”Hi, Mommy, it`s me,” said the voice on the phone.
Nathaniel`s words were soft and teary. He had been with his father for the weekend. It was 9 on a Sunday morning. I wondered what was up now.
”I have to stay here alone with a baby-sitter all day, Mommy,” Natty sobbed. ”Jackie and Daddy are going away. Why can`t I come and stay with you?”
Jackie and Curtis had plans for the day and had made arrangements for a sitter to stay with Nat. This enraged me. Why did my son have to stay alone all day with a sitter when I was only two miles away?
”Don`t you want me to come home and be with you, Mommy?”
”Nat, I would love to have you with me, honey,” I told him, ”but rules say that you are with your dad this weekend.”
”I could come back here when Jackie and Daddy come back tonight,” he said.
Children always have an alternate way of looking at a situation. Nathaniel`s suggestion was a logical solution to a thorny issue. Still, I had given my word to Curtis, his attorney and the custody mediator that I would not interfere any more with arrangements for Natty when he was in his father`s care.
”Nathaniel, I would love to have you with me. I just don`t think I can break the rules.”
”Okay, Mommy,” he said, dejected. ”I love you.”
”I love you too, Natty.”
I gently hung up the telephone, went to the bathroom and vomited.
I sat for a while, pulling myself together. Then I returned to the telephone and dialed Curtis` apartment. Jackie answered.
”I have just spoken with Nathaniel,” I stated in a calm, neutral voice. ”He is very upset. I do not feel that it is in his best interests to stay alone with a sitter when I am here and available. I would be more than happy to have Nat here with me during the day–you can consider me the sitter if you like–and he can return to stay the night with you.”
She said nothing for a moment. After all, we were adversaries, not allies.
”Curtis is at the store,” she responded finally. ”I`ll have to talk with him when he returns and get back to you.”
Less than three minutes passed before the phone rang.
”I`ve made the decision,” I heard Jackie say. ”There is no reason Nathaniel shouldn`t be with you today. We`ll pick him up when we return late this afternoon.”
”Have you discussed this with Curtis?”
”No,” she said. ”I`ll tell him when he returns. Natty is right–he should be with you.”
A mother`s instinct, I thought. I knew she would have felt precisely the same way if her children had been in a similar situation. Maybe we weren`t adversaries after all.
Curtis and I were at a standoff, so locked into our individual positions that we could not see the other side. Jackie was in the middle. She had a vested interest in resolving the conflict. They wanted to get married, get on with their lives. By placing Nathaniel`s welfare ahead of the possibility of incurring Curtis` wrath, she proved to me that she could be an objective third party. Maybe she even would be willing to come to our mediation sessions. Maybe she could kick some sense into Curtis.
—
When I arrived at the office of my lawyer, Roger Spenser, to pick up a copy of Curtis` newest offer, a package of papers was waiting for me. I pulled them apart, scanned the contents and stood in the reception room, open-mouthed with dismay. This was like the initial salvo in a full-fledged war: 40 percent of the house, no alimony, no medical coverage, notice of a full custody hearing one week from that very day, a full-fault grounds divorce trial.
”This guy is trying to bust your chops,” Spenser said later, almost conversationally. ”It`s a last-ditch effort, a typical negotiating tactic where the opposition lowers the offer to make you think you are not going to come out with anything. It`s just a game.
”I`ve contacted Rawson (Michael Rawson, Curtis` lawyer) and suggested an all-day Saturday negotiating session,” Spenser said. ”We cannot let this case go to court. If it does, you may lose on an arbitrary set of decisions about the issues in your case. Decisions about your child and your life will be made for you.”
—
Before the Saturday negotiation session, I called Curtis` apartment.
”Jackie,” I said, my voice warm and conciliatory, but firm, ”I am calling to tell you that I am going into this negotiating session with a mind- set to settle. I am coming in good faith and in a spirit of cooperation. I truly hope we can work things out in a manner that is equitable and fair.
”We have begun to re-establish a relationship, we have similar goals, and we seem to be able to communicate. If you feel comfortable about attending this session today, I want you to know that I have no objection to your being there.”
I knew they had just returned from a three-day mini beach holiday celebrating Jackie`s birthday only hours earlier. She was relaxed and pleasant. But then, she was always relaxed and pleasant.
”Curtis and I talked about my being there,” she said confidentially,
”but I`m not sure of my time schedule yet. We just got home a few hours ago. I just don`t know.”
I thanked her, hung up and rushed out to the car. I was 10 minutes late for our 9 a.m. departure from Spenser`s office.
”Remember, act like a bitch when things start heating up,” Spenser told me. ”I want you to appear unreasonable. They must think I am leaning on you to agree to a settlement.”
”I know, I know,” I said, ”and when I feel a kick under the table I`m to get up and leave the room in anger.”
We trooped into Rawson`s conference room and sat down, with Jackie and Curtis facing Spenser and me. Rawson sat at the head of the table. Jackie passed around our coffees and set a box of doughnuts midway between us. We all dug in.
Spenser began.
He prepared a list of our joint assets, then drew a vertical line down the middle of a piece of paper, writing W for wife at the top of one side, and H for husband at the top of the other.
”The house goes in the wife`s column,” Spencer said. ”What do you want?”
”I`ll take my company stock,” was Curtis` reply.
I went for the home, my security, my base; he went for his work, the substance he valued most.
We continued until only the furniture and pension and profit-sharing funds were left. It was Curtis` turn.
”This is a joke,” he said sharply. ”She`s entitled by law to 50 percent of my pension and profit-sharing fund. That leaves me with the furniture.”
”Why are you upset?” asked Spenser in polite surprise. ”That furniture is worth quite a bit. After all, you yourself valued it at $44,000 on your financial statement. That`s a rather tidy sum in your column.”
I could barely keep a straight face. There was at the most a few thousand dollars` worth of furniture in the house. It had remained largely unfurnished because Curtis` continual insistence that he had no funds to allocate for a decorating allowance. What we had was an amalgam of pieces collected over many homes and apartments during the past decade. Nothing matched, nothing really fit.
Spenser kicked me under the table. It was time for me to be unreasonable. ”Are you going to cannibalize the house in which your own son lives?” I burst out accusingly. ”You have a beautifully furnished apartment. Are you going to take the beds we sleep in?”
I turned on Spenser.
”How could you do this to me?” I cried, near tears. ”I`m going to have a bare house. What am I going to tell my son? I don`t have money to refurnish an entire house. We`ll have nothing but empty rooms to live in.”
I stormed out of the room. Spenser rose to run after me, then turned and spoke to the others.
”Let`s take a break,” I heard as I sailed down the hall. ”This is trying for her. I`ll attempt to calm her down and knock some sense into her.” I continued on down the corridor, found an empty office, lifted myself onto the edge of a desk and waited for Spenser to enter.
”Wow! Good temper,” he said, closing the door. ”They think you really want the furniture.”
”He can have the damn furniture,” I said.
”He doesn`t want the furniture,” Spenser said. ”Neither does she. Trust me. You won`t be living in an empty house. I just want the $44,000 listed in his column so we can up the ante on alimony and child support. How much alimony do you think we should go for?”
”Five years, but I don`t think he`ll go for it.”
”I don`t either,” he said. ”How about pushing for five, settling for three?”
”Okay. That`s fair.”
When we returned to the conference room, I tried to show anger in my face.
”My client gives up the furniture,” Spenser stated. ”Shall we move on to alimony and child support?”
We dickered back and forth on alimony. We insisted on five years, they insisted on one, and after I angrily threatened to walk out–again–we compromised on three. We agreed to specify a figure for an initial four years of child support giving us room to negotiate in the future. Clauses for college and school tuitions, orthodontia, medical insurance and summer camp were agreed upon. The costs in these categories were to be split between us.
The final signing of the divorce documents took place a month later.
I had wondered whether I would feel let down. No way. I felt wonderful, almost giddy. I stood up and wished Curtis well, shook hands with his attorney, gave Spenser a warm hug and walked out the door into the warm September air.
That afternoon I bought a case of champagne.
”Please celebrate with me,” my note to Spencer and his staff said. ”It was a long two years, and a wonderful relationship.”
—
Curtis married Jackie about a month after our divorce was final.
”I went with Daddy and Jackie to get their wedding license,” Natty told me. ”We got a free gift.”
I wanted to appear disinterested.
”Oh? What kind of gift?”
”Scope, detergent and hand lotion.”
”That`s nice,” was all I could manage.
Later I heard through the neighborhood grapevine that Curtis had bought a $260,000 house. I also heard that his company was booming. A new office had opened in Boston and a major expansion was in the works locally.
My fears had proven accurate.
I had been humiliated, intimidated, harassed and forced to wage a bare-knuckled fight for what was rightfully mine-and he had had his share carefully salted away all along.
