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The last hesitation I had been carrying, some small, soft part of me that had wondered if I was being too calculated, too cold, too final, evaporated completely.
They had made this a game, a performance, a celebration of my supposed defeat. I was going to let them finish celebrating, and then, I was going to show them what the board actually looked like.
I called Vivian. How soon can we file? Monday morning, she said. File Monday morning, I said.
The divorce papers were served to Derek on a Wednesday. He called me that same evening.
I let it go to voicemail. He called again. I listened to the second message.
His voice was tight, confused, not yet panicked. He’d expected papers. We’d agreed to divorce, but something in the documents had clearly surprised him.
I text it back. Have your attorney call Vivian. Everything is in order. He didn’t have an attorney yet.
He had assumed, because Derek had spent 6 years assuming things about our arrangement, that the divorce would be simple, mutual, clean.
Two people who built something together, dividing it down the middle. Vivian called his new attorney, a man named Roberts, who came recommended, but was working with incomplete information, and walked him through the documentation.