I'll Remember the Good Old Times

He pushed a button in me, "Bullshit! You never wanted to save this marriage. Now you get to see what it's like to start a life without me and the money to spend on your girlfriends. Good luck asshole."

Her lawyer tried to close the proceedings. "Well, if that's all, I think we are done."

Dustin halted their exit. "No. I want to say one more thing: Remember the terms of divorce require you to not contact me directly or indirectly. That 'no contact' rule goes into effect as soon as I leave here today as far as I'm concerned."

Once the mediator signed the agreement, the divorce was on the 60-day fast track.

I soon found out that Dustin had enough energy and anger to exact one measure of what I considered revenge. He took a picture of my original, hand-written, one-sided divorce demands and put it in an email with the note, "This list of divorce demands written in L.C.'s own handwriting shows how screwed up her thinking is. I may not have been the best husband and father I could for twenty-five years, but I did my best and I never strayed. I have begged her for years to get professional help. Since I have not been able to convince her, I implore you to get her help. I'm done."

The email went out to every friend, neighbor, church member, etc. I became unpopular very quickly. 'Shame on you! Treating your husband like that.' was the least vile thing I heard. No one wanted to hear my side of the story. Both of our kids asked, "How could you, mother?" Oh yeah, everyone told me I needed to see a therapist. I still resisted. I was sure I was not mentally ill.

Financially, I was in great shape. With the assets I got in the divorce and my own nice salary as an accountant, I did not want for anything. Anything except my husband. I quickly learned what lonely felt like especially since so many of my former friends deserted me. I left a lot of lights on in the empty house. Lonely I could take. Dark I could take. Lonely AND dark, I could not handle. What I may have missed most was that there was no one to argue with.

Even the kids deserted me. They informed me that they supported their father. They bugged me about getting help. I was not invited to Thanksgiving and Christmas. When I protested, they said that I better watch out or visiting future grandchildren would be off the table. That really hurt. I couldn't admit I missed Dustin, much less that he may have been right. I went out to night clubs, but only drew the attention of men I was not really attracted to, and the men I was attracted to did not return the opinion. I was 45 years old, out of shape, and out of style. I became depressed.

It was actually my boss again that finally got me to get help. After several weeks of poor productivity, he asked, "Your work has been below par lately. I have been wondering why. I've had several complaints on Larry's behavior with the women here. Has he been bothering you again?"

"No, after my divorce I made it real clear I didn't want anything to do with him. He's not been a problem since. I guess I'm just depressed from the divorce."

"Unfortunately, your depression has left me with an employee who is not holding up her end of things. I hate to be so blunt but: get help or get a job somewhere else. Don't come back without a statement from one or more doctors about your ability to come back to work." For some reason, that had more influence than my husband, my daughters, or friends telling me. Prophet in your own land syndrome, maybe.

I was able to get an appointment with a therapist. She required I get a full medial workup first. I thought it would be a waste of time. I went to see a medical doctor recommended by her. I was surprised to find out my hormones were messed up. Early Onset Menopause was the diagnosis. I was prescribed what I began to call my 'happy pills.' My immediate thought upon hearing the diagnosis was, "Damn it, Dustin was right about that. I won't tell him, so he can't say 'I told you so.'"

I figured the pills would take care of my depression until I started counseling. Over the next few months, I came to believe that my marital problems were not just the fault of my hormones being out of whack. My therapist helped me to realize the other psychological issues I had in addition to my hormone problem. I needed to work on them too.

It seems my childhood insecurities about my appearance, my intellect, and my likeability were suppressed when I married a man so accepting of my faults and so generous in his love. With the birth of our girls early in our marriage, our life was too full for me to spend time thinking about my personal insecurities. Then one day both the girls left for college. I was left with too much time to think about myself. That proved deadly.

I used the extra free time to question my abilities. My insecurities arose from my suppressed depths. I began to wonder again how Dustin could possibly love me so much. I began to assume dark motives for the love he was showing. Covering for an illicit affair was my favorite imagined reason. My course of action was to challenge his love. He had to prove I was really his only love by tolerating me at my worst. And boy did I show him my worst. The realization of what I had done to the most wonderful man I had ever known threw me into another depression. Thank God for little pills and a great therapist.

Since I could now primarily blame my behavior on a physical condition, I was sure I could convince Dustin things would be different, and he could return home. Basically, 'the hormones were to blame,' not me. I tried reaching out to Dustin's sister, Anita, even though I knew that this would violate the divorce agreement. I didn't care because surely the information I had would lead to Dustin and I getting back together.

It had been a while and this time Dustin's sister took the call. Perhaps Anita thought I might be calling about how her kids, my nephews, were. "Hello, L.C. what do you want?"

"I would like to speak to Dustin. Is he there?"

"No, he is not living here anymore. I don't believe he wants to talk to you anyway. By the way, aren't you still restricted from contacting him?"

"I don't care. I have information that will change everything. I just have to tell Dustin about it."

"I really doubt anything you could say that would change his mind. He refuses to talk about you or anything to do with his marriage to you."

I paused before saying, "At least, please tell me how is he doing?"

I guess Anita could not hold it back any more. "Now you care? Well screw you bitch! You took one of the finest men, brother or not, I have ever known and crippled him emotionally, financially, even physically."

"Physically?"

"You probably wouldn't recognize him now. He has lost over 50 pounds and looks years older. I have begged him to come back here but he says he enjoys being on his own without having to feel responsible for anyone else. Dustin said he really likes not having someone criticize him all the time. Sound familiar L.C.? I imagine the next time you see him will be at his funeral, that is, if I let you in the funeral home."

"Anita, I had no idea. I have to talk to him now. I found out it was my hormones that caused me to act the way I did. Everything is better now. We can go back to the way we used to be."

"The place you two used to be doesn't exist anymore. The Dustin you knew doesn't exist anymore. Hell, I don't even know him anymore."

"Please tell me how you get in touch with him? I must make it up to him."

"He contacts me, not the other way around. I have heard he hangs out at the free kitchen and homeless shelter sometimes. He goes to eat there when he gets tired of his own cooking or can't afford food. I have no idea exactly where he lives. With the small amount of money he has, thanks to you, I have wondered at times if he even has a place. Maybe he lives with the bums under the First Street Bridge."

"Well, it was his fault he didn't fight over the money. I heard he would have about $1500 a month. That should get him something."

"$1500? That's not even close. Once his appearance started going down at work, he was demoted to a lesser job with less pay. A couple of times he has come by here for food and play with the boys. He refuses to stay and says he is perfectly happy with his life. He says a lot of poor people exist on less than what he has. Sometimes I think he's trying to see how little he can live on.

"But he never asked to re-negotiate payments after his income went down. I would have readily agreed to reduced payments. What else can you tell me?"

"Damn it, I have said too much already. Just go on and enjoy all that freedom from a 'cheating husband' you have now."

I cried profusely. I called my therapist for an emergency session. I just had to find Dustin. I started at the Downtown Homeless Shelter and Free Kitchen. I remembered that Dustin had volunteered there as part of his requirement of community service from his job. I went there several days at meal time. Most people didn't recognize the person in the picture of Dustin I presented to them. Some thought it might be the guy called 'Dusty.'

After two weeks, I finally saw him. He looked emaciated compared to the husband I had known. Certainly not any better than most of the people showing up for free food. I was afraid he might bolt if he saw me, so I waited until he was seated and eating. I sat down across from him. He looked up at me and greeted me as if he saw me every day. "Hello, L.C., what brings you here? You know you're breaking the divorce decree by talking to me?"

It was hard for me to speak given the scarecrow I saw. It was hard to believe he was once my handsome, well-dressed, fit husband. "Dustin, I don't care about the damn divorce decree and the money. I have come to apologize and to tell you it was not my . . .

"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom. Do you mind watching my food? It does tricks." I smiled. His sick sense of humor was still there. Dustin got up and walked casually down the hall to the restrooms.

I waited long enough that I got worried. I spoke to the man who was sitting next to where Dustin had been. "Excuse me, could you do me a favor and go see if the man who was sitting next to you is sick and needs help in the restroom?"

"What's in it for me?"

"How about $5?"

"Okay." The man went to the bathroom. He came back sat down and refused to say anything until I paid him. "There's no one in there. Can I have the rest of his food?"

I didn't respond to the man. Instead I started to silently cry. I had scared him away. I went home to where I could cry out loud. In a few days, a letter came from Dustin's lawyer warning legal action would be taken if I ever contacted Dustin again.

How could I find a way to Dustin where I wouldn't get in trouble? I remembered I had met the man that Dustin worked for at the bank several times over the years. It bothered me that Dustin would have been demoted, thereby making his financial situation even worse. The man agreed to see me, but he started the conversation rather gruffly.

"L.C., I hope you're not here for a loan. Most of the assets you have were gained by 'robbing' one of my best employees. Those divorce demands were vicious. I don't see how you sleep at night."

"I don't. You have every right to your opinion that I 'done him wrong' because I did. It took me medical and psychological treatment, which I am still receiving, to realize what I did to him. I am trying to make amends. What I want today is to find out why he was demoted and had his pay cut."

"Don't push any of your guilt trip on me, lady. I probably shouldn't be telling you squat, but I figure it might make you feel even worse. In my opinion, you deserve to feel worse.

"Dustin started losing weight. He wore one suit, the same suit, to work each day. It started sagging on his increasingly skinny body. He was always clean and acted appropriately with people, but he just wasn't himself. Unlike before, he seldom talked to his friends or colleagues other than common greetings. One day he came in and said he wanted a night job where he didn't have to greet the public or feel guilty about not talking to other workers.

"At first, I thought he was crazy because we don't have night jobs as I told him. He pointed out that there were two people at the bank at night, the maintenance man and the archiver. The archiver is the person who takes the day's paper records and scans them to the Cloud. He said he wanted the archiver job. Usually that job goes to a college student or someone just starting out and doesn't pay much. Dustin said that was what he wanted. I asked about salary as I knew the Board of Directors would never agree to paying the archiver anywhere near his current salary. He said he would refuse a salary based on anything else than what the position normally was paid and the number of years he had been employed.

"I asked how he could afford that. He replied that I would be surprised how little one could live on. For the last month, Dustin reported he had lived on the 'new' salary he expected to make sure he could do it. He also said the new salary level would make him eligible for some government assistance. I doubted he would ever take government welfare. Although, I didn't want to agree, he said, 'It would make me happy if you did this for me' and said it with such emotion and sincerity I gave in. I also told him he could have his old job back if he changed his mind."

I interrupted, "Why in the world would he deliberately hurt himself like that?"

"I wondered the same thing. I started showing up at night and watched him from where he could not see me. He had on ear buds and was singing along to whatever was on his I-pad or whatever they call that thing. He looked perfectly happy. Just to be sure, I checked a couple of other times and came away with the same opinion. Dustin seems to be proud to live on so little. It's like he has double anorexia - physical and financial."

"I just don't see how he is making it financially."

"Well, he did have to accept one raise based on time served."

"Well, I'm glad to hear he got more money."

"Don't be. He immediately had the amount of his pay raise deducted and sent to the homeless shelter."

I once again tried to figure out what I could do to help his situation. Then it came to me.

Hearing

I sat next my lawyer as the judge gaveled this session of Family Court into order. He spoke to the people gathered. "I usually don't make an opening statement, but this appears to be an unusual case. If I understand correctly, the wife got everything she asked for in the divorce decree. She is now petitioning to have her ex-husband pay her LESS than what was approved. The husband, however, does not want his payments reduced. I see several Family Court attorneys in the gallery, so I assume I'm not the only one who wants to hear the particulars of this case. With that statement out of the way, Mr. Mathis, I see you are not represented by counsel. Are you representing yourself?"

"Yes, your honor. I can't afford an attorney."

"I expected no less. If this was a jury trial, I might ask for supporting counsel and request you reconsider. Since I am the sole judge, I will not protest. I will watch to see how well you represent your interests. I will stop the proceedings if I think you are not. Are we clear?" Heads nodded.

"Okay, Ms. Roberts you may address the court."

"Thank you, your honor. This case is very simple, but as his honor said, very unusual. Basically, Mrs. Mathis realized that the amount of funds and assets she asked for in her divorce was far beyond what was fair. She had physical and mental conditions that caused her to be so unreasonable. Now, after treatment she has realized what she had asked for was not fair to her husband. She is petitioning the court to make it fairer.

"I call my one and only witness, Mrs. Linda Carole Mathis."

I was sworn in and asked by my attorney to state my reason for the petition.

"Dustin and I were married for almost 25 years. I think I can speak for both of us that most of those years were good. We raised two wonderful daughters and were looking forward to retirement. Then I changed. Nothing Dustin did seemed to suit me. I accused him of many things, but the worst was being unfaithful. I had no proof of any infidelity other than was in my imagination. When I thought I had actual proof, Dustin was able to prove I was wrong. Even though I was wrong, Dustin gave me everything I asked for in the divorce, and I asked for everything.

"When I finally went to a doctor, I found out I had Early Menopause and some psychological issues that were making me act so horribly. My husband was not to blame for my behavior. He frequently asked me to get checked by a doctor and/or go for therapy. I refused, but he was exactly right. If I had not done what I did for the last few years, I believe we would have lived happily until we died. He only agreed to what I foolishly asked for in the divorce to get away from me. Now he lives in poverty because of what I did. It is not fair to him. Although what I really want is to apologize and see if there is any way we can be together, I know that's not possible for the court to determine. You do, however, have the power to make our divorce fair. That's all I ask."

The judge offered, "That's one presentation I have never heard before. Now, Mr. Mathis, do you wish to question, Mrs. Mathis?"

"Yes, your honor."

Dustin made his way to the witness stand. "L.C., excuse me your honor, is it okay if I call her L.C.?"

"If it's okay with Mrs. Mathis."

"Of course, you can call me L.C., Dustin."

"Thank you. You said that the first years of our marriage you were 'happy.' Is that correct?"

"Yes. I thought we both were happy."

"You thought I was happy. Who do you believe can really determine his or her happiness, someone else or him or herself?"

"Each person decides their own happiness of course. Weren't you happy, Dustin?"

"Yes, very happy. Until the last few years. But I am making a point about happiness that is relevant to this case today. In your divorce petition you essentially said that taking all the assets you did was what would make you 'happy.' When I accepted your petition, isn't that a statement of what I was 'happy' to do?"

L.C.'s lawyer spoke up. "Objection your honor, on several counts including the defendant is testifying while he's supposed to be questioning the witness."

"Although your point is well taken, I am going to allow an abnormal amount of leniency here. I will try to keep things under control. I am, therefore, overruling your objection. Continue Mr. Mathis."

"Thank you, your honor."

"The point I was trying to make was that both of us is the decision maker in our own happiness. I am happy with the settlement the way it stands. It got me away from a wife that verbally assaulted me every day. I have come to enjoy living alone and living frugally. If you don't want any portion of the money I have been sending, you can just donate it or give it to our kids."

"Dustin, I know I said horrible things to you, but they were just words. The sick part of me said them. The well part of me still loved you, still loves you. Can't you see they were just words?"

"Your words were bullets, L.C. You finally fired enough bullets to kill our marriage."

Dustin returned to his seat. He rose again to say, "The defense rests."

After I returned to my seat and her lawyer said they had nothing more to present, the judge ruled.

"As much as I believe the original settlement was too one-sided, I see no legal reason to change the distribution already on the books. Mr. Mathis has the right to request a redistribution any time in the future, but Mrs. Mathis does not have the right to change the distribution against his wishes. Mrs. Mathis has the right to do whatever with her 'extra' money however she desires. Case dismissed."