Swan Dive

talking. Marsh’s head snapped to attention.
    Arnold said, ”But Hanna, the fifty-five thousand represents a fair share. It’s half of the hundred-fifty fair market value minus the mortgage of forty.”
    ”Yeah,” said Chris, ”see, it’s half the equity in the house.”
    Hanna stared down at her hands, clamped together and whitening on the table top. ”No. The house is worth more, much more than that.”
    Arnold said, ”But Hanna, we have an appraisal.” Hanna said to Chris, ”Do we have an appraisal?”
    ”Well, no, we don’t. But jeez, Hanna, this here is from a reputable real estate firm.”
    Hanna said, ”You ever have business with them before?”
    ”Well, no... but—”
    ”Then I want an appraisal, too.”
    Marsh started to say something but Arnold said, ”Certainly, Hanna. If that’s what you want, I can easily commission another firm to do one. I must say though—”
    ”No.”
    ”No?”
    Hanna motioned at me. ”No, I want the other appraisal from somebody Mr. Cuddy picks.”
    Each person turned to look at me, and I thought, ”That’s just swell.”
    Marsh said to me, ”Just who the hell do you think you are?”
    Arnold said, ”Hanna, I’m sure Mr. Cuddy wouldn’t be familiar with—”
    ”I trust him.” No missing the implication there. Marsh glared at her and started to say, ”If you think...”
    I said, ”What harm could it do?”
    Marsh whirled over to me and ripped off the aviator glasses. His pupils contracted from tea saucers to pinpoints. ”The fuck asked you?”
    I said, ”Marsh, which hand do you write with?”
    ”What?”
    ”Which hand do you use when you write?” Nobody else said anything. Marsh put his glasses back on with his left hand.
    I said, ”My guess is you’re a lefty. That right, Hanna?”
    ”Yes.”
    ”The fuck you want to know that for?”
    ”Because my dad always told me never to break the hand a man writes with. Especially here, since that’d restrict your making money and signing support checks and all.”
    Marsh started flexing his fingers, then caught himself.
    Arnold said wearily, ”Could we all drop this macho posturing for a while and return to business?”
    Marsh let her save face for him, sagging back into his chair and folding his arms. He looked up at the ceiling as he said in a low voice to Hanna, ”You really ought to take the fifty-five, honey.”
    Hanna said, ”I want the house. The house itself.” Marsh bolted forward and I got ready. He yelled, ”You what?”
    Hanna’s voice quavered but she pressed on. ”That is the home that Vickie knows. Where she has grown and has her friends. This divorce thing is already hard for her. She should get to stay there with her mother.” Marsh slammed both his palms on the table and rose halfway out of his chair. ”You fucking greedy bitch!”
    Arnold said, ” Roy , please—”
    ”The fuck you letting her get away with here? That house is mine! Goddamn it, I built that house. Every fucking board and nail came from money I earned, busted my ass for while she sat around trying to learn English off the soap operas and embarrassing me in front of my friends and contacts.” He sank back down and refolded his arms. ”No fucking house, and no fucking appraisal by Mr. Shitface here.”
    Arnold said, ”Why don’t we move on to—”
    ”Move fucking on all you want. The house stays with me, and the offer just dropped to fifty, and it’s not looking too steady there, either.”
    Chris said, tentatively, gaugingly, ”Hey, hey, we can come back to the house, all right? Felicia, how about the temporary support now?”
    Hanna was crying. Not making any more noise than labored breathing requires, but both eyes were pinched closed and tears were sliding down her cheeks and onto the table. Arnold pulled open a drawer in the console behind her and lifted out a box of Kleenex. Daintily setting the box next to Hanna, Arnold touched her arm to suggest taking some.
    Hanna stabbed at the box. Felicia, pretending to read Chris’s handwritten financial statement, said, ”I’m afraid the support’s going to be a tough one, Chris.”

    ”I’m really sorry about this, Hanna, but I already postponed this closing thing twice, and the bank attorney’ll kill me if I’m not at the Registry by two-thirty.”
    Chris rolled up the window and pulled away, leaving Hanna and me standing on a street corner in Salem . We were only a short hop by cab from Chris’s house in Peabody , and I wanted Hanna to