Mollie McQueen is NOT Getting Divorced

by Lacey London

  The line rang exactly three times before a chirpy voice drifted out of the speaker, taking Mollie by surprise. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but a jolly conversation with a cheerful receptionist and an immediate appointment was certainly not it.

  Swiftly ending the call, Mollie smiled at her naked finger and returned to her cold toast, as though her conversation with Max never happened…

  Chapter 2

  The solicitor’s waiting room was clinical, chintzy and reminded Mollie of her grandparents’ house. The fringed lamps were slightly off-kilter and the heavy velvet curtains were faded from many years of being subjected to the sun’s rays. Although it was clearly falling apart, it felt comforting to Mollie in a way she couldn’t quite understand. The tired leather chairs were worn away at the corners, giving a glimpse of the many unhappy couples who had sat there before her. A stack of magazines on the wonky table to her left had been heavily thumbed, and Mollie resisted the urge to look through them in search of an I’m-getting-divorced outfit.

  ‘Mollie McQueen?’ The cheerful lady who answered the phone that morning stood up as she called Mollie’s name from behind a cluttered desk. ‘Mollie McQueen?’

  Raising her hand, Mollie smiled at the receptionist and wondered why she was calling her name when the waiting room was completely empty.

  ‘We’re ready for you.’ She said merrily, continuing to attack her keyboard with long acrylic nails. ‘First door on the left.’

  Collecting her handbag, which was resting by her feet, Mollie did as she was instructed and gently knocked on the door in question. The hinges squeaked as she pushed her way inside the dark room and shook hands with a rather rotund man, who was wearing an almost comedy toupee.

  ‘Kenny Freeman.’ He said sternly, motioning for Mollie to sit down. ‘What can I do for you?’

  Perching her handbag on her lap, Mollie frowned in confusion.

  ‘I want a divorce.’ She said plainly, looking around the office for a clue as to what else might happen there. ‘That is what you do here, right?’

  Kenny Freeman breathed in to prevent his shirt from bursting open as he collapsed into a chair opposite her. The dim light overhead cast a hazy glow around him, making him shine like a sweaty Chinese lantern.

  ‘So, you want a divorce?’ He said slowly, as though he hadn’t heard her correctly. ‘You want to end your marriage?’

  ‘Yes.’ She answered confidently, really wishing he would open the drapes to let some more light in. ‘I do.’

  Not taking his eyes off hers, Kenny tapped his chin thoughtfully.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Mollie blinked at him and wondered if he was joking.

  ‘Yes.’ She said, in the most serious voice she could muster. ‘Of course I am sure.’

  Nodding back at her, Kenny Freeman reached for a pen and made a series of scribbles on a sticky note. On closer inspection, Mollie realised he was actually drawing a cheeseburger.

  ‘Okay.’ He replied eventually, grabbing a handful of forms from an untidy filing cabinet behind him. ‘In that case, I am going to need you to fill these out.’

  Mollie took a pen from the desk and scowled at the chewed end.

  ‘And that’s it?’ She asked hopefully, wondering why she didn’t do this years ago. ‘That’s all there is to it?’

  Kenny Freeman stared back at her blankly before erupting into laughter.

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, he shook his head dramatically. ‘If it were as simple as that, there wouldn’t be any married couples left!’

  Smiling thinly, Mollie began to write her name on the top sheet of paper.

  ‘Then could you please enlighten me as to what exactly is involved?’ She asked. ‘I just want to get this over with.’

  ‘Get this over with.’ Kenny repeated, squeezing a stress ball shaped like a heart in his left hand. ‘If I had a penny for every time I’ve heard that!’

  Tiring of his riddles, Mollie tapped her pen against the desk agitatedly.

  ‘I apologise if I should already know how this works, Kenny, but I really don’t have a clue what I’m doing.’ Attempting a nervous laugh, Mollie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

  ‘You don’t need to know what you’re doing.’ He replied quickly, not missing a beat. ‘You just need to know why you are doing it. I’ll deal with everything else.’

  Deciding to keep her dirty-boxer-shorts-on-the-bathroom-floor complaint to herself, Mollie forced a smile. She guessed Kenny had heard every reason in the world for wanting a divorce, but she didn’t feel comfortable revealing she had finally tired of using her vibrator and resented her husband’s edible toilet paper enterprise.

  ‘First things first…’ Kenny said suddenly, popping Mollie’s thought bubble. ‘You fill those forms out and I’ll draft a divorce petition to your spouse. Upon receiving the petition, your husband should file the acknowledgement of service…’

  ‘What if he doesn’t file the acknowledgement of service?’ Mollie interrupted, knowing how petty Max could be. ‘What would happen then?’

  A wry smile played on Kenny’s lips as he dropped the stress ball onto the desk with a thud.

  ‘If he doesn’t file the acknowledgement, the documents must be personally served. But I should warn you… When dealing with an uncooperative spouse, the process can be a lot more difficult and costlier than it needs to be.’

  Mollie nodded in response and looked at the forms in her lap. Of course, she knew getting divorced wasn’t free, but she hadn’t really put any thought into just how much this could set her back. Would she have to empty her savings account, sell her grandmother’s earrings, or heaven forbid give up her beloved Fendi handbag?

  ‘Don’t let the cost put you off.’ Kenny added hastily. ‘Whoever said money doesn’t buy happiness obviously never paid for a divorce!’

  Slamming his chubby fists down on the desk, he threw back his head and laughed loudly at his joke.

  ‘Seriously, it will be the best money you ever spend.’ He chuckled. ‘I know it was for me. The first time, the second and definitely the third.’

  ‘You’ve been divorced three times?’ Mollie asked, pausing with her pen on the paper.

  ‘No. I’ve been divorced four times. The last one paid for it herself. She was that desperate to get rid of me. Can you believe it?’ He exclaimed incredulously. ‘Do I look like a man who is so terrible to live with?’

  Mollie opened her mouth to reply, but Kenny continued without waiting for a response.

  ‘Do I look like a man who stuffs empty crisp packets down the back of the sofa? Do I look like a man who buys his wife imitation diamonds for her birthday? Do I look like a man who leaves chocolate chip cookies in the bed and blames it on the dog?’

  Completely lost for words, Mollie shook her head and tried to steer the conversation back to her own divorce.

  ‘So, as long as Max agrees to the divorce, that’s it?’ She asked, raising her eyebrows as she discovered just how much paperwork she had to fill in. ‘I don’t have to do anything else?’

  ‘Having him consent to a divorce is just the beginning.’ Kenny said seriously. ‘You will have to agree on property divisions and any gifts each other may wish to have returned. You may even have to attend mediation if you simply cannot come to an agreement.’

  ‘Gifts?’ Mollie repeated, struggling to think of any gifts Max had given her over the years that were worth going to mediation for. ‘Like my engagement ring?’

  ‘Exactly, but whatever you agree on in mediation, it’s a good idea to get it written into a court order.’ Spinning around in his tatty chair, Kenny stopped halfway when he realised his enormous stomach wasn’t going to fit past the filing cabinet. ‘When it comes to divorce, people change their minds like the wind. If you come to an agreement, lock it down.’

  Considering Max had bought her a PlayStation for her thirtieth, Mollie didn’t think returning gifts would be an issue.


  ‘I’ve even had people demand they have their name back in a divorce settlement.’ Rolling his eyes, Kenny took a tube of cream from his desk drawers and applied a generous layer to his hands. ‘Can you believe it?’

  Mollie’s pen froze to the page as she repeated his words silently in her mind.

  ‘He can’t demand that I change my name back, can he?’ She asked, holding her breath.

  ‘Your husband cannot force you to drop his name. He can, however, use it as a bargaining tool.’ Kenny said, giving her a knowing look. ‘For instance, if he knows how much keeping his name means to you, he can stand his ground with everything else unless you volunteer to give it up. Legal, no. Petulant, yes. Believe me, I have seen it happen with my own eyes.’

  Mollie’s blood ran cold as she listened to Kenny speak. Max could have the house, he could have the savings account, but he could go to hell if he thought he was sending her back to Mollie Waddles.

  The day they said their vows, Mollie added a silent vow to herself. With a hundred pairs of eyes behind her and a priest in front, she promised herself that ceremony was the very last time Mollie Waddles would be seen in public. From that day forward, she was Mollie McQueen and ecstatic to be so. She could finally leave the childhood taunts of Mollie Waddles behind. The name that had haunted her throughout her entire life was exiled into oblivion, and there was absolutely no way she was returning to it.

  ‘It might sound childish right now, but don’t underestimate the lows people will stoop to when it comes to divorce.’ Kenny warned. ‘They don’t say divorce is a four-letter word for nothing…’

  Feeling uneasy for the first time since she walked into the office, Mollie looked at her bare ring finger and frowned. Despite her desire to leave Max, she couldn’t help but wonder if it would be unrealistic to stay married to a man for his name alone.

  ‘And it’s not only the change in name you have to get used to.’ Kenny continued, unaware of Mollie’s growing doubt. ‘Life as a divorcee isn’t a bed of roses.’

  Mollie pictured a life without Max farting in bed, leaving his mud-covered trainers in the hall and chastising her when she dared to eat anything that once had a face. The idea of floral-scented sheets, a clutter-free home and the freedom to gobble down a chicken tikka masala without criticism sounded pretty rosy to her.

  ‘The biggest misconception about divorce is that you return to your premarital days, but the truth is, being a divorcee is a world away from being young, free and single.’ Kenny sighed, gazing at an ancient photograph on his desk. ‘Divorced isn’t exactly a top search term on Plenty of Fish, put it that way. It’s up there with heavy smoker, animal hater and overeater.’

  Mollie blinked repeatedly, quietly glad that none of those words applied to her.

  ‘Divorce can’t be that bad.’ She said gingerly, flipping the page and scrawling her name on the second sheet. ‘You’re a divorcee.’

  ‘Exactly...’ Kenny whispered, an expression on his face Mollie couldn’t read.

  The faint ticking from the clock on the wall filled the void as they both lowered their eyes to the pen in Mollie’s hand. With each second that passed, she felt her confidence in her decision slowly ebb away.

  ‘I must say, Kenny, for a divorce lawyer, you don’t exactly seem keen on the whole divorce thing.’ Mollie said carefully, hesitating before writing her date of birth on the paper. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to talk me out of it.’

  ‘If I talked my customers out of getting a divorce, would I be driving a Bentley convertible?’ He asked cockily.

  ‘You drive a Bentley convertible?’

  ‘Did you see one outside?’

  Mollie cast her mind back to the empty car park and shook her head.

  ‘No.’

  A glimmer of surprise hit Kenny’s eyes before he corrected it with a smile.

  ‘Well, there you go.’ He grumbled. ‘You win some, you lose some.’

  Not having a clue what he was talking about, Mollie frowned as Kenny snatched the completed paperwork from her hands.

  ‘You’re thirty?’ He whispered, sounding startled as he looked her up and down.

  Not liking the tone of his voice, Mollie pulled her brow into a frown once again.

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Tapping a few keys on his keyboard, Kenny shuffled his chair over to the printer. ‘You know what they say… Get married young. That way you can be divorced and happy in your thirties.’

  ‘They also say life begins at thirty.’ Mollie replied quickly, flashing him a smile.

  ‘Very true.’ Kenny admitted. ‘The death of a marriage should be the start of a new life. Or at least, that’s what people tell themselves. The reality is, most of my clients wind up alone and miserable. One was almost eaten alive by her pack of cats. But hey, it’s better than being subjected to forty years of empty crisp packets down the sofa, isn’t it?’

  Mollie glanced at Kenny’s computer screen as he typed out her name and gulped. There wasn’t any danger of Buddy Holly devouring her anytime soon, but with Max out of the picture, who knows what animals she would acquire? A bearded dragon? A llama? A honey badger?

  ‘If only there was an alternative…’ Mollie mused, staring down at the ground and pursing her lips.

  ‘An alternative to what?’ Taking a handful of papers from the printer tray, Kenny turned to face her.

  ‘An alternative to this.’ She groaned. ‘An alternative to becoming a heavy-smoking divorcee who gets eaten alive by her pack of cats in an apartment with damp on the walls and dirty net curtains. An alternative to being stripped of my name, my home and my entire life.’

  ‘The alternative is that you stay married.’ Flipping through the documents on his desk, Kenny took a stapler from the filing cabinet and clamped the pages together. ‘You stay married and you stop complaining about empty crisp packets down the sofa…’

  ‘Max doesn’t stuff empty crisp packets down the sofa!’ Mollie retorted exasperatedly, imagining another thirty years of failed onion bhaji delivery companies. ‘That’s not why I am doing this.’

  ‘Well, whatever the reason, those are your two options.’ Kenny grumbled. ‘Heads or tails. Married or divorced. Wife or divorcee.’

  As Kenny waited for her answer, Mollie took a moment to consider which of those two people she least wanted to be.

  ‘Unless…’ He said suddenly, stopping Mollie’s train of thought. ‘Unless, you separated.’

  ‘Separated?’ Mollie repeated, her interest spiking. ‘How is that any different?’

  ‘The difference is that a divorce ends the marriage and a judicial separation does not.’ Kenny explained breezily, loosening his Bart Simpson tie. ‘It would allow you to live separately without having to suffer the divorce process. It would give you time and space to decide whether or not you want to commit to a divorce.’

  Time and space. Unlike skint and alone, Mollie liked the sound of those two words much more.

  ‘Unless you’re one hundred percent sure you want to terminate your marriage, I would strongly advise you to consider a separation.’ Kenny said firmly. ‘A separation has a flat fee and is a vastly easier process. The choice is yours.’

  Mollie considered the three options presented to her. Staying married was the worst of the bunch, followed by Kenny’s description of her fate as a divorcee. Allowing her eyes to close, Mollie pictured herself being legally separated. Without carrying the apparent burden of being divorced, she could live her life as she pleased. She could live without discovering wet towels on the bed, she could live without being rudely awoken by the sound of Max cursing at the PlayStation, and she could live without parting ways with her precious Fendi tote.

  ‘So, Mollie McQueen, what’s it going to be?’

  Chapter 3

  Clutching the documents from Kenny tightly, Mollie pushed open the door and made her way along the street. The sun peeked out from behind the wispy clouds as she stuffed t
he printouts into her handbag and breathed in deeply. Separated. It’s just one word, but it’s a word that gave Mollie such a thrill. She repeated it over and over, enjoying the sense of freedom it gave her each time it passed her lips.

  The sun seemed brighter, the air seemed lighter, and Mollie simply felt… happier. She felt content. As she walked down the street, she spotted things she hadn’t ever noticed before. She noticed just how pink the flowers outside the estate agents were. She noticed how the gold lettering above the Italian café glistened in the sunlight, and she noticed how genuine her smile looked when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a shop window.

  Mollie’s blue eyes twinkled as she stopped on the pavement and stepped closer to the tinted glass. Her scarlet lips were pulled back to reveal a set of perfect white teeth, creating dimples on both of her cheeks. Despite the lovely weather they had been enjoying, Mollie’s skin remained as white as snow, providing a pristine canvas for her winged eyeliner and perfect blush. Like most people, Mollie looked in the mirror multiple times a day, but it had been a long time since she had taken a moment to really study her reflection. Her heavy fringe was slightly parted in the middle and the rest of her long bob was twisted into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Mollie hadn’t altered her hairstyle since she was fifteen, but she didn’t have any desire to change it.

  When a relationship comes to an end, some women unearth an urge to completely modify the way they look. They see it as a way of shedding the old version of themselves and discovering who they really are, but Mollie didn’t doubt who she was one little bit. Her likes and interests hadn’t been influenced by Max’s dire need for a personality transplant. It wasn’t her inexplicable change of character that had resulted in the demise of their marriage. It was his.