The Christmas List: A Novel

Lincoln walked past Kier as he meandered through the steak house, looking for him. Kier called out, “Hey, lawyer.”

Lincoln looked directly at Kier but still didn’t recognize him, which was not surprising, since Kier wore a Yankees cap and sunglasses perched gingerly above his bandaged nose.

“You’re late.”

He looked at Kier quizzically. “Excuse me?”

“Lincoln, it’s me, Kier.”

Lincoln stared at him. “Good heavens, man. What happened to you?”

“Accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“An accidental accident. Quit gawking. You look like a trout.”

Lincoln sat down, still staring at him.

“So what’s the difference between a lawyer and a bucket of pond scum?” Kier asked.

“What happened to you?”

“You have to answer first.”

“The bucket.”

Kier frowned. “Try this one. You’re stranded on an island with Hitler, a lawyer, and Attila the Hun. You have a gun with only two bullets, what do you do?”

“Shoot the lawyer twice. Enough, already. What did you do? What happened?”

“I knew it would happen someday,” Kier said seriously.

“You knew this would happen?”

“I knew I’d run out of jokes.”

Lincoln drew forward. “Kier, give me a straight answer. What are you up to?”

“What makes you think I’m up to something?”

“You mean besides the fact that you look like Mike Tyson’s sparring partner? I’ve known you a long time, Kier. I can hear the cogs turn in that head of yours.”

“All right, I’ll tell you. Just don’t freak out on me.” He leaned back. “I had Linda compile a list of people I’ve hurt. I’m going to see them all before Christmas.”

“Is that what happened? You went to see one of them?”

“Yes.”

“Man, have you lost your mind?”

“No, I want to make things right.”

“As your lawyer, I strenuously advise against this.”

Kier lifted his glass. “Strenuously? That sounds serious.”

“Just look in the mirror, man. You never apologize after a car accident; it creates an expectation of guilt. What if these people decide to sue you? Or worse.”

“What’s worse?”

“Break your face.”

“Could happen,” Kier said.

Lincoln shook his head. “You have lost it. You’ve finally lost it.”

“I’ve lost worse,” Kier said. “So, as a human being as opposed to a lawyer, what do you think of what I’m doing?”

“I think you’re out of your freaking mind.”

“No really, Lincoln, don’t hold back.”

“Listen, Jim, I know what you’re doing. You read all those comments about you on the Internet and you’ve had a sudden flare-up of conscience. Am I right?”

“Maybe.”

“I know I’m right. The same thing happened to me when Pam left me. But you know what I did?”

“Got drunk for a week?”

“Well, after that. I did nothing. And I’m glad I did. Let me tell you, just ride it out. The guilt will go away. I promise.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Kier rolled his glass between his hands. “What happens when it doesn’t bother me anymore?”

“Then you sleep well.”

“I’ve hurt people, Lincoln.”

“And people have hurt you. It’s a big fat give-and-take. It’s what makes the world go round.” As he leaned back his eyes narrowed. “You need to tell me who did this. I can have them taken care of. I have friends in low places.”

“You’re not going to do anything. This is nothing compared to what I did to him.”

“Good, so you got a few pokes in.”

“That’s not what I meant. This is about restitution, not retribution.”

“No, this is now about retribution. Was it Gifford? Park? Shelton? How about Pinnock or Mitchell? Or that Johnson guy over at Plastiform.”

Kier shook his head. “It’s pathetic that it took you all of two seconds to come up with your own list of people who hate me and none of them are on my list. It just proves my point.”

“What point?”

“That I deserved this.”

“Listen, Kier, if you’re going to make omelets you’ve got to break some eggs. And you, my friend, are a master chef.”

“Enough of the omelet thing.”

At that moment the server walked up to the table. “You gentlemen ready?”

“Get me a raspberry pilsner,” Lincoln said.

“You betcha. Anything else for you?” she asked Kier.

“I’m fine with Coke.”

“Great. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” She walked off.

Lincoln reached down into his attaché. “By the way, I brought the divorce papers. Sara’s signed them.” He laid them on the table and Kier looked at his wife’s signature.

“Not now, Lincoln.”

“It will take just a few seconds. Just sign where I put the Post-its and it’s over.”

“I’m not sure that’s what I want.”

“What do you mean?” Lincoln looked at him.

“I’m just not so sure about this anymore. Do you know what hurts the most right now?”

“From the looks of it I’d say your nose.”

“What I did to Sara. She’s the one I feel the worst about. I can’t get her off my mind. I left her when she needed me the most. What kind of a man does that?”

“People grow apart, Jim. It happens.”

“Growing has nothing to do with it. I’ve fallen, and I don’t know how to get back to her. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Well, at least you won’t have to worry about it for long.”

Kier glared at him.

“What?” Lincoln said.

Kier stood, pushed back his chair. “I’ve got to go. He took out a ten-dollar bill and threw it on the table, then walked away.

“Come on, Kier. What’d I say?”