The Infinite Tides by Kiefer Christian

Author:Kiefer, Christian [Kiefer, Christian]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2012-06-20T00:00:00+00:00

Part III

Ten

The screen read “Barb—mobile.” He tilted forward, the chair legs all returning to the floor with a single loud clack. He had been reading an article off his laptop screen and now he held the phone in his hand while it continued to buzz and vibrate, thinking that he would let the call go to voice mail, but then also knowing that if he did so she would only call him again. Like Peter’s apology, it was not something he could avoid and so he answered—“Hello”—and the voice at the other end was shrill and loud: “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said.

“About what?”

“That’s not your bank account; that’s our bank account!”

“What?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” she said. “How am I going to pay my bills?”

“What bills are those?” he said.

“Credit cards. Food. Gas. It’s not like life got free.”

He did not answer, looked instead at the blank wall before him, the strip of blue masking tape there. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “What was your plan?”

“What do you mean ‘plan’?”

“I mean plan. What are you asking me here, Barb?”

“I’m not calling to play games. That’s our shared bank account and you can’t just close it. I write checks from there.”

“Why don’t you open a new account in Atlanta?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Your point is … what then?” he asked.

“My point is that it’s a shared account.”

“How do you figure?”

“How do I figure? It’s a shared account. It’s our money not your money.”

“Did you put that money there?”

“Don’t play that game.”

“I’m not playing any game,” he said. He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and stood.

“Yes, you are. Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?” He moved to the sink and then to the cabinet. The tape there had been pulled off and reattached so many times that it no longer stuck at all, the blue strip dangling limply from the darkly stained wood. He opened the cabinet door and retrieved one of the chipped glasses.

“Yes, you do. I was raising our daughter. That’s how it works. You can’t just close the bank accounts.”

He filled the glass with tap water and then sat back down. “Why not?” he said.

“Why are you playing this game?”

“I’m not playing any kind of game,” he said. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Really? You don’t understand what I’m saying? It’s a shared account.”

“It was a shared account.”

“It’s still a shared account.”

“I don’t see how it could be,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” she said.

“You said you filed for divorce.”

“So?”

“So why would we share a bank account if we’re getting a divorce?”

“It’s called alimony, Keith.”

“Alimony?” he said.

“Yes, alimony. I spent the last seventeen years raising Quinn while you were trying to become an astronaut. I have no job skills. We get divorced and you pay alimony. That’s how it works.”

“You had an affair. You filed for divorce. That’s what happened.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

She began to yell now and he held the phone away from his face and looked at it.

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