Yakima Ch. 03-04

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The Misery of Divorce.
6.6k words
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Part 2 of the 7 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 08/03/2017
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coaster2
coaster2
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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."

"So, what's the risk?"

"Family court judges don't enjoy disputed divorces. They like nice, tidy agreements beforehand that they can rubberstamp. Disputes are almost always about three things: money, custody, and goods and chattel. Then they are tasked with trying to determine what is right and what is fair. Too often, they take the easy road and go by some predetermined formula. It's seldom in favor of the husband, regardless of who was at fault in the marriage."

"What do you think we should do?"

"I think we can make a compelling case that your wife will be well taken care of by Mr. Gordon Winters and that you should not be burdened with any costs associated with the dissolution of the marriage. I will make sure that the public record shows that your wife engaged deliberately in an adulterous affair and was attempting to profit from her sins."

"What have I got to lose?" I said sullenly.

"I don't expect you would be happy with a negotiated settlement as proposed by your wife. They seldom come out in your favor unless you have unlimited funds to support my legal fees. They win by attrition, wearing you out with costs and constant argument. I know it's a leap of faith, Mr. Rideout, but I think we should attack them in court and let the chips fall where they may. I think we have a better chance of your coming out of this without too many cuts and bruises."

I sat there, pondering just what to do. I could see the logic of Miles Hoffman's strategy. It was risky, but then simply surrendering to the long, drawn-out process of negotiation was worse.

"Okay, Mr. Hoffman. Let's go to court," I said firmly.

He nodded and smiled, "I will give this everything I've got. You can count on that."

~*~

Before I arrived home, Miles Hoffman had advised Huggins, Reese's lawyer, that we had refused to negotiate the settlement and that we would take her to court and let the judge settle the matter. Huggins had apparently phoned Reese to tell her of our decision and as a result, she was in quite a state when I arrived at the house.

"Why are you taking me to court?" she demanded.

"I'm following my lawyer's advice," I said simply.

"You didn't even try to negotiate. Why?"

"I said, I'm following my lawyer's advice," I snapped with some heat.

"I don't want to go to court. I want this over with."

"Talk to your lawyer, not me." I walked away before I said something a good deal more forceful.

The look on her face spelled fear. She didn't know what to expect at court, but she'd probably seen enough daytime television to give her some idea of what she might encounter. I left her and went downstairs. If there was one oddity, it was the fact that I hadn't been ordered to leave the house. I had neglected to mention that to Miles Hoffman. I would call him tomorrow and see if it had been forgotten about.

I was sitting in my office at nine the following morning when once again, I had a visitor. And once again, I was served with a legal document. I had a pretty good idea what this might be, and I was right. It was a court order to vacate my home on or before midnight tonight. I immediately called Miles Hoffman, and wonder of wonders, he was able to take my call.

"Do just as they say, Mr. Rideout. Don't make a fuss or cause any damage. Just go about getting the things you need for the foreseeable future and leave. Don't discuss it with your wife. Since you don't have to be out until midnight, it will give you a chance to explain what's going on to your children. You know how to handle that. You've done it already and very well, I might add."

"Okay, I'm going to take the rest of the day off and go home and get my stuff organized. I'm going to be moving out to my parents' cabin on the river near Ellensburg. I've already arranged it with them and my father will be helping me. I assume he's allowed in the house with me?"

"Yes. Just caution him to say little if anything to your wife or whoever else is there. The less they know, the better."

"I thought about something else. I don't want to talk to my children on the phone. Who knows who might be listening? I'm thinking of buying one of those disposable phones and giving it to my son. It will be a way for him to call me if anything happens that he thinks I should know."

"That's fine. You're perfectly entitled to do that. It may be a source of useful information as well. Children have a way of knowing what's going on, even when we don't want them to."

"Okay, I guess that's everything. I'll get going on moving out. Thanks for the advice."

I hung up, then called my father.

"Dad, I got the order to vacate this morning. Can you get away with the truck and meet me at the house."

"Sure thing. I can be there in a half-hour."

"I'll wait for you. I want to pass along what my lawyer told me."

I went into Frank's office and let him know what had happened and that I needed the rest of the day off. He granted it immediately and wished me luck.

I met my father at the house and let him know just what we were doing and that we were advised to say very little to Reese.

"Don't even tell her where I'm moving to," I said. "She'll probably guess, but let's not confirm it."

"Sure." My father was a man of few words. I knew he was angry with Reese, but he could put on a poker face with the best of them, so I wasn't worried that he would upset her.

I walked into the house via the front door and looked around for Reese. She was on the back patio, talking to someone on the phone. I opened the patio door to announce my presence and she immediately ended the call. That left little doubt about who she was talking to.

"I'm here to get my stuff. Dad is with me. I won't be long. I'll come back before the kids go to bed to say goodbye." I delivered my statement in a level tone, carefully avoiding any inflection.

"It's not goodbye, Graham," she said with a hurt look. "You'll be seeing them on the weekend anyway."

I didn't reply as I stepped back into the house and went downstairs with Dad to begin packing up my things. Two hours later, we were on the road to Dad's cabin on the Yakima River. We were using his pickup truck with the shell over the bed. I had taken some sheets and blankets that I knew Reese wasn't using and two pillows that were for the sofa bed. I had a small AM-FM radio that could run on either batteries or AC power. Dad had a generator hooked up to the cabin, but it was used only at times as needed. Right now, it would run the little air conditioner that he'd found at a garage sale. It would cool the cabin down in the late afternoon and evening before I went to bed. The night air off the river would keep the bedroom from getting too warm.

Dad had thoughtfully brought his ten gallon gas container and we filled it along the way. We also had two propane tanks for cooking and running the refrigerator. It was only a ten minute drive to Ellensburg from the cabin, so getting supplies was no real challenge. Along the way we talked.

"What do you suppose Reese was thinking, getting involved with this car salesman?" Dad asked.

"I have no idea, Dad. You know, I'm not sure she knows. I guess she thought he was glamorous and rich. After all, he wore fancy clothes and drove a Lincoln. He must be rich, right?"

"I never thought I'd see the day," my father mused. He was just as baffled as I was.

"You going to be all right in the divorce?" he asked.

"Don't know yet, Dad. I've got a good lawyer and he's got a plan to do what's best for me. But ... it's a gamble too. You never know how these things are going to turn out. I showed you the original demands from her lawyer. We couldn't accept that in any way, shape or form. Besides, if he's going to marry her and he's rich, she won't need my money. I think her lawyer is just playing games and I have a feeling my guy is going to take him to school."

"I hope you're right, Son. Anyway, no matter what, we'll be here for you and the children. You know that."

"Yeah. I know ... and I'm grateful."

"Have you talked to Reese's parents yet?"

"No," I admitted. "I haven't got around to it. I wouldn't know what to say to them. I think I'll put it off for as long as I can."

My father didn't say anything and I couldn't tell if he agreed with me or not.

We stored the gas container in a cool spot, hooked up one of the propane tanks, and made sure the generator started. Once that was done, I put my clothes in the single closet, locked the door, and climbed into Dad's truck to for the trip back to Yakima. It was a pretty silent return journey, each of us lost in our thoughts.

Chapter 4 Showdown

It took three weeks before we got a court date assigned, and that was for the end of September, seven weeks ahead. Seven more weeks that I was forced to live like a hermit in the cabin, visiting my son and daughter only on weekends. There was only so much I could do at work to keep me busy. That didn't help my attitude toward Reese.

The resumption of the school year would add some new tasks to my schedule, but I had the feeling that Frank and gone to some lengths to take some of my workload off me. I'm sure he felt he was helping me.

I suppose I should be grateful that Reese never made it difficult for me to have the kids for the weekend. Soccer was in full flight now and Jessica was totally involved. Matt had chosen to play football during his sophomore year at high school. He had turned sixteen in mid-August and I took him and several of his Babe Ruth baseball friends out to dinner to celebrate. I also gave him an iPad, which lit him up like it was the best present ever. I was well aware that I would have to do the same for Jessica on her birthday.

I was determined not to spoil the kids with presents or treats. I didn't want to get into a bidding war with Reese for their affections. I wanted things to remain as level between us as it was possible for me to control. Miles had indicated there would be an opportunity to have the children testify about their lives and living conditions since the separation and I wanted them to be as honest as they could. As far as I could tell, they still preferred to live with me, but I was in the disadvantageous position of no longer having a suitable place for them. That could be rectified and would be in the fall, but I needed to know what my economic fate was going to be before I spent any serious money on a condo or apartment.

As the date for our court appearance drew nearer, I could detect a growing nervousness in Reese. I'm not sure what she was expecting, but more than once she said we could put a stop to the proceedings if I agreed to negotiate. I would give her my standard answer; it was in the hands of my lawyer and I was following his advice. That was not the answer she wanted to hear.

When the day arrived, we were expected to be in family court room 4B at the courthouse by nine in the morning. We were first on the calendar and Miles smiled when he saw we had drawn Judge Willa Patriquin.

coaster2
coaster2
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