was a school principal, but he had it in him to be a superintendent or head of the school board. But he always said he had everything he needed, and a position with more responsibilities would take him away from my mom and me.
All four of my best friends seem bound and determined to race each other to the altar, but that hasn’t convinced me I’m wrong. Marriage is a bad bet. A losing proposition. A sure way for a person to take leave of their senses and hitch themselves to an anchor that’ll hold them back. I’m not being sexist—all of that could just as easily be true for a woman as a man.
I wouldn’t say I’m vain, the way Ruthie thinks, but I am ambitious. I feel driven to succeed. To do.
And yet…
I’m reaching the bottom of the Asheville barrel. It’s not a huge city, and there are only so many law firms. I’ve already started sending out feelers to Charlotte, and I have a couple of interviews there next week, but the thing is…
I don’t really want to leave.
This is my life, my home, and I don’t want to let Myles drive me out.
Which is why I find myself crafting a delicate response to Freeman that neither confirms nor denies that I have a wife and child.
Chapter Two
Shane
Aweek later, I’m sitting in Freeman’s office, staring into his smiling face. That smile’s been fixed on his face for so long it’s got to hurt. I feel sweat dripping down my back from the effort of smiling back.
“Just a delight,” Freeman is saying. “I don’t mind telling you that we were thinking of going in a different direction. The first time we met, I was concerned you might not be the right fit for us. But then I saw you and your wife together, and I thought to myself, ‘You got him all wrong, Freeman. There’s no way a woman like that would marry a man who was all work and no play.’ You see, we value balance above all here. It’s one of our core principles.” He points to the wall to his right, where there’s a collection of framed images.
My eyes rest on a cartoon of a beagle with a tie and the words “Monty Freeman, the legal beagle” scrawled below it. It’s not the kind of thing I’d choose to frame, particularly since it hammers home his resemblance to a long-faced dog, but I’ll write a sonnet about it if it gets this guy to hire me. Still, I’m guessing that’s not what he’s talking about, so I keep up the perusal until I find the Venn Diagram next to it. Family, law, and community, and in the middle, all of them intersect in Freeman & Donnelly.
Apparently, this middling law firm is the only thing holding our society together. Who knew.
I cough and then nod seriously, as if it’s the most insightful doodle I’ve ever seen. “Yes, I can see that. Family’s important to me, too. You know, they’re the ones I do it for. No point in working so hard for nothing.”
What the fuck am I saying?
Up until now, I’ve avoided outright lying to the man, but I’m edging in closer and closer to it. The thing is…
It’s pretty obvious I wouldn’t be here if not for Ruthie. I’m not getting this job unless this guy and his friends think I’m married to her.
Maybe I can convince her to play along. I can pay her a few hundred bucks to show up at a dinner party and talk about what a stand-up husband and stepfather I am. Danny wouldn’t like it, but I doubt she’d be any more inclined to tell her brother than I’d be. One dinner. Maybe two. Then I can start making excuses for her. Maybe the best move is to play it off like she’s the workaholic—too obsessed with Vanny to hang out with the other spouses or go to any events. Oh, she wishes she could be here, but you know how it goes. Those books won’t read themselves.
If they ask why she and Izzy aren’t on my insurance, I can tell them she has better insurance.
Except, no, that obviously wouldn’t work. Why would the diner she waitresses at offer better insurance than this family-friendly law firm? And running a bookmobile is obviously not the kind of gig that comes with a health plan.
The question’s an interesting one, actually, because I find myself wondering if Ruthie has any health insurance at all…
“Yes, quite,” Freeman says.
I’ve completely lost the thread of what we were talking about, but I nod sagely. “Indeed.”
Freeman leans back in his chair, still smiling at me like he’s forgotten there are any other facial expressions. Does he smile like this in court?
