Home » A Wasted Life » Hearings and Uncomfortable Meetings

Hearings and Uncomfortable Meetings

I started “getting settled” as good as I could, considering the state of mind I was in.
P**** had been calling me.  She was under the impression that I was going to be traveling and thought it would be a good idea if I called her to talk while I was driving.  She called me one day and excitedly asked “guess who called me?”  I told her I didn’t have a clue.  She said “B*****!” Apparently, they were becoming best buds.  P**** said “you should call her and thank her for the card she sent you.”  I guess B***** told her that she sent me a Mothers’ Day card and I didn’t respond.
Maybe I should feel horrible.  Maybe I should feel an overwhelming sense of guilt.  Maybe I should feel unbearable sadness.  Maybe I do and am just too dead inside to realize it.
I remember telling J*** that my heart was full of holes and I should be dead…but for some reason, I was still alive.  Maybe those parts that could still feel are now comatose and there is little to no chance that they will ever be revived.
P**** went on to say “I think she misses you.”  I said “B***** had three years to miss me.  It’s a little too late now.”
She repeated that “I should call her and thank her.”
It’s easy for somebody to give you advice, when they aren’t and haven’t been the recipient of somebodys’ wrath.  I didn’t want to hear any more.  I didn’t want to hear about future trips or past “wonderful visits.”  I thought just the very idea that she would (even unintentionally) tell me things like that was cruel.
J*** had said once that “P**** had no center.”  I think it’s that she just doesn’t have the ability to empathize.  Maybe that’s why J*** and P**** have always gotten along so well.  Maybe that’s why P**** told me that if I ever wanted to “get rid of him” to let her know.  Of course, that was before they got into a fight after K****s’ wedding.  After that, he was an “asshole.”
It was time for the “temporary hearing” and I didn’t even want to show up.  I drove to the court-house and sat outside, waiting for my attorney.  I had never seen him or met him, so that was going to be interesting.
I had brought some more things to give to J*** and I had asked him to return a few things to me.  We agreed to exchange them after the hearing.
I was sitting on the courthouse steps and I looked up and saw a “suit” walking toward me.  I just glanced and then looked away.  I thought it was just another lawyer.  When he got closer, I realized it was J***.  He had long ago abandoned suits and I was surprised at how “respectable” he looked (even though he almost had the Albert Einstein hair thing going on again.)
He walked up to me and acted like he wanted to take my hand but I didn’t offer it.  He just softly “smacked” it and said “well, this sucks!”
We just sat there and talked until our respective attorneys showed up.  We went inside and actually sat together until it was time to go into the court room.
I had asked for temporary support until the divorce was granted because I had no idea how long that was going to take.  In fairness to J***, he was sending me half of his pension check and until he retired, he had given me half of his paycheck but he still had the bulk of the money.
My attorney had a ridiculous “affidavit” ready, which was about two sentences long and full of errors.  When we were going over the papers, he said that when he first saw me, he thought I was J***s’ attachment.  I was insulted and let him know.  J*** had written his own affidavit but I didn’t get to see it.  My attorney said he would give me a copy later.  It’s probably a good thing that he didn’t let me see it at that point.
The judge decided to just leave things the way they were until the final hearing, so….J*** won.  After that hearing was over, J*** and I walked down the street to get something to eat.
As soon as we sat down, he said “you look nice.”  I wondered if he was being sincere or just grappling for something to say.  Or, maybe it was more placation.  He still wanted to know what I was going to do but I didn’t tell him anything.
We talked about the person who had watched and followed me.  He completely rejected the idea that it could be somebody “he knew.”  He cut his eyes downward and to the left, threw out his hands and said “I’m incensed!”  As soon as he said that, I immediately spotted a micro-expression on his face.  It was a smile.  That means he either knew about it or he got pleasure from it.
He asked again what my plans were.  He said he knew me well enough to know that if I had a plan, I was going to follow through with it.  His questions were under the guise of “caring” but I knew it was pure curiosity and/or control.  If he didn’t know where I was or what I was doing, it meant he had no power.
Maybe that’s why he spent forty years searching for B***.  Finding her re-established a form of control, albeit loose, distant and anonymous.
I expressed that belief to J***.  I told him that my entire life had been about control.  My mama had control because she knew that I would have done anything for her love.  His mama had control because she knew that I knew he was always going to choose her over me.
His attachment thinks she has control when she’s questioning my right to visit a state or communicate with “her man.”  Her thoughts are laughable and only prove one thing, which I will leave up to each person to interpret any way they choose.
I remember looking at him and it was like looking at somebody that I didn’t know.  It was so hard for me to try to capture anything that even remotely resembled affection or even sadness.  He asked me once if he was “never going to see me again” after the divorce and I told him that he wasn’t.  He said “that’s not the way I want it.”  I was beyond caring about what he wanted and I wondered why he would say that.  Again, that begs the question.  Did he think that he, his attachment and I were going to be a “friends?”  What the Hell is wrong with him?
I told him that when you give something up…you give it up.  He said “you mean like coffee and milk?”  I said yes.  I had given up coffee many years ago and had recently given up milk.  He said “and this is coming from the person who never lets anything go?”
He wasn’t talking about “not letting him go”…he was talking about “not letting my memories go”.  I told him I was also the person who…when they say they were done….they were done.
He was one example of my stance on “letting something go.”  You have to let some things go or they will hit you even harder the next time you bump into them.  I had been hit enough.
There is usually one thing in everybodys’ life that they know about, think about and even dream about…but will never get to have. 
That “thing” is something that J*** should have known about me but he never knew what my dreams were and he didn’t care.  He was only interested in his dreams.
I told him about a story that I had written.  Even though he had complimented me on my writing skills, I knew that I could never even begin to attain the level of penmanship that he possessed.  J*** had always wanted to write the “great American novel.”  Truthfully, even today I would love to read something that he wrote.  Realistically though, I know that I never would.
Who knows what kind of captivating expressions would emerge from the abyss of that brilliant, complicated, self-obsessed mind and jump into the pages of a book?  I can only take for granted that it would be a masterpiece.
I was never blessed with an imagination.  I do however, have a dark and twisty soul where conjecture is bountiful.  I also have the remnants of a child-hood dream of wishing on stars, believing in angels and once a year, desperately hoping that reindeer could fly.
My story was much like something you would see as a movie on the Lifetime or Hallmark channel and was titled “Do You See That Woman Over There?”

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