Chapter 24: Michelle’s Solution

November 7, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“You do know this sushi isn’t the ONLY thing which needs to be eaten today, right?!” Molly teased.

We were sitting in the NIKA loft apartment eating Japanese food which I’d had delivered.

“And now the TRUE reason you wanted to have a private lunch with me today is revealed!”

“If you didn’t know THAT, you’re even more hopeless than the average guy!”

“I might have had an idea,” I smirked.

“Seriously, though, I’m glad you could take time out of your insane schedule to spend a couple of hours with me today.”

“And I’m glad your CPA practice gives you some flexibility with your schedule. Mine has just been intense since the last time we got together.”

“Want to hear something funny?”

“Sure.”

“Before a couple of months ago, my attitude towards sex was basically ‘whatever’. Now, I have this itch which is in severe need of constant scratching!”

I nodded, “I’ve observed that change in perception in the past.”

“And are you going to do anything about it?” Molly asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Does the beaver need a kiss?” I smirked.

“That would be a good start!”

“And what would be a good finish?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can come up with something!”

We finished our sushi and shrimp tempura, downed the last of the green tea, then went to the bedroom where we spent ninety glorious minutes deciding what the best ending might be. After a final, long, luxurious screw, we lay together, cuddling.

“Can I ask you what might be a weird question?”

“Sure,” I replied.

“Does it feel different to do it with me than with another girl?”

“Yes. Everyone is unique. Why?”

“I was just curious. So you like the variety?”

“I suppose that’s part of it,” I said. “But remember when we talked about bonding? The emotional and spiritual side is much more important than the physical side.”

“And you like how it feels with me?”

“I do. But, and I know I’m repeating myself, the emotional and spiritual connection is what makes it good.”

“Not love or romance?”

“Not for me, anyway. For some people, that’s the most important part. Do you feel like that’s missing?”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No, I don’t think so. You’re my first lover, so I’m not quite sure about how it’s really supposed to be.”

“How it’s really supposed to be is however it makes you happy. Obviously, there has to be at least some level of agreement between you and your partner, or it won’t last beyond the ‘new toy’ stage, as some of the girls have called it.”

“You mean, like, you want to play with it as often as you can, but then it kind of just goes into the jumble of toys in the toy box?”

“More like a special toy that gets extra attention, but not nearly as much as when you first got it.”

“Can I ask you about the best sex you ever had?”

“No, because I don’t make those comparisons. Think how dangerous that could be. You could really hurt someone pretty badly that way.”

“I suppose I can see that.”

“We should probably shower,” I said.

We reluctantly got out of bed and went to the bathroom to shower together. Once we were clean, we dried and dressed, then straightened the apartment and changed the sheets on the bed.

“Same time in two weeks?” she asked.

“This does seem to work better than me driving up to Wisconsin on Sundays, though we don’t have as much time.”

“I’d still like you to do that occasionally, but my Tuesdays are usually open because it’s the one night I work. I’d come down every week, but I’m not sure your schedule really permits that.”

“We do have to talk and do mentoring at SOME point,” I reminded her.

“Why not while we eat? Or while we’re cuddling in between.”

“Either of those works for me!”

With the apartment straightened up, I walked Molly to her car, then walked back to the NIKA offices.

“Have a good lunch?” Kimmy asked when I walked in.

“I did.”

“You know you can have ME for lunch anytime you want!”

“Give it up, Kimmy!” Penny laughed. “He’s just no fun anymore!”

“Penelope!” I said sternly, but then joined the girls in laughing.

“Ted Farley called for you while you were out,” Kimmy said. “Do you want me to get him on the phone?”

“Please.”

I went to my desk and sat down, and less than a minute later, Kimmy put the call through.

“Patrick says you want us to shake the bushes to see if we can turn up anything on your break-in.”

“The idea I had didn’t pan out,” I said. “Katya helped rule that out. Did Patrick tell you what I asked for?”

“He did. Let me reach out to my contacts, including the shady ones, and see what I can turn up for you. I wouldn’t hold my breath, though.”

“I know. This is a longshot, but the police have made zero progress as you know, and they aren’t going to waste one more minute on what, to them, appears to be an unsolvable crime where nothing of value was taken.”

“OK. Give me at least a week, probably two.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

I hung up and pulled up a secure document to make an entry about speaking with Ted Farley, then saved it and closed the editor. With Connie and Anthony eliminated as the ones behind the break-in, all possibilities were open, so when Penny took her usual break around 3:30pm to take a walk with some of her team, I dialed Alec Glass.

“Did anything ever come of that issue where you thought Lisa was being followed?” I asked.

“We’re pretty sure somebody still has her under surveillance. Lisa has someone with her full-time, a female former Army MP I wouldn’t want to mess with.”

“So not the ones from Stripes?” I chuckled.

Alec laughed, “No! She came from your friend at Global Security.”

“So what are you doing?”

“Nothing, really, other than having the bodyguard with her. Why?”

“We had a break-in here at the office. All they did was go through the filing cabinets, my desk, and Elyse’s desk. Nothing appears to have been taken.”

“What kind of records do you keep on site?”

“Just the most recent stuff, and that’s mostly physical timesheets waiting to be billed or billed recently, current payables invoices, that kind of thing. The really important stuff is all on computers, and nothing was taken, and nobody accessed the system during the break-in.”

“You think they might be related?”

“I have no idea. The cops ran out of leads and ideas. Did you report anything?”

“No. First of all, they haven’t done anything that we’re aware of, and second, you can imagine that Lisa wants very little to do with the police right now. She checks in with her PO, but that’s it.”

“May I ask what Lisa is doing these days?”

“She shows property and scouts property, coordinates closings, and things like that. Once she’s finished with her parole, I’ll expand her role a bit, but with the felony conviction, she can never get an SEC license. Or any professional license, really. Even a Real Estate license is probably out of reach.”

“I wish we could have done more in that regard.”

“Steve, she’s out of prison, which we never expected. She’s going to have a relatively easy life, when it comes right down to it. You know I’ll make sure of that.”

“It has to be frustrating,” I said.

“But not nearly as frustrating as seeing your child in prison, or, worse, being in prison.”

“True. Will you let me know if anything changes or anything happens?”

“Sure. Keep me posted as well. If there’s something going on, I want to know about it.”

“Will do.”

We said ‘goodbye’ and hung up. There wasn’t really much else I could do until Ted got back to me. Well, there was ONE thing I could do - worry.

November 8, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“I have copies of the proposed student and teacher handbooks,” I said as we sat down to dinner at Sensei Jim’s house on Wednesday.

“Handbooks? Why?” Jolene asked.

“Advice from an attorney,” Sensei Jim said. “I asked Steve to draw them up because I know he’s had to draw up policies for his company.”

“Policies like what?” Will asked.

“Mainly about adults, teens, and kids, and ensuring we keep everyone safe.”

“Marcia’s mom,” Jolene growled angrily.

“Let’s not make this personal, please,” Sensei Jim said.

“We were lucky,” I said. “The basic policy is that no adult is alone with a child or teen in the dojo. And no romantic relationships are permitted between instructors and students, unless there is a legitimate pre-existing relationship. To give you an example, Will, if your girlfriend were to join the dojo, that wouldn’t be a problem, but if you were to ask Lindsey on a date, it would.”

He blushed slightly, “Uh, she has a boyfriend.”

“Sorry, it was just an example. I wasn’t trying to imply anything.”

“All because Marcia’s mom doesn’t like the fact you have two wives?” Hannah asked.

“That might have been the catalyst,” Sensei Jim said. “But given how much trouble we adults could get into if something were to happen, we need to have clear policies in place.”

“What if both people are over eighteen?” Hannah asked.

“Then you just need to make sure Sensei Jim knows about it so you aren’t involved in their testing.”

“I’m curious,” Therese said. “Why differentiate between children and teens?”

“One of Steve’s hobby horses,” Kara laughed. “He believes teens ought to be treated as adults. You’ve seen how he treats Will and Marcia, right?”

“Yes. And that’s probably part of what upset Marcia’s mom. I think she saw Marcia as a little girl, not a young woman who’s almost seventeen!”

“I agree,” I said. “The other things in the student handbook include the dojo rules, the precepts, the history of our dojo, and a history of our school. I also included pictures of «Shihan» Hiro and «Shihan» Hideki. I also added a section on how to deal with injuries, and how we handle medical clearance, which is a new requirement.”

“Medical clearance?” Jolene asked.

“That was Jessica’s suggestion,” Kara said. “If someone is hurt, they need a doctor’s note to return to the dojo.”

“That will also help with our liability insurance,” Sensei Jim added. “There is also a section which allows me, or whoever is the master of the dojo, to require a new student, or any student for that matter, to have a physical if we’re concerned about their health.”

“That’s a pretty big change, don’t you think?” Jolene asked.

“And when someone decides to sue us, for whatever reason, we’ll be in much better shape,” I said. “It’s a sad fact of life, but it happens. I ran this by three attorneys who, thankfully, reviewed it pro bono.”

I’d shown it to Gwen, Jamie, and Melanie, and all of them had suggestions for changes or additions which I’d incorporated.

“When someone signs up,” Sensei Jim said, “they’ll be given a copy of the handbook. There will be a tear-out page they sign to say they’ve read it and agree to it. All of you will need to read the instructors handbook and sign that you’ve read it. And as I read what Steve has proposed, nothing is going to change because we already do everything. This just shows we have the rules in place and everyone has agreed to them.”

“Part of it is having nearly sixty students,” I said. “Back when I started and there were less than twenty, it was easier for Sensei to know everyone really well. That’s not true now.”

“Which is why we have these dinners,” Sensei Jim said. “Because I DO have to know all of you well. And I want to hear your opinions on these proposed handbooks. Read them over and then come talk to me privately. Your feedback will be incorporated into the final versions.”

“Just you?” Will asked.

“Yes. I’ll work with Steve on any revisions. He did the first draft, so it’s better if someone else does the second draft. We’ll circulate that, then Steve will prepare the final version after you all agree it’s ready to go. Then we’ll have it printed and start distributing it. Now, if Will and Hannah would go to the kitchen, my wife should have dinner ready for you to bring out!”

November 9, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

Jake called just after 11:00am on Thursday morning.

“She came through the surgery just fine, and the doctor assured me that this is effectively a cure.”

“I’m glad. How are YOU holding up?”

“Six years in the Navy in ‘boomers’ didn’t prepare me for anything like this. She told me how you helped her come to terms with it the first time. And about the request she made.”

“Fortunately, you were able to have two wonderful children with her before this happened.”

“We’ll visit you once she’s recovered. I’m thinking after Christmas, at the earliest. She might be a bit too optimistic.”

“Who? Your wife? Never!”

Jake laughed, “You’ve known her a lot longer than I have. And I bless the day you introduced her to me. I’m also very happy you convinced her to end her silly feud with her sister. I never understood what that was about, and Joyce was always vague. I guess it started when they were teenagers?”

“Yes. But that’s all I can say.”

“Oh, I understand completely. They had a very good talk on Wednesday night before the surgery.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Tell her we all love her and wish her a speedy recovery.”

“I will. I’m sure she’ll call you in a week or so.”

“But before then, you and Nancy make sure she gets complete bed rest, as the doctor ordered.”

“I’m on it, Steve! I commanded men on a ballistic missile sub.”

“Yes, you did. But she’s full-blooded Italian, and NOBODY can command her!”

“So true,” he laughed. “Talk to you soon!”

We said ‘goodbye’ and hung up.

That evening, Jessica, Kara, Michelle and I gathered to remember our friend Jorge on the anniversary of his death.

“Are you OK, Jess?” I asked after we finished our memorial service.

“Yes, it’s just hard to think about what happened. And when we do this, it brings back all those memories. But, it brings good ones with bad ones.”

“Hopefully, the bad ones will fade and the good ones will take over,” I said.

“May I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“Perhaps I should leave,” Michelle said.

“No, it’s OK if you stay,” Jessica replied. “I really miss his cuddles; the ones that got me through the roughest moments. The ones that had to substitute for what I could never convince him to do. They were amazing!”

She ran her finger along the frame of Jorge’s photo which was on the memorial shelf next to the others.

“Like Steve’s?” Kara asked carefully.

“No,” Jessica said, shaking her head, “Not better or worse. Different. But it was what I needed. I’d try to ... well, never mind, but he’d wrap his arms around me and hold me, as if protecting me from the world. But, more importantly, he was protecting me from myself. What’s odd, at least in my mind, is that that comfort, and that safety and security, was channeling your love and Steve’s love and the kids’ love. I don’t understand it myself, but, ultimately, it’s why I couldn’t run away.

“The problem was, I didn’t feel as if I could come back, either. I’d say that to Jorge and he’d soothe me and tell me how much everyone here loved me and how all I had to do was ask and you would take me back. I never believed him. And because I didn’t believe him, he died. And that just sucks.”

“Jess,” I said, putting my arm around her, “you didn’t kill him. A drunk driver did. And the very reason I don’t like ‘What if?’ is because there is no way to know what would have happened. Nobody can know. Blame God, or Fate, or the universe, if you must, though I prefer you blame the drunk driver. He was the one responsible. There is simply no excuse for driving under the influence.”

“Which is why you refuse to drive if you’ve had a drink in the last several hours.”

“Yes. I’m extreme about it, but if the limit was 0.0, nobody could guess wrong. If you drink, you don’t drive. Period. And yes, I know about different metabolic rates, which is why I allow two or three hours, PLUS an hour per drink. And that’s if I’m eating. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve violated my rule. And guess what? Permissiveness of the law lets me do that and judge whether I’m sober or not.”

“Says the most extreme libertarian we know!” Kara laughed.

“There is no right to drive intoxicated. It’s the epitome of causing harm. And our friend not being here with us physically is proof of that.”

“I miss him,” Jessica sighed.

“We all do,” I agreed.

Kara and I took her in our arms and held her while she sobbed softly. About ten minutes later we left the ‘Indian’ room so she could get ready for work.

“Will you be OK?” I asked.

She smiled, “Yes. Thank you for doing this. I hope we never stop.”

“We won’t,” I said. “Because we can never forget. That’s the point of the hymn - Memory Eternal. We remember him and he’s here with us in spirit. And THAT, Babe, is part of what gives meaning to our lives and serves as inspiration.”

November 11, 1995, Chicago, Illinois

“Dad?”

“Yes, Michael?”

“Would you sign so I can go to the fire station?”

“For school?”

“Yes. A field trip.”

“Which one? Stuart’s or Tom’s?”

“Tom’s.”

“Did you ask your mom?”

“She knows, Dad! I just want you to sign. Please?”

“Sure.”

He handed me the permission slip which I quickly scanned, printed my name, wrote ‘father’ in the relationship field, scribbled my signature and the date and handed it back to him.

“Thanks!”

He scooted off and I returned to reading The Economist while I cuddled Stephie, who had replaced Ashley who had replaced Birgit over the past hour. I checked my watch and saw it was almost time for karate, so I got up and went upstairs to find my wives who were lounging in bed.

“It’s time for karate practice, you layabouts!” I teased. “Your kids have been up for HOURS!”

“We needed some girl time!” Kara protested.

“Oh sure, and you don’t invite me?” I groused.

“Talking, Tiger! Girl talk!”

“According to our eldest daughter, Daddy gets to hear girl talk because Daddy gets to know everything!”

“Just wait, Snuggle Bear, until she decides to give you play-by-play!”

“Ugh,” I said, making a disgusted face, “I’m sticking with Katt’s dad on that one - there are some things a father just doesn’t need to know!”

“Wimp!” Kara smirked.

“Get out of bed, you sluggards, or we’ll be late!”

They both sighed theatrically, looked at each other, then started laughing. They got out of bed, quickly donned their karate uniforms and we went downstairs to meet Birgit and Michele who were waiting for us. An hour-and-a-half later, we were home, and just after I finished my shower, Melissa arrived for her usual Saturday ‘stress reduction’ session. She’d be going out with the girls, which I thought would help her as well.