The Divorce Papers: A Novel (33 page)

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

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

MEMORANDUM

Attorney Work Product

I just got off the phone with Mia Meiklejohn. Dr. Durkheim struck again while she was in Philadelphia visiting her sister. Jane had written him a letter—the computer as muse—and he decided to talk to her about it over dinner last night. Jane was worried about where she and her mom would live after the divorce. Dr. D said they would find a nice house in town or, if she wanted, she could stay in their house and live with him. He said that’s what he’d like best. Jane’s response to this was to burst into tears. Dr. D asked her what was wrong; she shook her head and said she couldn’t live with him. He asked her why. She wouldn’t answer but said, through sobs, she had to live with Mommy. “But why,” he asked, “can’t you live with me? I love you; I’ll always take care of you.” As he spoke, trying to reassure her, she became inconsolable, almost hysterical. He took her into his arms and held her close, but he couldn’t soothe her. She was crying so hard, she couldn’t catch her breath. He called his wife in Philadelphia. She immediately got on the road. By the time she got back three hours later, Jane had fallen asleep, exhausted from weeping. Luz, their housekeeper, was sitting on Jane’s bed, watching over her. Dr. D had called her and sent a cab to fetch her when he couldn’t get Jane to stop crying.

Dr. D and MMM got into a huge fight. He accused her of poisoning their child against him. She said he was full of crap. “Would I leave her with you for two days if I thought you were a monster?” she asked. She told him she didn’t know why Jane had written the letter or why she had said she couldn’t live with him. They went seven rounds. At the end, 3M said, her husband was no longer angry, only worried and anguished. They decided Jane should see a therapist. Good thinking. Question: Should we (they) ask for an evaluation or recommendation from the therapist in case there’s a custody fight or a dispute over visitation, or should they go for treatment only?

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

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

MEMORANDUM

Attorney Work Product

Jane should see someone. I’m glad her parents see that. Something’s going on here, and we need to get to the bottom of it. Children often blame themselves for their parents’ divorce; they think it’s their fault. The downside of their artless egotism. But you know that.

Here are the general ground rules on divorce therapy for children. Ms. Meiklejohn and Dr. Durkheim need to agree on the therapist, and they need to meet with her first, explaining to her together what the problem is. They should let her know that she might be called to testify or provide a custody and/or visitation report. If she isn’t comfortable with that, they will want to look for someone else. In the event they can’t agree on custody and/or visitation, the judge will very likely order a home visit and psych evaluation. And then everything is up for grabs. You never know whom a judge will pick to do an evaluation. Good judges pick good therapists, bad, bad. There’s no test or license to become a court-appointed psych evaluator (called a “forensic”), and some of them are snake-oil salesmen. Judges don’t have to follow an evaluator’s recommendation, but they often do. Better the parents should make the decision on the therapist and not leave it to chance.

Make it very clear to Ms. Meiklejohn, and to Dr. Durkheim as well (via Kahn if necessary), that Jane is the client, and tell them to split the fees. I’ve seen too many cases where the parent paying the bills starts putting pressure on the therapist. “Just remember, Doc, I’m the one paying you.” They should probably not use anyone with an appointment at Mather Medical School, though in this town, that may be difficult. As I recall, in the honeymoon period of their divorce, the Durkheim-Meiklejohns paid a visit to Rachel Fischer at the Mather Child Study Center, to get some pointers about talking to Jane. As I also recall, Dr. Durkheim ignored her advice. But
she would be a good choice—if Dr. Durkheim is willing to face her again. (That’s probably not a problem. Didn’t his wife say he had a Jesus complex? Despite his rumpled suits and warm smile, he’s a pretty typical Big Star Doctor, one of those never-apologize-never-explain types.) I’ve known Rachel for years. She’s not only a first-rate psychiatrist, she’s an experienced professional witness. Lawyers for Children, the Tyler County child advocacy group, use her regularly when they need to bring in a heavy hitter. The judges, the good judges, respect her. There are others I’d recommend if she doesn’t work out.

We need to let the other side know about Mrs. Meiklejohn’s trust. When you’ve got the details, you should send a letter to Kahn.

Artless Egotism

Dear David—

This is my last confession, but I feel your last memo should not go unanswered.

Artless egotism, is it? I’ve never thought I had anything to do with my parents’ divorce, nor did my siblings. They spared us that. We felt like its casualties. We had cast our lot with them, and they betrayed us. My parents were the stars of all our lives, and we, the children, were the supporting players. We had speaking parts but no big scenes. My mother’s chief reaction to us was a combination of affection, interest, and amusement; she loved us but she was curiously (literally “curiously”) detached in her assessments of us. She looked at us with a naturalist’s eye, like Jacques Cousteau or the Leakeys. She found us endlessly diverting, only occasionally annoying. Papa, on the other hand, was more dramatic. It’s funny; we always think of the English as cool and the French, and other Latins, as fiery (though
sangfroid
is a French word). But it was the opposite in our family. Maman was calm, steady, Papa, emotional, volcanic, especially in the later years. He could be wildly funny, passionately engaged, ferociously angry, worryingly depressed. (Papa gets adjectives
and
adverbs.) His mood didn’t seem to have anything to do with us. He had his own weather system. If we could make him laugh, we felt like heroes. They both thought children should be children, and not little adults. They made the decisions and in their own way protected us, if not from themselves, then from the monsters under the bed. I loved them both so fiercely; I still do. The divorce broke my heart.

Sophie

Re: Artless Egotism

Sophie—

You make your father sound like Zeus, with all those Jovian adverbs and adjectives. You were what, 16 when your parents divorced? And now you’re almost 30, no? Do you still see him that way? Is he still that way?

Somewhere in my late 20s, I realized that I had the upper hand with my parents. (I think this is pretty standard.) They wanted my company more than I wanted theirs. They missed me; I didn’t miss them. I was totally absorbed in my new grown-up life, and in the limited free time I had, I wanted to be with my wife, children, and friends. That’s perhaps an oversimplification but not so broad it misstates the case. (Let me say that I loved and respected both of them; they were good parents and very nice to their children.) It might have been easier for you to grow up and away from them at 16, seizing an independent life, knowing that they were together, but I get the sense that their marriage was volatile and tumultuous, and you and your siblings are probably better off with them apart than together. Just think, if you’d missed having Jake in your life, you might be attracted to “volcanic” personalities, men who are admittedly compellingly attractive but not the sort who make good husbands and fathers. Jake has given you a different model.

I may have crossed a line here, but your email called for a serious response. What is it Dickens wrote about becoming the hero of one’s own life? You’re a terrific person, Sophie. To borrow your “star” analogy, it’s time you took center stage.

David

Re: Re: Artless Egotism

Dear David—

Thank you for your note. In some way, I know, I’m resisting growing up. My parents still feel bigger than life. You know what my mother can do; you saw it at Porter’s. Well, my father can do it too, and with an English accent. (I’m making excuses. Whenever I talk like this in front of Jake, he asks me simply: “What’s in it for you, Sophie? What are you getting out of this?”) Then there’s the generational shift. I know a lot of other immature people my age; 30 is the new 21. (Economically, I’ve been self-sufficient since college; my parents are helping me pay off my law school loans, but I am the debtor of record and have paid my way these last eight years. They were in agreement on this. If my sibs and I wanted to drink, smoke dope, and have sex, we had to do it in our own homes, not theirs, and we had to pay for them. They took the holistic approach to being a grown-up. Of course, every so often—or oftener—my mother buys me a wonderful dress or takes me to a play or sends me books; and my father gives me big cash gifts for birthdays and Christmas. Both take me on vacations, with sibs and stepsibs.)

Jake is a great guy, but he may have come into my life too late to make a difference in my choice of husband. I’ve always thought I should get married in the Church of England so that the banns could be published weeks in advance and the vicar could ask the congregation at the start of the ceremony if there was any reason why this couple shouldn’t be joined together in holy matrimony. Then my best friend, Maggie Pfeiffer, would stand up and say, “Sophie, you can’t marry this man; he’s all wrong for you. Don’t you see!” Jane saved from Mr. Rochester.

I’m a work in progress.

Sophie

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

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

MEMORANDUM

Attorney Work Product

Mia Meiklejohn dropped off Jane’s letter to her dad this afternoon. A heartbreaker. My mother says that the pathos of children is the beginning of tragedy. I can’t figure out what’s going on with that little girl. I don’t think it’s the usual horrors we think of—dads abusing their little girls, moms turning them against their dads. And I don’t think she’s blaming herself. It’s very peculiar.

Ms. Meiklejohn and I had a long talk. She and her husband are moving ahead with Dr. Fischer. They met with her together this morning to set things up, and according to Ms. M, they behaved themselves. The plan is for Jane to see her once a week for several weeks. Dr. Fischer will also meet with the parents separately for a few sessions and then with each of them with Jane. She’ll write up an evaluation, which she will provide to the parents. They have all agreed that her evaluation will be submitted to the judge in the event there’s a dispute over custody or visitation. (Is it wise to reduce their agreement to writing?) At this point they don’t anticipate a custody fight. They both agree (for the moment) that Jane should live with her mother. Dr. Durkheim told his wife he’s working with his lawyers on a response to our counteroffer. She says he appears subdued and chastened. She doesn’t expect the mood to last, but she’s feeling more optimistic about reaching an agreement. I showed her Jane’s letter to her grandfather and made her a copy to show her husband and the therapist.

I raised the matter of her mother’s trust. She had forgotten entirely about it and had no idea how much money was in it. The statements have always gone to her father. She said she would talk to Proctor about the account and arrange for the statements to come to her. “My father is going to be very unhappy. He hates losing control.”

As she was leaving, I asked her who James Meiklejohn was. She looked startled, then sad. I thought she might cry. I quickly explained that I had seen his name in her mother’s will. She told me he was her older brother. He died of leukemia when he was 11, and she was 10. “My childhood ended when he died,” she said. Her mother never recovered from his death. Cordelia was the “replacement” baby, and Mrs. Meiklejohn was devoted to her, almost to the exclusion of everything and everyone else. When she was dying (breast cancer), she was frantically worried about what would happen to Cordelia. She made Ms. M promise she’d always look after her. Jane was named for Ms. M’s brother.