Family Values

Another ball of paper flew through the air, hitting Peter in his already bruised face. Andy was perched in the tree outside his mother’s house, the once thick stack of divorce papers in his hands receding with every paper ball. Andy ripped another page, wadding it up in his hand.

“Andy, you need to come down here. Right this second!” Janice wailed. She was annoyed, her face turning an odd shade of purple.

“I’m not coming down. Not until you say you’re not getting divorced!”

Peter shot Janice a pointed look, she rolled her eyes.

Peter tried to logic with him, “Andy, this is ridiculous. Come down from there before you hurt yourself. I’m going to stay for dinner, just like old times.”

“I have the papers, and I’m not coming down until you promise that you won’t sign them!”

“Andy, it’s not that simple!”

“Yeah, it is. Don’t sign them, and I’ll come down!” Andy threw another ball at them.

Peter ran his hands down his face, stopping to rub at the mounting tension in his neck. Earlier that day he’d gotten into his first fight and it was in the parking lot of a ballet school, of all places. He went to pick up Andy from dance class. Andy just had to choose ballet, not baseball, hockey or soccer, but ballet. Not only was his son a dancer, but he was a good dancer. He would point his toes and stretch his limbs so confidently that earned him the nickname “Dandy Andy” from his instructors, and Peter wanted to die a little every time he heard it.

Today, after class had finished and Peter was told how "dandy" Andy had done in class, he walked back to the car, Andy and his gigantic duffle bag in tow, but en route, one boisterous idiot, Jennifer's dad, Pat, decided it was the perfect time to make some disgustingly lascivious comment about Janice and boom! Peter's fist was making direct contact with his large, veiny, bulbous nose. Peter shook out his knuckles, focusing on the pain in his hand and Jennifer’s dad took the opportunity to hit Peter in the face. Peter took one more swing and he watched Jennifer’s dad fall back, red trickling down his face. He turned back to Andy, who stood mouth agape and eyes wide. Peter ushered him into the car.

“Now, we’re not going to tell Mommy about this, okay?”

“She’s going to want to know why you’ve got a black eye.”

“Shit.”

Peter examined his face in the rear-view mirror. Sure enough, his eye was black and blue.

Andy sat silently in the passenger seat as Peter drove him home. He debated letting Andy go in alone, but Janice would know something was wrong, and Andy would probably tell her anyways. He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell, greeting Janice with a sheepish smile as Andy dragged his bag inside.

“Daddy needs some ice and a Band-Aid.”

Janice looked him over before asking, “What happened?”

“A small misunderstanding”

He had been living apart from Janice and Andy for about three weeks and Andy wasn’t taking it very well. He was only six and barely grasp the idea of marriage, let alone divorce. Peter noticed that Andy had been clinging to him more than ever, and it all started with the requests to pick him up from ballet class. He figured out that Peter wouldn’t let him carry his impossibly heavy duffle-bag filled with his dance equipment all the way up the driveway on his own, so Peter would inevitably have to partake in some sort of small interaction with Janice at least three times a week. Their conversations were amicably awkward and fixated on the one common denominator they had left: Andy.

“How was he today?”

“Good. Great. He did good.”

“Oh, okay.”

Peter would pass the duffle like a baton, give Andy a pat on the head and be on his way.

Today was different. He sat on the sofa with a baggie of ice against his face in what was his former home. Janice was sitting across from him, separated by the coffee table, awaiting an explanation. This was the longest encounter he had with her face-to-face in weeks. He had no malice towards her, it was just exhausting trying to have a normal conversation with someone you’ve been married to for nearly ten years once the marriage is over. There was no dramatic conclusion, no tear-stained aria, but simply an agreement that a divorce was needed.

The conversation happened a few months ago and began with a verbal acknowledgement of what Peter already guessed was happening. Janice fleetingly admitted that she may have had one too many drinks at her holiday party and she may have found herself under the mistletoe with Pat, Jennifer’s Dad from dance class. She may have told him that Peter was an inattentive, often absent, incredibly selfish lover, but she swore it was an accident and it was in the presence of alcohol and it was a mistake.

Peter felt as if something snapped inside his chest. He started to suspect something was wrong about just after New Year’s Day. Janice started to look down at the floor when she spoke to him, she went to bed early and without a word. She started picking up Andy from ballet later, waiting ten minutes to the end of class before she left the house. Peter didn’t pay enough attention to her to figure it out. He was the one to say it first, “I think we need a divorce.”

It took about a week before Peter realized that he didn’t blame Janice completely. He worked long hours and often found himself in lonely hotel rooms when he travelled for weeks at a time. He spent his weekends crunching numbers and making graphs. He couldn’t remember the last night he spent with his wife. He would sit in the glow of his laptop in front of facts and figures until the early hours of the morning. He would skulk into his bedroom and slip into the bed next to his sleeping wife. Most of their conversations consisted of the weather, bills, and Andy. Peter thought that this was natural. They’d said everything they could to each other in ten years. Apparently, he was wrong and Janice needed more from him. He let her down, and in turn, she let him down.  He was at fault as much as she was.

Janice breathed a sigh of relief, “Yeah, I think we need a divorce, too.” And just as quickly as that conversation happened, Peter packed his life into boxes and suitcases and moved out.

Andy joined Peter and Janice in the living room, bouncing in his seat, as he recounted every moment of the brawl to his unamused mother.

"Jennifer’s Dad said something mean about you, Mommy! Daddy wouldn't tell me what it meant, but I knew it was mean because Jennifer is mean and that must mean her daddy's mean. And Daddy hit him right in the face! But then Jennifer's dad hit Daddy in his face. Then Daddy hit him again and he fell down! Daddy wasn't bleeding, so he won!"

“Did he really? Jennifer’s Dad, huh? Why’d you hit him?”

Why did he do it? Peter opened and closed his mouth like a fish on a line, searching for precisely what he wanted to say, finally settling on, "Andy shouldn't have to hear his mother talked about in such a manner. So, I decided to make him stop talking." Boiled down to its bare bones, that was exactly why he had done it, but really, there was some small part of him that blamed Jennifer’s dad, or Pat, for his marriage ending. It was some primal instinct to stake his claim and assert his dominance. The image of Jennifer's seedy dad playing house with Janice was simply unacceptable, so Peter let him know that by jamming his fist into his nose with a satisfying crunch. Peter smirked as he flexed his bruised stiff, fingers. He knew for sure that the idiot would think twice before opening his mouth again.

Peter smirked and Andy caught him. "Don't you think Daddy was a hero today?"

"Andy, go wash up for dinner."

Peter watched Andy plod upstairs before turning to Janice.

“I should go, I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“Wrong idea? Peter, he’s six. I think he understands. Oh, and speaking of divorce, Frank dropped off the papers, they’re in the kitchen. You want to take a look at them?”

Peter sighed, “Janice, he’s been trying to get us to talk for weeks now. Why do you think he’s asked me to pick him up from practice? I’m going to get going before he comes down.”

“Peter, you need to at least say good-bye. Do you see how happy he was to see you here? In your spot? I haven’t seen him smile like that in so long. At least wait until he comes down before you go.”

Peter stood up and walked to the kitchen. “Fine. Where did you say the papers were? I can give them a read and sign them while I wait.”

“They should be on the counter.”

“Are you sure? They’re not here.”

Janice joined him at the counter, “Damn it, Peter, open your eyes. They’re right -”

Peter smirked at her, “You were saying?

Janice’s followed an imaginary trail to the door, it was wide open and a sneaker-clad foot dangled out of the oak tree in the front yard.

“Andy!”

Peter’s eyes snapped to the door, watching as Andy tore sheet by sheet of the divorce papers, balling them up and pelting them at the lawn.

“I heard you guys say you’re going to sign them. You can’t!”

Peter and Janice dashed out the front lawn, begging Andy to stop, but Andy refused. Peter, after massaging as much tension as he could out of his neck, took off his dress shoes and he marched towards the trunk, determined to get Andy down. He placed his socked-feet in the grooves of the bark, climbing as high as he could until he could grab Andy’s torso. Just as Peter reached for him, Andy threw another ball, hitting Janice squarely in the chin and stunning her silent.

Peter started to laugh, pointing at the expression on Janice’s face. Andy looked up at Peter, following suit, his uncontrollable giggles making Peter laugh harder. The tree branches shook with laughter, Janice eventually giving in, too.

Peter perched next to Andy like a giant flightless bird. He put his arm around Andy, pulling him into his side and taking the remaining divorce papers out of his vice-grip. He watched the two of them, red in the face, smiling. Peter felt as if it were the first time he had ever seen them truly happy. It had been a long time. He looked at the stack of papers in his hand, flipping to the last page. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and scribbled his name at the bottom, tossing it to Janice.

Andy looked at Peter, face still red from the laughter. “You signed it?”

“Yeah, buddy, I signed it.”

Andy pulled away from Peter and started to cry. “Why?”

“Andy, you see how happy you just were? None of us have felt that way in a long time. And we felt that way because of you. Your mother and I can’t make each other happy anymore. You understand? Andy, you’ll never not have both of us in your life, but if we’re together, we won’t be happy. Do you remember a time when we all laughed like that? Laughed until your belly hurt?”

Andy scrunched up his face in thought. He shook his head “no”.

“This is why we need to be apart. Your mother and I aren’t happy by ourselves. We need you. And we don’t want you to be mad at us for not being happy, okay? It’s better this way.”

Andy sat silent for a while, letting Peter put his arm around him once more. Janice watched, her fingers over her lips as she waited for Andy to react. He slithered down the trunk of the tree after a moment and started picking up the paper balls that littered the lawn, stopping to smooth them out over his thigh. He handed them to his mother, as he walked inside the house, leaving Janice clasping the crumpled papers and Peter in the tree.

Janice called up the Peter, “So, what now?”

“You did say dinner was ready, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You mind if I stay?”

“I guess I can set another plate.”

“Oh, and do you still have the ladder in the garage? I don’t think I can get down from here. I’m still a little sore from the fight.”

“Hey, about that.”

“Yeah?”

“What did Pat say?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He won’t be saying much for a while.”