“No I don’t. I liked it anonymous. Don’t you get it?”
“No, I don’t. You wanted us to sue to find out his identity. It wasn’t going to be anonymous any longer-”
“That’s different, that’s Gary finding out, that’s lawyers finding out, that’s corporations battling in court, and on phones, that’s insurance companies.” Marcus shook his head, nonplussed. “That’s not you finding out, my wife, meeting him.”
“What’s the difference who finds out or how? Now, we know and we-”
“I don’t want you to meet him. I don’t want you to lie to me about it. I don’t want you to be the one who finds out the real father of the baby you’re carrying.”
Christine’s mouth went dry, hearing the jealousy in his voice. She had expected that he would be angry, even furious, but she hadn’t expected that he would be hurt and jealous. “Marcus, it’s not like that-”
“You’re carrying his child, Christine. You went to see the man whose child you’re carrying.”
Christine felt his words hit home, and she felt terrible. “Marcus, I’m sorry-”
“We spent so much time in therapy saying he’s just a biological donor, and that’s all I wanted him to be. That was the deal.” Marcus shook his head, edging out of the kitchen, his forehead knotted with pain. “Maybe Zachary wanted anonymity, but you know what? So did I. It worked for me, too.”
Christine kept going toward him, not wanting him to be so hurt, seeing how much pain he was in. “Marcus, you’re getting the wrong idea.”
“No, I’m not. It was never the deal that you would go running off to meet him, that you would lie to me about that.” Marcus’s eyes glistened suddenly, an agonized blue. “Whose wife are you? Whose woman? His or mine?”
“Marcus, of course, I’m your wife-”
“But you’re having his baby. Zachary. You don’t even care that he’s in jail for carving up nurses. You’re already on his side.”
“There’s no sides-”
“Yes there are sides! You’re on one, and I’m on the other. Correction, you and Zachary and the baby are on one, and I’m on the other.”
“No, that’s not true!” Christine cried out, but Marcus turned away, left the kitchen, and walked into the entrance hall.
“Leave me alone. Just leave me alone.”
Christine went after him. “Marcus, I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it that way, that’s not the way I meant it.”
“That’s the way it is.” Marcus kept walking away from her, into the living room, flicking on the light. “I’m tired, I’ve been traveling all day. I had a shitstorm to deal with this weekend. I want to sleep downstairs, I need time to think alone.”
“Marcus, we can still talk about it-”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to think about it, by myself.” Marcus held her off with a straight arm, so Christine stopped, motionless until Murphy came wandering in, his toenails tapping and his tail wagging slowly, confused because nobody ever went into the living room.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, absolutely.” Marcus motioned to the stairwell. “Please go upstairs. I’m sleeping downstairs. We’ll see Gary in the morning.”
“Okay,” Christine said, heartbroken.
“Murph, come.” Marcus whistled to the dog, who trundled in after him.
Chapter Twenty-six
Christine and Marcus waited for Gary in his office, sitting in the chairs across from the lawyer’s ornate desk, having been served coffee in real china cups and saucers by his niece Theresa. Christine and Marcus had barely exchanged a word this morning, avoiding each other while they’d showered and dressed for the meeting, Christine into a blue oxford shirtdress and Marcus in a tan suit with a silk tie because he was going to work later. She was going home afterwards, so they had driven here separately, which was merciful. Christine imagined that a car ride together would have been miserable.
“Hello, Nilssons!” Gary boomed, clapping his hands together as he entered his office, scampered around his desk, and plopped into his ergonomic throne. “Sorry about that! Nature called! Ring, ring!”
“Good to see you, Gary,” Marcus said stiffly.
“Yes, hi, Gary,” Christine added.
“Glad you could come in. I love that we’re jumping right on this, no waiting.” Gary opened a manila folder on his desk, extracted two slim packets of papers from inside, and slid them across his glistening desk, one to Marcus and another to Christine. “I’ll take you through our suit papers, so you understand them completely.”
“Gary,” Marcus said, calmly, “before we do that, there’s something you should know. I could explain, but I’ll let Christine.”
Gary turned to Christine, his good cheer clouding over. “Don’t tell me you got cold feet. Did you get cold feet, Christine?”
“No, it’s not that.” Christine braced herself. “This weekend, I went to Graterford Prison with Lauren, and we interviewed Zachary Jeffcoat. I pretended I was a reporter and I didn’t tell him who I really was. He told me that he’s Donor 3319.”
“Are you for real?” Gary blinked in astonishment, then broke into a grin.
“Yes, it’s true,” Christine answered, confused. She hadn’t anticipated a favorable reaction. She was expecting that Gary would be as angry as Marcus, except for the jealousy part.
“That’s amazing! You went right to the source, eh? You used self-help, I love it. I didn’t know you had it in you, teach.”
“Neither did I,” Christine blurted out, with an abrupt laugh, like a release of pressure.
Gary laughed. “With clients like you, I’d be out of business.”
Marcus looked from Christine to Gary, incredulous. “What the hell? Are you two insane?”
“Hold on.” Gary held up a hand. “Let me get the facts-”
“Gary, what facts? What other facts do you need?” Marcus shook his head in disbelief, which seemed as fresh as last night. “Don’t you realize how dangerous that was, what she did? Going into prison? I looked it up online last night, it’s maximum-security. You know the animals that are in there?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow your roll.” Gary leaned over the desk, his smile fading. “I told you before about the plumbers in my family. That’s my father’s side. My mother’s side, they’re crooks. Petty crooks, not mobsters. Not mob. Not Mafia. Not every Italian-American is connected, is what I’m saying.”
“What’s your point?”
“That people in prison are still people. I spent my childhood visiting my uncle and my nephew in prison. They were nice guys. They made mistakes. One was an embezzler, the other got into a fight in a bar.”
Marcus bristled. “I’m entitled to be concerned about my wife and her safety.”
“Your wife was safe. She visited an inmate. People do it every day. She didn’t walk around naked in the exercise yard.”
“Gary, the man is a serial killer.”
“In a cage. The man is a serial killer in a cage.” Gary gestured at his pictures from the Serengeti. “You put a lion in a cage and he can’t hurt you-”
“Enough with the lions. We’re talking about my wife. She didn’t even tell me she did it.”
Gary didn’t bat an eye. “Marcus, I understand you don’t want your wife to do stuff like that without your knowledge. That’s a different issue. Don’t get your issues confused.”
“But it ruins the lawsuit now, doesn’t it?” Marcus motioned at the white papers on the desk.
“No, if anything, it helps the lawsuit.” Gary slid the papers back toward him. “If Jeffcoat told Christine that he’s 3319, then I would argue to Homestead that he’s waived his right to confidentiality. In other words, I would argue that they don’t have to keep his identity confidential because he’s already disclosed it. If he didn’t follow the agreement, then they don’t have to follow the agreement.”