WHO: Emma Belanger and Adrian Pucey WHAT: Dinner and discourse WHEN: Saturday, June 6, 2020 | evening WHERE: Emma's house RATING: Language and some sad; discussion of divorce
Emma knocked back a pain potion, stifled a yawn, and continued transferring everything to the dining table. A flick of her wand sent some of Noah's books and scraps of parchment flying into his room, and another wiped off the crumbs she'd missed on the first go. She rolled her eyes, but there was affection under it. "Teenagers." She smiled and shook her head. Of all of her friends, Adrian was the one who best understood all that the word implied. "Would you believe that Marcel is the cleanest urchin in the place? Maybe he just hasn't learned how to slack off yet. Though I kind of doubt it. He actually folds his laundry and organizes it by color in his drawers. If that's not a sign of a neat freak, I don't know what is."
The last trip from the kitchen brought plates and utensils, and she gestured toward his empty glass. "What's your poison tonight? Water, beer? I've probably got a wine bottle buried somewhere, but if I drink today, I'm going to fall asleep in my plate." As if on cue, she covered another yawn. "So it's on you to finish it if we open it. No offense, my friend, but you look as if you could use it. Rough week?"
"Rough month. Rough few months." Tonight wasn't simply wanting to see an old friend. There was also the need to be out of his house, where the quiet had become the suffocating kind. Adrian mustered a smile, and was relieved when it was actually genuine. So often these days he'd had to suppress so much in the name of professionalism and a crumbling sense of dignity. It edged into something a bit more like a smirk. "I'm offended on behalf of neat freaks everywhere, Emma. We come from very proud stock, and prefer the term delightfully fastidious."
He laughed lightly and put out the variety of pizzas he'd brought. It was far more than two people could ever dream of eating—with tons of meat choices, of course—but he fully intended to leave the rest for her children. "Beer is fine, though. Maybe I'll alternate. Turn into a bit of a sobbing mess on your shoulder." It was a joke, but he half-expected it. What was meant to be a slight pause turned protracted, his movements slowing and jaw working. "Justin and I are getting a divorce."
"Hey, I didn't say it was bad," Emma said, pointedly serving herself some of the salad she'd brought out before allowing herself any of the pizza. Full moon cravings or not, she'd feel like shit if she didn't get in her veggies. "Must come from his bio father, because it's certainly not from me or Courtney." She snorted at the thought that her ex-wife could have been considered even remotely clean, much less a neat freak. Not that she'd stuck around to see him out of infancy anyway. "Which is not to say I'm a slob, but come on, how do you really keep the place up with three kids? Inquiring minds need to know."
Adrian pointed at himself and adopted a prim look. "Fastidious. Definitely to a fault."
She summoned a can of beer from the fridge and poured herself a glass of water. Already those few utilitarian spells were weighing on her, but walking to get it would do the same, so it didn't exactly matter. She laughed at his tease, but her expression went immediately flat and her eyes wide at his confession. That she hadn't been expecting. "You're—oh my god, Adrian." She reached across the table to put a hand on his. "How are you holding up? Do the kids know yet?"
It took a moment for him to answer, because just that simple touch was enough to make his throat go tight. Adrian nodded. "They do. We told them right away, as soon as we knew for certain. English sensibilities, and all. Margot didn't seem terribly surprised. Elliott's gone quiet. Well, quieter. He might as well be non-verbal now. And Hazel is being an optimist about the whole thing and is looking forward to having two of everything: birthdays, summer holidays, Christmases. If we were back home, I have no doubt she'd be in my house." The wry amusement on his face faltered, and he began turning the unopened can between his hands. "Margot's been out on her own for about a year now, so she's all right, but the other two have been staying with Justin's father. I can only assume that's where Justin's been. I haven't asked. Bravery was never my hallmark."
Emma nodded in understanding. She knew anyone else might have had a thousand questions about why things had gone wrong or how Adrian wouldn't know where his soon-to-be ex was, but she knew all too well how these things could go. All three of hers had been different, and for the first time she had enough perspective on her own experience to at least be glad she could offer her friend support right now.
"You don't have to be brave. You have every right to be hurt or confused or relieved or angry and any other emotion you want. If you want to rant and scream, go for it, or if you'd rather be quiet and not talk about it at all, or anything in between." She squeezed his hand and then drew hers back, going straight for the sausage pizza. "And if Elliott needs a friend outside the family, you know Noah and Gaby would love to see him." She didn't need to point out just how much experience her kids had with divorce; it wasn't exactly a point of pride. "Marcel, too, probably, but that might be a bit much for him right now."
He finally popped the tab on his beer after eating a couple of bites of salad that he couldn't really taste. Of all of his admittedly small—and probably shrinking, at this point—circle of friends, Emma was the best equipped to really get what this was like and sympathise more deeply than most. He took a swallow, but didn't give in to the temptation to drink the whole thing in a single go even though it was a strong one. "Would you mind asking them if they would? You don't have to tell them about what's going on, and I don't want them to feel pressured. If they don't want to, it's absolutely fine."
Adrian sighed and leaned back in his seat and drew his hand down his face. "I feel like so much of this is on me. I get so focussed on my work and on the careers of my clients, and I don't even know the names of any of Elliott's friends. He has them, I know he does, but I've been the absolute shite father who can't be arsed to remember them. And, Salazar forgive me, but it's the same for Margot and Hazel. I could tell you all about parts of their lives: favourite colors, the best stuffies in their collection, what they dream about. All of it right up until my agency took off, and I let my attention shift." He laughed, cold and bitter. "The Magic Thief may have been how we started, but… here's where I insert something glib about the thief of time, but I just don't have the wherewithal to make it into a pretty speech right now. It's no wonder— Sorry, no. I won't drag you into that part."'
"There's no pressure, believe me. You know Gaby thinks Elliot is cute, right?" She smiled at that, remembering all too well what it was to be a teenager with a crush. Hers hadn't turned out well, but she'd mostly made peace with it, and she could appreciate it in her children. "My only fear is that Noah might overwhelm him with chatter, but sometimes that's what the quiet ones need anyway."
Emma took a few bites of her pizza and washed it down with the water, but otherwise she was entirely focused on Adrian's tale. When he seemed to have gotten it all out, she said, "I won't tell you you're wrong to think those things, because you're the only one who can find the truth of it. This sort of thing has a tendency to put a spotlight on your priorities. Only...give yourself a little grace, alright? Try to head off the internal critic, if you can. He won't do you any favors right now, while emotions are so high. Also keep in mind that teenagers are weirdly private sometimes. It's possible it would be like this no matter what your job was like. I've long since resigned myself to not knowing anything important about Gaby until about two weeks after the fact, unless she wants money." She offered him a sympathetic smile. "Like I said, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell me, but if you're only holding yourself back for my sake, don't. I barely know Justin, so what I care about right now is giving you an outlet if you want it, and giving you and your kids a safe place when you need it. You may think the worst of yourself right now, but let me think the best of you. It's the least I can do."
In all the ways that truly counted, Emma was far wiser than he was, and he would be the first one to admit it. He'd come from a moneyed, privileged background, and, while he'd walked away from all of it after the war for a man he'd fallen deeply in love with, some things were just engrained. Even now, there were certain things he'd simply expected about his life, and now they were crumbling around his head. Adrian took in a shaking breath and managed another couple of bites before admitting defeat. She was right. The voice that was loudest in his head was the one that highlighted his mountain of failures. But drowning it out was another matter entirely—a herculean effort he was far too tired to undertake right then. He managed to drag a smile into place, small but grateful. "I would love to lie to us both and say I had no intention of dumping this on you when I came over, but…" His sigh ended in a wry sound of amusement. The concept of what he should be holding back twisted and twisted in his head, until it wormed its way past his throat and tongue and forced its way into the cold light of day. "He fell out of love. With me."
Emma wasn't shocked at the information so much as she was angry on Adrian's behalf. "Is there someone else?" She asked it as delicately as possible, both for Adrian's feelings and out of the knowledge that she had a most definite bias. The sting of Alonzo's betrayal had numbed a bit over the last year, but it wasn't gone. "And what about you? Did you have any inkling it was coming, or is this all a surprise?" She gave him a soft, sympathetic smile. "Feel free to ignore whatever questions you like, but it does help sometimes to talk it out. Believe me, I know."
Adrian scrubbed his hand through his hair and then leaned his arms on the table. "If there is, I don't want to know. Even then, I don't think it would be why. But, with the benefit of hindsight, the signs were all there, so it was a surprise that really wasn't. We never really fought, either. It all just devolved into polite conversations about our days and long stretches of silence filled with all the things we should have screamed at each other." He gave a short, harsh laugh. "Not even half a beer in, and I've come over a maudlin poet."
"That's from reading one too many scripts," Emma agreed with a bit of a laugh, hers far softer than his had been. She thoughtfully chewed another bite of pizza before speaking again. "You've officially outstripped my experience, then. I haven't yet added 'quiet dissolution' to my divorce repertoire. Maybe I'm just the fighting type." She shrugged. It didn't matter right now anyway; this was about Adrian. "Has it been long enough that you've figured out the details? Is everything filed?"
"Entirely overrated, and I'm afraid the only fighting I ever do is for my clients. Even back in the school Quid days I was never brought up on fouls." When he laughed again, it wasn't nearly as bitter. He drank a little more, but then set down the can and pushed it away from himself resolutely. Despite what he'd said earlier, he had no intention of getting sloshed in his friend's home. And since his default setting for breathing was to sigh, he did that again. "It's completely uncontested, so it's only taken a couple of weeks. The only thing we still need to finalize is the joint custody. With both of them being in school, it's actually a bit easier—an even split of the summer and winter holidays, and alternating parent visit weekends. See? Hazel was on the money about two of everything. If nothing comes up, I should be a divorced father of three by the end of next week. Huzzah!"
"I'd never call a divorce 'clean,' but I have to admit that sounds about as close to it as it could be. From a legal standpoint, anyway. I don't think it's possible for it to be uncomplicated in your head, even if you see it coming or have experience." Emma stabbed another bite of salad, then piled on a few more pieces of lettuce until she had a big mouthful. All the better to get it down so she could get to the meat. "Have you figured out housing things? You know that you and-or the kids are always welcome here if you need it in transition. We can make a real slumber party out of it. Blanket forts are optional, but highly encouraged."
He laughed, and enjoyed the way it filled his chest before the ache settled in again. "I might take you up on it. I never knew the joy of a blanket fort, and I have a feeling that says a great deal about my childhood." Glancing at his plate, he pulled to closer and examined what was left of his pizza. Not even the real estate was an issue, and it just seemed sad that the dissolution of his marriage was just as simple as this. No fighting. No epic court battles. Just a sad whimper and then silence. "I have a place in L.A., really close to the WW gates. Justin's getting the New York brownstone. Can't get much more distant than that."
Adrian smiled sadly. "It's for the best. I'd rather not randomly bump into him, or anyone we know, when I'm taking a client to brunch or something. New summer, new me, or some rubbish like that. And if I'm perfectly petty, I'm very glad that you're my friend. I would've fought rather viciously for you if you'd been a mutual mate. Possibly harder than I fought the divorce. Definitely harder."
Emma refrained from mentioning that client lunches in Wizzywood proper still had a good chance of running into fellow players; they could navigate that bridge when they came to it. "Further proof that we both have great taste in friends, at least," she said with a far brighter answering smile. If they hadn't had the table between them, she'd have given him a rather fierce hug, but she pocketed that for after dinner. "So how about we shelve this topic for now and move on to happier subjects. Don't tell me you don't have them, because you do, even if it doesn't feel like it. I'll tell you about my latest fashion ventures, and you tell me about those wicked Star Ministry contracts you're going to be negotiating, and we'll only circle back around to the unfun topics if you decide you want it. Deal?"
A warm feeling stole through Adrian's chest, and he picked up his pizza again. Tonight was just what he needed, and he wondered if Emma knew how grateful he was. "As someone who knows a thing or two about the art of the deal, I'd say that was the best one. Cheers, love."