How the Hearing to Recover Attorney Fees Went

I had my day in court on Wednesday.
But not really.
I was there, as were two of my attorneys and Mr. Ex's attorney, too.
Mr. Ex himself had better things to do. Which is what
the judge said. Surely, it was time to wrap this case up, he said,
because Mr. Ex, the big name L.A. attorney from one of the biggest and fattest law firms surely had better things to do. 
The judge scolded my attorney for a technicality. She did a decent job of defending herself...and me.
I was not allowed to speak. I did not say
that I, too, have better things to do than sit mutely in a courtroom
on a
Wednesday morning in March.

On Thursday I flung doors and drawers wide and
threw paper away.
Not motions, nor declarations of income and expenses, nor schedules of assets
and debts, nor stipulations for the divsion of joint assets. Not
the final decree--but notes for stories already written and early memoir drafts, handouts from classes, rosters with names of
people I can't quite remember. I didn't throw away the things I don't want to remember, I threw
away what I am finished with. I am not finished
with you, millstone of a  husband. I will print out every email, bind them into a book
and then
I will burn it at your feet.


The judge has taken the matter under submission.  I don't know anything yet. Meanwhile another godzilla of a bill from my attorney is weighing down my desk.

The Turtle and the Heart of Stone

I had coffee with Mr. Ex this morning.  We sat on a bench in my neighborhood with coffee to-go and fresh goodies from a bakery. "Tell me the scenario you are envisioning," I said.
"For settling our financial affairs?" he asked.  As if we had any other kind of scenario in the works.
So he said that, really, we weren't very far apart in our two versions of how we think things should be divided. That was news to me because in the last draft from his attorney, the irrevocable trust was still being cut in two, there was no mention of his bonus from 2008 or 2009, or any confirmation that he would spring for half of my attorney fees.
"Really?" I said. "Then why is it taking so long and why doesn't your attorney answer my attorney's questions?" I went on to say that I wanted the four of us to meet face to face and hammer out the agreement until we were finished, that I didn't want any more back and forth and asking and re-asking the same questions. I said I didn't want it to take 2 or 3 months to get a resolution on one point only to go on to another something that needed resolving.
"Let's do it in a conference call," he said. We narrowed it down to a couple of dates, and I said again I wanted that call to be the end of it. Nothing to follow but our signatures on a document. Then the money. And the whole deal should only take a couple more weeks. That's the way it would be, he said.
Mr. Ex didn't look at me the whole while we talked, and I looked at him not looking at me. We had a "Pleasant Chat" at the end, but I was faking it. I feel no pleasantness at all toward this man who was once the love of my life. At 19 I was certain he was my soulmate. Now only the tiniest crack in my heart of stone peeks open when I think of how I refused to give up on him. On Us. I hung on.  I didn't know then there was a time for surrender.