Part 9 (2/2)

Randall sets the leather briefcase Lena gave him when he started at TIDA on the table. The inside of the briefcase is inscribed: I'm with you through thick and thin. Congrats on the thick I'm with you through thick and thin. Congrats on the thick. Love, Lena Love, Lena. The gold latches spring open with one touch of Randall's thumbs. He pauses, looks at Mr. Meyers and then his watch, and pulls out three clipped sets of papers. If asked, Lena would swear there is a Ches.h.i.+re cat grin on his face. ”Since Kendrick and Camille are of age, their support and tuition will not be an issue. We put away enough to cover their education, so this should be a fairly straightforward transaction.” Randall pushes papers to the mediator and Lena. ”I've outlined what I think is a reasonable and equitable division of property.”

”Your papers may be useful later, Mr. Spencer.” Mr. Meyers cuts Randall off before he can respond with a hand gesture that says stop and pops a couple of breath mints. Lena watches the mints go from his hand to his mouth. He pops one red, one yellow, one white.

”However, in these sessions both both parties will determine the division of all community a.s.sets to include personal and real property. With the statutory guidelines mandated by the state of California in mind, my job is to a.s.sure that the settlement is fair and equitable for both parties and, if necessary, to propose alternatives if it appears the two parties have difficulty reaching agreement.” parties will determine the division of all community a.s.sets to include personal and real property. With the statutory guidelines mandated by the state of California in mind, my job is to a.s.sure that the settlement is fair and equitable for both parties and, if necessary, to propose alternatives if it appears the two parties have difficulty reaching agreement.”

Lena listens closely to Mr. Meyers, rests her hands in her lap, and wipes them on her dress. She steadies her eyes on the evenness of the gold bands on the ochre law books behind him so that her gaze doesn't move to Randall's. She doesn't want to look at him, doesn't want to acknowledge the anger she sees in the small jerky motions of his right hand.

”You've chosen mediation, I a.s.sume, because it avoids the costliness of a court case. In mediation, both parties will come to a mutually acceptable resolution. Neither party may end up with all that he or she has requested. In this room, compromise is the operative word. Typically, the process takes five to six sessions.” Mr. Meyers reads from a doc.u.ment atop the pile, in a clear and practiced manner, what they will accomplish in the sessions. He explains the rules and tells them their lawyers may be present but can only advise, not advocate for them.

”In this case, because the wife is not currently employed, temporary spousal support must be set. That is what we will determine today. How much the supporting spouse-in this case you, Mr. Spencer-pays the non-working spouse on a monthly basis is defined by California Family Code and a computer formula. And, by each party's income and expense declaration supplied by both of you prior to today.”

Mr. Meyers turns to his laptop and types. He tabulates numbers on an old-fas.h.i.+oned calculator with one hand. The calculator shakes like a miniature locomotive; paper billows from the top like steam. When he is done, the mediator writes a five-figure number on two separate yellow pads and pa.s.ses them to Lena and Randall at the same time.

Just as Lena has a new mantra, so, she thinks, does Randall.

”s.h.i.+t,” he whispers under his breath.

Lena hears him loud and clear. He s.n.a.t.c.hes a red pen from the mediator's pile and strikes a bold line through the figure that will be the above-the-line, tax-deductible amount of spousal support the state of California requires he pay.

”This is a non-negotiable number,” Mr. Meyers insists.

”I see no reason why I have to pay for her apartment. I told her to stay in the house. This was her choice.”

”By law, Mr. Spencer, regardless of where Mrs. Spencer has chosen to live, this,” the mediator says, rewriting the number on Randall's pad, ”is what you're required to pay until you and Mrs. Spencer reach your final agreement.”

”Then we better get done quickly, because I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm going to pay for her life of leisure.”

For the rest of dinner the night those years ago that Randall gave her the diamond, Lena was in a fog. Between the wine, the food, and his surprise, he'd caught her off guard. At home, in bed, she climbed on top of him, a bottle of almond oil in her hand.

”I'll do everything I can to support you. I believe in your dream.”

”It's not just my my dream.” Randall sucked in a deep breath and tried to hold on to his train of thought while Lena's fingers ma.s.saged his legs and thighs. ”It's dream.” Randall sucked in a deep breath and tried to hold on to his train of thought while Lena's fingers ma.s.saged his legs and thighs. ”It's our our future.” future.”

She rubbed him, stroked him, tasted him until he moaned. ”But,” she said, letting her hair drop over her face and onto his shoulders, ”I don't want to lose my my dream.” Before he lost his concentration, she quieted and let him release, let the feel of him run from her thighs to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, let it sing in her head. dream.” Before he lost his concentration, she quieted and let him release, let the feel of him run from her thighs to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, let it sing in her head.

Afterward, she cuddled into him. ”I don't want to be a stereotype. The man makes the money, while the little woman takes care of the house and the kids.” They had had this discussion before: black people changing stereotypes, breaking the barriers, creating a new norm. ”So, I'll accept the diamond; if if you agree that I'll get back to my plan after one year.” you agree that I'll get back to my plan after one year.”

He admitted with all of the changes he wanted to implement at TIDA, it would take at least eighteen months to two years to gain full acceptance. ”Two. For me.”

Lena thought of partners.h.i.+p and sacrifice, the two words John Henry had stressed before he walked her down the aisle. The biggest question in her mind as Randall ran his fingers over her body, the diamond above her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, was what would stop Randall, once the two years were over, from another promotion, another big deal, another giant career step to becoming the black king of the world. What would his sacrifice be in this partners.h.i.+p? She pressed two fingers to his mouth.

”Deal.”

His smile was easy to hear in the dark. He took her fingers into his mouth and sucked. Lena pointed to her diamond with her free hand. ”Then, we'll renegotiate.”

The allure of Randall's promise was seductive. Lena subst.i.tuted being the successful woman for being the supportive woman behind the successful man. By the end of Randall's second year at TIDA he'd been given more responsibility, and she slipped deeper into her cashmere coc.o.o.n.

Randall whips out his PDA and punches the screen with the metal stylus. ”Let's schedule all of the sessions now.” Every one will be the same: a single step forward, two or three back.

”You are not in charge here.” Lena snaps. ”And don't use that tone with me.” In this instant, she leers at Randall and a.s.sumes his expression mirrors hers. They are, after all, an old married couple. No stranger, not even Mr. Meyers, knowing full well their circ.u.mstances, would ever have guessed these two people had once been giddy lovers or shared a bed or parented two children or lived together for twenty-three years.

”Mr. and Mrs. Spencer! Please leave the hostility outside.” In every meeting from this first one to their ninth, Lena and Randall will pout and argue unconcerned about the mediator's cautions and his piling, un-piling and re-piling of the items around him, until their lawyers attend the sessions and a.s.sist in settling who gets what and the amount of permanent spousal support that Randall will pay Lena until she remarries, cohabitates, or dies.

Mr. Meyers presses a finger to a lone droplet on his left temple. He glances at his watch and suggests they stop here. Lena sympathizes with the man; her own armpits are damp. She stares at Randall and wonders if, underneath what looks like a cool, poker face, he is straining to hold back his own sweat. She wonders if he has another compartment, called cool, that helps him maintain this demeanor. Probably. Someday, if they can ever sit together calmly again, she will ask him about that ability and perhaps he will teach her how to do the same.

”We will begin the division of a.s.sets in our next session,” the mediator says.

There is a clue, Lena thinks, an intimation in his tone that suggests that Mr. Meyers is no more looking forward to it than she is.

Angela Ba.s.sett spins and lip-synchs on TV. Pink Slippers is right: the violence is hard to take. Lena concentrates on Angela Ba.s.sett's biceps, her forceful performance-her angst, the slow trust in self, a Buddhist chant: nam myo ho renge kyo. nam myo ho renge kyo. Bottom line, the movie is depressing. Every time Larry Fishburne fake-pops Angela, Lena cringes. But thankfully, with one click of the remote she can skip those scenes and focus on the message, not the violence. Bottom line, the movie is depressing. Every time Larry Fishburne fake-pops Angela, Lena cringes. But thankfully, with one click of the remote she can skip those scenes and focus on the message, not the violence.

Tina's message is about getting away. Anywhere. Far. Fast.

Lena picks up the autobiography, leaves where it opens to fate:... that trip changed my whole life. I felt like I had come home-like I had never known my real home... I loved France-loved the ambience of it... on that first trip to France, that's when I began to feel, deep down inside, that maybe I was French, too. that trip changed my whole life. I felt like I had come home-like I had never known my real home... I loved France-loved the ambience of it... on that first trip to France, that's when I began to feel, deep down inside, that maybe I was French, too.

France!

Lena skips to the computer. Connects to the official Tina Turner website. Tina lives in the south of France. It was one of those places that Randall and Lena planned to visit when they talked about the world and seeing as much of it as they could. They promised to lie nude on the beach, to learn French, to extend their trip westward and sip Bordeaux in Bordeaux.

A performance schedule for this year and the next is imposed over pictures of Tina and international celebrities. Lena selects ”concerts” from the top left margin. One, two, three clicks. Lena scrolls through dates and places and stops on the final entry: October 8th. Nice, France.

Moving to the computer once again, she selects a travel website and dials Bobbie.

”I have to meet Tina!” Lena shouts, happy that her sister can pick up a conversation in the middle of her slumber. One day she will thank Bobbie with more than words for talking to her, listening to her any time of the day or night.

”Go for it.”

”Tina loves France. She lives in the south of France. We...” Lena swallows hard. ”I mean I I always wanted to go to the south of France.” always wanted to go to the south of France.”

”As long as you're going for the right reasons. Seeking, not running away.”

”I want to meet Tina. I want her to sign my book.” Yes, that's what she wants. She thumbs the pages of Tina's story like a deck of cards. ”And I'm going to take pictures, hundreds of pictures.”

”Then what are you waiting for?”

”Randall demanded, and the mediator acceded, that I find work. Which I'll do, with Cheryl's help. But, he has approval over any large expenditures I make until the final division of property.” Lena accepted the condition with an exception to the furniture she needs for her apartment. ”... And what about Lulu?”

”Why does he get to call the shots?”

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