Same Old Truths (17 page)

The first thing she saw was a horse-drawn stagecoach emerging from behind a lighthouse, heading at a full-gallop toward a blind-folded Lady Justice, scales in hand. She was lost in trying to figure out the meaning of the odd representation when she heard a voice say, “Is this seat taken?”

Kay turned and was stupefied to see her ex-husband smiling, affably, down at her. For a moment she thought she was hallucinating - so good was her little attention-focusing game. A quick over-the-shoulder scan of the room revealed numerous empty chairs, scattered here and there; she couldn’t imagine why he had chosen the seat next to hers.

Danger, danger, Will Robinson!

The impulse to move (run) to another chair nearly overwhelmed her, but that would have been too awkward; so she just squeaked out, “No. Go ahead.”

“Can you believe the parking in this place?” Dave asked, jostling her a couple of times as he tried to make himself comfortable on the under-sized, metal folding chair. She was offended by his physical touch - offended because it felt so pleasantly familiar after all these years but was no longer hers to relish or return. She wondered if he knew and bumped her on purpose.

God, I HATE second-guessing everything this guy does
.

But that’s exactly what experience had taught her. And she’d learned it the hard way.

Does he expect me to answer?

This jolly Dave was a far cry from the man who had almost knocked her down storming out of the hearing room after getting his hat handed to him by the judge. After that horrible day Kay assumed he would never speak to her again - save for today’s court-ordered mediation. Given his unexpected good mood, Kay couldn’t help wonder if Sandy hadn’t sent him off for the day with a confidence-boosting blow job.

Dave’s attempt at friendly chatter didn’t stop - not even through the 17 minutes of the video. Yes, it was old times for Kay, as she listened to Dave make hilarious comments at the amateurly-produced instructional video.This was the old Dave - the one with a natural sense of humor who knew how to make her laugh. And laugh, she did. But despite the hilarity Kay couldn’t help resenting how easily he slipped back into that persona she had fallen for so long ago - the one that brought out the best in her. She hated him for taking that away from her. Most of all she hated him for wasting it on the humorless, wet-washrag that was Sandy - the old-before-her-time hag who disapproved of watching Seinfeld and insisted they sit through mind-numbing episodes of “Murder She Wrote” and “Matlock.”

If you gave her another million years, Kay would never be able to understand why Dave had sold his soul to this musty, uninteresting, dull, controlling shrew of a wife.

Why, why, why? I mean, even blow jobs have their limits.

The video ended, and a representative from the family court stood at the front of the room and asked if there were any questions. There weren’t any and most of the people had already begun filing out of the cramped room. Dave stood and hung back apparently waiting for Kay. She bent her head over her purse pretending to look for some badly-needed, but elusive item hiding at the bottom. She didn’t want to walk out with him, or take a seat next to him in the waiting room. The faux twosome-ness was unnatural and painful. Fortunately, Dave took the hint, and walked away without saying anything.

Out in the waiting room, people nervously milled around waiting for their cases to be called. With her own sad and confused feelings reflected back at her, Kay knew she fit right in. She recognized the inner struggle of trying to come to grips with being a divorced person.

Even though it had been seven years, Dave’s loathsome actions made it seem like seven days. And while she was happy today’s session was aimed at settling things with the girls, she wished there was some sort of mediation that could help her move forward, once and for all.

Kay watched Dave on the other side of the room, pacing nervously while he talked on his cell phone.

Probably reporting in to the warden.

Kay pictured Sandy on the other end of the line, demanding a thorough accounting of the morning’s events. As soon as he finished he searched the room for Kay and headed straight for the bench where she was sitting. She wanted to wave him off before he came in for a landing but just sat there helplessly as he wedged himself into the breath of a space separating Kay and a petite, foreign-looking woman praying the rosary. Kay wanted to lean over and request a couple of Hail Marys for herself.

Oh, by all means. Make yourself comfortable.

“This is bullshit,” Dave complained as he forcibly widened the space with his elbows. His touch was much less pleasant this time. “I’ve got a pile of work waiting for me at the office.”

“Crap!” Kay said. She had forgotten to call work. “Thanks for reminding me.” She pulled out her cell phone and looked around for someplace else to sit so she could talk with privacy; every available seat in the room was taken. She would just have to speak as softly as possible.

Kay filled Ruth in on her transportation situation and said she’d be in as soon as she could get to her car - assuming it would be ready.

“Are you ok? You sound strange.” Ruth said.

Strange?That’s an understatement.

Kay just brushed off her friend’s concern. “I’m just trying to keep my voice down. I’m in a room with a lot of people.”

“Manning/Noland,” came a voice from behind the check-in counter.

“Gotta go, Ruth. They just called our case.”

Kay and Dave answered the summons and were directed over to where a tired-looking woman stood waiting, clipboard in hand. Her eyes never left the clipboard as she offered her hand and introduced herself.

“Hello. I’m Lucinda Portelli. If you’ll please follow me…”

She led them down a long corridor to a surprisingly large office. In addition to Ms. Portelli’s work space, the room contained a play area for children filled with an assortment of toys and stuffed animals. The walls of the office were decorated with numerous drawings, presumably by the social worker’s younger clients.

“Please have a seat,” Ms. Portelli said, motioning to three metal folding chairs configured in a loose triangle. Once everyone was settled, Ms. Portelli smiled as she looked at Kay and Dave over the top of her reading glasses and launched into her mandatory spiel about the goals of mediation. Before she got past the first goal (set up a co-parenting plan), Dave interrupted and snidely said, “We already have a co-parenting plan.”

Unruffled by his rude cut-off, Lucinda smiled and said, “I’m aware, Mr. Noland. The judge believes your plan needs review and revision, or there’d be no need for you to be here, would there?”

A derisive gust of air escaped from Dave’s lips as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Kay was loving this. It was wonderful to have a bona fide authority confirm to Dave what she had tried to tell him that day in her driveway. But as all things happen for a reason, Kay realized his unwillingness to cooperate was turning out to be a blessing.

Lucinda continued. The plan is supposed to be in the best interest of the children and should respect their right to have a continuing relationship with each parent. And finally, both parents should seek ways to reduce conflict in front of the children.

With her opening recitation over, Lucinda didn’t waste any time jumping right into the girls’ interviews. Kay wasn’t sure if she was being sincere when she complimented her and Dave on how polite and engaging the girls were, or if it was just a way to lead into bad news.

Ms. Portelli looked at Kay. “The girls have no issues with you, Ms. Manning.” Then she turned in her chair toward Dave and launched into a list of complaints and concerns that went on for three, 8½” x 11” yellow pad pages. Most of the grievances Kay had already heard - numerous times:

Mariah is not allowed to have milk or other dairy because Sandy (contrary to the pediatrician’s diagnosis) decided Mariah’s soiling problem stemmed from an allergy to milk.

Sandy nags Mariah about how much she eats and controls her food. Little Dave has free access to the “treat cabinet” but Mariah has to ask permission.

The girls are not allowed to keep personal belongings at Dave’s and have to carry a bag back and forth.

The girls want their own room at their dad’s but Sandy insists they stay in the “guest room.”

Sandy forces the girls to accompany her to church while Dave stays home.

The girls object to Sandy introducing them as, “my daughters,” letting people believe she is their mother.

Sandy makes disparaging remarks about Kay “letting the girls run wild.”

Mariah overheard Sandy tell Dave (without one shred of evidence) she suspects Cory is smoking pot and shoplifting.

Sandy hurt Mariah’s feelings with a denigrating remark about her sister. “Cory doesn’t need to be your role model.”

Cory resents not being trusted to babysit her little brother even though she has regular babysitting customers.

Lucinda stopped reading, looked up and quietly asked Dave, “Mr. Noland, are you aware Mariah is not allowed privacy in the bathroom?

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?” Dave asked. He truly seemed to be at a loss.

“Well, Mariah told me when she’s in the bathroom, your son kicks at the door until his mother insists Mariah let him in.”

Dave was unfazed. “Is that really so terrible? They’re just kids,” he said.

“Mr. Noland, that so-called “kid” is menstruating. She said the last time your son barged in she was changing her pad and he got an eyeful.”

Dave sat there looking like he’d been hit in the face with a bag of quarters.

“My wife told me Mariah had gotten her period, but she didn’t mention Little Dave saw anything.”

“Well, according to Mariah, your wife got upset with her for possibly traumatizing your son.”

This was the first time Kay had heard about this new humiliation. Why hadn’t Mariah said anything to her?

“Oh please,” Dave scoffed. “Mariah doesn’t even know what “traumatizing” means.”

“You’re missing the point, Mr. Noland. Your child is being denied the simple dignity of privacy each of us deserves as a human being.”

Dave brushed some imaginary lint from his pant leg, avoiding Ms. Portelli’s disapproving gaze.

Kay was softly crying, devastated for Mariah. She wanted to throttle Sandy.

“What really concerns me about this, Mr. Noland, ” Lucinda went on, “and everything else I’ve related to you, is you either seem to be absent or unwilling to intervene when your daughters are being subjected to this negativity.”

Lucinda turned to Kay and said, “The girls said they’ve told you about this. Have you said anything to Mr. Noland?”

“I have,” Kay said, muffling a sob. “He either denies it or just brushes me off saying the girls are exaggerating. But I had no idea, whatsoever, about the bathroom situation. Mariah never said a word.” Kay turned to Dave. “How could you let this happen? For, chrissake, you’re her father! “

Dave looked at Kay with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

“Look Mr. Noland,” Lucinda said. My job is not to admonish you, but to bring some things to your attention so we can serve the best interests of your children. First and foremost, you have to understand parenting your girls is
your
responsibility. You cannot relinquish this to your wife.”

Much to Kay’s surprise, Dave looked Lucinda in the eye. “Well, I guess I do have a tendency to be a little passive,” he said.

“I’m not entirely unsympathetic. I know it’s difficult to blend families,” Lucinda said. “You’re not the first client I’ve had who feels more comfortable letting their wife take the primary parental role. But a step-parent’s role should always be secondary.”

Even though Dave was nodding, Kay knew he would always be helpless in the face of Attila His Honey.

“You have to remember, this was
your
choice. Your daughters didn’t ask for any of this and it’s up to you to make your - THEIR - home a place where they feel wanted, protected and free to be who they are.”

Dave nodded again, looking like an eight-year old who promised not to play baseball in the street anymore after breaking a window.

Kay was still crying. Part of it was anguish over her children’s pain but a bigger part was the relief of having someone in authority say Dave’s behavior was not ok. From Day One he had run roughshod over her and the girls while denying, diminishing and defiantly daring anyone to say his actions were dishonorable. He might be able to dismiss Kay’s objections with flimsy justifications, but the family court representative, who had heard and seen it all, was not going to let him get away with making his kids the scapegoat for his sins.

Kay tried to concentrate as the review of their parenting plan continued, but the endless flow of tears was a distraction. Of course, Dave ignored her emotional blood-letting;Lucinda was becoming concerned. “Do we need to stop so you can get a drink of water, Ms. Manning?”

“Oh. Just ignore me. I’ll be ok,” Kay choked out. “Please continue.”

But her sobs kept coming and so she did her best to stifle them with a cupped hand and several tissues over her mouth. This just re-routed them to her shoulders making them dance up and down with liberated emotion.