The Old Man in the Club by Curtis Bunn Page B

years.
    â€œI don’t know if you have a different solution now,” he said, “but I just want this to get better.”
    â€œWell, Elliott, from what I was told yesterday, it got worse,” Lucy said. “Daniel called.”
    He knew his son had told his mother that Elliott was with Tamara. Elliott felt weak.
    â€œIs it true, Elliott?” Lucy asked. “You’re dating one of their friends? No, don’t answer. I already know. I have heard things from some of your so-called friends over the last year or so about you hanging out at nightclubs, like you’re twenty-five or something. So this only makes sense. And it’s disgusting.”
    â€œLucy, I didn’t call you to make you upset,” he started.
    â€œYou can do whatever you want to do,” she snapped. “Just keep my kids out of it.”
    â€œOh, now they’re your kids?” Elliott said. “All I have ever done since this marriage fell apart was protect them. And you know that.”
    â€œI didn’t ask you to try to protect them,” Lucy said. “I have said all along to tell them the truth about why we got divorced. They deserve that. It’s been you that has insisted they don’t know.”
    â€œThat’s not why I called you,” he said. “I called to see if you had any idea how I could make some headway with our kids.”
    â€œDon’t date their friends,” Lucy said. “That’s one way.”
    Understanding she would provide little help, Elliott said, “Okay, thanks. Take care,” and hung up.
    He had learned how to deal with anger over the years, which was hard to do coming out of prison when he should not have been there. He developed his own method, which required him sitting back with his eyes closed and praying. He thanked God for protecting him and sparing him and asked for patience.
    After that call with Lucy, he put down his drink. He leaned backin the chair, clasped his hands together on his lap and closed his eyes.
    â€œGod, bring calm over me now,” he prayed. “Protect me from myself, from my past, from my flaws. Deliver me to a place of peace. Quiet the noise in me. Settle my emotions…”
    He remained in that posture for several minutes. It was only broken by his need to go to the bathroom. But he had unburdened himself. Praying always worked for him. He stopped praying for what he called “big things” after he was freed from prison. “God has done more than enough for me,” he told Danette. “I used up my ‘big things,’ and that’s all right. It would seem selfish to ask for big things after he protected me in that place and got me out.”
    He quickly learned that the “little things” are needed more often than the “big things,” and so calling on God was a frequent thing. This prayer made him feel more at ease, more focused.
    He was eager to get to Dr. Nottingham for some advice on how to proceed. He had an appointment in two days, Tuesday, so after he had some time to mull it all over, Elliott decided to go with his original plan: To have them over for dinner before they went back to college to let them know how important it was to be a family and for them to communicate better and more frequently.
    Elliott knew he could handle that part of an evening with his children. But as soon as one of them asked, “Are you dating Tamara?” the potential for reconciliation would evaporate like rain under an incendiary sun.
    He had to prepare an answer that was not a lie, but one that also did not portray him as an old man hanging out in clubs seeking young women. He was good with words and had a good mind—he read more than two hundred books while in prison. He called his boy, Henry, who deceived the mother of his young son for yearsbefore finally telling her the truth of his multiple affairs, which ended their relationship.
    â€œYou have experience with