HARMONY

Part 21 "I will not cry, she thought..."

Still not completely accepting, or comprehending, the situation she's in, Michelle goes to her brother for help.  He gives her sound advice, but she doesn't seem to want to listen.  

Michelle circled the darkening parking garage to her brother's law firm a third time. She couldn't bring herself to take the left turn that would send her down the ramp and into the marked spaces. Bile bit at her throat. She was barely conscious of her breath. She picked up her phone to call a friend and clicked it off before she dialed a single number.

In a blur, she parked and took the elevator from the ground floor to the top floor suites. Just before the doors peeled open, she smoothed her best suit and ran her fingers through her hair.

Stepping onto the cream carpet, she followed the dark wood panels to the end office.

"Well, hello Michelle," Russ's assistant said. "I didn't know to expect you."

"Is he in?"

"Well, he's in a deposition."

Without another word, Michelle walked past the assistant and straight into Russ's office. It wasn't overly large. Given his salary and position in the firm, it could have been twice the size. She sat in his burgundy leather chair and admired her décor. Her first love, decorating, would have been her profession if she could have made the same salary she made selling real estate.

Each wall in Russ's office had been painted a slightly different shade of rust—accented with a contemporary African motif. She smiled, taking great pleasure in admiring her work. It is a gift, she decided, to be able to blend the darks with the lights, the shapes with the textures and the modern with the antiques. She frowned at the additional family photos his wife added to the shelves in their tacky Target frames. One family photo, I told her. No one really gives a shit what your kids look like.

The assistant teetered nervously in the doorway. "I'll let Russ know you're here."

"Thank you"

"Can I offer you an espresso or sparkling water?"

"I'll take a vodka gimlet straight up."

The assistant gave a nervous giggle. "I'll bring a water and we can pretend."

"It will be our little secret." Michelle's lips twisted in scorn at those who led simple, boring lives of Espresso and sparkling water.

No sooner had the assistant scurried down the hall than Russ appeared. Michelle knew she should stand to greet him with a hug, like families do. Instead he came around and wrapped his arms around her as she sat in his chair.

He smelled of Old Spice, like their dad, and he gave her hug a little extra squeeze, like their mom. He perched his slender six-foot frame on the edge of his desk and Michelle noted his scuffed shoes. Although he was two years younger than she, his silver hair and gentleman's gait made him seem the older brother.

"Good to see you, Shelly," he said. "But, from your message, I have a feeling this is not a social visit."

"Can you close the door?"

He studied her face for a moment and then closed it. She didn't move from his desk chair so he sat in a client's chair in front of his own desk.

The thick silence of so many childhood memories, both painful and pleasant, filled their space. They let the room bring them from their tangled past to this moment—when two people speak without words.

Russ nodded and reached across his desk for the inevitable legal pad. "Okay, Shelly, what's going on?"

I will not cry, she thought as tears dripped off her nose. I will not cry.

"Talk to me."

"I don't even know where to start." She blew her nose. "Chad told me to talk to you about Steve and..." She wiped her eyes. "And the business and..."

"Where's Steve?"

"I don't fucking know." She threw the third wadded up tissue into his zebra stripped trash and reached for a fourth. "He hasn't been home in a week and banks are calling about missed payments and now Chad said the business is out of funding and something about owing money to...I don't know...to everyone." She spun around in the chair to look over the skyline ghosted against the early evening fog. "Chad said to talk to you about bankruptcy."

Russ wrote a few notes. "I'll put you in touch with Sammy. He's the best BK attorney in—"

"No! I want you to do this. I don't want anyone else to know."

The pencil stopped in mid scribble. "If Chad is talking BK, you're probably going to lose everything, Michelle." He waited to see if she absorbed the idea but her body remained perfectly rigid. "Have you told Mom?"

"Told Mom what?"

With a tug, he loosened his tie. "Well, I just thought, if you told her you're in need of some float money, she might help you out."

A small muscle in Michelle's jaw twitched. "She just bought Claire a car and she's put so much into their college trust funds."

Russ nodded. "And if you ask her for a loan, at least until you can touch base with Steve..."

She shook her head. "No." Her hands covered her face. "No, no, I can't. Dad had so much money and he just kept building those third world medical centers to take of other people's children and buying them everything they wanted and be so proud of their little beaded necklaces and finger paintings..." Sobs swallowed her final words.

Russ shifted in his chair and scribbled a few more notes on his pad. "Well, it was their money and they tried to heal the world. What can I tell you?" He handed her another tissue. "What if I talked to Mom?"

She wiped her eyes, blew her nose and took a long drink. "I just can't take a loan from Mom. And I don't think she'd give it to me anyway. It'd just give her a platform to lecture, I don't know, on material capitalism and poor children and quality time and shit like that." She opened up a cupboard door behind Russ's desk. "Don't you have something stronger than water around here?"

"I don't," he said.

She continued pulling open doors and drawers while he patiently tapped his pencil.

"Michelle," he said flatly. "You need to be as clear-headed as possible."

She looked up.

"Do you want me to contact Sammy?" He cleared his throat. "Or Mom."

Michelle stood up and smoothed her skirt. "Sammy."