I needed money.
The judge approved the divorce from my money-wasting ex. She didn't allow me to divorce the debt he racked up. I will never forget her exact words:
"Ms. Kearne, the court has read your statements of fact indicating your lack of involvement in the decisions to purchase the boat, the vacations, the expansive wine collection, and the lavish dinners. While we understand the concept of a 'sunk cost', the court finds that this does not absolve you of liability for the debt accumulated for these purchases. We therefore hold you responsible for one half of the ninety-thousand dollars of credit card debt."
Repaying forty-five thousand dollars of debt at twenty six percent interest added a thousand dollars to my monthly expenses when I was living paycheck to paycheck and happy to add fifty bucks to my savings at the end of the month.
I was lucky she didn't consider the house I inherited from my father a marital asset when he passed away during the proceeding. I at least had a place to live. But now I owed property taxes and the creditors were out of patience with my low and late payments. The bank didn't like my credit enough to refinance my house. If the tax man, or my creditors, or both, put a lien on my home, I'd be out on my ass with no hope of finding a safe place to live with what I could afford.
So, I needed money, and I needed it faster than I could think of a legal way to earn it. My parents were both gone. I was an only child, and what family I did have was not in a position to gift or lend the fifty thousand I would need to keep everyone off my back.
That left me with Alistair.
It is helpful to know at this point that I hate Alistair. He knows I hate him. His family owned three farm equipment distributors and had their names plastered over everything in town. The Vandenberg Recreation Center hosted every youth basketball, volleyball, pickleball, wrestling, and tennis competition. Vandenberg Park had the only public beach along the river snaking its way through our county. Vandenberg Theater hosted plays, movies, and concerts, all generously sponsored by the Vandenberg Arts Foundation.
In other words, they weren't just rich, they were wealthy. Names on buildings wealthy.
They also wanted their kids to know they were rich and required them to attend public schools with all of us normal, poor folk. Those of us who knew the only way out of this small farming community was with looks, talent, or jail. My looks let me leave. My inability to recognize an idiot asshole brought me back.
Alistair knew he was rich by the second grade. The teachers gave Alistair and his younger sister, Anabelle, all the attention and support they needed to excel. Kids bent over backwards to be their best friends, or love interest, because those who didn't try regretted it.
I was an exception.
My dad was a simple man. He didn't have the brain to amount to much in life, but he was kind, brave, and as generous as his means allowed. One day, his bravery saved the life of Alistair's father, Rutherford, when an enormous backhoe dropped into neutral and rolled towards him as he was attempting to make a sale to my father's boss. Dad saw the threat and jumped into action. He tackled Rutherford Vandenberg to the ground moments before the backhoe rolled past, but not before running over my father's leg, breaking it just above the ankle.
Rutherford was visibly annoyed and was about to scream at my father for dirtying his suit when he heard the men in his crew shouting as they scrambled to secure the vehicle. Rutherford's anger transformed to gratitude, and he insisted on paying the medical bills, and my father's lost wages during recovery. My father became a trusted member of Rutherford's service team once he was able to walk again.
We were often guests of the Vandenbergs' when they hosted holiday parties, grand openings, or any other special occasion, even some with just family in attendance. He knew my father's limits and never expected more from him than he was capable of, and never disparaged him for things he could not do. Rutherford Vandenberg was a great man, and remained generous to my family until he died my final year in high school.
Alistair, conversely, was a spoiled brat. He hated that someone like me was at his birthday party and never brought more than a homemade card. When I started to fill out a dress and draw the attention of the boys in school, he hated that his dad would not let him date me just to discard me, like he did to all the other girls in school he knew would never be with for the long run.
Inheriting his family business made him worse. It was a blessing when he left for college, only returning for the summers. I thought I was finally rid of him when my ex swept me off my feet on a girls' trip to the coast that I decided to never return from.
Now, Alistair was the only person I could think of to help in my current situation. I picked up the phone and dialed the only number I knew.
"Vandenberg residence," a familiar voice answered.
"Mary, is that you? It's Lisa Kearne," I said, recognizing the Vandenberg's long-term head of household staff.
"Lisa, it's been ages!" she exclaimed. I was glad to hear the fondness in her voice. "I was sorry to hear about your father. He was such a lovely man."
"Thank you, Mary, he appreciated your friendship, too," I replied. I instinctively began pulling on the ear lobe of my ear not attached to the phone. A nervous habit I developed pouring over the stack of bills each night attempting to create a plan to pay everyone I owed.
"Is there something I can help you with, Lisa?" Mary asked.
"I was hoping to discuss a problem I have with Alistair," I said. I felt my face burn hot with embarrassment and hoped that didn't convey in my voice.
"Mr. Vandenberg is not available at the moment," Mary replied. "If you give me a number to reach you, I'm sure he'll call at his first opportunity."
Mary had a sixth sense for recognizing when someone wanted the Vandenberg's money and knew how to politely redirect or delay someone trying to make their pitch. I'd seen her do it hundreds of times. This was my first time being on the receiving end of it.
"That would be kind of you," I replied, knowing that was my only option. I gave her my number. "It was nice talking to you again, Mary."
"It's always great to hear your voice, Lisa," she said. "I'll be sure Mr. Vandenberg knows you called. Good-bye."
I hung up, knowing she would honor her word and let Alistair know I called for him. I did not allow any hope he would actually return my call.
Walking to the kitchen, I opened the fridge and grabbed one of the few bottles left of my half of the ridiculous wine collection we'd accumulated. A nice Napa chardonnay. I don't remember finishing the bottle.
The next morning, I woke to my phone ringing from the living room. I usually charged it overnight on my nightstand. I didn't remember climbing into bed. I didn't remember removing my clothing, but I saw the trail leading back out to the living room, towards my ringing phone.
My head throbbed as I sat up. I steadied myself on the side of bed before taking my first step. I wanted to reach the phone before it went to voicemail. I stumbled as quickly as I could in my hangover fog, picked the phone up off the floor on what was, for me, the fourth ring. I didn't recognize the number, but it was local.
"This is Lisa," I said, not quite recognizing my own voice.
"Lisa, hi, Alistair," he said, much too loudly for my current state.
"Alistair, great to hear from you," I replied, collapsing onto the couch. "Thank you for returning my call."
"How could I not?" he asked. Was that sarcasm I heard? Or did he recognize he had an opportunity to finally exert the dominance over me his father never allowed?
"Do you think we could meet for coffee, or lunch?" I was in no condition to make my request right now, but I instinctively knew not to ask for something like a dinner that could be construed as a romantic overture.
"I can meet you at the Brisk Brew in about twenty minutes, if that works for you," he said. The confidence in his voice annoyed me more than my ex-husband's excuses.
"I'm not sure I can make that work," I said, looking down at my naked body and wondering if he would hear me if I turned my head to vacate what was left of last night's wine churning in my stomach.
"I'm afraid I won't have another opportunity until next week," he said, clearing his throat. I knew it was a lie. Clearing his throat when he lied was a tell he had since grade school. It was like his body was trying to cleanse itself whenever he said something it knew was false.
"Can I come to your office, maybe?" I was throwing him a bone. Meet him where he felt most powerful.
"What's this about?" he asked, and I knew I had to come clean.
"I'm in a financial bind I was hoping to get your opinion on," I said, stretching the truth a little. I tried to stroke his ego. "With my father gone, you were the first person I considered for advice."
"How much do you need?" he asked, seeing straight through my ruse.
"More than I have," I replied and quickly added, "I'm not looking for a handout. I truly want advice."
"How much do you owe?" he asked. He wasn't going to let me end the conversation without a number.
"A little over fifty thousand," I told him.
Alistair exhaled a high pitch whistle. "That's a lot of money. I can understand why you called me."
"I'm sorry to bother you," I said, feeling like I'd probably just fully burned a bridge to the ground I'd ignited when I wouldn't let him touch my breasts as teenagers.
"I really have no one else to seek advice from," I continued, intentionally not asking for money. If he was going to pay off my debt, I wanted it to be his idea, not a request from me. I needed the money to be a gift. I did not want to be indebted to Alistair.
"Can you meet me this evening?" he asked. "The recreation center lets me in after it's closed so I can exercise in private. If you meet me there at ten this evening, we can discuss your situation."
"I think I can make that work", I replied. I allowed myself to entertain a sliver of hope. "Ten this evening, Vandenberg Recreation Center."
"Yes," he said. "And dress for exercise. I hate doing it alone."
He ended the call before I could respond.
I arrived at the recreation center at nine-thirty and parked in the last spot of the first row, under a tree. I was not going to be late for this meeting and my father always said: 'On time means fifteen minutes early'. I wanted to be early for 'on time'.
The posted closing time for the center was nine in the evening. Most of the lights in the building were already off when I arrived, and I watched the final two employees exit the building, locking the door behind them, around 9:45.
I was the only car in the unlit parking lot. I was beginning to feel like Alistair had sent me here as a joke when a black Mercedes sedan pulled up to the building two minutes before ten. Alistair, and a tall, fit man I'd never seen before, exited the back of the vehicle. They were both dressed in shorts, a t-shirt, and high-top athletic shoes. The unidentified man was carrying a basketball he dribbled as they walked.
Alistair paused, looking around the entryway before surveying the darkened parking lot. When he saw my car, I opened the door, the interior dome light activating. He waved when he saw it was me.
"Lisa, glad you could make it!" he shouted, motioning me to join him. "Let's go inside."
I caught up to them as Alistair slipped a key into the entry door, unlocking it.
"Jason, this is a childhood friend of mine, Lisa," Alistair said, holding open the door. "Lisa, this is Jason. He was on the basketball team with me at Princeton."
"Nice to meet you," I said, nodding his direction as I slipped past them into the unlit building.
"You as well", Jason said, entering behind me. He walked past me and turned on the hallway lights.
