The drive to Louise's house wasn't long, and it wasn't complicated, but it had been a long time since Hawkeye had taken this trip. Twice he took a wrong turn, but it allowed him all the more time to reflect on what he had last seen at this particular address, and what he might say when he got there.
His first visit had been... eventful: he had parked up at the side of the road while Trapper went to pick up his belongings. Hawkeye had watched as the resulting row had spilled out into the street. So had Trapper's stuff. Eventually, he'd been forced to go and intervene. That turned out to be the final straw, and Louise had flung the remainder of the boxes out of the front door. It became apparent soon enough that Hawkeye's mere presence was about as soothing as a gallon of petrol is to a raging fire, and so, on all subsequent trips, he had determined to park further down the street.
This time, he pulled up right outside the house.
Trapper's former home was typical of the middle class housing that populated much of Boston: a narrow, brownstone terrace with a modest footprint, but with three storeys to it, plus what appeared to be a basement. He'd gazed through these windows on several occasions in their early years together, always from a distance, sitting in the car, waiting for Trapper to emerge from his brief periods of visitation. It had been a miserable ritual. Eventually, Hawkeye had just started staying home.
The house itself was nothing fancy, but the neighbourhood was desirable and expensive, far beyond anything he and Trapper could hope to afford now. The likes of him weren't welcome here. It felt strange, actually getting out of the car on this particular street. He half expected Louise to emerge from her house at any moment and chase him up the street with a broom. But there was no sign of her. Wiping his clammy hands on his jacket, Hawkeye stepped up to the door of number thirty two and rang the doorbell. His knees were jittery, and his hands shook, but he knew precisely what he was going to say. He wished, however, that he had dressed a little less like he was there to fix the pipes. Hawkeye lived in flannel shirts in the winter, which were only marginally less garish than the Hawaiian ones he favoured in summer. The navy woollen coat he was wearing had been beautiful when it was bought for him five years ago, but it had seen a lot of wear and some harsh winters, and now made him look like he'd just been shipwrecked.
It was all moot now anyway. The door opened and Hawkeye's heart lurched. Suddenly, for the first time in some years, he found himself looking into the eyes of one former Mrs McIntyre.
He took a deep breath, determined to get the first word in. She would yell, undoubtedly, maybe even slam the door in his face. Maybe, on some level, he couldn't blame her, and he tensed for the fight. But instead, she looked him up and down, her brow furrowing. "Can I help you?"
She was softly spoken, polite and genteel, and with an accent that had more than a touch of Brahmin to it. Her manner threw Hawkeye for a second. But then, just as he had realised that she didn't know who he was, recognition crossed her face, and then, a moment later, disgust and fury followed it.
"What are you doing here?! How dare you show your face at this house?!"
She went to slam the door. Hawkeye's hand went out to stop it, his carefully chosen words scattering in a moment of confusion.
"Louise, come on! I just want to talk to you."
She pushed against him, but the wiry former doctor was stronger than he looked, and eventually she stepped back from the door. The look on her face was sheer loathing, and her surrender a bitter defeat rather than a hint of compromise. "What makes you think I want to listen to anything you have to say?"
"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important." He made a calming gesture with both hands, but she continued to glower at him, her glare every bit as icy as the cold November air. "So, are you going to invite me in, or shall we air our dirty laundry in public?"
Wordlessly, Louise stepped aside and ushered him into the hall, he head high, her eyes narrowed.
Hawkeye stepped in.
The house was quiet and neat, its hallway decorated in quaint pastel pink wallpaper with an ornate pattern one might find on fine china. Several family photographs adorned the walls, mostly of Kathy and Becky, and a few of Louise standing next to a man in his late thirties who Hawkeye could only assume was Louise's new beau, but he wasn't about to ask. Trapper was nowhere to be seen in any of them.
"Into the kitchen," Louise ordered him.
Hawkeye didn't know exactly where the kitchen was, so he just followed the hall, glancing into doorways, unable to resist his curiosity.
It was… odd. This was the house Trapper had shared with Louise, before all this started. This was where he had raised his kids, had his meals, spent his weekends. This was the place he had come home to when he was a surgeon; where he was a husband and a father.
The sitting room was bright and airy, a fresh, clean blend of duck egg blues and lemon yellows. On his left, was a cosy study in a pleasant green. Another picture adorned the wall beside the door – a family portrait of Louise and her two girls, and again, with the man standing beside them. The man who wasn't Trapper…
"On your right," Louise commanded, and Hawkeye turned, finding himself in a small but fashionable kitchen. All pinks and oranges with big, modern appliances that must have cost the earth. He ran his hand over a Formica surface, only to have it slapped by the lady of the house as she stepped in beside him, pushing the door to behind them. "You've got some nerve coming here!"
Hawkeye brightened a little. "I do? Oh, great! I pride myself on my nerve! In fact–"
He was cut off as the man from the picture stuck his head around the door. "Lulu, what's going on here? Were we expecting someone?"
Louise sniffed haughtily and tossed her hair back with an air of disdain. "No, we were not! Billy, be a darling and take the girls for a ride? Just head downtown for a while – Becky can spend some of her birthday money."
The man – Billy, apparently – eyed Hawkeye suspiciously. "Are you sure?"
Hawkeye smiled his smarmiest smile, folding his arms and gesturing to the woman opposite, who was eyeing him with ill-disguised fury. "She'll fill you in on all the juicy details later."
Steam seemed to come out of Billy's ears. "Who the hell–?"
"Oh, don't you get your tighty whities in a bunch!" Hawkeye leaned casually on the table. "There's nothing for you to worry about. Honest! I'm very happily involved with your good lady's former husband and have no intention of straying." The honesty made him feel like he was flying, and a self-satisfied smirk crossed his face as he watched Billy recoil, his eyes widening, backing out of the room without a further word of protest. Hawkeye could barely keep from laughing as Louise slammed the door. "I think that made him feel better, don't you?"
"How dare you speak to him like that?!"
"Like what? Reassuring him that I'm safe to be left alone with his Mrs, like the decent, trustworthy kind of guy that I am?"
"I mean being so blatant."
"You mean he doesn't know?"
"Of course he knows."
"So what's the problem?"
Louise hissed at him and raised a finger to her lips. A moment later, footsteps pounded down the stairs, and two young voices could be heard through the door.
"But why have we gotta go out again?"
"Who cares? It's my birthday! I'm gonna get that new sweater we saw in Jordan Marsh!"
"The pink one?"
"What's wrong with pink?"
"Nothing, if you wanna look like a big ol' marshmallow!"
"I do not!"
The girls playful bickering faded as Billy ushered them out, and the front door closed. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he found himself painfully aware of Billy's position within the family, and something unpleasant – something approaching envy – simmered in his gut.
Now alone, Louise relaxed a little, folding her arms and scowling at him. "You do realise," she said coolly, "that I could probably have you arrested."
Hawkeye suppressed a shudder. He didn't know that, but it was probably best to play it like he was just the kind of guy who didn't give a damn. "Some things are important enough to be worth the risk."
"So, what was it you wanted?"
Hawkeye snorted. "Oh no! Don't play that game with me. Don't insult me by pretending you don't know exactly why I demeaned myself by walking into this place!"
Louise merely shrugged, refusing to budge.
Her attitude was sickening, but Hawkeye fought to keep his emotions under control. He had no choice but to be the reasonable one here. Steeling himself, he took a step forward. He spoke clearly, and evenly, and, despite how he was feeling, without malice: "Trapper was supposed to see his kids today. I got home just now and found out you cancelled on him. Again."
Another airy shrug. "Something came up."
"Bullshit."
Louise pulled herself up to her full height – which was the best part of six foot, even without heels, and she met Hawkeye eye to eye. "You use that language with me again, and this conversation ends." Her tone was soft, her voice eloquent, but her meaning was as subtle as a breeze block to the kidneys.
Hawkeye took a deep breath. So much for being reasonable. "I'm sorry…" The apology felt forced. He hoped it didn't sound it. "I don't like seeing Trapper upset. You can understand that, can't you? You were married to the guy once, right? You remember what it's like giving a crap about how he feels, what he thinks?" Louise wrinkled her nose and folded her arms, but gave no reply. Hawkeye pressed on: "He's been looking forward to this day for weeks! He bought a cake, he bought gifts… and we're not exactly rolling in cash reserves right now! Do you have any idea what you're doing to him? Do you care? And even if you don't, those girls deserve to see their dad!"
Giving another shrug, Louise shook her head haughtily. "The girls didn't want to go." She folded her arms once more. "That apartment is cold and damp. Kathy has asthma. The flu's starting to go around, and I don't want–"
"Who's to say they have to go to the apartment?" Hawkeye couldn't help but smile as he wheeled out his argument like a work of art. "There's a beautiful park just down the street – or he could take them downtown, go shopping! He could buy Becky the pink sweater that Kathy thinks makes her looks like a marshmallow! Whatever they want, he'll do it! Come on…"
"I'm their mother. My decision is not open for discussion – not from my ex-husband, and certainly not from you!"
Hawkeye couldn't keep the smart-aleck smile off his face. "Oh, so you admit it was your decision, and not theirs?"
If Louise was remotely embarrassed by being caught out, it didn't show. "What do you expect me to do? Every time they go to that apartment of yours they start asking questions."
"Questions? Well, god forbid children ask questions. Next they might start learning, and thinking, expanding their horizons, broadening their minds! And we couldn't have that!" Hawkeye's palm slammed onto the counter, a little too loud, a little too hard.
Louise's lip curled into a sneer. "There were pictures of you on the bookcase in that… squalid studio you call a home."
Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Oh my god, photographs of me in my own apartment! Unbelievable! Anybody would think I lived there!"
"I don't want them knowing what he… gets up to with you!" Louise's hands clasped primly in front of her, and she shuddered.
"Louise, they're holiday snaps! Pictures of us on a beach Maine, no different to ones of you and… Billy that you have out there! We're not decorating our living room with intimate Polaroids of our love life, if that's what you're thinking!"
Louise gawped at him. "Don't be so disgusting!"
Exasperated, Hawkeye ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, look. We'll… we'll find a way to handle it. The two of you, or all three of us, or four – hell, bring Billy with you if you want, we can make it a doubles match – can all sit down and concoct a nice, acceptable, heterosexual cover story for me and Trapper living together! We can tell them I'm his best friend. His roomie. His moral support in coping with the never-ending pain of losing you, the love of his life! That he never got over you and he's living with his old war buddy, two confirmed old bachelors for all eternity. However you want to play it!" He gave a shrug and slouched against the counter. "I don't expect you to understand this, but this is actually quite painful for me. I don't enjoy erasing my own personal life every time the subject comes up in casual conversation! If you ever wanted to exact petty revenge on me, this is your chance."
"You think I'm shallow enough to do that?"
"I think you're shallow enough to cut a man off from his children because you're still bitter over your divorce." He immediately regretted that, and wished he could bite the words back. "I'm sorry. That was… uncalled for. You're right, this isn't about you and me. This is about Trapper, and the relationship he has with those girls – or should have – because this is killing him. And I'm asking you – begging you – to just let him see them once in a while!"
Louise sniffed haughtily. "They see him as often as they care to."
"As they care to, or you care to suggest?" Louise didn't rise to the bait. Hawkeye changed his tack, his voice softening. "Louise… let me tell you something: I lost my mother when I was ten years old. The same age your youngest is now."
"Kathy's eleven."
Hawkeye winced, but smiled contritely. "My mistake… The point I'm trying to make is that… it was the most painful thing that ever happened to me, and that's saying a lot if you knew what we've gone through these past few years! Now, I don't pretend to know what it's like to have your parents split up, but I do know what it's like to lose one! The last few years have been tough on all of you, I don't doubt that, but Trapper still here, desperate to be involved in their lives! It seems crazy to put them through any more loss than they have already! So, whatever needs to be done to… reassure you, it has to happen – you have to work with us on this!"
Louise huffed angrily and looked away. "Work with you? I can't even stand to be in a room with you… or him!"
Hawkeye's grip tightened on the counter, and his knuckles turned white. "I can't believe you! Those girls need their father."
"They have a father."
"What, Billy?" Hawkeye gave a thin smile and tried very hard not to get angry. "I'm sure he's a great step-dad, but you can't just cut Trapper out of their lives and… and plug the hole with whichever clean-cut Beacon Hill private financier happened to take your fancy! Trapper's their dad – he's been there from the start, he has a bond that I couldn't begin to comprehend… and he's a good father!"
"That man is not their father." Louise's eyes narrowed and her head whipped up to glare at Hawkeye at close quarters.
Hawkeye, unmoving, stared right back. "Well, that's going to be news to Trapper. And to the family courts if that's the angle you want to take up."
"That's not what I meant! And you know it!" Louise paced towards him, her hands clenched at her sides in furious, shaking fists. "Let me tell you this!" Her voice was an ominous, low snarl. "John McIntyre was a loving, decent, respectable man until you came along. He was a wonderful husband, and a loving father, and I mourn his loss every day, because… that man living with you is not the man I married! He is not the father of those girls! You took that wonderful man that I loved, and you corrupted him! You put your diseased ideas into his brain and turned him into some kind of deviant!"
Hawkeye's hackles rose, and he tried his very best to stop the anger creeping into his voice. "Louise, I hate to break it to you, but I didn't put any ideas in Trapper's head that weren't already there."
"He could have gotten help!" Louise turned on him, her eyes wild with fury. "There are psychiatrists, doctors… A friend of mine took her son to hospital for a few months and he turned out fine!"
Now it was Hawkeye's turn to shudder with distaste. "Yeah, I know what they do in those hospitals, and if that's your definition of 'help'–"
"There are cures out there, but thanks to you, he was too far gone! You led him down that path because you wanted him for yourself! If anybody robbed my girls of their father, it's you!"
Hawkeye was so taken aback, so winded by her words that he actually took a step away. "Now, wait a minute…"
"You took their father, and you took my husband, and now you want to sit and negotiate with me over how I choose to raise what's left of my family?"
She was inches from him now, practically spitting in his face, and Hawkeye could hold back no longer. Her words, unbeknownst to her, had tapped into something that Hawkeye didn't care to think on. And so he didn't think. He spoke. Like always, Hawkeye wielded words like a sword, and he went for the jugular... "Oh, I did, huh?" He stepped close, his eyes meeting hers, equal in height, equal in fury. "You know, I hate to break it to you, but there are a couple of little details you're missing out of this incredibly inventive picture you're painting of me as a home-wrecker and a husband-stealing predator! Firstly, he wanted to come back here and work things out! You remember, picking him up from the airport? In the big white flashy car? Because I sure as hell do! He chose his family over me, there and then, but no – you tossed him out! You made that call, Louise, not him, and you can't blame that one on me! I was in Maine!"
"If he thought for a second I'd have him back after what he'd done… What woman could love a husband who–?"
"He wasn't asking you to love him. He was asking for a chance to be a father to his children, just like he's trying to be now! He came back for them, not you!"
"Why, you presumptuous son of a–"
"And secondly, you know as well as I do that 'Trapper' John McIntyre was never a perfect husband! And we're not just talking about the nurses while he was away in Korea! Are we? Because Trapper John was an adulterer years before I ever got my grubby homosexual claws into him! And you knew damned well what he was like! I saw your letters: The suspicions, the accusations – you weren't stupid!" Louise's eyes widened in shock, but Hawkeye was too far gone to notice. Six years' worth of resentment and defensive vitriol were coursing through him with unstoppable force, and he couldn't hold back now even if he'd wanted to. "So either all those women don't do a damned thing to sully your view of him as Husband of the Year, or you have an extremely selective memory of your marriage!"
"How dare you come in here and say these things! You don't know the first thing about–"
"Oh, I know lots of things! We do talk you know! It's this interesting hobby we have when we're not having disgusting sex and taking Polaroids of ourselves. You think Trapper never told me anything about his relationship with you? The accusations, the affairs, the almost-separations that never happened? You think he never shared this kind of thing? Your marriage was over, probably before your husband even landed in Korea! You know that, and so do I! And now you think you can blame it all on me just because this was the one affair you weren't able to forgive and sweep under the rug! And as if that's not enough, you're using your kids as punishment!"
"I'm doing no such thing! I'm protecting them!"
"From what? You know damned well Trapper isn't a threat to those girls any more than your Billy is!" Hawkeye waved his finger in the direction of the hallway. "You're just using this to get back at your ex-husband! Turning your own children into a weapon! Holding this over his head, looking for any excuse to cut him off, just because you're angry and bitter and you know you can! And you know he can't fight back, not with his record! It's… it's spiteful! It's petty and it's calculating and it's… it's disgusting, that's what it is!"
Louise quirked an eyebrow at him. "You're calling my behaviour disgusting?"
Hawkeye leaned in close, almost nose to nose. "I wouldn't even take a Polaroid of it."
For the first time, Louise offered no counter argument. She did not shout or sneer or protest. She simply nodded. "You're right."
Hawkeye couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "I am?"
"Yes, absolutely." She looked away for a moment, gazing through the window into the back yard. "You're quite right. I am still angry with John over his… betrayal, and yes, I am holding custody rights over his head in the full knowledge that I have every legal right to, and I have been looking for any reason to decrease, limit, or indeed terminate his contact with my children." She looked at Hawkeye, her face relaxed, almost serene, all trace of anger gone.
Hawkeye was stunned into silence. He stared at the woman standing before him, with her expensive clothes and her perfect hair. He almost couldn't believe it – he'd taken on the ex-wife and won. "I have to say, I appreciate your honesty."
Louise smiled, and nodded. "And I appreciate your giving me a reason."
Hawkeye froze. A shiver crept up his spine. "I… what?"
"Oh, my lawyer made it perfectly clear when John signed the divorce papers. The ruling stated quite explicitly that visitation was at my discretion, given John's record, and could be rescinded at any time upon my saying so. And I am hereby rescinding that right."
Her words were perfectly enunciated, spoken with the confidence of a woman who had studied law at Dartmouth and headed the debating society at that same Ivy League school, just as Trapper told him she had. And Hawkeye, just like Trapper, didn't have a leg to stand on. His blood ran cold. "Oh, come on, Louise. There's no call for this!"
"Oh, I'd say there is."
"Louise, come on! I know I was out of line, but let's not do anything we regret!"
But Louise was on a roll. She's rounded the kitchen table and was coming at him, guns blazing, with the arsenal of an Ivy League debating society at her fingertips. "If I regret anything it's the fact that we've dragged this ridiculous charade out for the past five years instead of giving the girls a clean break! Their father is a criminal and a subversive, and I need no further justification to terminate his contact with my children forthwith! If his lawyer wishes to contest that, then I will be stating that my pervert of an ex-husband sent his male lover to my home to threaten me."
"Threaten?! When did I threaten?! I got angry, but…" Hawkeye bit his tongue. "I'm sorry! I get carried away, but I didn't… I mean… I'm just trying…" Words failed him. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, could think of no other course of action but to throw himself at this woman's feet and beg for forgiveness. Not for himself, but for Trapper. "He didn't send me!" He'd blurted the words out before he could even think – a desperate attempt to back-pedal his way out of the hole he'd dug himself into. "I swear to God! He was upset, I just wanted to… He doesn't even know I'm here!"
"Oh – you mean it wasn't one of those things you talked about before you came here? I know you said you two love to talk about me! It's one of your favourite hobbies…"
"Please don't do this." He was outright begging now. The insult flew over his head. He couldn't care less what she said to him. He just couldn't let this happen.
Louise blinked at him, her mouth a tight, unforgiving frown. "It's done. And you're leaving." With those words, she turned and walked through to the hallway. Hawkeye ran after.
"Can't we just talk about this?!"
"We've talked enough!" Louise sailed down the hallway with her head high, not even glancing back. "I want you out. I have a phone call to make."
"You're calling your lawyer? Now?"
"I might. Or I might call your apartment building, tell my ex-husband how you've been such a help in making me see things more clearly – or I might leave it up to you to break the news to him, seeing as you're so good at talking."
"Louise, stop! Think about what you're doing! Think about your kids!"
"I am thinking about them!" She turned, her face a steely mask of fury and vengeful resolve. "I think about them every minute of every day, because that's what a parent does! And if that disgraceful excuse of a man that you live with had even a shred of decency in him, he would have thought of them instead of himself, and kept well away from the likes of you!"
"Please! I'm sorry! Just listen to me…"
"I've heard enough." Turning away, she unlatched the front door with one perfectly manicured hand, then stepped back and stood calmly, waiting for him to leave. "Now… get out. And if I see either one of you around here again, or if you go anywhere near my daughters, I'll have you arrested for harassment. And anything else they can book you for besides."
"You're kidding!"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" She fixed him with a stony glare. "I'm counting to five, and then you had better be gone, or else I call the police! One!"
Hawkeye merely stared in horror. His mouth opened and closed, his breath caught in his chest, but there were no words left with which to protest. He was done. He put up no further fight. Louise continued to count, and Hawkeye crept meekly towards the door. The word 'five' echoed in the air behind him as he stepped out into the chill of the harsh, New England Winter evening. He shivered. A moment later, the door slammed closed behind him.
