Shot

In the dream C. and I are moving her to college. We're on a campus that's carved out of a landscape of tall green hills and sharp ravines. The dorms are tucked between two peaks. The buildings are fraternal twins--identical art deco gems but two different colors, one cream the other rose. There are a lot of other young women milling about in the hallways. I'm already in C's room staring into a small closet, thinking about where she can fit what. C. is in the hallway or maybe just near the front door. I can hear her talking and laughing. Then there's chaos. A man's voice. Shouting. Screams. "He's got someone." or maybe it's, "He's shot someone." Then a moment of  quiet crescendos into sobs.  I'm frozen, listening for my daughter's voice.
In these moments, though I'm not in the hallway, I see with my dreamer's eye what has occurred. And I know what no one has explained. Just down the road there is a penitentiary. No one at the college ever mentions it. A prisoner has escaped. He's hurt my daughter and I am still staring into the closet, unable to move.

Divorce Nostalgia

I'm reading and printing out all of the emails I've exchanged with my attorneys from the beginning of time. I happened to run across an exchange between Mr. Ex and me in March of 2008 that I'd forwarded to them.


It could be that I'm finally losing my mind, but it made me laugh.

Mr. Ex,
After talking to you on the phone the other day, I asked my attorney about
the temporary support stalemate.  He says there is no issue regarding your
non-taxable income so maybe you could clarify for me.
I find it quite humiliating that in addition to the fact that you lied to
me for months, cheated on me and have been incredibly inconsiderate and
hurtful that now I still do not have any temporary alimony.
I'd love to meet you for coffee and talk about this.
Please let me know when and if you are willing to do that.

Ex-in-the-City,

The calculation of temporay support shown to me by my attorney -- which I understood him to say came from your attorney -- included a very large amount of nontaxable income, which surprised me. Or I should say, I understood that the number to be nontaxable income. I will call my attorney tomorrow and get clarification. If there's a misunderstanding, then I see no reason why we won't be able to quickly get you your share because the formula is standard.

Mr. Ex,
I'm re reading all of your recent emails and this is fucking gibberish.
You sound like a fool.
Maybe try writing like you did when you won "best brief."
And yes the formula is standard so let's employ it.




Oh....he didn't meet me for coffee.

One of L.A.'s Prominent Lawyers

The Narcissist (a.k.a. Mr. Ex) has been busy these past few weeks. He's stopped ignoring me and my attorneys and put some effort into screwing me.

I went without any spousal support for nearly 14 months after he left me. During that time, I used our joint checking account and our credit cards. Now he's claiming that the money I spent should be characterized as an advancement against my share of our community property. Had I received spousal support in a timely manner, I would have received quite a bit more money than I actually spent.

And then there are all those dinners on our joint credit cards in the months leading up to our split. Lots of nice downtown eateries and  price tags just right for dinner for two. I wonder if there's any case law out there that would support him paying that money back to the community?

My ex-husband is a liar and a cheat--and a partner in a large prominent law firm. I used to think of attorneys as members of one of the "trusted" professions.  Priests held a spot in that pantheon once. And bankers. Not any more.

Mr. Ex and I were wined and dined quite a bit when he was applying for his first job. We lived in a 450- square-foot apartment and drove a Honda Civic that cost $4800.00. Our other car was a 1966 Dodge Coronet with 200 thousand miles on it and a set of temperamental spark plugs. I didn't know much about big fat law firms in those days. I wanted the people that Mr. Ex worked with to be interesting. I wanted dinner conversation to consist of something other than droning on about vacation homes and private nursery schools. I wanted him to find partners that would treat him well because tolerating criticism was not one of his talents. I wanted him to be happy.

One of Mr. Ex's classmates had a wife with a different set of criteria. Eddie wanted to know how many of the senior partners were divorced in the law firms where her husband was interviewing. Only one partner out of a dozen or two still with the original wife? Nope, her hubby couldn't work there. I wish I had been smart like Eddie, but the fact is, I did the best that I could with what I knew then. I loved The Narcissist. And I thought he'd always love me. But love isn't always enough.

People are corruptible. Parents want their kids to be friends with nice kids--not heroine addicts. "Birds of a feather flock together," my dad warned my sister and me when he didn't approve of someone we were hanging around with.

Mr. Ex's flock would make Hitchcock's birds look like a bunch of parakeets.

photo credit: wackyowl.net

My Big New Writing Life

My big new writing life feels like it's been carelessly washed then stuffed into a too-hot dryer. I have to squeeze into it now and it looks like hell. Tight with a muffin top. Indecently short.

I've had ideas. My index card notebook is riddled with one-liners. I come home, set my satchel on my desk and slide the notebook from its pocket while my laptop purrs to life. I check my email. And then I write long responses to my attorneys. I open my Big D. file and pull things out, checking facts and figures and dates. I rifle through my file cabinet, and before I know it there are a half-dozen folders on the floor. The attorneys want account numbers, information about checks I've written, another list of all my assets. How much I spend....and how much I make. How much I make?? It's called alimony, remember? We went to court together to get it. But really, it's okay if you forgot. It was 3 years and 4 months ago. A long time, yes?

Imagine all this work put into my novel, selling my memoir manuscript,  or a new short story.

But wait. I've exchanged hundreds and hundreds of  emails with my attorneys. There's got to be a book in that, right?