by S. P. West
Over the next couple of hours, I tell Lou my pitiful tale, leaving nothing out. She remains unfazed as I recall all the events to her; she asks me questions here and there, frowning when I tell her of Alex’s treatment of me and the loss of the baby. Lou asks to see the divorce documents that Alex handed to me the other day. She scowls as she reads, tapping her pen on her desk.
Eventually, she shuffles the papers back into a neat pile before taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes.
“I’m not going to lie to you Summer. The settlement that he’s offered you seems fair, but we can push for more.” I track her movements as she puts her glasses back on. Her mascara has smudged slightly, giving her a smoky eyed look. “It’s pretty straight forward as you have no children or property together,” she says not unkindly, “as I explained earlier, once the papers are filed it’ll take six months to be complete unless you decide to contest it or if your husband decides to halt proceedings. Please be completely honest with me. Do you think there’s a possibility that you and your husband will reconcile at all?”
Taking a long sip of water, I glance at the stack of papers that will end my current life as I know it. Do I want to draw out the inevitable in the vain, pathetic hope that Alex will change his mind? Is he worth the wait?
“Before I answer,” I say, feeling stronger as a new determination comes over me, “can I ask why you are so much cheaper than everyone else? How do I know that you’re not leading me on?”
Again, the massive beam shines from Lou’s pleasant face, her eyes sparkle with amusement. “Tell me, what is missing in the pictures of my daughter?”
It takes me a while to see what she is getting at. Once I see it, the answer is blindingly obvious.
“Ah.”
“My ex-husband used to be my world. I adored him, gave him everything - a loving home, a beautiful daughter. It wasn’t enough to stop him from sleeping with his secretary and getting her pregnant though.” She gives me a sad smile, “he was an incredibly wealthy man and an asshole. He tried to leave our daughter and I penniless while he swanned off to start his new life. Unfortunately for him, I’m an incredibly stubborn woman who is extremely good at her job. I was awarded the bulk of his money, which I now use to help people in similar situations who can’t afford a good attorney. I have the funds behind me to keep my fees low.”
“So you’re Louise Choen?” I exclaim as I suddenly remember reading the about Choen divorce in the papers a few years ago. If I remember correctly, she completely stiffed her ex-husband. She nods her head in agreement, a wicked glint in her eyes; I can’t help but like this woman.
“I changed back to my maiden name about a year ago.”
“Wow.”
Lou barks out a laugh then and I can’t help smiling back. If the woman who is sitting before me can come out smiling and laughing from the hell that her horrible husband put her through then I know that I can do the same.
“So Summer, in answer to my question?”
I look at the papers on the desk once more. Alex has made up his mind; I know that there is no point fighting it. He’s not going to change it anytime soon. In order for me to move on, I need to let him go.
“Can I have a pen please?” I ask as she pushes one towards me, showing me where to sign.
A little while later Lou walks me to the doors.
“Any questions or problems call me, especially if he gives you trouble, okay?”
I nod my head in agreement. “We’ll keep in touch as it goes through; let you know what’s happening.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“No problem,” She says as heads back to her office, “Good luck with everything.”
Just as she starts to disappear back into her office, I’m struck with a sudden curiosity.
“Lou,” I call out, making her pivot and poke her head back round the door. “What happened to your husband? Ex?”
“Well,” Lou sighed, “the secretary left him after he lost most of his money; It turned out that the baby wasn’t even his. So he ruined his life for nothing.” She shrugs leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially, “between you and me he lives like a monk now. He keeps begging me to take him back, tells me that I’m the love of his life, that he made a mistake. He doesn’t seem to understand the words, ‘oh hell no’.”
With that, Lou, my kick ass lawyer, grins at me, effortlessly pirouetting on her pair of pumps and sashays back to her office. Leaving me with a spark of hope for the future.
ALEX
Six Months Later
DIVORCED.
As much as I want, I can’t make the words on the page change.
Divorced.
Yeah, it’s there in black and white for the world to see if they want. Stamped by the courts, my marriage is O.V.E.R. Over, kaput, finished. As of today I’m officially a single man again. I’m free to bang as many chicks as I want, when I want. Not that being legally bound to someone else stopped me in the last year.
Divorced.
I should be happy about this; it’s what I wanted. Right? So can someone tell me why the hell does it feel so goddamn wrong?
Subconsciously I rub my hand across the rough material of the wife beater I’m wearing, underneath the cleanest sweater that I could find this morning. As if rubbing across my heart will ease the dull ache that I’ve felt in my chest since I opened the damned letter this morning.
Fuck my life.
It’s not supposed to feel like this. I’m meant to be feeling overjoyed not sorry.
As soon as I read the confirmation I started to feel that pain in my heart. A big hole seemed to open up and a niggling little voice in my head told me that I’d fucked up big time; it called me a jackass for good measure.
Summer didn’t deserve any of the shit I’ve given her over the past year. I’ve been a dick to her, pushing her away like I did. Giving her all the crap that I have, when none of this was her fault. In my head filing for divorce would be the end of my problems. I could carry on with the partying, the booze and the sex without having any of the guilt to go with it. Man, was I wrong.
I’ve been so up my own ass that I thought Summer would eventually forgive me and we could be friends while I merrily carried on with Rachel.
Rachel.
Big fucking mess that turned out to be; in fact, the whole last six months has been a huge great big pile of crap. I’ve lost my friends, my job, my home, my marriage, my ‘girlfriend’. I can’t make it through the day without snorting shit up my nose or drinking myself into a stupor. I’m living in a shitty, rat-infested apartment surrounded by moldy take-out boxes and empty cans of beer. I haven’t showered or shaved in weeks, my clothes haven’t been washed since god knows when.
I don’t talk to anyone anymore, not even my mom; hanging up as soon as I see her name on my cell. Despite all that, she keeps giving me money, which I’ve pissed away on drugs, junk food and beer. Oh and Rachel’s fucked off with Zach.
Turns out that she’d been screwing him behind my back since the night I ended up at Bens. The bitch dumped my ass soon as I was fired, making sure to tell me that I was nothing but a waster and moved Zach into her apartment the same week.
Actually, lets back up a little bit.
The real reason she dumped me was because I refused to marry her. I told her I wasn’t interested. I feel sorry for Zach; now that she’s got her claws into him. She’s after one thing and one thing only – money. Funny how I can see that now.
At the time, I was blinded to her faults; I couldn’t see what a manipulative, high
maintenance, lazy, evil shrew she is. Last I heard, she’s still out most nights living it up, with the cockmuncher in tow.
Despite firing my ass, Brad Kreiger has been trying to contact me – I haven’t bothered to answer him. What would I say? Gee thanks Brad for fucking up my life! He even had the cheek to give me his card and tell me to contact him when I was ready to sort my life out. Why does he want to speak to me anyway?
Same with Becks.
I can’t bring myself to talk to him; see his smug face when I say he was right. Don’t get me wrong, I miss him like hell but I can’t face him. And therein lies my problem - I can’t face him; I can’t face anyone.
The one person I want to talk to won’t take my calls or answer any of my emails. She even took out a restraining order against me! If I try to talk to her again, I‘ll land my butt in jail. All I want is the chance to say sorry, I made mistake - that I’d like a chance to try and make it right between us. I’d tell her that I love her, I miss her and I’m the stupidest fucking idiot this side of the Pacific.
I’ve known for a long time that I’ve fucked everything up with her. That’d I’d gone too far for us to ever go back again. Basically, I’ve made my bed, doesn’t mean that I have to like laying in it. I really started to really question whether or not I was doing the right thing after I left the divorce papers with Summer the last time I saw her. My heart and my gut told me I wasn’t, my head was full of crap from the high I’d been on and had overruled everything.
I’ve lost her for good.
I know I have; there’s no coming back from what I did. I mean, what the fuck was I thinking? Not a lot, and usually with my dick. I can’t forgive myself for some of the things that I did to her, or what I said to her; I was vile to her. Tell me, does a good man lie to his wife so the he can take his sidepiece on vacation with him? The one that his wife booked for him and her in the first place? No, I don’t believe a good man would do that. I’m not a good man. I’m a fucking waste of space and I deserve whatever shit life decides to throw at me.
Which is why I’m standing on the sidewalk clutching my divorce papers, staring up at my former apartment: risking arrest just to see Summer again. I want it to hurt; I want to feel that pain, the remorse, and anguish. I suppose that I want, in some sick way, to be punished for my actions. Watching my wife walk out of apartment hand in hand with another man would just about kill me.
I’ve been waiting her for hours now, willing the door to open so that I can see her one last time. The only activity that I’ve seen has been from a pretty Asian lady and her young daughter; who’ve been in and out the building several times. I think that I’m starting to freak the poor woman out as she keeps giving me odd looks every time she walks by.
As if she heard me, I can see her and her little girl wondering back from their last excursion. It sends a pang to my nearly dead heart to see them walking hand in hand. This could have been Summer and our kid walking along, heading back to our apartment.
Just as they start to walk by me, the little girl who I’m guessing is no more than four, narrows her eyes at me. Weighing in me up in the way that only little children can.
I notice that her mom’s hand tightens around hers, primed and ready to run at any moment if I make a sudden movement. The girl’s pretty little face breaks out into a beautiful smile that brings a mischievous glint to her dark brown eyes. She tugs on her mom’s hand, leaning up on her tiptoes to whisper in her ear. It’s then that the woman turns and looks at me…. really looks at me before a grin spreads across her face. It’s a smile that almost matches her daughters’. I think I hear her say ‘quickly then’ before they head through the building doors. The girl’s bright yellow dress, quickly disappearing.
I stand there wondering what on earth happened in the last few minutes before I decide that it’s probably best that I move on before the cops come. Just as I turn to walk off, I hear a high-pitched little voice shout, “Hey Mister!!”
The little girl comes running towards me, laughing as she does. As she reaches me, she trips, instinctively I hold my arms out to catch her, righting her quickly on the sidewalk then stepping away. She stares up at me with big obsidian colored eyes with something akin to hero worship.
Shit.
Not wanting to be mistaken for a pedo, I gently pat her head. You treat children and dogs the same right? “You all right kid?”
“Uh -huh,” she nods her head up and down before grabbing my hand. Fuck, not cool. I look around helplessly has trying to pries her tiny hand from mine without breaking any fingers.
“Look…Ah kid.”
“Ami.”
“What?”
“Ami. My name is Ami.” She gives me a smile so wide that I can see nearly every single one of her teeth.
“Ami,” I repeat dumbly, “kid, can you let go of my hand please. People are going to think it’s kind of weird you holding a stranger’s hand. Especially your mom.”
“You’re not a stranger,” she sings, “and Mommy is bringing the story book.”
“What the fuck are you taking about?”
“Ummmmm. You said a naughty word!” Ami says, tugging her little hand free from mine. Instead placing both palms on her hips, shaking her head at me in dismay. I’m being told off by a four-year-old, Christ. “A prince does not say bad words!”
“Prince?”
“Yes, you’re a prince in my book,” she tilts her head to one side, eyeballing me as she does, “you’re pretty stinky for a prince.” I try to discreetly lift up my arm and sniff under my armpit, see if I can catch a whiff of some foul odor. The kid is right; I reek – I don’t think that pig shit would have anything on me. I need to get out of here and get to a shower. Fast.
Squatting down to Ami’s eye level, I try to give her my most friendly, non-creepy, smile so that she won’t run off screaming and I won’t be arrested.
“You’re right kid. I stink so I’m going to head home to shower.”
“NO.” She explodes stamping her feet, “you have to wait here. My mommy is bringing my story book!” I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life. Who would have thought that a human that tiny could scare the bejesus out of a grown man?
I stand up, rubbing the back of my neck praying that her mom will appear any moment soon so I can get the hell out of here.
“Okay, Okay Christ! Calm down for fucks sake.”
“BAD WORD!” She stomps her foot again. Right now is probably the best chance I’ll have to say fuck it and run. I’m about to high-tail it out of there when the apartment door opens again and the woman who, I assume, is Ami’s mom appears smiling and carrying a large book under her arm. The kid runs towards her with a delighted smile, grabbing her hand to pull her back to where I am standing.
“Ami, I hope you haven’t been annoying the man,” she says her smile dropping slightly; wrinkling her nose as she takes in my unkempt appearance. “Has she been bothering you at all?” Her face is so earnest and kind that I find myself smiling back at her.
“No ma’am.”
It’s at this point that Ami makes a grab for the book that her mom is holding under her arm, saying excitedly, “show him mommy, show him. Show the prince!”
“Calm down honey,” she smiles down fondly at her little girl, then looks back at me. Ami’s Mom has a moment’s hesitation, probably deciding whether or not she will catch some hideous disease from touching me, before she holds her hand out for me to shake.
“I’m Carmela, Ami’s mom.” I take her small hand in mine; all too aware of how bad I must look to this poor woman. Yet she still wants to talk to me.
“Alex.” I reply.
“Prince Alex.” Ami chimes in.
“Yes,” her eyes light up in amusement and her face breaks out in smile that is as equally as beautiful as her young daughter, “Prince Alex,” she says then immediately mouths ‘sorry’ to me. At this point in time wandering if I’d been punked and somewhere there is a hidden camera.
“You used to live here?”
“Yeah.” I answer with a nod.
“We just moved in a few days ago,” Carmela takes the book and holds it out towards me, “I think that this is yours.” I stare at the white spiral bound book that she clasps in her hands wondering why the hell she’s giving it to me. On the front is a picture of Summer and me that was taken on our wedding day. Hand drawn hearts of alternating silver and gold surrou
nds the image. Above the photo, our names are written in elegant script along with the date of our wedding. Everything about it is beautiful - the quality, astounding. It bears all the hallmarks of being lovingly made by hand. With a painful jolt to my heart I realize that Summer had made it. For me.
It must have taken her ages to do.
Hours of putting her heart and soul into showing me that she loved me while I betrayed her repeatedly with another woman.
Only an asshole does that.
In a daze, my hand slightly shaking through lack of alcohol, I reach out to take it from Carmela. Ami’s little voice pipes, “Mommy no!” She sounds distraught at the loss of what I assume is her ‘storybook’. Carmela crouches down in front of Ami, gently stroking the hair away from her forehead.
“Remember what I said when we found it? That we’d have to give it back because it doesn’t belong to us?” She says softly, Ami nods her head, “well now the man…”
“Prince Alex,” Ami squeaks.
“Prince Alex,” she repeats with a laugh, “has come to get it back.”
“But it’s mine,” she stamps her tiny feet as her bottom lip starts to tremble.
I can’t deal with this shit, especially not with a hangover. Why on earth people want kids is beyond me; the first few months all they do is poop, cry and eat. When they start to get interesting they throw shit-fits, like now. It’s time like this I’m grateful that I didn’t knock Summer or Rachel up.
“Ami!” Carmela’s voice so sharp that even I wince, “I’m not going to tell you again. This scrapbook doesn’t belong to you, it belongs to Alex and his wife and now Alex has come back to collect it.” That little pang of guilt and pain hits my heart again when she mentions my wife. I don’t bother to correct her. I just want to get out of here, grab a bottle of Scotch and look through this thing that Summer made while I slowly drink myself to death. I take it that Sum deliberately left it behind when she moved out.
