January 16, 2003 . . The Argument

It’s so odd this divorce. We don’t argue. We’ve never argued harshly..not the plate-throwing, temper tantrums kind. We agree on nothing. He hurls shards of contempt at me but to say we really argue…two people trading slaps of words back and forth. We don’t.

I’ve been pathetic. I am afraid of having a broken family. I am afraid of the damage it will do to the kids. All I read is how broken families destroy children. All I’ve heard is how bad…bad…bad…a broken family is. So everything I do is to try to repair…try to prevent. To no avail.

Harvey on the other hand is intent on the divorce. Nothing sways him. No amount of sincerity…or counseling…or pleading sways his determination. I should know this…I’ve watched him for years in his single-minded approach to whatever he attempts. He is tenacious once his mind is made…once he resolves to do something.

So we don’t argue. As the ice queen I am in control of my words as though I’m reading a script. He on the other hand, after years of calm, vents and rages and spares no words to convey his hatred and detest of me. Then abruptly he’ll turn and walk out. And I stand there staring at an empty space where he once stood.

But today…we argue.

He walks in at supper time. The locks have been changed but I’m not in the habit of locking doors when we’re in the house. I need to learn.  Of course, ignoring me, he speaks to Ashley as she sits at the kitchen counter working on homework while I’m cooking supper…promising earrings that didn’t arrive in time for Christmas. Then without another word…leaves to see John downstairs in his room.

In a few minutes John comes up for dinner without my calling him.  I see the look on his face & know he’s come up to escape Harvey. Harvey follows but turns to my bedroom. Enough of this. I am not invisible. He can at least be courteous to me in front of the kids. Enough. He no longer has a right to my home…my personal bedroom…not at his whim. So I walk in behind him.

“This is now my closet and bedroom. You cannot be in here. You will have to leave.” I maintain my ice queen facade but this is one of the few times I firmly give him boundaries in this family.

“I’m looking for Jack’s picture.” Jack was an old friend from childhood who’d died a few years earlier during the affair in 1995. Harvey had kept his picture on a shelf in our walk-in closet.

“I’ve put it up…I’ll have to find it later.”

“What’s got you up in a knot?” His voice is arrogant and haughty.  “I just want some of my stuff–my boots, my ties, & my personal belongings that I have a right to have.”

“You’ve had 10 months to get anything you wanted.” I remind him.

“Well, you’ve locked my out now.” He sounds pitiful. Same old, same old.

“You had all day to get anything you wanted unhindered…the doors were wide open…I wasn’t even here. I have no idea who you had in this house…as a matter of tact…you told me to stay away.”

“I had 2 hired men to help me…& I didn’t tell you to stay away.”

“You certainly did…why do you not remember so much these days?”

“Well, maybe I did. You had me fooled for years but my family always saw through you…they could see the real you all along…but you’ve lost your golden goose now! You took the kids to see my mother…” He crosses his hands across his chest… “such a Christian thing to do.”

Now he leans down with his hands on his hips & looks me in the face, close & threatening, his eyes full of hate as I sit in a chair in my bedroom. I feel physically afraid of him. “I despise you. Do you hear me?” He practically shouts…does he not know they can hear him from the kitchen? “You are such a hypocrite and a snake! I hate you!” He literally spits the words at me.

“Golden goose? You have reversed your history. You would do well to remember it was your parents who said you were too stupid to learn to fly planes…Have you lost your mind? You couldn’t do that! I believe was the question they asked.

And my parents?  Believed in you…as I did…and paid for your lessons. Your parents specifically said you were not smart enough to even learn…went around behind your back asking other people to talk you out of even trying. You owe my parents $50,000 for all they’ve done for you. Your parents have done nothing.”

“And you’ve never let me forget they said that either. And I don’t have a contract…we didn’t sign anything…there’s nothing in writing.”

“I have purposefully not repeated what they said because it was so hurtful all of these years. I’ve had your mother tell me clearly she never thought she’d see you succeed. Her words were, ‘Well, I never thought I’d seen him really be able to to it!’ And your father…do you just chose to not remember his assumption years after you’d been flying…’When will they let you steer the plane by yourself?‘

Who’s Golden Goose is it? You’ve become the very thing you always feared. You have become your father. You’re a hypochondriac… spineless and self-pitying…philandering about just like him…You can’t keep your pants on! You swallow Viagra to stand-up straight…You chase other men’s wives. How many is it now? He had his out on his little delivery routes and you have yours on your own.

And…no, you signed nothing…even the commitment you did sign…in front of God and stood before everyone we knew…you walked away from that. Any promises you’ve made have long been broken…again and again…by your selfish, pathetic choices.” I have no tears. I have no charity.

“You want to play that game? What about David Shelton? I have proof of that! I have plenty of people who’ll tell all they know about you two. You’re just as full of hate as I said!” He stands triumphant as though he’s made some grand summation.

“David!?! You’ve got to be kidding. We both know he was unstable and when he sent that letter to me…you’re the first person I showed it to and then we took it to the pastor.”

About 8 years earlier, David & I had volunteered at a previous church together and one day out of the blue I received this letter in the mail of his rambling intentions and feelings. David & I had never even been alone together and his wife & I were friends. So the letter took me completely by surprise. But after showing it to Harvey, we decided I should take it to the pastor at church for his opinion. It all just died away and I’d not thought of David or the letter in years.

Actually I guess that was 1995…the year Harvey had an affair. Now…all of these years later…I wonder if Pam or Harvey had typed that letter–and not David. There had been a signature but I didn’t know his writing. Would they have done that to cast blame toward me instead? Conceivably.

“Well,” Harvey continues, “I’ve talked to Keith…and Sally is afraid to even call me back!”

“I doubt Sally is afraid of you! Ashley & John only see you now because I’ve hidden as much as I can from them. They use me as a shield from you.”

“Well, they may hate me now but they’ll come around when the see the real  you & have a chance to know me.”

“You know?” I am tired of his tirade.  “No one cares anymore. It hurts too much to care about you. They’ve only known your facade as it is. Do you think that how you’ve handled this so far has made them love you? John slid to the floorboard to hide from you the other day when we passed you on your bike. Your own children hide from you…and I have nothing to do with it. When you pay as you do…do you think they don’t comment on it & open the envelope? They know what caliber of man you are by how you’re handling this.”

“What do you mean…caliber of man?”

“For heaven’s sake…this isn’t hard…plain elementary English…cal–i–ber…the caliber of man you’ve become. You were more mature at 19 than today at 49. You’ve done this yourself…you chase Carrie, destroy her family & take no responsibility for anything you do. You have lived down to the type of man you family always said you were.”

“There’s nothing with Carrie. I haven’t talked with her in weeks.” His self-deception is incredible.

“Right! Of course, not. How was LA? San Fransisco? People see you other than her husband. In Orlando…Vegas…the Islands…Virginia…You’ve gotten yourself quite a reputation. Defending her honor by the pool in Orlando. Please!”

“Well, Pete told your attorney you shouldn’t talk to Carter anymore.” He sounded like a child tattling on a sibling.

“Oh, let me get this straight…your attorney tells you that he told my attorney to tell me to quit talking to your girlfriend’s husband? Sure…that makes good sense!” I can’t believe his idiocy. “Do you want to make them hate you? Having that appraiser come in this house & look at their stuff!”

“Just your stuff! He doesn’t have even to go in their rooms.”

“That’s…not…what…you…put…in..writing. ” I’m nauseated with disgust. “You fool.”

“The appraiser is going to come.”

“If you will stop & talk to me we can divide things…you can have it all..these things are not important. Take everything in this house for all I care. It’s family that’s important.” Yet I am talking to a wall.

“You take this stuff…you’ll have to give up something else.” He smirks as though I’d not have thought of this.

“Are we even having the same conversation here? None of this is important.”

“The appraiser will come & he’ll decide. If I talk to you, you always win but not this time.” He looks around the room. Petulantly, “I want my boots.”

“I gave them to John.”

“Then I’ll ask him.” (Although he never does.)

“You lie about something–important or inconsequential–every time we talk. No one trusts you…this conversation is over. You need to leave this house now. Please call before you ever return.” The ice queen once again took control. “We have a life…a very full & happy life.”

“Yes, you have a life.” He leaves my bedroom. Stopping by the kitchen, he asks Ashley & John, “Do you want me to call before I come over?”

“Yes,” She answers, “It’s better. We have things to do.”

He walks out the door. He’s only been here an hour…it seems an eternity.

Forty-five minutes later the phone rings. Call ID shows his cell number & I can hear background noises of a bar.

“Hello?” I keep my voice neutral.

Nothing.

“Hello?” I repeat, “It you’re not going to say anything, Harvey…why call?” I hang up the phone. So juvenile…so evil…such a coward.

I return to the kitchen to clean up. Ashley & John wrote in flour on the counter, “We (heart) U”

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