"Don't treat me like a lawsuit. Is this because of a lack of sex? I don't fuck you because you're frigid in bed, Megan!"
"No, honey. You don't fuck me because I don't want your dick, and you get sad when I give in to your desires, but I don't know how to lie." I need to mock him more, since he's using dirty tricks. "I'll treat it however I want. You were a piece of shit, the son of a low-level businessman in a bankrupt district who used me to climb the career ladder. Your future was probably to inherit your father's car dealership. I am the daughter of one of the biggest names on the U.S. Supreme Court. The point is, I needed you while I was here in this sexist backwater. And now, I don't need you anymore."
"You'll regret it. Let's see how the media deals with a judge who has deals with local mafias, is divorced, and has lesbian affairs."
"Go ahead, but make sure you announce it in bold letters and take out life insurance because, the minute you do, I'll ask for your head. If I need to, I'll find another husband. Maybe this one will do some of the things that are in those books you judge. But needing you, well... no, I won't. I'll be going to New York as soon as possible. Maybe today, maybe in a month. It's none of your business."
I pause to take a deep breath and he mutters in total denial.
"And you, you'll sign the divorce papers as soon as you get home today. As agreed in the contract with my father” as I point my finger at him searchingly “that son of a bitch. Sarki will find you. I need the house by the end of the month, but after that, it will be sold and the proceeds, as well as the termination contract, will be deposited within 30 days. Enjoy your life in Jacksonville.”
His face turns red with anger, but he knows for sure that the battle is won. He gets up from his chair and heads for the door, cursing me under his breath.
"Peter, dear..." He turns and stares at me. "Don't try to pull a fast one on me."
The door slams shut so hard that I flinch. I send a message to my lawyer insisting that the divorce papers be signed today.
???
I calculate the average time my ex-husband, the English lord, usually arrives and confirm things with Sasá.
Megan Woods:"Sarki, for God's sake. Get him to sign this."
Sarki Jones:"Your soon-to-be ex-husband's angel is being unbearable. He already asked for juice and now he's waiting for pancakes for a snack."
I read the message that arrives on my cell phone and roll my eyes, knowing full well that he is being difficult. The divorce papers were prepared a few months ago. I sigh and then confirm my presence in New York by email.
I close my laptop and decide that I'm going to finish up my pending cases with a good bottle of wine at home. Without Peter. I drive to my house in the suburbs and notice that my soon-to-be ex-husband's car and my lawyer's car are still in the garage.Shit.
I express my anger by banging on the steering wheel before taking a deep breath and mustering the courage to go inside. I fix the strands of hair that came loose in the heat of my anger before turning the doorknob.
I find Peter sitting at the table trying not to show his nervousness and Sarki leaning against the kitchen counter, visibly bored. Her blazer is carelessly thrown on the counter and his dress shirt already has two buttons undone. Her Japanese eyes look tired.
"Sign this shit and leave, Peter," I say as I put the keys in the key holder and the bag on the table where he is sitting.
"I already told him that, but he insists on talking to you." I slap both hands on the table and look at him. His brown eyes stare back at me with what seems to be sadness. Sarki rolls her eyes and reaches out to him as if to say, "Look, he's a jerk." I take a deep breath, holding the bridge of my nose, and stare at him.
"Speak, Peter. What do you want to leave? How much?"
"I can't accept that." I don't let him finish his sentence and speak in a louder, mocking tone.
"For me, for you, or for your career as a jailhouse lawyer? You're going to sign this willingly, or I'll do what you've done so many times before."
"You wouldn't do that." I roll my eyes, exhausted from the day I've had, and dealing with Peter's existential crises is not in myplans. I take the document, sign it, and hand it back to him with the pen in my hand.
"Go on. Once and for all." He looks at me pleadingly, and once again, I hold out the pen. "Please, Peter. I don't want to have to screw you over, and I don't have time to get angry with you anymore." He takes the pen from my hand and signs. Sarki slaps her thighs indignantly, picks up the papers, and looks at me seriously. "I just want you out of my house."
"How am I supposed to leave like this, Megan? Be reasonable! Where am I supposed to go?"
"The polite answer is that you find a hotel. Tomorrow I'll ask one of the employees to pack your things, put them in suitcases, and deliver them to the address you specify."
"You're not being reasonable, Megan!" He throws the pen against one of the walls and Sarki, who was playing with her cell phone, gets a fright and calls him out of control.
"Look, but pay close attention.” I approach him, pointing my index finger at his face. "It could take me years to prove that you forged my signatures. YEARS." I see him shrink, at least in his gaze, and I enjoy myself. "But I would send you to hell for it. So don't say I'm being unreasonable when I spare you that to keep my name clean."
"It was to speed up some processes." I grab one of the vases on the table and throw it at one of the pillars. I see Sarki raising her hand in surrender as she leaves the kitchen. Even though she has witnessed several fights, she is always wise enough to stay far away from me.
"You took child support from a child to keep a mistress. You favored one member of the mafia and pissed off another. You'rea rat, Peter. The kind who does the dirtiest deeds to win. But this time, I'm taking it away from you." The artery in my neck is throbbing. I can feel it. "Grab your damn stuff and get out of my sight."
