The furnishings are in keeping with the house. The marital bed, now occupied only by Mr. Martins, was purchased by the couple the year they married. The other furnishings were bought at fire sales and local auction houses during the Depression.
In 1952, Mrs. Martins underwent abdominal surgery, which was paid for under Mr. Martins’s Major Medical Blue Cross policy. Through his union, the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, Mr. Martins pays $10 a month for this policy, which covers both him and his wife. Their other expenses for medical care, except for their spectacles, which Mr. Martins buys for both of them, have been negligible. Neither of the Martinses has visited a dentist in the last 15 years.
Mr. Martins owns a 1940 Buick. He does the maintenance on the vehicle. On Sundays, he drives Mrs. Martins to Bethesda Methodist Church for Sabbath worship. Twice a month, he drives her to the local A&P to buy groceries. At Christmastime, he drives her to Massachusetts so that she can visit with their daughter and son. She stays a week with each. Mr. Martins does not participate in these visits, not being on speaking terms with either of his children.
Other than her egg money, Mrs. Martins has no income of any sort of her own. For the last several years, during her annual visit to Massachusetts, her daughter has bought her either a pair of shoes or a dress. Mrs. Martins owns one coat, which is more than 15 years old, and one purse of indeterminate vintage. Twice a year, winter and summer, Mr. Martins gives Mrs. Martins $20 and takes her to the Salvation Army Thrift Store to purchase clothes, including undergarments and sleepwear.
Mrs. Martins moved out of the marital bedroom five years ago and now sleeps in the bedroom formerly occupied by their children. She has repeatedly asked her husband to make improvements in the house and to buy her clothes. He has consistently refused. They have not been to a motion picture or other entertainment palace in more than 12 years. They have not taken a vacation in 25 years. They do not belong to any clubs or benevolent associations and do not visit with friends or entertain in their own home but appear to live parallel, solitary lives.
Mrs. Martins is a conscientious housekeeper and homemaker. Her domestic duties are heavy and onerous, owing to the absence of such modern conveniences as a washing machine, clothes dryer, and vacuum cleaner. Despite a bad back, she spends more than 50 hours a week cleaning and cooking, and it is only through her efforts, which might be fairly likened to Hercules’s labors in the Augean stables, that the couple is kept from living in absolute squalor. Mr. Martins does no work at all around the house or garden, having declared to his wife that he is in retirement.
In September 1953, Mrs. Martins, at the urging of her children, brought suit against her husband in Narragansett Superior Court to compel him to buy a new furnace, install an inside toilet, and purchase for her a new coat, hat, scarf, and overshoes. She also asked the Court to order him to pay her an allowance of $20 a month for personal items and expenses. The Superior Court granted her request and ordered Mr. Martins to pay his wife a single lump sum of $1,500 for the purchase and installation of a new furnace and toilet and $4 a week spending money. The Appellate Court affirmed. We reverse.
In Dupuis v. Dupuis, 202 Nar. 576 (1933), a wife sued her husband for failure to provide her with household goods and amenities. Although the circumstances of her existence were not so grim as those recounted here, they are similar enough for us to recognize its ruling as the governing precedent. Mrs. Dupuis wanted money to install a new refrigerator in place of a 19th-century icebox, to purchase new bedclothes and linens, and to buy a new sofa, the old one having collapsed. She also asked the Court to order her husband to repair the family automobile, which had two missing side windows and a broken heater. The Court rejected her suit and set out the rule, which today we apply again.
However much we might deplore the miserliness of Mr. Dupuis, we cannot do what his wife asks. A husband is obliged to provide the necessities of existence, which the law defines as adequate food, clothing, and shelter and reasonable medical attention. He need not provide more, no matter his income or savings. It is not the Court’s business to dictate the appropriate standard of living, only the minimum below which no woman should be expected to live. Where the husband has met this minimal standard and where the marriage bond between the couple is maintained and he has not abandoned her or she him, the Court will not substitute its judgment for that of the household. Dupuis v. Dupuis, 202 Nar. at 580.
As in Dupuis, we too deplore the miserliness of the husband/breadwinner, but personal feelings cannot provide the governing standard. While Mrs. Martins has fled the marital bedroom, she has remained beneath the marital roof and expressed no wish or interest in obtaining either a legal separation or divorce. Nor for that matter has Mr. Martins, and there is no evidence that conjugal rupture is the reason for his iron grasp on the purse strings or her suit to loose it. Minimal as it is, Mr. Martins has provided his wife with adequate food, shelter, and clothing and reasonable medical care. So long as their marriage continues and so long as he continues to provide to his wife these bare “necessities of existence,” the Court will not interfere with their domestic financial arrangements. In accord Commonwealth v. George, 358 Pa. 118, 56 A.2d 228 (1948); McGuire v. McGuire, 157 Neb. 226, 59 N.W.2d 336 (1953).
There is hardly a married couple in this country who does not have disagreements over money. In the absence of proof of neglect or desertion, the Court must leave them to their own devices. The sanctity of marriage demands no less; as the State will not intrude into a couple’s bedroom or bathroom, so it must not take over the checkbook. The case is reversed and remanded.
Parisier, J., Lawler, J., Bauer, J., Pritchard, J., Gordon, J., and Cabolis, J., join this opinion.
* * *
Narragansett Statutes
Title 33 of the Narragansett Code, Sections 801ff.
Dissolution of Marriage, Annulment, and Legal Separation
Sec. 832. Alimony (also known as Maintenance or Spousal Support).
The Narragansett Family Court may order either of the parties to pay alimony (also known as maintenance or spousal support) to the other. In determining whether alimony shall be awarded, and the duration and amount of the award, the court shall consider the length of the marriage, the causes for the dissolution, legal separation, or annulment of the marriage, the age, health, station, occupation, earning capacity, amount and sources of income, vocational skills, employability, property, liabilities, and needs of each of the parties, and the opportunity of each for future acquisition of capital assets and income.
Sec. 834. Parents’ obligation for maintenance of minor child.
(a) The parents of a minor child of the marriage shall maintain the child according to their respective abilities.
(b) If there is an unmarried child of the marriage who has attained the age of eighteen (18), is a full-time high school student, and resides with a parent, the parents shall maintain the child according to their respective abilities until the child completes the twelfth grade or attains the age of nineteen (19), whichever first occurs.
(c) In determining the respective abilities of the parents to provide maintenance, the court shall consider the age, health, station, occupation, earning capacity, amount and sources of income, property, vocational skills, and employability of each of the parents, and the age, health, station, occupation, educational status and expectation, amount and sources of income, vocational skills, employability, property, and needs of the child.
Chagrin
* * *
From: Sophie Diehl
To: Maggie Pfeiffer
Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1999 17:54:22
Subject: Chagrin 4/5/99 5:54 PM
Maggie—
I am so embarrassed. I wrote a rambling, incoherent memo on the divorce to David, and he blasted me for “free-associating.” He told me to “get a grip.” I don’t know how I’m going to face him. I feel like such a jerk. I’m so used to writing to Joe, who’s tolerant of my style—his own being no
t so different. Joe and I write memos that are the written equivalent of thinking aloud. It works for us. David actually said I should think before I write. Another reason to hate civil litigation. I imagined this assignment would be demoralizing but not in this particularly humiliating way. Every time I think about it, my stomach turns over.
I’ve only seen Harry once in the last week, and only for a quick coffee on Wednesday; our schedules are not compatible—no one’s schedule is compatible with mine at the moment. He did send me an email, however. There is a fabulous economy to his wooing style. It works for me. The Trilling case is taking all my time, but I still have to do this damn divorce. (That free-association memo took over an hour, whatever David thinks.) I billed 70 hours last week. (I actually worked 85 hours last week—it’s never all billable—and last Thursday I put in 20 hours.) If I keep up at this level, I’ll bill 3,000 in the year. This has to stop. This is New Salem, for heaven’s sake, not New York.
I’ve emailed Joe and David to say I needed the coming weekend off. I begin to regret I introduced David to email. Last weekend he sent me two. My plan is to go to your opening on Friday and then sleep for the next two days—or at least stay in bed. I wonder if I’ll have a sleepover. Another thing to give me a jittery stomach. It must be nice to be married. Is it?
Maman’s coming in Thursday night, by herself. Jake has to work Friday, patients. I understand: I’d be annoyed if my shrink took off for a long weekend. All of August is bad enough. He sends his regrets. I’m thinking of inviting David to have lunch with me and Maman on Friday, instead of apologizing. What do you think? I don’t think he knows who she is. He’s never said anything. Maybe he’s never heard of her. (Is that possible?) He probably doesn’t read mysteries—though I thought everyone smart read mysteries.
What do you think?
Love,
S.
* * *
Hello
* * *
From: Harry Mortensen
To: Sophie Diehl
Date: Sun, 4 Apr 1999 3:01:22
Subject: Hello 4/4/99 3:01 AM
Sweet Sophie—Where are you? Why aren’t you here?
Harry
* * *
Re: Chagrin
From: Maggie Pfeiffer
To: Sophie Diehl
Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1999 23:33:19
Subject: Re: Chagrin
4/5/99 11:33 PM
Dear Sophie—
Just apologize to David, straight out. Tell him you’re sorry about the memo. Explain it as a bad habit you’ve fallen into doing criminal law. Tell him all the cowboys do it. Tell him it’s another reason you shouldn’t be doing this divorce. Then swear it will never happen again and it will be behind you. From everything you’ve ever said about David, he’s already moved on.
You should invite David to lunch with your mother. I’d like to see those two together—the gods of your life squaring off. Maybe they’ll spontaneously combust in each other’s presence.
The cast party will be at the Rink. Bring your mother—or not. Maybe not. Drama students tend to misbehave dramatically. There might be some things going on that she should be shielded from—for your sake, not hers. It’s an insider’s party. And I don’t think you want to introduce her to Harry quite yet.
I can’t say I’d recommend marriage across the board—having seen some pretty rotten ones—but being married to Matt is better than anything I can think of, anything I can imagine. He’s wonderful. He not only puts up with me—and I know I’m a piece of work—he loves me the way I am. I’m crazy about him. Caveat: he is not perfect, but I never have wanted to shoot him more than once a week. That may change; after all, we’re still newlyweds.
I’m so tired. I couldn’t remember my lines tonight. I’ve heard that some NY people will be in the audience on Friday, including Juliet Taylor, Woody Allen’s casting agent. Talk about stomach problems. I haven’t eaten in two days.
Courage, ma chere.
Love,
Maggie
TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI
222 CHURCH STREET
NEW SALEM, NARRAGANSETT 06555
(393) 876-5678
MEMORANDUM
Attorney Work Product
From: Sophie Diehl
To: David Greaves
RE: Mrs. Maria Durkheim: New Information About the Marriage
Date: April 6, 1999
Attachments: Letter
I am writing this on the fly. I’ve got a ton of things to get done by the end of the day, but I thought you should be informed of some late-breaking developments in the Durkheim divorce. I shall try to be orderly.
Vronsky made his appearance! Late yesterday afternoon, about 5 p.m., a visibly distraught Mia Durkheim appeared in my office, clutching a letter. She said she needed for me to read it right then, in her presence. Of course, I did. I’ve enclosed the letter with this memo. I was reassuring and told her not to worry; we’d pull out all the stops and protect her and her interests. I told her that divorces get ugly at times—she had to expect that—and that threats, veiled or open, were part of the negotiating process. I did my best to calm her down and send her home in a moderately composed state of mind.
Did I say the right things? I believed them when I said them. Do you think Dr. Durkheim would actually follow through? Or is she panicking needlessly? She had been up the night before writing the letter and only fell asleep after Jane left for school this morning. When she woke up at 4:30, she decided she had to speak with me immediately. She looked so different from the way she had at the interview: older, haggard, depressed, sad, anxious. I felt so bad for her. I hate divorces.
She lied to me during the intake interview, or rather, she left out things she should have told me. I should have known; I never believe my criminal clients—they’re always innocent—but she seemed so sane and so frank. I don’t think her confession changes anything (does it?), but I’m glad she came clean. I don’t like surprises. Do I need to wait for the other shoe to drop? Will there be more confessions, more surprises?
MARIA DURKHEIM
404 ST. CLOUD STREET
NEW SALEM, NA 06556
April 5, 1999
Anne Sophie Diehl
Traynor, Hand, Wyzanski
222 Church Street
New Salem, NA 06555
Dear Sophie:
I was not altogether straight with you at our interview, and now that you are officially my lawyer, I think I have to come clean. My sin is one of omission. I didn’t lie to you; I just left something out that probably bears on the case. You asked me if there was another woman in Danny’s life, but not if there was another man in mine (were you being kind? or discreet? or did you think I wasn’t the sort?)—and so I didn’t volunteer the information I will now disclose.
The summer before Danny and I got involved, I was involved with another married man, a French one, considerably older than I, named Jacques Valery, who was a sportswriter at the New York Globe. (His marriage was badly frayed—aren’t they all?—and I was young, self-centered, and a bit wild.) I broke it off the day after Danny and I went out for the first time. I was already madly in love with him and could see a future for us. There was none with Jacques; he was too old and too encumbered with wife, children, mortgage, cat, the usual suburban flotsam of married life. And he wasn’t interested in starting over. He was pure affair material, right down to the accent. In the spring of 1993, about a year and a half after the move to New Salem, I discovered that Jacques was working in Philadelphia for the Chronicle. I was wretchedly unhappy and decided to look him up during one of my visits to my sister, Cordelia. He had gotten divorced and remarried, but the new wife was living in New York; he was commuting and, during the three days he stayed in Philly, at loose ends. We had dinner a few times, and then one night we went back to my hotel for a drink. One thing led to another, and before too long, we had resumed the affair. It lasted almost five years. I gave it up last winter; Danny and
I were getting along horribly, and I thought perhaps he had gotten wind of it. I now think I sensed Danny was fooling around and I got scared that we would break up. (I was right; it turns out he was starting up with Dr. Stephanie just as I was breaking off with Jacques.)
Danny and I were very happy in the beginning (I have to keep reminding myself of that). I loved listening to him; I loved the way his mind worked, and no one has ever made me laugh the way he did, and probably still could. He could be the best company. Even now sometimes, when I’m reading a book or watching a movie, I’d like to know what he thought about it.
Things started going off after Jane was born. We couldn’t seem to make each other happy. I don’t know what happened. I think now Danny was jealous of Jane, or of the way I felt about her. I fell in love with her, and he felt displaced, supplanted. He was so used to my admiration, almost as fawning as his parents’. Nancy Reagan had nothing on me.
Do you know that bit from A Room of One’s Own, where Woolf talks about women serving as looking-glasses with the “magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size.” That was my job in the marriage—worship—and for the first ten years, I did it effortlessly, wholeheartedly. I was mad about him. Then I grew up, had a baby, and wanted a marriage with two normal-sized people. Isn’t ten years of adoration all a reasonable narcissist has any right to expect from a wife? You’d think the parents of his patients would take up the slack. I saw one of them actually kiss his hand, as if he were the pope. Then there are the letters he gets regularly from them, thanking him for all he does for their children. I’ll show you the most recent. He left it on the counter for me to see (no doubt as a rebuke), and Jane too. She cried when she read it. To my credit, I didn’t crumple it up and toss it out. I’m inured to these outpourings. I know I shouldn’t be so mean and petty about all this. Those parents are utterly sincere, heartbreakingly grateful. And he is truly a first-rate doctor. If only he weren’t a third-rate human being.
The Divorce Papers: A Novel Page 9
