The Divorce Papers: A Novel (2 page)

Crankiness Abides

Dear Mags,

I will turn 30 in 6 months and I don’t know what I should be doing. You know what you want to do; Matt knows what he wants to do; my sibs know what they want to do, except of course Francoise, who just likes kicking around the world. But still, that’s something. I’m treading water. Do you remember swim class at Brearley, the 30 minutes of drown-proofing, as if we might find ourselves one dark night floating on a mahogany plank in the Atlantic with Leonardo DiCaprio?

I know I shouldn’t write emails after midnight, but I can’t fall asleep; I drank too much tonight and I’m feeling sorry for myself. (I promised myself I wouldn’t gripe to you before I sat down at the computer, but as you know better than almost anyone, I can be a self-pitying drunk, which is a step above a mean drunk, but not much. I apologize.) I will pull up my socks in proper Diehl fashion and try to find the silver lining. One bit of news: I saw Andrew Bellow on the street on Friday with the chickie he’s taken up with, looking tired and unhappy. Chickie wasn’t looking so good either. Roots showing, black tights with a run. I can’t say my spirits lifted at the sight of them (Andrew smiled brightly and said hello as we passed. I nodded.), but I may have walked on with a lighter step. I updated my bad boyfriend list earlier: Andrew makes 5.

I did have a good time tonight, though it’s triggered all these anxieties. David had a dinner party for Judge Howard and her clerks. She’s retiring. Great food (oysters, lobster, the finest trayf in the land), great stories, great toasts. The judge was so happy with the occasion and all of us. As a group, they seem pretty happy with their lives and work. They’re also pretty impressive, a deputy U.S. AG, the New York State AG, the deans of Mather and Narragansett Law, the managing partner of THW (and
these were just the locals). David got us all T-shirts, with the Judge’s great line from
Ernest v. Farago
: “What has become of us? When did we start fencing unicorns and foddering wolves?” Judge Howard is wonderful in every way. I worship her. Truth be told, I want to be federal circuit judge (“Decroche la lune,” as Maman always says) but I can’t say that to people (except you, of course) and I don’t know how to get from here to there. (Give piles to the Narragansett Democratic Party?) Geez, it is 1:30. I will settle now for getting from here to bed.

Love,

Sophie

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

222 CHURCH STREET
NEW SALEM, NARRAGANSETT 06555
(393) 876-5678

MEMORANDUM

Attorney Work Product

I’d like you to interview a prospective client in a divorce case this Wednesday. I know you haven’t done a matrimonial, but the situation calls for white-glove service and there’s no one else available that day. Fiona is out of the office this week, Felix will be in court, and I’m trying to close the Pericles deal. The downside of a boutique firm. But the upside too; we all become utility infielders.

The client’s name is Maria Durkheim. She is Bruce Meiklejohn’s daughter. She’s coming in at 10:30 a.m. He called me last night to ask us to talk to her. He’d like us to take her case. He said he thought his daughter needed “heavy artillery.” I know what
he
means, but I don’t know what
she
wants. The husband is a big star at Mather Medical School, an oncologist, chaired professor, department head, Freeman Prize winner. Meiklejohn doesn’t like him one bit, and he made it clear he’s glad they’re breaking up. He said the marriage was a mistake from the start—“water and oil,” he called it, using standard Meiklejohn-speak for “Jew and Gentile.” He described Dr. Durkheim as “one of those people, you know the kind, overly aggressive and ambitious, striving, someone who tries too hard to fit in.” Bruce Meiklejohn is straight out of the Darien of
Gentleman’s Agreement
. I once heard him say, “Mather College was never the same after the GI Bill.” Too many physicists? Anyway, I want to give you a heads-up. I have no reason to believe the daughter subscribes to any of this, but Meiklejohn says the divorce could be ugly. There’s a child, a ten-year-old girl,
Jane. She was uppermost in Meiklejohn’s mind. “Now, hear this, Greaves, you look out for my granddaughter, Jane.” I don’t know if the ugly part involves money or Jane, or the couple’s dynamic. Probably all three, if experience means anything.

Let me know if you’re free Wednesday morning. It’s only a couple of hours of your time, and you might even enjoy it. Divorcing couples harbor murderous thoughts; they just have better impulse control than your regular clients.

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

222 CHURCH STREET
NEW SALEM, NARRAGANSETT 06555
(393) 876-5678

MEMORANDUM

Attorney Work Product

I’ll do the interview, of course, if you need me to do it, but I can’t believe you don’t have better choices. Proctor? Virginia? I have two serious deficiencies, both of which make me a lousy candidate for the job.

1st.
My rank inexperience as a lawyer who’s never done a civil case, let alone a divorce, should stop you in your tracks. I put into evidence Sophie Diehl’s CV Lite:

2nd.
If, despite the clear and convincing evidence presented above, you persist in your request, I would ask for an ironclad dispensation from anything beyond the intake interview. I cannot do a divorce. I am not only ill equipped legally; I am ill equipped temperamentally. (i) I don’t like client contact. I suspect it’s why I settled on criminal work. I like that most of my clients are in jail. They can’t get to me; I can only get to them. (ii) I don’t like divorcing parents. I had my very own set, both of whom behaved very, very badly in ways that would make your hair stand on end.

How’s this for a rewrite of
Anna Karenina
: “Every divorcing family is unpleasant in its own way.” Poor Anna K, so heartbreakingly 19th century. No one dies for love anymore; only love dies and then they get a divorce. Perhaps I’ll write the modern update of
Anna
; she gets divorced and loses custody, but she has visitation every other weekend. Then she goes back to school and gets an MSW and works with troubled children. She doesn’t throw herself under the train; she simply takes the subway. (She can’t afford a cab: bad settlement.) Could that be Mrs. Durkheim’s story? Is there a Vronsky? Do I have to find out things like that, for damage control? What else do I need to find out? Is there a checklist? Do I interview or do I just listen? What do I do? (Do you hear the anxiety in my voice as I write, rising to a near screech?)

Gentleman’s Agreement
?

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

222 CHURCH STREET
NEW SALEM, NARRAGANSETT 06555
(393) 876-5678

MEMORANDUM

Attorney Work Product

Data:
There is a
Divorce Work Sheet
. I am attaching a copy to this memo. It asks about income, deductions from income, assets, liabilities, and monthly expenses. If you think she’s up to it, send it home with Mrs. Durkheim to fill out. It’s long—four densely packed pages—but a divorcing person needs to think about all these things, especially if she doesn’t have any independent savings or income, which I suspect is the case here. The first page, Income & Deductions/Assets & Liabilities, is a snapshot of the marriage’s wealth, the resources to be divided by the couple. The next three pages itemize monthly living expenses, providing a basis for spousal and child support. Other things to do in preparation:

Intake:
As to what to expect at the intake interview, in my experience, women who’ve been left or betrayed (and I’m not being sexist, merely observant) spend the hour venting—he’s the most selfish man in the world (or New Salem)—or crying. The wives who do the leaving are another story; they’re racked with guilt. They’ll offer to give up everything but the children. I’ve attached a handout, excerpts from an article in
Divorcing USA
(awful name) that Fiona has given to clients on the psychology of divorcing. It’s basic but accurate. (I have vowed I’ll never get a divorce no matter how awful things get; I’ll shoot myself—or Mary—first. I have no interest in finding out how loathsome I can be. Or Mary, for that matter.)

Your job is to think and listen like a lawyer but talk to her as a kind acquaintance, someone who doesn’t know her well but is nonetheless warmly disposed toward her. (You’ve got to drop the criminal lawyer’s skeptical demeanor.) Prompt her, encourage her to answer your questions, but don’t press. It may take an hour; don’t let it go much beyond that. Nothing new will be said after that. (Shrinks stop after 45 minutes, on the same basic theory, I believe, and they do it with a level of ruthlessness that is the envy of appellate judges.) Take notes, of course; there’s no other way to remember the details (wherein God and the Devil reside). Then write it up. Or you can tape it. You’ll be off the case after that.

Fees:
You’ll need to talk money with her, not something you do with your clients. The usual retainer for a divorce with children is $6,000, which covers the first 40 hours (at $150/hour), not including costs. She may wish only to consult, in which case you should bill her at $150/hour for the time you actually spend with her. If she decides to sign on, we’ll add the write-up to the bill; if she’s just shopping, we’ll eat it.

Client Conduct:
Yes, find out if there’s another man or woman, for both Durkheims. We’re a no-fault divorce state, but if the case goes to trial, the judge can consider fault, and in custody fights, even the kitchen sink comes in. It’s always better to know what they’ve done—though of course, they always lie to you.

You might see if she has been acting out. It’s not unusual for one or both of the divorcing parties to misbehave, create scenes in public, make extravagant purchases with the joint credit card, slash tires, bug a phone or bedroom, in short, do things they’d never do in normal life. Judges don’t like really really bad behavior, and if it’s going on, it’s good (if possible) to nip it in the bud.

One last thought, which is not, strictly speaking, relevant but is nonetheless interesting. You might find out if Dr. D’s parents are dead. I’ve found that people are more likely to seek divorce—and do it more cold-bloodedly—after their parents are gone. I get the sense that Dr. D is the one pushing for divorce. Meiklejohn didn’t say this outright, but he mentioned his daughter’s reluctance to speak to an attorney. She felt it was too soon.

VIP Clients:
The Meiklejohns and the Mathers (distaff side) are longtime clients of the firm. Proctor’s grandfather was the executor of Mrs. D’s great-grandfather’s will, and Proctor is the executor of her mother’s. Mrs. D’s mother (née Maria Mather) died more than 20 years ago. Ten months later, her father remarried. The current Mrs. Meiklejohn, Cindy, is, as you know, Society (if you can say there is any Society left in New Salem. Everyone—except you, of course—belongs to the Cricket Club these days: no more inherited memberships). She’s a good deal younger than her husband but more than ½ HA +7. My guess is she doesn’t care what happens with the Durkheims—except insofar as their behavior upsets her husband. She doesn’t like to see him unhappy. I’m with her on that. Good luck—and again, thanks.

Miscellany:
Gentleman’s Agreement
is a movie about anti-Semitism from the late ’40s, with Gregory Peck playing Jewish. You need to bone up on your movie backlist, Sophie. You have seen
The Third Man
, haven’t you?