Our Little Secret Ch. 03

Chapter 3 – A New Reality

The NTSB decided not to re-interview Joel Winkman, so he was free to go his own way. Darryl McNoughton, the NTSB gopher, gave Joel the phone number for American Airlines' special services office. He told Joel to call that number to book his flight home. There were no direct flights from Richmond to Boston, so he flew out of Richmond at 7:30 that evening through LaGuardia in New York, and landed in Boston at 10:30, all at American Airlines' expense, of course.

When he arrived at the Richmond airport, Joel was surprised to learn they had booked him in a business class seat, complete with access to the lounge. While Joel waited in the business class lounge, he saw himself on TV. CNN was showing highlights from the press conference. The centerpiece of the press conference was Paul Granger's detailed explanation of the events that occurred during the flight, followed by an edited account of Joel's contribution to the flight, followed by Joel's declaration he was not a hero. It was a sideshow to the much bigger story – the fact that the aircraft had been intercepted by some ball of light that rendered thirty eight women and girls unconscious for eight to twelve hours. The story received nonstop coverage for two days. Pundits were making ridiculous speculations about what the ball of light actually was, and why only women passed out.

On the plane, the flight attendants smiled and fawned over Joel, making sure his business class accommodations were to his satisfaction. Clearly news had spread quickly about his role in the earlier stricken flight. Even the pilots came back to say hello on both his flights.

At La Guardia he checked his email. There was no reply from his ultimatum email to Derrek, not that Joel was expecting one until the next day. Sam Barrington from the Boston Times called again and left a message. Joel ignored it.

When he landed at Boston, Joel was torn between going home to Valerie, or stay in a hotel. Her threat to publicize his voice mail clinched the decision. He took an Uber home to see what damage control he could effect.

He opened the door to his apartment near midnight, which was an accomplishment in itself – he had wondered if she might have changed the lock. Rather than a honey I'm home approach, he walked quietly into the bedroom where she was sleeping.

Valerie rustled under the blankets, and then sensing him in the room, she suddenly sat up. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she called out.

"Valerie, I just want to talk."

"Get out!" she yelled, pointing to the door, and then stood up. "Get the fuck out!" she screamed.

"Val," Joel said with stern, controlled voice, "please calm down and stop yelling."

Val sat back in her bed. "Get out," she said quietly.

"Look, just listen, okay?" Joel pleaded gently. "Just listen to me, and then we can talk. Okay?" She fell silent, so he continued. "Val, you're not happy in this marriage. Anyone can see that. And I'm not happy. I'm not proud of leaving that voice mail this morning, but I knew this press conference was going to change everything. It turns out I was wrong. It didn't just change things, it ... I don't know ... transformed the entire universe around me. Instead of being big, it was massive."

Joel paused, wondering what to say next while Val waited silently. "I didn't want our marriage to be about this, because we both know it wouldn't last. You might not believe this, but I want you to be happy. And we both know I am not the man who will make you happy." Her eyes welled up. "If I didn't do what I did this morning, you and I would have been swept up in this whole press conference aftermath thing, and in two years, we'd be right back to where we are today, and we would have suffered two more years in a broken marriage."

"You know what I'm talking about," he continued. "I think deep down you know this isn't working. Did I treat you well when I left that voice mail?" Joel asked socratically. "No, but as I explained, I was certain we had to make a break now – before we get caught up in this hero bullshit – and it is bullshit, Val – I'm not a hero. What kind of hero would leave a voice mail like that?" Tears were running down Val's cheeks now.

Joel waited for her to speak, but she stayed silent. "Okay," he said, "your turn. What do you think? But can we please keep it calm."

Val took in a deep breath and wiped the tears off her cheeks. "I agree," she nodded. "I'm not happy, and maybe divorce is the right way to go, but Jesus fucking Christ, Joel – a voice message? You really hurt me Joel," she sobbed lightly. "You ripped my heart out!"

"I know," Joel nodded. "I am sorry I hurt you, but Val, you were hurting already. We both were. I guess I see it like pulling off a Band-Aid. Better fast and be over with it, than slow and making it hurt over a long time. If I came home some big hero, and then said I want a divorce, it would have been ten times harder, ten times more painful, and ten times more confusing. And if I didn't say anything, you and I would be unhappy for years to come. You may never believe me, but I honestly did this because this was the least painful way. I hope someday you will see that and forgive me."

"So," Val asked in a neutral voice, "did the pretty stewardess fuck the hero for saving her life?" There was no venom in her tone.

"It wasn't like that," Joel soothed. No, silly, her sister gave me a hummer. "It was professional, respectful, even honorable." It was one honorable blowjob, that's for sure. Oh, and I did an undead doctor, too.

"So what?" Val asked. "This is it? Goodbye?"

"Well," Joel considered, "like the Band-Aid metaphor, I think it's better if we do this quickly instead of letting it drag on. I'm not saying we're done tonight. But I don't see why we can't sort everything out in the next week. I'd like us to work toward that."

"Where are you sleeping?" she asked.

"You sleep here," he said. "I'll take the couch."

Without saying another word, Val lay back down and pulled the covers back over her. That was too easy, Joel said to himself as he left the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He was expecting Valerie's screaming fit to last long into the night. Joel had visions of cops called by the neighbors.

Evidently the Quinton lawyers and bean counters had been up all night, because in response to his demand for one million dollars, a lawyer named Timothy Pinner phoned Joel on his personal cell at 8:30 in the morning. Val took a sick day off work, so she heard Joel's side of the phone call.

Pinner said he was authorized to offer a settlement of $317,624, with strict conditions attached. Without hesitating, Joel said to double it, or don't call back, and he hung up. Joel wondered how they arrived at such a specific number.

"What was that about?" Val asked.

"I am negotiating a severance package from work," he said. "Hopefully I can bring in a sweet farewell gift for us."

"For us?" she emphasized 'us'.

"We're still married," Joel replied. "Whatever you might think of me, I will do the right thing and you will get your fair share."

"My hero," she snapped, her tone thick with sarcastic ridicule. That's why I'm divorcing you.

In the morning Joel shopped for a lawyer who could review whatever document Quinton wanted him to sign. He found one specializing in labor relations law – Susan Prescott was a named partner in Jones, Pinney, and Prescott. She definitely was not cheap, clocking in at $1,300 per hour, but Joel had made it clear it would be a short engagement. He was prepared to spend ten thousand to protect half a million.

Timothy Pinner phoned at 1 PM, just before the 24 hour deadline, and offered $612,973. How do they calculate these precise numbers? It was not quite double the first offer, as Joel demanded, but it was close enough to let both sides save face. He told Pinner to send the details to his lawyer. Three hours later, Susan Prescott, sent him an email identifying three clauses she recommended changes to in order to protect his interests. He reviewed her logic, and agreed. The counteroffer went back before 5 PM.

Perhaps anticipating Prescott's changes, Pinner accepted within the hour. They had a deal, and Joel would get the money within two days. Susan Prescott recommended Joel hire a tax attorney, or an accountant at very least, who could advise him on how to process the money. Thinking about his impending divorce, it made sense to speak with a professional who could advise him on how to properly split the money with Valerie with the lowest tax burden.

That night, he sat down with Val at the table, and laid out his plan. He told her about the settlement, and Joel said Val should take one third of the after-tax settlement. His thinking was Joel made twice as much money as she did, and so he should keep twice the share of the settlement. Valerie agreed without protest, which surprised Joel.

Joel also said a simple and easy divorce was best for both of them. They had no kids and few assets – the apartment was rented, they had no car. They had nearly $50,000 between them they were saving as a down payment toward a house. Again, Joel suggested his contribution to that savings was twice hers, and he should take two thirds, and she should take one third. Valerie agreed.

Joel figured his after-tax share of the settlement would leave him about $260,000, including his share of their savings. Nowhere close to enough to retire on, but enough of a nest egg to give him breathing room while looking for another job. Valerie would walk away with $130,000 clear, which she seemed equally happy with.

The lease on their apartment was up in four months. Joel said he would move out, and pay for two thirds of the apartment rent during those four months, and after that, it was up to Valerie to decide to renew the lease or move out, but whatever she did, she would then pay 100% of her rent. Again, she agreed.

The only sticking points were the furniture, entertainment system, and the two laptop computers. He offered they each keep one laptop, and she keep the entertainment system and all furniture for a lump sum of $3,000. Again, Val agreed.

Joel said he would draw up a statement of understanding based on what they discussed, and use it as the basis to file a non-contested no-fault divorce. Val agreed to the whole process, and they filed the divorce one week later, on Friday, June 19, 2015. They were officially separated, and had to wait 120 days for their divorce to become finalized.

For a woman so bitterly scorned by his voice mail, Val was uncharacteristically agreeable to his divorce terms. She even agreed to erase his voice mail message when he suggested she should. This was not the Valerie he had known during their marriage – perhaps he could have learned to be happy with this Valerie, but there was too much bad blood between them to turn the clocks back. Joel was a happy bachelor again.

Joel moved out on the same Friday he and Val officially filed for divorce. He decided to take a more central location on a month-to-month basis until he decided where to live more permanently. He found a furnished two bedroom apartment, which was nicer than his apartment with Val, and better located. The downside was it was considerably more expensive, and so Joel was motivated to find a new job, and a permanent place to live before too long.

A tiny side story developed in the media after Joel announced he had been fired for telling the truth at the press conference. At first, Quinton claimed Joel had misspoken – he was not fired. Then, Quinton changed its tune, indicating Joel Winkman and Quinton Systems had reached a mutual agreement for his release from the company, which included a cash settlement for an undisclosed sum. When contacted for comment, Joel Winkman was quoted as saying he was bound by a non-disclosure agreement, and he could not provide further details. Anyone paying attention knew Joel sued his former employer for wrongful dismissal, probably for significant damages, and everyone agreed to call it something else to save face.

Joel made one last trip to Quinton Systems at 4 PM on the Tuesday of the week he and Val filed for divorce. He had to collect his personal effects and hand in his employee badge and work cell phone. He saved the HR part of the trip to the end of the visit. When he stopped by to pick up his papers, lovely Jenny was in her office. He poked his head in her door.

"I'm guessing you have a rule against going out with employees," Joel offered candidly to Jenny.

"Absolutely," she nodded, "In HR, we learn things about employees before anyone else does – even before the employees themselves know."

"Well, now that I'm not an employee, how about we go out for a drink?"

"No," her green eyes turned dark, "I don't think that's appropriate. Besides, aren't you married?"

"Divorced," Joel said almost truthfully. "Come on," Joel lightly insisted. "Have one drink."

"Okay," she said quietly. She shut down her computer, gathered her coat and purse, and walked Joel out of the building. He needed to be escorted anyway, now that he wasn't an employee. "Do you have your car here?" he asked. She nodded. "Meet me at Manic Monday's," Joel offered. "You know where it is?" She nodded.

Joel walked to his rental car – he hadn't bought one yet. He waited for Jenny to pull out, and he followed her down South Point Blvd. to Bartona Street. She turned right, and he followed, and he saw the Manic Monday's sign ahead on the left. She turned into the parking lot, and he followed, pulling into the parking spot beside her.

It was a Tuesday early evening at Monday's – business was light. Joel ushered Jenny past a row of empty tables to a booth in the back corner. It wasn't exactly private, it was more secluded than many tables. They both ordered a beer.

"So, Joel," Jenny asked, "what happened? First I heard you were fired, then I heard you weren't, and now you're officially laid off."

"I can't tell you," Joel said. "I signed a non-disclosure agreement. I can't tell anyone."

"You sued them!?" she asked with her mouth agape.

"You didn't hear me say that," Joel answered coyly.

"How much?"

"Jenny, I really can't say."

"Ballpark," she insisted.

"Enough to make them never do that again," he said sagely.

"Oh my!" she looked away, wondering how much money that must be.

"So what do you do at Quinton HR," Joel asked.

"Well, on paper I am an intermediate compensation and benefits manager, but in truth I actually run that and employment and recruitment for the company. We're so short staffed ourselves, even we don't have enough people to hire the people we need to hire the general population employees."

"So you're paid shit and you do all the work," Joel summarized.

"I wouldn't say I was paid shit if I were actually doing the work of my job description, but considering what I do and the hours I put in," Jenny looked at her beer bottle, "yeah, I'm paid shit and I do all the work."

"Used to be me too," Joel held up his bottle. "Cheers." She met it with hers.

"And they told me you were in a plane accident," she shivered.

"Did you see the press conference?"

"No," she shook her head, looking down. "I've been so busy I barely have had time to do anything. This is the first time I've left the office before seven. And I heard you saved a stewardess's life?"

Joel nodded. "She was choking to death and she had a life threatening head wound," Joel borrowed Captain Granger's description. "I cleared her airway, and then I bandaged up her head."

"All while the plane was crashing?!" she gawped in awe.

"The plane never crashed, but we declared an emergency, and landed at a nearby airport."

"And all those women ... they were really unconscious?"

"All of them," Joel nodded. She didn't generally follow plane accidents, but she knew the details of this one. Everyone did. For days, every water cooler in every office in every city was buzzing about Joel's flight. "So tell me about you," Joel changed subjects. "You happy at Quinton?"

"Happy?" she asked dubiously. "I'm not sure I'd go as far as happy," she looked to some distant point on the wall. "I mean, I like the work, or at least, I would like the work if I were allowed to do what really needs to be done. But worse, there are some are real assholes there," and suddenly she froze. "Joel, I shouldn't be telling you this."

"Hey," he said, "first of all, you haven't told me anything I don't already know, and even if you did, you're talking to a guy bound by a million dollar secret. My lips are sealed."

"A million dollars!" she exclaimed too loud, and then covered her mouth with wide eyes. "Sorry," she whispered with twinkling eyes, looking around to see if anyone heard. Joel didn't do anything to correct her misunderstanding of his use of a common expression.

"Jenny, please," he complained instead, knowing no one heard her. She sealed her lips shut with an imaginary zipper, and tossed away the pretend key, trying not to laugh.

"What about life outside work," Joel tried to gather personal information obliquely. "What makes you happy at home?"

"I have dogs," she smiled. "I have two corgis."

"They're high energy dogs, aren't they?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I take them out running mornings."

"They must be cooped up during the day," Joel offered.

"They play in the back yard a lot," she explained.

"You have a house?" It seemed unlikely someone on her salary could afford a house in Boston at her young age.

"I was raised by my aunt," Jenny nodded. "She died two years ago, and she left her house to me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Joel offered. "It sounds like you have a life full of stories."

"Yeah," she looked down at her beer, "some good, some bad."

"The bad ones build the character we need, and the good ones bring the happiness we crave," Joel mused.

"I never knew you were so deep," she said, and pulled a mouthful of beer from the bottle.

"Fortune cookie wisdom," Joel smiled. She smiled back with sparkling green eyes.

"So what are you going to do – I mean, are you even looking for a job?" she asked.

"I'm thinking about what I want to do. I just divorced, so I ..."

"I'm so sorry," she offered genuinely.

"It was for the better," Joel looked down. "We both agreed it wasn't working. I was amazed at how mature and reasonable the whole thing went, actually," Joel offered. "Anyway, I bring that up only because, between taxes and the divorce, I come away with considerably less than half of the settlement, so the money doesn't go as far as you'd think. So, yes, I'm looking for a job, but I'm not hurting right now."

"So you were very recently divorced, then?" Jenny intuitively concluded. Joel nodded. "So you were in a plane crash, lost your job, sued for wrongful dismissal, and divorced all in the same year."

"All in the same week," Joel corrected.

"Wow!" she whistled. "That's some week." She finished her beer.

"Have another one," he pointed his bottle at hers. It was meant as an offer, but it kind of came out as a statement. She just shrugged, which he took to mean yes. He ordered two more beers. Joel excused himself from table to go to the washroom and relieve himself of the first beer. When he returned, Jenny did the same, and her second beer was waiting when she returned.

Jenny pulled ahead of Joel in the beer and washroom breaks department. Each time she'd finish one, he's suggest she have another, and she shrugged okay. When she finished her fifth, it became clear to both of them she couldn't drive home. Joel only had three to her five, and he had considerably more body mass to offset the debilitating effects.