“I didn’t try to contact you,” she interrupted. “I contacted my parents. About five months after the Slip, once the phones were back up and running again and I knew that I was not imagining all of this.”
“What?” Jim’s voice took on a tone of indignation. “They didn’t even mention it to me.”
“They wanted to,” said Simone, laying her hand on his now, “but I made them promise me they wouldn’t.”
“Jesus Christ, Simone,” said Jim leaping to his feet.
“I’m sorry, okay? They told me you’d changed and that you were looking for us, but I didn’t want to be found. Lark and I both needed time to adjust, I needed to make sure she was…,” she searched for the right words, “…still whole. The last time Lark had seen us we were still married, we were a family. I had to ensure she wasn’t damaged irrevocably by everything that was happening.”
“We could have done that together. We could have been a family again,” he cried.
“No, Jim, we couldn’t. It’s been over twenty-five years for you and me, but for Lark, it never happened. I needed to make sure she was okay with that, I needed to let her down gently. I convinced Mom and Dad not to tell you because I couldn’t trust that you weren’t just like you were when we split up. Dad was the hardest, he respects you so much and he wanted to tell you we were okay, but I knew that if he did, you would find us. I had to make the right decision for her, not for you or for me. For Lark.”
“Were you ever going to let me know?”
“Of course I was. I just needed time.” Now it was Simone’s turn to sound defensive.
“So where did you go? If you didn’t come home and you didn’t go to your parents?”
“For the first couple of days we spent the night in the car.” She saw the shocked look in his eyes at her statement. “Don’t look so worried. I think it was probably the safest place for us both to be. We parked up in some of big store’s parking lot. You’d be surprised how many vehicles were just abandoned at these places.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” he said, remembering his own experience on the first day back.
“So, anyway, once the chaos had subsided somewhat, I made for San Diego. I had a friend out there—no one you knew—who I knew would take us in and not ask too many questions. We stayed with her for a couple of months before moving back to LA.”
“How did you end up a convert to the church,” Jim asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
“I’m not a convert,” she replied pointedly. “I just work for them. One of their outreach programs helped us when we needed a place and they offered me a job. As the church began to grow, they needed somebody with television background to handle their ads and TV shows, they offered me the position and I accepted. The Church has been very good to us.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s just, the shock. I’m still getting used to the fact that you are both still alive. I searched for you both for months. Now I don’t know whether I should be angry or singing from the rooftops.”
“I understand. Really I do. And I’m sorry it had to be this way, but I hope you can understand. That you can put yourself in my shoes and appreciate that I had no choice. Lark had to come first.”
Jim nodded his understanding and then in a boyish voice he asked, “It’s going to take a while, I know, but when this is all over, maybe… I could…”
“Yes,” she said with a gentle nod, “you can see Lark.”
That night Jim sat with Rebecca and recounted his conversation with Simone. A single candle sat on the living room coffee table, the glow of its flame creating long flickering shadows in the apartment. In its comforting glow, Jim relaxed for what felt like the first time in his life.
In his cramped little kitchen, they cooked a meal together from what items they could scrounge from the cafeteria staff: spaghetti-carbonara with a bottle of Vin de Crois Bergerac Jim had cajoled out of Horatio Mabry’s dwindling private wine stash.
They danced their first slow—dance together, shared their first kiss, and finally, with the wine buzzing gently through their heads, Becky stood, took Jim by the hand and led him into the bedroom.
The next morning Jim awoke to the smell of fried bacon wafting into the bedroom. Throwing back the comforter he searched for his boxers, found them hanging over the back of a chair by the door and pulled them quickly on. Walking out into the kitchen, he slipped his arms around Rebecca’s waist as she stood at the stove. A frying pan held bacon and a couple of eggs.
He gently caressed the back of her neck with his lips.
“Hope you don’t mind but I borrowed your shirt,” she said nonchalantly. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Over easy,” Jim whispered into her ear.
He took the empty coffee pot to the sink and filled it from the faucet. “How’d you sleep?” he asked, “Well,” she answered, before adding, “Is this going to change anything?” Her voice suddenly serious and, Jim thought, very vulnerable.
“Yes,” he replied honestly, placing the coffee pot back on the counter. His hands found the young woman’s shoulders, and he gently turned her to face him. He stared into her eyes and ran his hands through her hair before pulling her close and kissing her gently on the lips. “This changes everything.”
Thirty-Eight
Simone’s crew set their camera up in the corner of the conference room. Jim shot her a quick look as he walked to his seat, but she was all business now. Only the cold eye of the camera met his glance as it swung around to track him entering the room.
Pulling out his chair, Jim looked at the rest of his own team. He could tell they were all nervous, there was not the usual lighthearted banter flowing between them. Of course, it was hard to concentrate and relax when you had a troupe of strangers pointing a camera at you.
The camera crew was, to give them credit, trying their best to remain anonymous but it was impossible to ignore them. They were dressed in muted colors in an attempt to blend into the surroundings, Jim guessed, and not appear too conspicuous. But it was the sheer incongruity of the three of them that was impossible to disguise: Simone, radiant and elegant, every movement part of a graceful dance; Beaumont, skinny and gawky, his body an explosion of angles and bones; and finally Gallagher his hulking body dwarfing both his colleagues and the digital video camera he had fixed to a tripod stand.
Jim could smell the coffee over the other side of the room, but he decided it wouldn’t be too cool to stand up and walk over to grab a cup while the camera was rolling. Amazing how the simple act of focusing a lens on an individual immediately changed their behavior, he thought.
Once Jim seemed comfortable, Lorentz began the meeting.
“I must apologize,” he began, “for the intrusion, but as you know, my hands are tied as to their presence within this compound.” Lorentz looked straight into the camera as he continued. “I will point out right now, however, for the benefit of all here and the establishing of ground rules, that my team is under no obligation to answer any questions other than those relating to their role within the project.” Now his gaze fell on each of his people sitting around the desk, “If at any time you feel our visitors are being too obtrusive or just getting in your way, call security.”
Jim thought he heard a snicker of laughter emanating from behind the camera but he couldn’t be sure.
Lorentz picked up a sheaf of papers, the meeting’s itinerary and battle plan for the day. “Now,” he said, as he gazed at the first item on the list, his voice returning to its normal joviality, “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”