Dee Voss

The kids began to accept that mom and dad were getting a “dee voss.”

For most of that autumn, I was pretty depressed. I don’t have much experience with depression, so it was only in retrospect that I recognized it as such.

Lucy went from being happy to being very angry with me. I didn’t know why. Maybe it had nothing to do with me. Maybe it had to do with someone she was seeing.

One day as I worked, I was served with papers. Lucy had filed for divorce.

I was shaken as I opened the envelope. I read the cover letter. She was claiming mental cruelty and alienation of affection.

I did not know this at the time, but there is no such thing as a “no fault” divorce in New York State. Someone must be to blame. There must be at least one valid claim. Lucy had made two claims.

As I read further, I began to laugh.

How could she pin mental cruelty on me? I’m the nicest person! Well, she really had to stretch. From our fifteen-year relationship, she plucked forth three arguments we’d had. It looked very petty, and even in her telling of the tales, she looked bad.

The second claim was alienation of affection. She alleged that I had denied her sex for over a year. Forget that we had in fact had sex during the preceding twelve months—we had been in couple therapy because she was so disinterested in sex with me! Was she fucking kidding?!

Time to get a lawyer.

I asked around and found the one I wanted—an agressive Type A New Yorker. Lucy was used to pushing me around. I needed to be ready to fight fire with fire.

Soon after, she called and asked if she could meet me for a beer at a place near my apartment.

“Sure,” I said. “Or we can just meet at my place.”

“I would rather meet in public, thank you,” she replied curtly.

This could not be good.

I sat at her table and ordered a beer. “So what’s up?”

“I’ve decided that you can have the kids every other weekend. That’s it.”

“You’re joking. You decided that, did you?”

“It’s a very standard arrangement.”

“That is not happening. We talked about equal custody.”

“It’s a very standard arrangement.”

“Sure, if this was nineteen-fifty and I was a child molester. I don’t know many divorced couples, but none of those I know have that arrangement.”

“It’s a very standard arrangement.”

“No way. You think you can get that because you’re the mother? You don’t love the children any more than I do.”

“It’s a very standard arrangement,” she repeated, getting her coat. She left ten dollars and a full beer on the table.

The meeting has lasted nine minutes.

She had no reason to believe that she could so restrict my time with the children. Her family tried to reason with her. You will not win this, everyone told her.

She dug in her heels. We went to court. The legal fees mounted.

Her lawyer explained she would not get what she wanted. She refused to budge.

Finally, her family made it clear that she was hurling good money after bad in fees, and they would not finance it. She had to give in.

By this point, I had gone in debt to my lawyer to the tune of about ten thousand dollars. I assume she had done the same.

Her intransigence on custody began about a year ago. We resolved it by autumn.Yet even now, nearly two years since the fight that lead her to dump me, we are still not divorced.

These days, Lucy and I are getting along pretty well. We have to get along, really, because of the kids.

And while I know I will always love her in some ways, I also know I will never forgive her for destroying our family, I will never forgive her selfishness concerning my children. That grudge I take to the grave.

I spent yesterday morning with my lawyer. We worked out some details on the divorce agreement and called Lucy’s lawyer.

A few changes were made. We had a final agreement.

Lucy called me after speaking with her lawyer. She agreed to the final draft. “Guess it’s over, huh?” she sighed.

The ink is not yet on paper. But barring any further erratic actions on her part, we are finished.