Chapter 3: Shipwreck

I was served in my office on Friday morning. There was no drama attached to it since I knew it was coming, as did my secretary and some of my staff. The process server was ushered into my office and made his perfunctory request for identification before passing me the envelope with the divorce papers. I added another item on my "getting even list" when she chose to try and embarrass me in my workplace rather than serve me at home. I called Miles Hoffman's office and told the secretary that I'd been served and named the law firm and lawyer on the document. I didn't read the details. I couldn't stomach it at that moment.

When I arrived home, I gave her no satisfaction that being served had upset me. I didn't say a word to her. I went downstairs to shower in the little cabinet in the washroom and then changed into my usual shorts, t-shirt and sandals. Reese and I hadn't worked out just how we were going to operate as separate entities in the house. I had an old microwave and a bar fridge, along with a sink and counter that would be my kitchenette. The upright freezer for the house was also down there, so I had a place to store things as long as I didn't get carried away. I hadn't decided how I was going to handle my meals. So far, I had juice, coffee, and some cold cereal for breakfast. I planned to get a toaster oven to broaden my choices.

I ate my lunches in the office cafeteria, but I hadn't really come to terms about my evening meal. I had no intention of eating with Reese and I was pretty sure she didn't expect me to. We'd hardly said two words to each other since Saturday. I could probably afford to go out to dinner, but to be honest, I didn't have much ambition at present. I guess I was sulking, thinking of the rotten thing my wife had done to us.

I was going through periods of anger about it and I had to watch out I didn't let it boil over. Mr. Hoffman made it clear that I shouldn't give my wife any excuse to claim I was disruptive or violent, and that included language. He thought my strategy of refusing to leave the house was good, but likely temporary. Sooner or later, her lawyer would want me out of the house and get a court order to enforce that. Until then, however, I wasn't going anywhere.

Saturday was a busy day as usual. I drove Jess to her soccer game and stood along the sidelines to watch and cheer her on. Jess was a defender and had a very strong leg. She could clear the ball a good distance, but was a little slow afoot. As a result, she played back far enough that she couldn't easily be beaten by speed. Her team won 1-0 and she was happy as it ended. They hadn't won many games that season, so this was a nice reward on a sunny, warm morning.

The three of us had lunch together. Reese was out somewhere and we had the house to ourselves. I suggested Jess join us at the ballpark that afternoon, but she begged off, saying she would be at Mindy's for the afternoon. No surprise there. Matt and I headed to the ballpark at three-thirty and I sat in the bleachers to watch the game. It was another close game, won with one out in the last inning by a very nice bunt by Donny Scroggs, the catcher on Matt's team. He was normally a slugger, but fooled everyone with the bunt, bringing in the winning run from third before being thrown out. I think they called it a suicide squeeze.

There was pandemonium for a few minutes as they all congratulated each other on the coach's strategy. Hot, sweaty and dusty, I took him to the Dairy Freeze for the now traditional post-game ice cream. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I suddenly had a flash in my memory of a silver Lincoln speeding by with a black-haired woman in the passenger seat. It was just a fleeting memory, but I was almost sure now who it was. It hadn't really registered then, but now it did.

Reese didn't arrive home until nearly six, bringing in some deli food for herself and the children. I had a quick shower and changed into a clean t-shirt before resurfacing. Along the way, I took a beer from my mini-fridge and headed to the back deck to finally read the divorce document and see what I was up against. I'm sure Reese saw the envelope in my hand and guessed what it was.

When I cut through the usual legal mumbo-jumbo, I got the essence of her claims. It was a no-fault divorce with her claiming the house, half my 401K and her Explorer. Visitation would be twice monthly on weekends only. She also wanted spousal support to the tune of forty percent of my income as well as child support at another twenty percent of my income. All in all, by the time my taxes and other deductions were removed, I had about a buck-and-a-half left. She must have known this wasn't going to fly and it was just her lawyer's idea of a sick joke.

I folded the papers and returned them to the envelope, leaning my head back in the chair and closing my eyes. I should have been screaming my anger at that moment, but I was so stunned by the events of the past week that I couldn't bring myself to do anything but collapse. The beer was warm when I went back to it, but I took a big swallow anyway. I'd let Miles Hoffman deal with the document.

I didn't hear Reese come out on the deck until she closed the sliding door. I didn't acknowledge her until she spoke.

"It's just a starting point, Graham," she said weakly.

"Tell your lawyer that he forgot to demand my testicles as well," I snapped.

"It isn't that bad," she tried.

I pulled myself out of the chair, picked up the now empty beer bottle and walked past her without either looking at her or saying anything. I returned to my "cave" to find something to eat and try and cool my rising temper. The demands were so outrageous that I wondered how her lawyer convinced her that they were even rational. I would be seeing my lawyer on Monday afternoon to discuss the matter. Until then, I promised myself I would not display my anger nor would I speak to anyone but Miles Hoffman beforehand.

Sunday was a day to spend with myself it turned out. Matt was at a friend's house, swimming in their backyard pool for most of the day. Once again, Jess was at Mindy's. I was beginning to think she might prefer to live there considering how much time the two spent with each other. I really didn't mind. I wouldn't be very good company that day. I was seething inwardly at the claims by Reese. I had a hard time believing she had even read them. If she had, then she had dropped even further in my estimation. The only conclusion I could then draw from the document was that she was out to destroy me. I had to get out of the house before I destroyed something. I went for a long walk, trailing steam for the first half-hour.

Monday couldn't come too soon. I was on my way to work before anyone was up and into the office before anyone else as well. My appointment with Miles Hoffman wasn't until four o'clock, so I had almost an entire day to kill. Luckily, I had enough to do to keep me busy and help take my mind off the divorce. I had made Frank Martinez and my secretary aware of the divorce and that I would be taking some hours here and there to meet with my lawyer or other people related to the action.

Normally, I would be docked the hours against accumulated time off, but when I checked, that never seemed to happen. I think I was being given some special privileges and I was thankful. When this divorce was over and done with, I planned on taking a vacation. I didn't know where or when, but I was certainly going to get away for a couple of weeks.

I left the office just in time to be at Miles Hoffman's office for my appointment. His secretary indicated I could go in and I walked through the door. Miles greeted me with a handshake and closed the door behind me.

"I assume you've seen the documents," he said as we sat.

"Yes. I had to read them a couple of times before I could believe what I was seeing. It's a pretty nasty attempt to rape me, in my opinion."

He was nodding. "It's preposterous, to say the least. But ... not altogether surprising, considering the source. I'm well aware of James Huggins's typical strategy."

I gave him a questioning look.

"I won't disparage a colleague, but this is a common tactic of his. Start with ridiculous demands and work your way down until you get what you want ... or perhaps more. Try and wear down the opposition. It's an old strategy, but now out of date in the no-fault environment."

"How do we respond?" I asked.

"Good question. We have two options. One is to participate in his game and negotiate a settlement. The other requires a bit more risk, but likely, more reward."

"Explain," I said.

"We refuse to negotiate. We simply take your wife to court and dispute every single item in the document. We subpoena Gordon Winters to determine his plans, assuming of course that he intends to marry your wife. We will also subpoena his employer for his income records. It would be valuable to know just how much he will be putting into the pending marriage."