Monday, October 19, 2009

It might have been the full moon that made me do it. I called Mr. Ex while I was in France. I was begging for mercy, I sobbed to his voicemail--asking him to please co-operate in the division of our joint assets. I'd been waiting for weeks for a response to an email I'd sent him in which we went dancing around again over how things should be divided--but there was no response and I was feeling desperate. Maybe you'd like to suggest a revision because I simply have no more steam for this, I wrote in the email. I want all of this to be over, I want a life where I don't ever have to discuss dividing anything with you again. So, please, you propose something, please. Soon, please. I ask you to imagine what it would be like, really really like for you if the tables were turned. Go ahead imagine it. Somewhere between the email and the phone call, I depression-dialed my sister-in-law and it was 4 a.m. and luckily she didn't have her phone turned on. I think it's the lack of engagement that makes me feel so crazy--the silence, the nothing.
So all I hear is the clock ticking.
Time elapsed since Mr. Ex left: 2 years, 2 months, 3 weeks, 1 day and approximately 6 hours.
My attorney fees so far: Roughly $15,000.00

1 comment:

Elizabeth said...

WTF? What the hell? Do we need to hire someone in the Russian mob? I'm so sorry, Denise. I don't know what to say. It's just been a god-damn cliche from beginning to end, right? And I'm loving this swearing here -- it seems so utterly appropriate.

Hang in there. Lean on all of us.