The Plenty
Page 31
Chapter 28.
Rather than brooding in her car on a dirt road or in a parking lot, as Josh expected, this time Kathy drove to Tonnamowoc and stalked the library for materials on separation and divorce. The card-catalog pointed her to self-help sections and memoir, but she wanted a manual. A how-to guide. The search became tiresome, unfruitful, and she stepped into the lobby of the library to speed things up by placing calls from the payphone.
Fidgeting and gabbing to himself, a dirty man leaned against the wall pretending to sleep, but Kathy noticed him listening to the subject and content of her calls. Soon he piped up and spoke from under his filthy Minnesota Twins hat.
"Getting out of a bad situation, are you, lady? I know a guy who could help."
"Pardon me?" Kathy said, pressing the phone against her shirt.
"I know a guy who could help you."
"Sir," Kathy said, "I don't need some foul man sitting on the floor of a public building to tell me anything, thank you very much."
"I'm just trying to help."
"Try a bath. It's rude to eavesdrop. Scoot along, you smell awful and I'd like some privacy. Honestly, if fungus were manners, you'd be a prince."
The man shoved off from the floor, moved his station to the other side of the lobby, and Kathy resumed thumbing through the yellow pages. After a few phone calls, Kathy connected with a young woman willing to meet that afternoon. An eager attorney, readily taking clients on a Saturday.
With urgency, Kathy drove to the attorney's townhouse, to gather needed materials from the lawyer, to make a list of what she needed from the county to proceed with dissolving her marriage. First steps toward escape from the black hole called Josh Werther, from which no emotion escaped.
She met the lawyer at the door and followed her into a home office.
"I apologize, this room isn't where I usually meet clients," said the young woman. "I don't often meet clients at home, but you sounded so upset on the phone."
"It's a lovely room," said Kathy. "Terrific colors, and the chairs! And, no children, I'm guessing? There's no clutter in here."
"I have one," said the woman. "But he's with his father this weekend." A hint of sadness in the corner of the attorney's mouth turned resolutely toward business again.
"I see," said Kathy, offering a look of pity to the woman, whose unblemished face made her almost a girl, in Kathy's opinion.
The woman broached the subject of divorce by questioning Kathy's reasons. Initially, Kathy could only answer: "Because I hate him." At this, the young woman frowned. Kathy thought of her parents, how her father smacked around her mother. Under a cloud of irritation, Kathy wished that Josh had mistreated her physically, struck her just once, only to make the divorce a terribly obvious decision. For a moment, she considered accusing Josh of hitting her, if only to settle the score for her mother, justice against all men by sacrificing Josh. But she refrained, unable to speak libel upon Josh, discovering that she did not hate her husband badly enough to carry out a cruel lie.
"Do you have religious differences?" said the attorney.
"No," said Kathy. "We're both Christians. Catholics. Or I am. He fakes it. But we still raise the children in the Church."
"Sure, I understand," the young woman said, nodding with interest. "Are there disagreements over how to raise the children?"
"Yes," she said, but retreated immediately. "Or no. Not really. He is a decent father, when he's home. But he's never home."
"What about infidelity?"
"I've suspected it. Yes, there are times I wonder if he's golfing or crouching in some corner at The Wreck. He can't look away from a woman passing by. When we go out to eat, his head turns at every pair of legs…" She stopped, feeling her digression lacking evidence of cheating.
"Ok," said the young woman. "Any proof of him stepping out, seeing other people?"
She considered the incidents of the past ten years. The grocery clerk. The young tellers at the bank. Dawn's first grade teacher. And Dawn's third grade teacher. Every woman drew Josh's attention, or rather, any younger woman who had not yet bore children. The scar on Kathy's stomach had made Josh withdraw, from the moment Dawn was born. How infrequently his hand reached for her during the first three years after the first baby arrived. During that time, both of them became enamored with Dawn, forgetting about their relationship. Not until after Dawn's toddler years did Kathy reflect on how Josh no longer showed interest in her stretched stomach and hips. And when Dawn turned three, a brief Renaissance surged into the marriage, for nearly five months, which resulted in Rhea, and Rhea resulted in the second C-section. Fresh and deep scar tissue brought a new separation between them, leading up to the seven-year-itch where they squabbled daily. And then Bryce followed, just as Rhea outgrew her toddler phase, and Kathy's body stretched once again, putting a whorl on her abdomen that did not spring back into shape. Josh retracted from her. Of ten years of marriage, eight had been tense, with work and children dominating the days. Tidal swells of emotion moved, sometimes steady for long periods, sometimes swinging radically between two sunrises. Days of affection were followed by cold shoulders. Events swept them along, for a decade, like leaves in a stream. Attempts to spark romance fell flat on exotic beaches and in national parks. When romance did strike, it occurred in strange places, during routine chores or while doing maintenance work on the house. Painting a room, a hand brushed the other's leg. Emptying the dishwasher, a bump and a smile. Cleaning the garage, a ladder and a pinch. But on this day while she sat across from the pensive attorney, Kathy could not muster memories of good days. A long pent frustration tempted her to tell the young woman, that yes, Josh did have a girlfriend. But she said, "I don't have any proof, but I suspect it." She began to feel nervous as the possibility of separation became more real. "The relationship has…it's just run its course."
"I understand," said the attorney. "Well, we can certainly discuss options. The first option, which is the best option, is to start with marriage counseling. Perhaps that's all you need."
"I'm not interested in that," said Kathy, setting her purse on the young woman's coffee table. "I want to discuss the process."
"As you wish," said the lawyer, pulling her chair closer to the desk, handing Kathy a folder filled with documents.
"It's probably silly," Kathy said, "but I do worry about divorcing, since it's frowned on by the church."
The young woman said, "Do you mean the whole, 'What God hath joined, let no one put asunder.' That idea?"
"Yes."
"Kathy, if you just say the words, and think about them, you will see that the burden does not fall on the divorcing parties."
"It doesn't?" said Kathy, leaning back, unaware of such a possibility.
"No," said the young woman. "Please walk through it with me. What God has joined. Your marriage was blessed by God. But who does the verse say cannot separate the marriage? No one. And who would that 'one' be? It's certainly not referring to you or your husband – neither of you have legal standing to end a marriage. The verse is talking about the person who signs off on the divorce, meaning the legal system, and more specifically, the judge. The judge who willingly acts for the system bears the burden of disunioning the blessed marriage. Do you understand?"
"I don't know, I've never thought of it that way, never thought of the judge being guilty of anything..."
"But Kathy, consider the wording," said the attorney, with convincing eyes. "God is not to blame, nor the husband and wife – but only the one, or ones, who makes such things legal. Very obvious in the way it is written. In any case, that reference has no legal bearing." She touched Kathy's hand. "Let the judge worry about that verse. Those words are not your concern."
Kathy nodded, "I see." She felt better and admired the young woman, for her knowledge, for succeeding without a husband in her house, for taking charge of a life that included both career an
d kids.