"How did it go?" John asked, gingerly.
"Not well," said Daniel. "Don't worry, you'll still get your paycheck," he added, which I assumed was a wry attempt at humor. It fell flat on John, who looked slightly offended as he pulled away.
"That's not what I'm worried about," he said.
No one responded.
I wished Daniel would just cave and ask for a new judge. This one had left a horribly unpleasant feeling in my chest, and in some way I couldn't quite explain, it was about more than just the things he'd said, and the way he'd talked to Daniel. He unnerved me on some other, deeper level I couldn't quite explain. I just knew things would be much better if someone else presided over the trial, but at the same time, I could understand Daniel's concern. He didn't want to look demanding and petty right off the bat, before he even had a chance to make a first impression in his trial.
I wondered how long the arraignment would actually take. I knew from following cases in the news that things like this often dragged out for years, and I simply couldn't imagine living through something like that. I knew I had no choice - I certainly wasn't going to leave him - but it already felt like we'd been slogging through a dismal swamp for God knew how long, and it was about to get worse.
"I really think it would be better," I said, trying again, more gently, "if you just got a different judge. I know it's not the best thing, for the sake of appearances, but this is ridiculous. You have to do something. You can't just lie down and take his abuse, he obviously dislikes you for some reason."
"Maddy, please."
I wasn't sure if that was meant to be Maddy, please let me make my own decisions or Maddy, please shut up, but either way, I was appropriately cowed. I sat back and stewed quietly in my own annoyance.
"For what it's worth, Daniel, I think she's right." Lindsey spoke up, finally. "You can't just let yourself be mistreated, no matter how you think it might look if you start complaining. I don't know why he was acting like that, but whatever the reason, you don't want him presiding over your trial. It's only going to make things more difficult."
"I just want some time to think things over!" Daniel said, more loudly than he needed to. "Is that too much to ask? Both of you, just keep your opinions to yourselves for a few minutes?"
We all sat in silence for the rest of the journey. Poor John, I thought to myself, absurdly. He looked like he wanted to disappear into his seat, or maybe spontaneously combust and never seen any of us again.
Once we were home, Daniel stormed up to the bedroom again and sequestered himself. I wandered aimlessly around the kitchen, and Lindsey turned on the TV in the living room, flipping through the channels so fast I was sure she couldn't possibly be processing what was on each of them.
"There's a channel guide, you know," I said, flopping down next to her on the sofa.
"Ugh. I don't even want to watch anything," she said. "I just want Danny to stop being such a shitheel. After everything we've done for him? He's still going to act like a whiny little baby when we try to give him some very well-placed advice."
"Well, he's under a lot of stress," I pointed out. I couldn’t believe I was defending him.
"Maddy, please." She shook her head at me. "I think he's been treating you worse than anybody. You don't have to pretend."
I took a deep breath. For some reason, hearing her say it was just too strange. "I don't think he's been…bad," I said. "He's just preoccupied. I'm pretty low-maintenance anyway."
"But you're sticking by him through all this. You're trying to help out. And all he can think is that you might…"
I looked at her. "I might what?"
She shook her head vigorously. "Nope, nope, I swore not to tell you. I'm sorry. I should have just kept my mouth shut. It's stupid, it's a silly little irrational fear that he has and it doesn't have any bearing on reality and I'm not allowed to tell you - I'm sorry, I just can't."
"Please," I implored, leaning towards her and lowering my voice. "I need to know - if there's something I can do, anything, if I can just know why he's acting the way he's been lately. It's almost like he doesn't remember that we're really together, you know? Like we're back to just being…a fake couple." Now that I said it out loud, I realized how true it was. All this time, I'd been carrying around the insecurity that came from the fact that our relationship had started as a business arrangement.
"He's just trying to protect himself, that's all," said Lindsey. "He's just trying to…look, if I tell you this, you have to promise me you won't take it badly. And for the love of God, don't tell him I told you."
"Of course not," I said, my heart thudding in my chest. "I just want to know. Any hint of what he's thinking. I don't have a god damn clue and it's driving me crazy."
"He's afraid," said Lindsey, softly. "That's all. He knows you were only with him, in the first place, because of the money. And I think there's still a part of him that thinks…it's not just you, either. It's everybody. He always thinks it's about the money, that it couldn't possibly be about him. He thinks he's not worthy of people's attention on his own, and it's always been that way, ever since he first started making enough money to wear nice clothes and drive nice cars. He's neurotic about it. He only tells me about it because I'm his sister. I'm required to care about him whether he's a billionaire or not."
She smiled, briefly. "But Maddy, I swear to God, it's not about you. It's not that he thinks you're gold-digger, or anything like that. But all of his previous relationships eventually ended with him pushing them away because he couldn't convince himself they really cared about him. I mean, he might have been right. Who knows. But I know you're not like that, and I think he knows it, too. But he's having a hard time convincing himself."
I bit my lip. "That…makes sense, actually," I said faintly.
"But really, I don't think there's anything you can do. You're already being so supportive, or trying to at least. But if he's not letting you in, that's all it is. He's just trying to keep you at a distance. He does it to almost everybody. I know it must be painful as hell, believe me, but I think it might just be something you have to weather for now. When all this is over, and he looks and sees that you're still by his side, I think he'll realize how silly it is. But there's too much going on inside his head right now. He can't see things clearly."
It did make sense. It made perfect sense. Back when we were first "dating," before our fake marriage and long before our relationship became something real, I'd said something about wanting to remain friends, and he'd acted like I was just saying it out of obligation. Like I couldn't possibly want to be friends with him just because of…him. But after all this time, I would have thought he'd have gotten over that - just a little.
I could sort of understand why he was still afraid, though. He'd given me a lifestyle that was difficult to walk away from. Some people might have been able to talk themselves into staying, even if they didn't have feelings for him, just for the money.
I wanted to think he knew me well enough by now, but that wasn't really true, was it? In some ways, after all this time, we still hardly knew each other at all.
"Thank you, Lindsey," I said. "I promise I won't tell."
"I know you won't, honey." Lindsey leaned over and gave me a sideways hug. "Just hang in there, okay? Things are going to get a hell of a lot easier once all this calms down."
"Yeah, but how long will that take?"
Lindsey shrugged. "I don't know, really. But eventually, things just sort of get…normal. You'll adjust to the stress. You both will. Once the whole thing is finally over it'll be like letting out a breath you've been holding for months and months. But that doesn't mean that every day leading up to that has to be painful."
"You sound like you have some experience."
"Not quite the same thing," she said. "I took someone to court once. But, I know the feeling, sort of - it's just like this long nightmare and you start to feel like you're never going to wake up. But eventually, you do. You wake up, and the world hasn't ended like you thought it would. Everything's just sort of…carrying on, so you start carrying on with it, even if you don't feel like you know how anymore."
"Thanks," I said, leaning back on the sofa with a long, deep sigh. "It’s good to know I’m not losing my mind."
"Hey," said Lindsey, with a smile. "No guarantees."
***
A few days later, I was on my way home from yoga after finally paying the stupid water bill. Blessedly, no one at the studio ever seemed interested in talking to me beyond the basic pleasantries, so I never found myself engaged in conversations about Daniel’s troubles - it remained a sanctuary for me. On impulse, I stepped into the hardware store on the way home, picking up a small bag of potting soil for the basil plants. I’d noticed the current setup was starting to look a little mildewed, and I had no idea if it had ever been replaced since I’d moved in.
"Hello?" I called out when I walked in the door. "Anybody home?"
Abject silence greeted me; I wasn’t surprised, really, but I had to admit it was starting to get lonely around here. I sighed, dropping the potting soil on the counter and bringing the planter over to the sink. I carefully dug each plant out of the packed-down soil, setting them down gently in the sink. They were starting to get root-bound.
I pulled out a big garbage bag and shook the planter over it, jostling the old soil to loosen and fall out.
Thump. Thump.
Okay, that didn’t sound like dirt.
I set the planter aside and peered into the bag.
It was something in plastic. No, somethings. I reached in gingerly and snatched one of them with two fingers, shaking the loose dirt off as I lifted it out of the bag. It was a Ziploc, an old one, and there was something rectangular inside it, wrapped in foil.
Oh, Daniel.
"You nutjob," I muttered, knowing what I was going to find even before I unwrapped it.
Oh, yes. It was a stack of hundred dollar bills.
I knelt down, digging further into the garbage bag and pulling out another. And another. And another. Four packages in all - no wonder the soil was starting to get mildewed. It was amazing that the plants were doing as well as they were, without being able to drain properly. I wasn’t going to take the time to count it, but each stack was thick - maybe fifty bills or more.
For some reason, my heart was pounding in my throat. I’d done absolutely nothing wrong, but I still felt a powerful urge to cover my tracks, and I had no idea how much longer I was going to be alone. Hastily, I set the bags of money in the sink along with the plants. I took the planter and poured a thin layer of soil along the bottom, then carefully lined up the money more or less the way I imagined it had been before.
Something made me stop, halfway between arranging them and grabbing the soil to make the next layer.
Without knowing exactly why, I hastily opened each bag, unwrapping the stacks and thumbing a few bills out of each. I stuffed them in the side of my bra, thoroughly re-wrapping the foil and making sure the bags were pushed flat and sealed. I poured on another layer of soil, then nested the plants in, taking the time even in my frantic state to massage the roots a little. Then, I filled the rest of the planter with soil, making sure to pack it down so it didn’t look too fresh.