Chapter 4 - Erin
Erin
Seeing Gerard again feels like a physical shock to the system, like a truck has slammed into me at full speed.
Eighteen years we’ve been married. For twenty-two we lived with each other under the same roof. We shared a bed, raised a child, suffered illnesses, enjoyed vacations, celebrated birthdays and holidays. I thought we knew each other inside out.
It’s only now I’m beginning to realize I really didn’t know my husband at all.
Gerard’s expression hasn’t changed at all for seeing me.
He’s still wearing a half-smirk, and there’s a sharpness to his eyes that I swept under the carpet for years.
He doesn’t look at all grateful for the two decades I gave up to support him and his dreams, running his home exactly as he liked it, raising our daughter when he was absent for half the year traveling with work.
I stood by him while his career grew and flourished, I cared and catered for his aunt, who could barely speak a word of English, for weeks at a time.
For all this, there’s no gratitude in his features at all. Only a wicked glimmer of satisfaction that I’m about to get what he thinks I deserve for leaving him.
“While Mrs. Applebaum is getting herself settled, let’s make some introductions, shall we?”
A younger gentleman sitting next to Gerard straightens, showing off a muscular physique and great skin.
“Absolutely,” he says, his voice deep and confident, sending another dart of anxiety through me. Gerard must have spent a lot of money getting some hotshot youngster to represent him. “I’m Robert Kessler, representing Gerard Applebaum.”
“Thanks Robert.”
My much older, slightly shaky lawyer shuffles a few papers, frowning as though he’s lost something.
“I’m Anthony Daniels, representing…” He swallows a few times, shuffles more papers. “Um…”
“Erin Applebaum?” I whisper through the side of my mouth.
He snaps his gaze back to the screen, his face pale, cheeks pink. “Yes, um, Mrs. Erin Applebaum.”
I look back at Gerard who has a sickly amused look on his face.
His smile barely twitches, but I know that look. It’s the one he wore whenever I forgot to do the laundry or pay the gardener.
“Erin,” he says, slowly and as though he’s relishing my discomfort. “You’re looking well.”
I try my best to flatten my shoulders and affect an air of confidence but the angle of the screen makes it look like I have an itch.
My lawyer clears his throat. “Right,” he says, straightening his tie. “We’re here today to discuss a fair settlement and, hopefully, come to an amicable resolution.”
“Amicable,” Gerard repeats. “Of course.”
Robert leans forward and rests his elbows on a sleek glass tabletop.
“My client is eager to reach a practical agreement.”
Practical. An interesting term considering this meeting is about securing mine and Paige’s entire future.
Mr. Daniels turns to me.
“Erin, perhaps you’d like to outline what you’re asking for.”
Every pair of eyes swivel in my direction, making my pulse pound in my ears.
I recall a picture of Paige lying on the cramped single bed in my mother’s guest bedroom, her school textbooks stacked on the floor because there’s no desk.
Her clothes piled in a corner because the closet is full of Mom’s winter coats.
I know we’re lucky. We have a place to go and a roof over our heads, but we’re otherwise displaced.
Paige didn’t want to leave California and she hates me for it.
I’ve torn her away from her friends, her boyfriend, everything she knows, for reasons I won’t go into with her.
She deserves better, and I’m determined to give it to her.
“I’m not asking for anything unreasonable,” I say, steadying the tremble in my voice.
How can I be yelling at a complete stranger one minute, but quivering in front of a man I’ve shared a bed with almost every night for twenty years the next?
“I just want enough to rent a small place for me and Paige. Somewhere stable. Close to her new school.”
Gerard snorts. “You wouldn’t need that if you hadn’t run away and kidnapped our daughter.”
My gasp hits the walls.
“I haven’t kidnapped her. You know where we are and I’m not stopping you from seeing her.”
“You’re asking me to spend money I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t run away.” He cocks his head to one side. “In addition to the beautiful home I’ve provided for my family, you want more?”
Oh God, when he puts it like that, I seem selfish and petulant. But I’m not. I moved out to keep Paige and I safe.
“You could move to a smaller place—you won’t need such a big house without us there. You could get a bachelor pad.”
I’m trying to put a positive spin on it but by the looks of his curling lip, I’m way off the mark.
“Moving house is an inconvenience I don’t have time for,” he says, a new flatness to his tone. “And I didn’t ask for this separation, Erin. It’s all you. Why should I be punished?”
Punished? He thinks he’s the one being punished?
I blink. “I don’t think I’m asking for too much, Gerard. I supported your career, I raised our daughter, I moved across the country for you. I put my career on hold for our family.”
“What career?” he retorts, looking genuinely puzzled. “You’ve never had a real job. You stayed home as soon as we began trying for a family. No one forced you to do that.”
I swallow, the memories of that time still painful now.
We struggled to conceive. In fact, it took us almost four years of invasive tests, hormone treatments, and eventually IVF to get pregnant.
Gerard didn’t force me to stay out of the workforce but he did strongly suggest I give conception my all, seeing as my supposed “hard-partying past” was probably the reason why we were having difficulties.
For the record, I didn’t party hard—I’ve always been too sensible for that—but I did go slightly off the rails when my father passed. Mom always made me out to be a lot more delinquent than I actually was. She enjoyed Gerard’s sympathy.
“You chose to stay home,” he continues. “I never forced you.”
I almost laugh, the bitterness scratching at my throat. Instead, I look at my lawyer, who is blinking like he’s trying to remember what century he’s in.
“We have documentation,” he says, gruffly, “showing Mrs. Applebaum contributed substantially to the household—”
“By doing laundry?” Robert interrupts. “With respect, that’s not exactly a marketable skill.”
My face burns while Gerard watches on, amused.
“Raising a child isn’t nothing,” I say.
“It’s not a career,” Gerard says. “You didn’t generate income. I did.”
“And I made that possible,” I shoot back. “You didn’t have to worry about anything at home. Ever.”
He shrugs. “That was your choice.”
My fingers are trembling beneath the table. “I don’t understand,” I start, my voice climbing in pitch. “You often talked about how wonderful it was to have a strong, loving, supportive mother for our little girl, to have someone at home nurturing our family. You seemed to be so… so proud.”
For the first time since I sat down, Gerard looks off balance. His half-sneer falls along with the corners of his eyes.
Sensing my husband buckling, Robert jumps in smoothly.
“My client is willing to offer a short-term support arrangement. Six months. That should be plenty of time for Erin to find employment.”
Six months?
“I haven’t worked in almost twenty years.”
Gerard regains his composure, tipping his head back and waving a hand about as if he’s making a lame attempt to swat a fly.
“And that’s unfortunate, but it’s not my responsibility to fund your transition into adulthood.”
Adulthood? I stare at him. “I’m forty-four.”
He shrugs. “You should’ve planned better.”
My lawyer finally seems to find his footing.
“Mr. Applebaum, the length of the marriage and Erin’s role as primary caregiver are significant factors. Courts take that into account.”
“We’re not in court,” Gerard says. “We’re here to avoid it.”
“I’m just asking for enough to live. That’s it. I don’t want the house. I don’t want your investments. Just help me get on my feet.”
Gerard leans forward for the first time, resting his forearms on the desk.
“You ran away, Erin. You took my daughter across the country.”
“I protected her,” I say.
“From what?” he says, in a thin voice that screams ‘careful, honey.’
From you.
My mouth opens, then closes. My lawyer shifts uncomfortably. No one wants to go there. Fine.
Robert taps a pen against his folder. “My client’s position stands. Six months of transitional support.”
My chest tightens. “That barely covers the moving costs!”
Gerard shrugs. “Then budget better.”
My lawyer stares down at his papers, then looks up. “Mr. Applebaum, Erin is entitled to spousal support based on the duration of the marriage and her financial dependence. If this goes to court—”
“It won’t,” Gerard says calmly. “She can’t afford that.”
I can’t hold it in anymore.
“Gerard,” I say, my voice on the cusp of trembling. “How can you deny me this? Do you really expect me to continue living with you after… everything?”
He glares at me, that unspoken warning on the tip of his tongue.
I have the attention of the two lawyers now and they pan slowly between me and my husband.
“I just want to give our daughter some stability.”
“She had it,” he replies. “With me. You are the one who’s turned her world upside down by moving her right across the country.”
She wasn’t safe there! I want to scream, but I promised myself I wouldn’t go down that road. It would be Gerard’s word against mine, and he can buy himself innocence.
Robert steps in again.
“Perhaps we can revisit numbers. Gerard, would you consider twelve months?”
Gerard exhales slowly, as if deeply inconvenienced.
“I’ll think about it.”
My lawyer nods too quickly. “That’s a positive step.”
A swallow a bitter laugh. One year after I gave him twenty.
Gerard smiles thinly. “Fine. One year. Final offer. Take it or leave it.”
My mouth falls open. Is that it? That’s all I get for everything I’ve done, and for everything he’s done to me? Memories of the last few months slam into me like a tidal wave and my mouth snaps shut.
I realize I don’t want any more from him. It’s going to be hard, possibly miserable, definitely character-building, but the sooner we no longer have to rely on Gerard Applebaum, the better.