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September 26, 2000
Goodbye, Barry.
Congratulate me, I'm divorced. It all went by very quickly, and relatively painlessly. I spent yesterday evening pacing the floor, fretting. Barry has sent me some cryptic emails, making references to a lawyer -- I didn't know what that meant. I didn't know if he was playing head games with me again, or if he was going to try to pull some last-minute crap at the hearing -- not to stop the divorce, because he doesn't care about that, but to get money or furniture from me. Posessions were all he ever really cared about anyway, so I wouldn't have put it past him. Beth sat with me and gave me pep talks all evening, until I felt calmer. Had a glass of wine, and fell asleep listening to music.
This morning was cold and grey and rainy. Suited my mood. Beth went to the hearing with me, and, as we drove past the courthouse looking for a place to park, I saw Barry standing outside with a blonde woman -- not the woman he cheated on me with. He was wearing the suit he wore for our wedding. I don't know if that was deliberate, or if it's just the only suit he owns. With him, you can never tell. Found a parking place, and went inside, and realized I had no idea where I was supposed to go. A security officer looked at my docket number, and led us around until he found the right courtroom -- he was very nice about it, too. We sat on the opposite side of the room from Barry. I tried not to look at him, but I kept catching glimpses out of the corner of my eye. He looked awful -- he's lost weight, and he was pale and shaky. His eyes were red and swollen. Good, I thought. Hope it hurts. Beth kept me laughing for the twently minutes or so that we sat there waiting for the judge. We talked about her boyfriend, and about Ben, and giggled about how the giant light fixture in the middle of the ceiling looked like a UFO. She said she wondered what would happen if she grabbed a robe and pretended to be the judge. I hope Barry heard us laughing, and saw me at least looking happy. The first case was a woman doing some sort of child custody thing -- her baby's father was in jail, so he wasn't there. Sad. The next case was an elderly man seeking a divorce -- his wife wasn't there. He hadn't seen or heard from her in over a year. Also very sad -- and I felt terrible because, when he walked past to leave after the judge granted the divorce, I was smiling. I was just happy to see how little time it took -- but his case was so depressing. He was there all alone.
We got called next, and, much to my displeasure, we had to stand at the little podium together, shoulders nearly touching. "I'm blind on my right side," I told myself. "I can't see him. He's not there. I can't see him..." The judge questioned me first. "Mrs. Peters, were you married in Rutland, Vermont, on November 20, 1999?" "Yes." "Did you last live together on May 27, 200, in Chelsea, Massachusetts?" "Yes." "On May 8, was there an irretrievable breakdown of the marriage?" "Yes." "Would the breakdown be fixed by marriage counselling?" "No." He asked Barry if he had heard and understood my answers, and Barry agreed. He asked if we would abide by the seperation agreement, and granted me my maiden name -- I'm a Carter again, hurrah! He said neither of us could remarry for 120 days -- damn, that shoots down my weekend plans! And then it was over. So quickly. Beth gave me a huge hug the minute we left the courtroom -- she said she was proud, that I was like a rock, while he was shaking and looked like he was about to cry. I said "I'm so happy -- it's like a huge weight had been lifted. I never have to see him again," not realizing he was right behind me, waiting to leave. when we walked outside, he was huddled with the blonde woman, who he had apparently left sitting in the rain while he was in court. Beth took me out for a celebratory lunch, and then we headed home. She said "I never knew your eyes were so bright!" -- they had been sad every time she saw me since I moved in.
I feel -- empty, I guess, right now. I'm glad it's over. I've been in a progressively worse mood over the past few weeks, knowing the divorce was looming. I damn near killed myself yesterday, walking out into traffic because I was so preoccupied. Good thing that SUV had excellent brakes. I never have to see him again. I never have to get any emails at work from him again. But... I never thought it would end this way. He always said we would grow old together -- he told me that he'd still love me when I was eighty, sitting in a rocking chair... and part of me wants to think he did love me, and will still love me in the future, though I'll never see him again, if I can help it. I don't know. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it -- happy, but still mourning a bit, I guess.
Posted by Mary Ellen at September 26, 2000 04:53 PM