Page 21 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
Archie’s voice grows louder, and I reach for my AirPods to give him privacy.
Then I hear my name and remember Mom saying this morning that Joe was talking to her attorney. Is Malcolm’s call related to that?
I put my AirPods in but instead of turning on the sound canceling feature, I toggle to the amplification settings and turn on Live Listen. Instead of playing music to drown out the outside noises, Archie and Malcolm’s conversation gets louder in my ears.
For the first time, I don’t think the class I took from a soft-spoken professor who was also a spitter was a waste of time. I wouldn’t have known about this feature if I hadn’t been in that class developing my spy skills. When things got boring, I’dpretend I was in aMission Impossible-type situation where the fate of fashion depended on my overhearing what the professor was whispering.
Now that I’m in an actualMission Impossiblesitch, with a villain I used to think was a good guy conspiring against me with his hot—yeah, I said it—bare-chested henchman, I’m grateful for that Professor Whisperer-Spitter.
I know I shouldn’tactuallyuse the technology to spy, but is it really spying if Archie is talking about me? Especially when I have to make some decisions, and I need as much information as possible to make the right one? This is very much a means-justify-the-ends moment.
“Here me out, Dad. What I’m suggesting is that you settle with Cynthia for ten million cash instead of giving her the house…” Archie says. “She’s planning on Piper staying here, anyway. So why not give her money so she can buy houses for the both of them and still have money left over? Then I can use this house however I need to. It’s a cleaner solution and ten million is a nice round number she’ll be stoked to have in her pocket.”
Archie moves further from the door and turns his back toward me, interfering with my spy technology. But it sounds like Malcolm is saying no, even though a quick check of Zillow shows this house is worth closer to twelve than ten million.
I’m not sure why Malcolm would be against Archie’s idea. It’s the kind of deal he loves—screwing people out of what they deserve. I doubt hisnois out of concern for Mom. He wants her gone. It’s strictly concern that changing the terms now means more time to draft up a new decree and more time he has to stay married to her.
I don’t care if Malcolm is inconvenienced, but for Mom’s sake, I want this marriage over as much as he does.
My understanding—at least since my arrival—is that everything is done. We’re all just waiting for Archie to deed the house back to Malcolm in order for the divorce to be finalized.
What I didn’t realize until right now is that Archie doesn’t want to sign, even though he has a trust fund and can live anywhere. He, literally, has his choice of beach houses around the world. Why is he so determined to keep this one? Why is he still so determined to make my life miserable?
Malcolm is done with Mom, and for all his talk about me being like a daughter to him all those years ago, Malcolm is done withme, too. Malcolm and I really did have a good relationship—at least, I thought so—until I refused to study business administration so I could take over for Sybil when she retires as his personal assistant.
I wanted to study fashion, but Malcolm hated that idea, so he took my name off the college account he’d set up for me. I got a student loan instead and realized that our relationship had never been what I’d thought it was. He'd controlled me with his praise and gifts, similar to what I’d seen him do with Archie and Frankie.
When I left for New York, I made the conscious decision to use the physical distance between Malcolm and me to create an emotional distance. We still had some contact, but our relationship officially ended two years ago when I ran into him with another woman at a fashion show in New York. He hadn’t told me he was coming to the city, and he’d told Mom he was in Australia.
He acted casual about it and tried to convince me that Mom had it wrong. He claimed the woman was a potential business partner he was networking with, but a little digging into her social media revealed pictures of them on the deck of the South Bay house, as well as her at his house in Brisbane.
When I texted him those photos, to prove that I knew, he offered to pay off my school debt and cover the rest of my expenses through graduation if I kept it to myself. He said he didn’t want to hurt Mom; things had been hard for them, and they were already moving toward a separation. Telling Mom, he said, would only make things worse for her.
Obviously, I didn’t go for that.
My loyalty is to Mom first. Always. The news broke her heart. What I didn’t realize until the divorce was in process is that the pre-nup conditions kept Mom from getting anything...except in the case of infidelity. Not only did I expose Malcolm's cheating, I opened the way for Mom’s legal pursuit of everything she felt she deserved.
She didn’t hold back. She went after everything he’d bought or earned in the ten years they were married. Her rightful portion is way more than this house—Malcolm's net worth is in the billions.
And Archie wants to give her evenlessthan she’s already agreed to? Now that she’s ready to stop fighting?
A surge of protectiveness wells up inside of me. Whatever sympathy I had for Archie a few minutes ago is gone.
What is it with these Forsythe men? Do they really believe the world revolves around them? Malcolm has refused to settle with Mom for two years, and now Archie’s going to use this to his advantage?
I don’t think so.
While I listen to—okay,eavesdrop on—Archie’s side of the conversation, I consider my options. Should I confront Archie about manipulating the settlement? Should I tell Mom to get ready to go back to court and fight even harder? Should I get my stuff and leave without a word to anyone so that I’m not a part of this?
Archie walks toward the beach, and I lose the rest of the conversation.
I don’t know what my next move should be, so I do what works best to slow my brain when it’s racing. I open to the design I was working on last night before exhaustion got the best of me, then get my graphite pencil out of my toolbox. Designing and sketching always soothes me. Always has.
The same is true now. As I sketch out the lines and rough pattern of the dress and fill it in with the blue colors of the Murano vase Archie so casually tossed away, my thoughts slow. I gain focus and clarity.
If I leave, I’ll be giving Archie what he wants without a fight, and Mom’s lawyer will have to work up a new settlement while she’s in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. If I confront Archie, he might counterattack and make things worse—plus this truce between us goes away.
As much as I don’t want to be a part of this, I realize pretty quickly that my best option—I think—is to…squat.
