The Day of my Divorce

we held hands until he told us to raise them.

Is this marriage irreconcilably broken?

...yes.

Tears were in my eyes and by the time I answered my last question my voice was cracking. In this silence between each question memories spun between us...interrupted by the rhythmic stamping of papers.

Have you both agreed up equal divisions of your assets?

...yes.

The judge never looked at us. Once. Not when we approached, nor when we answered, nor as we spun on our heals to depart. We were properly filled out signatures; a series of balances to quickly check, stamp and process.

Would you like copies of this divorce?

ummmm...yes?

Please have a seat outside and wait for the clerk to bring them to you.

I would never want a copy of this marriage, but I would love -- if necessary, to have a copy of this Divorce.

She picked me up outside my flat in her new sports car. She was typical Sarah. Large sunglasses framed by full, tinted hair crawling down the sides of her face, neck and shoulders like the hanging gardens. She had gained a little weight which at first soothed me. She was wearing clothes that were a bit too tight for her current stature...which at first made me feel superior, or that this was all somehow justified -- 'You are fatter than I, so you must be being punished'.

Those thoughts helped me get to the parking lot in front of the courthouse. We chatted, but it was all so much banter that escaped me as the only sense I employed was sight. As we stepped from the car and began walking to the court I got a better look at her. Yes she had gained weight, but I couldn't hide behind that anymore. She was still Sarah and I still love her -- and she is therefore immune to those petty little judgments I was trying to use to protect myself. I soon loved all of the changes in her as much as if she was not about to become un-Mrs. Alex Taylor -- it was more as if she had just gotten home from the beauty salon and I felt compelled to look her over and notice all the subtle changes.

So this is my wife. This is my wife not trying to please me anymore. I wanted to know more about her. And as I looked more closely, I realized that she looked like her mother. She was wearing clothes that I didn't understand, but she still had that bounce in her step that made me want to chase after her.

We had agreed to meet early as husband and wife for the last time. To try to get to know each other in that last hour before we would never see each other again. We went for coffee near the courthouse and talked about nothing...careful to avoid anything and everything. We talked about family and friends and not Joe. We talked about work and not people I had dated. We talked about Isabella and not our plans for the future. We talked about our cooking and not who we fed it too. We didn't talk about what happened. We talked about what time it was now.

As the time of the hearing drew closer she began asking me more personal question...things that I could not possible ask in kind. I guardedly answered...not wanting to add more awkwardness to the conversation by saying 'I'm not comfortable with that', or 'why could you possibly want to know that' or 'do you still love me?'. I knew the answers to all of those. She was trying and so was I, and that is more than we had done in a year.

Eventually I grew more silent. I was running out of things that I wanted to know...and to fill the void she asked things that she did want to know. She asked me more about the girls that I have known since her. I knew that this was safe. She is comfortable with the man she is with, at least comfortable in it with everything except for me. She was trying to be comfortable with him, in me. By knowing about my relationships, she would feel more relaxed -- that she wasn't the only one who had found someone. I wouldn't...or couldn't give that to her. She is the only one of the two of us who has found that...and perhaps the only one who really wanted that.

Things grew more silent and we headed to the courthouse. Metal Detectors and Elevators...bathrooms and benches...half hour, hour...and the hallway gradually filled until the locked doors finally opened. The clerks were surprised that we were both there, and in fact, out of the divorcees, we were the only 'couple' that showed. All the others had gotten signatures in absentia and were there with mothers, fathers, brothers and new boyfriends.

We got in line and I got one last hug...and the first of many tears from her today.

Would this day, though changing nothing practical in either of our lives, be as symbolic as when we were married -- having lived together already? Would some perceived feeling of Freedom, or Hope rise in me? There isn't even a ring involved in this. Not even taking off the ring you had put on one another. We both have long-since taken our rings off, though my thumb still ventures to find it absently from time to time.

I was more concerned with making it memorable...or mean something. The stale thump thump thump of the stamps...the rustling of paper...the monotone orders given by the judge...the endless last names called. My last name...Our last name called...for the last time. I wanted that last time to mean something. I wanted to make up for so many months of our last name having absolutely no meaning -- or at least extract what meaning it did have -- that we had ignored since she left me. I wanted to at least find out if it still meant something to the both of us, not let the moment pass without noticing it -- or brushing it away. Once brushed away, you can only look back and wonder if it did mean anything in those last moments.

Taylor!

We got up and I grabbed her hand. Her purse was in it and so it was an awkward grasp. I think it surprised her. She lifted a finger to allow an embrace of sorts, but let go as if it was but a transitory kiss of greeting. I kept hold, but as soon as we approached the bench the Judge told us to raise our hands. I did.

Is this the same god that married us I am swearing too now? I wanted to unbind our hands...unbind them from the vows that bound them one and a half years ago. We got ourselves into this together and I wanted as much love and understanding getting ourselves out of it. No. I wanted MORE understanding. That is something that was lacking. That was something that contributed to this bureaucratic unbinding. Understanding.

But this was an undoing factory. Geared only to undo with as little understanding as possible. This was pure, cold math for purely cold people. Tears and ceremony are appropriate for a promise, but in that promise's breaking one can find no honor; just process it as quickly as possible. Mistakes are like that.

I think that a divorce ceremony should equal the marriage ceremony. To get divorce you have to hire a divorce planner, invite all the people who came to your wedding, rent the same hall, get the same officient, give back all the gifts perfectly wrapped, spend as much time on reneging the vows as you did creating them, get drunk, pelt the bride with her bouquet, have a last dance and speed away in different cars. People would either stop getting divorced so quickly or they would start having much less extravagant weddings. But at least the finish would be as meaningful as the start.

And where better to fully express all the meaning? When you are getting married you don't know what the hell you are in for. But you think you have all the time in the world to find out. When you get divorced you have many things you would like to understand and only a small amount of time together to try to understand.

We got our copies at $8.00 each. I didn't know why I needed mine, but I had said 'yes', as I had to everything else. We got to the lobby and I wanted her to take our picture in front of the court's clock. She laughed and said she had never heard anything like that and that I was weird. "Well you should know that...you divorced me didn't you?", I responded.

We looked around and found somebody not in a big rush to go get a divorce and asked him.

"We just got divorce and would like our picture taken in front of the clock".
"Good Idea".

She laughed and handed him the camera.

foto missing


We made our way out of the metal detectors, onto the street and back to the car, now each officially with different lives and names.

"Would you like to have lunch? I'm starving." she asked me.

"I could use a Bloody Mary...we could go to Maximillians...Axel says he refuses to serve you and Joe" I laughed.

"Yeah right...he's a restauranteur...our money is as green as yours. There are lots of restaurants in the area that are ours though...where else?"

"Mercs' closed".

"Ha...!"

"It doesn't matter. You know despite what happened, the horrible things we did to each other...the horrible breakup...I love you and I am honored that I got to be your husband, even for such a brief time. I'm so, so sorry for the things I did to hurt you."

"I will always love you Alex. You will always be so special to me. I always wanted to wake up in another country with you...speaking another language...yelling at our kids in Italian...but in the end...when I had to choose between my family and a life with you -- and some people say I am horrible for my decision...I feel sometimes I am horrible for my decision -- I had to choose what I know."

"I know sweetie. I always knew that I think. I told Sanjay when you and I first met, that we would learn from each other for a time and then you would leave me. I never really could see us together forever. But when forever came I couldn't picture forever without you. But I guess it doesn't have to be completely without you."

"I love you Sarah and I always will."