Chapter 1 | The Distance
distance (n.)
late 13c., “quarrel, estrangement, discord, strife,” from Old French destance (13c.), from Latin distantia “a standing apart,” from distantem (nominative distans) “standing apart, separate, distant,” present participle of distare “stand apart,” from dis- “apart, off” (see dis-) + stare “to stand,” from PIE root *sta- “to stand, make or be firm.”Meaning “remoteness, space between things or places” is late 14c. The figurative sense of “aloofness” is the same as in stand-offish. Phrase go the distance (1930s) seems to be originally from the prize ring, where the word meant “scheduled length of a bout.”
Los Angeles, April 1996
Michael sat at his desk, in the darkness. Staring into space, he slowly but methodically bit down on the soft flesh inside his cheek. It was a done deal. The papers were signed and the dream was over. Or the nightmare – the definition tended to shift according to his mood. Anyway, it always hurt like hell.
That detail was kind of startling in itself, because he thought he would feel better. After all, he had won. He didn’t like to be blackmailed and had shown Lisa that never, ever and for no reason in the world he would bend or accept being cornered or pushed into a given direction just because someone said so. He was the one making the rules for himself. And that no matter how he felt, or what he wanted deep down in his heart, the moment anyone cornered him, they would soon realize that he was not the kind of man who accepted that kind of shit passively. He was a nice man, but he knew how to retaliate if necessary. Even when his heart got ripped to shreds in the process.
“Michael… Mike. You gotta listen to me. I had told them to wait. They weren’t supposed to send you those papers.”
“Yeah, sure… Lisa, you think I’m an idiot?”
“What? No! I had told them to fucking wait!”
“Whatever…”
“You don’t believe me? Have I ever lied to you?”
“I thought you didn’t. I thought you wouldn’t. I was wrong. We had agreed to try again, and then I get… this shit!”
“I told you what happened!”
“I don’t care. What difference does it make? None. I’mma sign them. And you know why? ‘Cause blindsiding me won’t get you what you want…”
“Fine. But I’m not sure you understand what I want, at this point, Michael…”
“Yeah… me neither.”
There. Now she knew. She was way too spoiled, and way too used to get things her own way, and this would be an excellent lesson for her. And he would be the one imparting it.
He was angry. But also extremely heartbroken. He did his best to ignore the pain he felt, and his iron discipline taught him how to show the world the perfect poker face everyone needed to see. Nothing was evident on the outside. He looked all fine and dandy. Content, even, at times. Definitely peaceful. Inside, it was an entirely different story – a story he didn’t like to talk about. Shit, he didn’t even like thinking about it.
Inside, it was nothing but perpetual turmoil, arctic-cold and boiling hot currents crashing against one another under the smooth, still surface. He either froze or burned. Sometimes both at the same time. Either way, it was never pleasurable.
But he was confident. The pain would just go away. Eventually. In one way or another. He would stop pining over Lisa and he would move on. Hell, he would stop loving her and find someone else. Someone who was perfect for him.
In the meantime, he had so much else to focus on.
He knew that there was always another side of the coin for everything and, in this case, it was all about the perfect dovetailing of different, well-calculated elements: an agreement with a woman he could trust, an ally who had asked him nothing in return except for some money and his friendship, a medical procedure, timing. All that would result in a baby, in fatherhood – which was precisely what he had always dreamed about. Being a dad. Being a good one, at that. That was what Michael needed to be happy, in a moment when his personal life as he had envisioned it had shown to be fragile and unstable. God bless Debbie. She was such a good friend to him.
The screen of his cell phone was now dark. Lisa wasn’t calling anymore. He felt relieved and miffed at the same time. Had she given up on him already? Today, he had refused her calls only twice. One late in the afternoon, and one just a couple of hours earlier. She was probably asleep by now. Or maybe they shared the same insomnia. Having always been unable to sleep when he was stressed out, he wondered how it was even possible that, even during their fights – and there had been many, before the end of their marriage – he would sleep like a log in between matches, before they resumed their mutual accusations in the morning. Was it because he knew she would be there, when he woke up? That, as furious as she was, she wouldn’t leave? Because, more often than not, those breaks in between fights also included sessions of mind-blowing, angry sex? Or maybe it was just because he was too exhausted and his mind had to merely shut off for a little while?
No – that didn’t fly. He was worn out too, now, and yet sleep wouldn’t come to grant him any relief. He rubbed his tired, reddened eyes and got up from his chair, staring outside the window. The surroundings of his condo were deserted and quiet. The Hideout was a perfect place for nights like this. When he needed to be away from everything, everyone. Tomorrow morning, he would go back to the studios and focus on his new short film. And avoid that receptionist who had managed to be an extra on set and who just wouldn’t give him any slack. What was her name again? Sheila? Shawna? Something like that. Well, fuck it. It didn’t matter. There was no space for women in his life for now. His ex-wife was a powder keg and sufficed for like ten thousand of her… species.
Michael shook his head and closed his eyes for a second. It was like opening a door, and longing and pain flooded him before he could protect himself.
He missed Lisa. He missed her eyes, her voice, her warm body next to him in bed. He missed their long conversations, when they could talk about anything, and he certainly missed making love to her. Hell, at this point he even missed their fights. It was during melancholic nights like this that it was harder and harder to pretend that being without her and going on with the divorce proceedings was the right thing to do. In all honesty, sometimes he was not entirely sure divorcing Lisa was what he truly wanted. What he did know for sure, was that he didn’t want her to stop being his woman. But what he wanted and what was the right thing to do didn’t always coincide. And maybe this was just the case.
Yeah. It would pass. Just like everything. He just needed some more time to maneuver himself into his new divorced status. This longing he felt was nothing but the consequence of a habit, of acquired behaviors.
Habits… Those fuckers were hard to shake. After all, Lisa had been his partner way longer than people thought. Definitely not for four months before they got married.
So, all in all, it was nothing but routine. And any routine could be changed; it was just a matter of time and volition. He would be just fine, fine for real, and soon he would finally stop pretending he was.
Sighing, without even realizing what he was doing, he took his cell phone from the desk and flipped it open. He was about to call her. Her absence became intolerable for a second and he wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to know if she had been honest when she had let him know that she was now ready to give him all the kids that he wanted.
Michael bit his lip until it hurt. Damn! What was he doing?
He flipped the phone closed and went to bed, hoping sleep would come eventually.
The next morning, when he woke up around noon, there was a message on his answering machine. Lisa had called around nine, and she had called him at home. He had not heard the phone, at all, but was sure it was her. Not many people knew that number, and she was the only one calling him so early.
He vaguely remembered having tossed and turned in the sheets for hours, trying hard to fall asleep and failing miserably. He was wired, his mind reeling, millions of images replaying behind his closed eyelids. His own very private movie theater, always open for business. Eventually, he had fallen asleep around dawn. It had felt more like catatonia but hey, if he could stop thinking for a while, it worked for him. And he hadn’t registered the phone ringing at all.
He noticed the light blinking on the answering machine as he sipped his tea, in the kitchen. His eyes narrowed, and he considered the idea of just erasing the message without even listening to it. He had almost called her, the night before. Moments of sheer insanity like that couldn’t be tolerated. Not now. He needed to stay focused – he had plenty in his hands, and Lisa was not part of the equation anymore.
As he was still pondering the matter, his hand moved on its own accord and he pressed the button.
PLAY.
Static.
Then a long sigh, and Michael held his breath.
“Hey, um… It’s me. Lisa. Sorry to bother you. I think…”
A pause. A very long one. He could almost see the expression on her face. He bet she looked torn, insecure. He knew her better than she thought, but perhaps not as much as he had once believed. He gripped the tea mug tighter.
“…I mean, I know you don’t wanna talk to me, but I think we should meet and define the… ah, specifics of our divorce before it’s too late. I also know we can keep speaking through our lawyers, but I’d like to think we can do better than that… and that we can be in the same room, together, for a few minutes. Just you and I. You made it pretty clear that there isn’t much to talk about at this point, but I think it would be best if only you and I discussed the details of our prenup.”
Wow. After that pause, she had spoken smoothly and there was something very different in her tone, compared to the messages she had left him in the previous weeks. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had been so intent in rejecting her calls that he hadn’t noticed how she hadn’t left any message for him, written or otherwise, in quite some time. It was… odd. The change in her tone. The subject of her message. Lisa sounded tired, collected, very calm. Alarms went off in Michael’s brain. What was going on? What was this prenup shit about, now?
“So, you know, if you think we can do that, just let me know. You don’t need to call me back… a message will suffice. We don’t need to talk about unnecessary stuff, but our prenup is important and it concerns us and only us. That’s why I don’t think lawyers should be involved. So… you know… Just let me know, OK… If I don’t hear from you in the next week or so, I’ll take it you really don’t wanna see me or talk to me at all and, in that case, I’ll ask my people to proceed and get in touch with your people.” Another poignant pause. “Have a nice day, Michael.”
Static, then silence.
Deflated, Michael leaned against the kitchen counter and placed the cup of tea in the sink. OK – that was… so bizarre. Why did she want to talk about their prenuptial agreement, now? What did she want from him? Did she want money? Nah, Lisa was not that kind of person. That was not in her, at all. She could be prone to outbursts when provoked, she had a temper, a pissy-ass attitude and she could be unreasonable and infuriating, but greedy? Not a chance. She had never been interested in his money or his status quo. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Unless… well, unless she was thinking about retaliating that way, since he had iced her out for months. Or maybe because she still hadn’t gotten over the Debbie debacle. Michael shook his head. Lisa was stubborn, she just couldn’t see the bigger picture, and tended to take things personally.
He knew his agreement with Debbie had been what had pushed Lisa over the edge but again, she had told him to do it. She had basically dared him to go on with his plan. And he had shown her that he could. And that words did mean something to him. She hadn’t taken it well, but honestly? What did she expect? She should have paid more attention to what she said to him.
And now… well, maybe now Lisa wanted to discuss their prenup face to face because she believed she deserved some compensation. Or perhaps it was just an excuse to see him?
However, even more important was another question. Did he want to see her?
No.
Fuck, yes.
He decided to wait a couple of days or so before letting her know, in a very formal way, that he was willing to meet with her. He didn’t want to look desperate. Because he truly, truly wasn’t.