Nicholas Sparks - Two by Two

“You know… coffee shops, poetry readings, art galleries, joining protests, voting socialist.”

She laughed. “One thing’s for sure-you don’t know me at all.”

“Well,” I said, gathering my courage, “I’d like to know you better. What do you like to do for fun?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Her gaze left me feeling a bit flustered. “If your idea of fun is skydiving or shooting apples off my head with a bow and arrow, then the only reason I’m asking is for the sake of conversation.”

“But if it’s dinner and a movie…” She arched an eyebrow.

“That’s more my style.”

She brought a hand to her chin and slowly shook her head. “No… dinner and a movie is just too… clichéd,” she said finally. “How about a hike?”

“A hike?” Eyeing her stiletto heels, I had trouble picturing her outdoors, communing with nature.

“Yeah,” she said. “How about Crowders Mountain? We can follow the Rocktop Trail.”

“I’ve never been there,” I said. In fact, I’d never heard of it.

“Then it’s a date,” she said. “How about next Saturday?”

I looked at her, suddenly wondering whether I’d asked her out or if she’d asked me, or even whether it really mattered. Because I could already tell that Emily was extraordinary, and I knew without a doubt that I wanted to get to know her better.

On Sunday, when I had spare time, I worked on the third commercial and shipped it off to the editor, which took less time than I thought it would. It had to take little time, since the rest of my day was spent with London.

It may not be politically correct to say, but the fact that London was going to school made my life better, too. As much as I loved my daughter, Sunday wore me out and I was looking forward to heading to work, if only because it seemed somehow easier than entertaining a five-year-old for sixteen straight hours.

My good mood, however, ended even before I got to the office on Monday morning. I’d just dropped London off when I fielded a call from Taglieri, asking if it was possible for me to swing by his office.

Half an hour later, I was sitting across from him in his office. His jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up; on his desk were messy piles of what I assumed to be ongoing cases.

“Thanks for making time this morning,” he said. “I connected with Vivian’s attorney on Friday. I wanted to get a sense of her and see if there was a way to make all of this proceed as smoothly as possible.”

“And?”

“Unfortunately, she was exactly as billed. After hanging up, I went to her firm’s website because I had to see what she looked like. During our call I kept picturing an ice statue instead of a real person. I mean, she was subzero.”

His description conjured up a number of future scenarios, none of them particularly good for me. “What does that mean?”

“It means it’s probably going to be harder for you than it should be, depending on how forcefully you intend to fight.”

“I don’t care about the money as much as I care about London. I want joint custody.”

“I hear you,” he said, raising his hand. “And I know that’s what you want. But I’m not even sure what that means. Vivian’s living in Atlanta and because she wants residency in Georgia, she’s not coming back here. My question to you is whether you’re willing to move to Atlanta.”

“Why do I have to move? My house is here. My family is here. My job is here.”

“That’s my point. Even if you received joint custody, how would that work? It’s not like you’d have the chance to see London very much. Which is why, I assume, Vivian is asking for sole custody, as well as physical custody. She’s willing to grant you visitation…”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “That’s not going to happen. I’m her father. I have rights.”

“Yes, you do. But we both know that courts tend to favor women. And Vivian’s attorney is telling me that Vivian was the primary caregiver until only a few months ago.”

“I worked so she could stay at home!”

Joey raised his hands, even as his voice adopted a soothing cadence. “I know that,” he said, “and I don’t think it’s fair either. But in custody battles, fathers are at a real disadvantage. Especially in situations like these.”

“She’s the one who moved out. She left us!”

“According to Vivian’s attorney, it was because you left her with no other choice. You were no longer able to support the family and you’d drained a big chunk from the savings account. She was forced to get a job.”

“That’s not true! Vivian took the job because she wanted to. I didn’t make her do anything…”

Taglieri fixed me with a sympathetic look. “I believe you. I’m on your side, Russ. I’m just relaying some of the things Vivian’s attorney said to me. By the way, that woman may be an ice queen and a bully, but I’m not afraid to take her on. She’s never had to go toe-to-toe with the Bulldog, and I’m good at my job. I just wanted to update you in person and prepare you for what comes next. This thing is already ugly, and it’s probably going to get even uglier over the next few months.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“For now, nothing. It’s still early. As for the settlement agreement she sent, just pretend it doesn’t exist. I’ll draft a response for you to look over and I already have some ideas on that. That said, my court schedule is full for the next couple of weeks so you won’t see anything from me right away. I don’t want you to worry if you don’t hear from me. There’s always a tendency in these situations to want to get everything done as quickly as possible, but it generally doesn’t work that way. What I do want is to touch base with her and have a longer conversation, but even then, there’s no reason to rush. Right now, London is still living with you. That’s a good thing, and the longer it goes on, the better it is for you. Also keep in mind that Vivian can’t file for divorce until next March at the earliest, so we still have time to work out a settlement that’s agreeable to both parties. Until then, you might want to check if it’s possible for you and Vivian to work something out that’s acceptable to both of you. I’m not saying that she’ll go for something like that-in fact I doubt that she will-but it’s worth a try.”

“And if she doesn’t want to work something out?”

“Then just keep doing what you’re doing with London. Be a good father, spend time with your daughter, make sure London gets to school and eats and sleeps right. I can’t stress how important that is. Keep in mind that we can always bring in a psychologist to talk to London and present a report to the court…”

“No,” I said, interrupting. “I’m not going to put London in the middle of all this. She’s not going to have to choose between her mother and father.”

His eyes dropped. “You might not think it’s a good idea, but Vivian may insist on it in the hope that it will benefit her case.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” I said. “She adores London.”

“It’s precisely because she adores London,” he said, “that you shouldn’t be surprised by anything she’s willing to do in order to gain custody.”

After the meeting with Taglieri, I was more angry, and frightened, than I’d been since Vivian had walked out the door. In my office at work, I fumed. I called Marge and repeated what Taglieri had said; Marge was as livid as I was. When she referred to Vivian with a term synonymous with female dogs, I echoed the sentiment.