The Divorce Papers: A Novel (46 page)

The final decree for divorce, the decree nisi, shall issue 90 days from signing.

This Agreement shall be binding upon the Parties hereto, and their respective heirs, executors, administrators, successors, and assigns.

In Witness Whereof, the Parties hereto have executed this Agreement on the date first above written.

Then personally appeared the above-named David E. Durkheim and acknowledged the foregoing to be his free act and deed before me.

Then personally appeared the above-named Maria M. Durkheim, a.k.a. Maria M. Meiklejohn, and acknowledged the foregoing to be her free act and deed before me.

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

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

MEMORANDUM

Attorney Work Product

You should be very proud of the work you did in this case. It was a first-rate job. Well done. I know you never want to do a divorce case again, but what about other civil litigation? What about employment law, say, sex discrimination or harassment? What about a right-to-die case? Those sides of our practice are growing, and I bet you’d be terrific at it. Give it a thought. You wouldn’t have to give up the criminal work. And you could work with me or Felix. It’s one of the great benefits of working in a small firm in a midsized city. You don’t have to specialize if you don’t want to. Civil, criminal, plaintiffs, defendants. The right kind of stew for someone like you. It’s always worked for me. I’ve never been bored.

MARIA MATHER MEIKLEJOHN

404 ST. CLOUD STREET
NEW SALEM, NA 06556

November 1

Dear Sophie,

Daniel came through like a mensch. He wrote Jane exactly the right letter. It made me teary, but then almost everything does these days. Here’s a copy. Now maybe you can understand, or almost understand, why I married him.

I’m off to Rancho La Puerta over Veterans’ weekend. Jane will stay with Daniel. We’ll see how that goes. We’re moving out on December 1. I’ve rented an apartment around the corner from Jane’s school, 90 Germyn Street. That’s the tiny street that runs between St. Cloud and Church near the Racquet Club. My father is just around the corner too.

Thanks for everything. You are the best lawyer ever.

Best,

Department of Pediatric Oncology
MATHER UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER

110 MAPLE AVENUE
NEW SALEM, NA 06556

October 28

Dear Jane,

Yesterday, your Mom and I signed a separation agreement. I want you to know about one part of it, the part about custody if your Mom should die before you are 18 years old. This isn’t going to happen. (I promise and your Mom promises, but still, I know you worry about this.)

Your Mom and I have agreed that you will live with Poppa if that impossible event happens. Poppa and I will work things out so we both get to see lots of you. But this is never going to happen. Your Mom is going to live a long time, until 80 at least.

I would love you to live with me, and if you ever change your mind, you can always do it. Call at any time, or just
drop in. My house is your house. I always want you around, even if I’m busy. You’re my Musketeer.

I put in long hours at the hospital, and I know you sometimes think my work is more important to me than anything else. It is important but you are more important.

I love you. You are a fantastic person and great runner.

Love,          
Daddy      

Will Jacobsen!

Darling Mags,

Life is picking up. Papa wrote me the best letter. You won’t believe it. I don’t believe it. I’ll show it to you when we have supper tomorrow. He was his old wonderful self. I don’t like to think about why he’s so changed, so I don’t. I also got my annual postcard from him reminding me it was Guy Fawkes Day, the 394th anniversary. Is there a better holiday for an English Catholic Marxist? Made for him.

But there’s other good news too. I’m finished with the Meiklejohn/Durkheims. They signed the agreement. I’m sort of proud of the work I did, but I daren’t tell anyone at the office because they’ll draft me to divorce duty. Too much business in that line of work.

And then there’s Will Jacobsen. I ran into him again this morning in court (another one of my hopeless Trilling motions), and we went out for coffee. He is, as Papa would say, plausible. We had a lively conversation about the Clintons. I’m more of a fan, probably because I’m more forgiving of bad behavior. He was disapproving of the Monica shenanigans. He’s probably not neurotic enough to go for me, but I’d like it if he did. We’ve got things in common, including—sound the trumpets!—European parents. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Probably bad. No Russian Jews lurking in his background per Maman’s instructions. His dad, Anders Jacobsen, is mixed Danish-Norwegian, and teaches Northern European history at Rutgers; he is not a Marxist, only your garden-variety Scandinavian socialist. His mother, an Italian Jew (Giulia Levi), teaches Con Law at Penn. Distant relation of Primo. Will (who is a Willem) said all Italian Jews were related. He wants to go into state politics. Maybe he’s my route to the Court of Appeals. His favorite book is
Infinite Jest
. His favorite writer, David Foster Wallace. I can’t hold that against him. He’s a guy
after all. He’s only been to the Mather Rep once the whole time he’s lived in New Salem.
That
I can hold against him. He’s a movie person. Loves the first two
Godfather
s. Another guy thing. Did I mention that he’s gotten much better-looking since you last saw him, with his very dark hair, blue eyes, good strong nose, like an axe, which of course is a pre-req,
un grand beau nez
as Maman used to say of Papa’s honker. I think he’s got a sense of humor—at least he laughed at my snappers—and he seems to like my looks too. He broke off at one point, when we were talking about our bullyingly intellectual fathers, and said, “You have yellow eyes. I’ve never seen that before.” And then he smiled at me, a kind of Gatsby smile that made my toes curl. Am I to be loved not for my yellow hair, but my yellow eyes?

I guess you could say I’ve won this week’s lottery. I’ve got to know my luck better, like little Jane Durkheim, whose parents worship at the shrine of “knowing your luck.” I don’t know. Is that a better family motto than “pulling up your socks”?

I know you have rehearsal tomorrow afternoon, so you and Matt should come at 8. I’ve laid in four bottles of wine. And they each cost more than $10.

Love,
Sophie

The Rivals

Dearest Sophie—

Dinner was wonderful; you’re getting to be a very good French cook; your bourguignon was meltingly delicious. Have you cooked for your mother? Better, have you ever cooked for Grandmere? That would put her in a proper quandary. In my hearing, she’s never praised anyone’s cooking, not even Bocuse’s. I remember her saying she couldn’t understand how he’d gotten three Michelin stars, one maybe, two a stretch, three an outrage, another sign of the decline of France, since de Gaulle died. Yet she is always telling you everything you do is the best (especially if your mother is in the vicinity). I wonder if your sturdy ego is in part owing to her and her adoration of you along with your sibs. She never veers, even when your mother isn’t around.

The wine was velvety. I suspect it was seriously more than $10. Were we the beneficiaries of your father’s largess as well as yours? We walked home very slowly, practicing walking the crack on the sidewalk. I figured out a trick. Don’t look down, look straight ahead. You have a much better chance of keeping on the crack. I do love good wine, good food, and good company, in ascending order. A perfect evening.

Congratulations on finishing the divorce. I know it’s been hard on you (and on all of us who love you). Don’t do another. I can’t see David asking you again. He saw the toll it took, however good a job you did.

Your father’s letter was wonderful. Dear old John Diehl. When he’s good, he’s very, very good…

As for Willem Jacobsen, he sounds more than plausible. Maybe I’ll run down to the courthouse next week to scope him out.

Still boning up on
The Rivals
. They still haven’t picked the cast. What are they waiting for?

Love,
Maggie

MARIA MATHER MEIKLEJOHN

404 ST. CLOUD STREET
NEW SALEM, NA 06556

November 18, 1999

Dear Sophie—

Isn’t Jane wonderful? Helen’s a pip.

Best,
Mia  

HELEN MAXWELL FINCHER
|
1010 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK, NY 10028

I understand from Tom that you and Daniel have signed your separation agreement. It only gets better, I promise, and if you marry again, the second divorce won’t be so painful. You’ll know you can survive it. Divorce makes optimists.

I have to tell you about a conversation Tom reported to me. He was up visiting Daniel over the holiday weekend when you were in Mexico. It was a full house. Tom, Jane and Dr. Roth a bit awkward, you’d think, but then Daniel doesn’t notice anything’s wrong unless someone under 10 is running a temperature of 105°.

On Saturday night, they all went to dinner at the Plimouth Club (when did Daniel join? I know you refuse to go). Jane saw that Dr. R was wearing a necklace with a Jewish star. She said to her, “I’m Jewish, but Christian too.” Daniel laughed and said Jane was nothing, just a little pagan. “She doesn’t go to Sunday school or services, she only celebrates holidays. Christmas, Passover, Thanksgiving, and birthdays.” They all then had a short discussion about
God. Dr R declared herself a believer. The Duskheims were none too sure. “I pray sometimes but it’s really wishing,” Jane said. “God isn’t going to get my mom and dad back together again, is he?” Silence fell upon the table. Not being a Duskheim, Dr R couldn’t take it; she spoke up: “Maybe he has a different plan, better than that.” Jane shot back at her, “Better for who?” Dr. R turned beet red and looked to Daniel. Daniel said nothing, he just tousled Jane’s hair.

Dr. R did not stay in Daniel’s room. Welcome to the prurient world of the divorced.

All the best,
Helen

November 19, 1999

Chère Sophie,

I’ve been reading Louise Gluck’s newish book of poems,
Meadowlands
. Our conversation the other night made me pick it up again. It’s about her marriage and divorce and also
The Odyssey
and Odysseus and Penelope. I thought you’d like this poem, a son’s take on his difficult parents.

She’s very good, Gluck. A new favorite.

With love,
Maman

Will

Magster,

I have a date! With a lawyer! Will called and invited me to a movie on Sunday. I said I’d like to see the new Almodovar,
All About My Mother
. (The choice, of course, of the badly behaved.) He was listing toward
American Beauty
. He said that Denby had been luke on
Mother
but high on
Beauty
. I said Denby was very good but sometimes just plain wrong. “Are you always this definite?” he asked. I said I was afraid so. “Good,” he said. Imagine that.

I do like him. He has the look and feel of a decent human being. I just hope I won’t be tired (i.e., cranky). I’ll be coming off Thanksgiving with the family, which is always a test of my character no matter that I love them all madly. There’s always one to-the-death argument per visit. I can see us all getting hot under the collar over who’s worse: Bush or McCain? Or: why is Al Gore such a jerk about Clinton? Doesn’t he want to win? You know what it’s like. We throw ourselves into these debates, as if they mattered. And we all want to win, except of course Jake, who privately roots for Maman (for sentimental reasons, d’accord) but publicly assumes a dignified position of analytic neutrality.

Love,
Sophie

P.S. Maman sent me a poem by Louise Gluck, “Telemachus’ Detachment.” Do you know it? I’ll show it to you. I think she’s giving me advice. Or maybe permission.