Craig was beginning to realize the only way to survive the divorce game was to play hardball. Too many men tried to be fair. Their embittered ex-wives, coached by their lawyers, cut them to ribbons. Craig had learned from playing sports the best defense is a good offence. I let her ruin my previous life, he thought. I’ll be damned if she’ll ruin my new one. All I want is a fair settlement and to see my kids.
“Thanks for your help guys, ” Craig said. “I really appreciate it.” Craig walked out of the church with renewed vigor. He felt he could now face Chrissie in this divorce and not back down. Thank goodness for new friends. All I’ve seen of our old ones is a cloud of dust as they scurried away. Guess that’s what happens when a couple splits. People don’t know how to react. Some don’t want to get involved. Others choose one side or the other. One thing’s for sure, you find out who your true friends are.
Craig felt a hand grab his shoulder. It was Garth.
“Coffee?” Garth said. “Been a while and I need to talk to you.”
“Hey, Garth. Sure. Our usual spot?”
Craig liked spending time with Garth. He was a gentle spirit and didn’t whine about his lot in life. They walked along and talked about tonight’s meeting. The guest speaker talked about all the “whys” we try to answer in a divorce. Something he said struck a chord with Craig. “I agreed with speaker when he said we always assume the cause of a marriage breakdown is something to do with us—something we did. When, in fact, it may have nothing to do with us at all. The ‘why’ may be about someone or something far beyond our wildest imagination. Sometimes, we find out—sometimes, we don’t. Either way, we must let it go, turn the page and move on. It really made sense.”
Garth agreed the topic hit a nerve with him as well. “It does make sense to let it go. I’m so over tryin’ to find out why. I don’t care anymore. You shouldn’t either.”
Craig nodded, and their discussion moved on to other things. Stuff guys talk about, like the weather and last Sunday’s N.F.L. games. Craig suspected, however, Garth had more on his mind than just football scores. They had become close friends, and Craig could read him fairly well. He figured Garth would tell him when he was ready.
They found a booth overlooking the parking lot. The Cardinal Café was a classic-style diner: functional, space efficient and not fancy. It had booths along the windows with miniature silver jukeboxes, small chrome tables and chairs in the middle and red padded stools at the counter.
The waitress was right out of Central Casting; dangly green jawbreaker earrings, a pencil stuck through the bun in her hair and eyeglasses hanging from a chain around her neck. She sauntered from table to table, chewing gum, pouring coffee and joking with the regulars. The owner was the short-order cook, and his appearance was also predictable; Marine Corps drill sergeant brush cut, barrel-chest and a faded tattoo on his right forearm. An old picture of him and his buddies, from some war, hung on the wall near the deep fryer. The whole place looked like a movie.
“What’s new, Craig?” This was typical Garth; get the other guy talking first.
Craig decided to turn the tables on him. “Not much new with me. You’re the one who wanted to talk—so talk already. What’s up?” Craig had opened a floodgate. Emotions and history poured out of Garth. He told about his early years with Loretta … how they met at a wedding … how he was the best man, and Loretta was a work friend of the bride … how his buddy the groom arranged a blind date for them … and how quickly they married, after Loretta informed him she was pregnant.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Garth said. “We were madly in love. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I couldn’t believe she wanted me. I was so happy.”
“It always starts that way.” Craig was trying to be supportive. “Same thing with me and Chrissie.”
“I know it does,” Garth said. “But I mean, we were really happy—and we shoulda been happy. We had everything; a small house in the older part of town, two kids and a good dog. I was workin’ lots. Loretta was glad to stay home and raise our kids. She was a good mom. We spent our spare time fixin’ up our home. Man—those were good times.”
“Why did you move to the Downs?”
“Always wanted a new house. We heard about Botsford Downs, so me and Loretta thought—why not? We’d done a lot of renos on our house. No sooner than we put it on the market, we got us an offer we couldn’t refuse. You know like in that movie?” Garth waited for a reaction from Craig.
“I’m familiar with the line, Garth. So you moved to the Downs. How come you got divorced?”
“She was bangin’ the neighbor,” Garth said. “Been goin’ on for awhile. I didn’t know.”
Craig suppressed the urge to laugh. He wanted to be serious and empathize with him, but it was so funny the way Garth had said: “banging the neighbor.” He said it so bluntly; like it was normal or it actually said that in the Divorce Act. Craig imagined a lawyer in court saying: “Yes, Your Honor, as Section 24, sub-section 14, paragraph (iv) of the Divorce Act states: legal grounds for divorce shall include banging the neighbor.”
Garth could tell Craig was struggling to keep a straight face. Craig realized his expression had given him away. He knew he had to explain. “Don’t misinterpret this.” Craig strained to hold back the laughter. “But it was absolutely hilarious the way you said: ‘she was banging the neighbor.’ You delivered the line so deadpan. Your expression didn’t change. Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Garth said. “I’m over it now.”
“How did you find out?” Craig was trying hard not to smile and anticipated the story could only get crazier. He was afraid he would explode with laughter at any moment.
“Oh, Mrs. Neighbor walked in on him and Loretta while they were well you know in bed together.” Garth was obviously embarrassed by the reference. “Mrs. Neighbor felt like killin’ them both—right then and there. She called me that night and told me. Then, I felt like killin’ them.”
Craig was still straining hard to keep from laughing. “Anybody would. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but this is a funny story.”
“You dunno the half of it, buddy. Mrs. Neighbor screamed when she walked in on them. Apparently, Loretta went out the bedroom window and into the front yard. She was stark naked, so she skedaddled home to our place. I was at work. The whole thing must have been a sight to see for the other neighbors. First, Mrs. Neighbor drew everyone’s attention by screamin’ at the top of her lungs. Then, a naked woman comes flyin’ out the window and streaks across the lawns to our front door. Loretta was lucky we always kept a spare key under the flower pot on the front porch.”
Craig couldn’t take it anymore. He burst out laughing, causing Garth to laugh hysterically as well. They laughed long and hard at the hilarious picture Garth had painted in their minds. Several people in the diner stared at them and wrongly assumed they had been drinking.
Garth was finally able to speak. “Gotta laugh, huh? Beats the hell out of cryin’.”
Craig was still laughing uncontrollably. He finally managed to utter an, “amen to that,” between laughs. When he finally regained some control, Craig wiped his eyes and poured another coffee from the thermos on their table. He asked Garth if he had forgiven Loretta.
“I guess so. Well, at least I’m not mad anymore,” Garth said. “After the divorce, we talked the whole thing out. We laugh about it now. Well, apparently, I do anyway.”
They laughed again. Craig couldn’t help it. This was the kind of laughter impossible to contain. He couldn’t get that scene out of his mind. It seemed to rewind and play over and over again. Craig’s sides were aching. Then, he noticed Garth wasn’t laughing anymore.
Garth had a pained expression on his face. Craig was about to hear the real reason Garth wanted to talk him. Garth began to explain the hell he was going through. Craig didn’t interrupt.
Garth shared details about the amount of money he paid every month, the default hearings and how the SOE was harassing him.
“The SOE—they should be called the S.O.B.’s. They don’t give a guy a chance. They treat me like I’m a criminal. I told them I’m sending all I can to my kids every month. I haven’t missed a month. They’re not interested in explanations. All the SOE cares about is the stinkin’ money. They’re nothin’ but a collection agency! I could rob banks or sell drugs to kids—and they wouldn’t care, as long as I paid all my support!”
Garth was getting more and more agitated as he talked. “As far as the SOE is concerned a guy has no excuse for not paying in full. They paint all fathers in arrears with the same deadbeat-dad brush.”
Garth explained how he lost his construction job, and no one in the industry would hire him. He held several part-time minimum wage jobs over the past while. Now, once again, he was unemployed and looking.
Garth pulled a letter from his back pocket. “Today, I got this in the mail.” Craig read the letter addressed to Garth, from the Office for Support Order Enforcement. They were taking action to suspend his driver’s license. He could avoid this by paying off his arrears of nineteen thousand nine hundred dollars. He was also in contempt for failing to pay, within thirty days, the lump sum of three thousand dollars ordered by Judge Currey. The letter stated further action, including incarceration, would be taken unless payment or arrangements for payment were made forthwith.
“Nice letter,” Craig said. “What are you going to do?”
Garth grinned. “I thought about payin’ it out ‘forthwith’ of my savings. I have almost forty-two dollars.”
“Seriously. What are you going to do?”
“I dunno.” Garth looked out the window at a young couple getting into a cherried-out ‘57 Chevy. “I really don’t know what to do. I have no money, no job and without a driver’s license—I can’t even get a job drivin’ a stinkin’ cab.”
Craig was trying to think of anything that might help Garth. “Can’t you use your car as collateral for a loan?”
“Suppose I could have, but the SOE registered my outstandin’ arrears as a bad debt with the credit bureau and ruined my credit rating.”
“What about bankruptcy?”
“Won’t help. Child support arrears are not erased by bankruptcy.”
Craig was amazed. He couldn’t believe the SOE had that kind of power and could callously wield that power to ruin someone’s life. It wasn’t fair. Every month, Garth sent his children all the money he could afford. He was trying his best to earn enough to meet his child support payments ordered by the court.
Despite the fact he was a fully qualified and experienced heavy equipment operator, Garth was unable to find work in the construction industry. He was desperate for work and took any job he could find: part time in warehouses, night shifts in convenience stores and even delivering pizzas. For a while, Garth worked for a moving company until he ended up in the hospital with herniated a disc in his back. All that, and he still ended up in arrears.
“You have to fix this, Garth. What about your lawyer? What did he say?”
Garth snickered. “My lawyer’s an imbecile. He said we should apply to have the support reduced. I told him I already tried that, and it didn’t work.”
“What do you mean, it didn’t work?” Craig asked. “What happened?”
“The damn judge wouldn’t change the order. Told me to get a better job. No, I’ve given up on their stupid system. It doesn’t work—not for me anyway.”
Garth faced the same problem shared by many non-custodial fathers. The payments are set by the original support order, based on their income at the time. An overwhelming majority of these men retain their jobs and never miss a payment. The unfortunate ones suffer a loss of income due to events beyond their control. They are forced to fall behind in their payments. Even if the payer scrapes together enough cash to make partial payments every month, he is still found in contempt of the original court order. The persecution by the SOE begins.
The perception is these men can simply go to court, show their income has dropped and receive reduced payments. The reality is, however, the system moves very slowly. Often, it is many months or even years before their case is finally heard in court. If the judge chooses not to believe them and refuses to grant a variance of the payments, their lives become a living hell. Government agencies like the SOE are mandated by law to use draconian measures to force compliance including: garnishing wages, destroying credit ratings, suspending driver’s licenses and incarceration.
Craig tried to prod Garth into applying to the court for a variance of his payments. It was his only hope. His imbecilic lawyer was right this time.
“I dunno what to do,” Garth said. “I wish I could afford another lawyer, I mean a real lawyer. Legal Aid assigned me Tim Murphy, and he’s useless. I think he’s afraid of the SOE, especially their big prosecutor Lorne Davis. Murphy’s an incompetent drunk, and he’s afraid Davis will report him to the Bar Association. He could be right—that friggin’ Davis is a piece of work. He’d sell his own mother for a conviction. The worst thing about the SOE comin’ after you—is Lorne Davis. Pray he never comes lookin’ for you.”
Craig didn’t know who this Lorne Davis was, but he filed the information away, just in case. He hoped he would never need it.
Garth paused for a moment before he continued. “I wish I’d never married Loretta. Then, I wouldn’t be divorced and have all these problems. I shoulda known better.”
“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,” Craig said. “Besides, you’re not alone. We’ve all picked weeds in the garden of love.”
Garth was confused. “What are you talkin’ about? What’s gardening got to do with this?”
“Nothing. It’s just a figure of speech.”
“A what?”
“A figure of—listen, that’s not important, okay?” Craig realized Garth was totally confused. “All right, let me explain but remember this is just my theory. All of us … and I mean both men and women … choose our lovers when we’re head over heels in love, or lust, or both. This is exactly the wrong time to be making such a major decision. You know—something that can affect the rest of our lives. We’re not thinking straight, and our judgment can be way off. We believe we’re picking flowers but turns out—they’re actually weeds. Understand?”
Garth stared blankly at him for a moment. He appeared bewildered, but then the light came on. “Oh … now I get it. It’s not our fault. Our mind is all screwed up. Falling in love makes us stupid.”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but yes, that’s the gist of it.” Craig was relieved Garth finally understood.
They talked for a while before Craig had to go. He had an early meeting with some prospective clients at Victoria Crossing and needed to get to bed. They agreed to talk again after next week’s meeting. Craig told Garth to call him anytime, day or night.
They hugged in the parking lot. Craig thought Garth might break down. He didn’t. He thanked Craig for being a friend and listening to his problems. Garth refused a ride. He needed to walk and think of a way out of this mess. Craig watched him disappear into the night. Poor guy. How can our justice system allow a good man like that to go down? And Garth can’t do anything about it. I can’t believe this can happen in our country. What kind of a society legitimizes imprisonment for an innocent loss of income?
Craig drove home, feeling thankful for how lucky he was. He wondered if he could handle what Garth was going through. He wondered if anyone could. I hope I said the right things tonight. I wish I could find a way to help him.
Craig hated to see anyone backed into a corner when they didn’t deserve it. Garth was in serious trouble—with no way out. Unless something changed, he would certainly end up in jail or worse. And Craig couldn’t help him.
Not this week, anyway.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Andrews v. Andrews
Mark Floyd handed Craig an envelope. “Here’s the final draft of the settlement and our P.I.’s report. The other side has a copy as well. I’ll be right back.”
Craig sat down outside a vacant courtroom. He hesitated before he opened it. Do I really want to read this? Do I have to see it in black-and-white? Of course I do! I have to know. Craig pulled the report out of the envelope. Mark had already told Craig some of what his private investigator discovered about Chrissie, but still Craig was sickened when he read the words:
The subject Christine Andrews was seen on numerous occasions in the company of a man identified as Eric Millard. Confirmation of their relationship (both pre- and post-separation) was obtained from several employees of Towercrest Realty. They were granted anonymity in exchange for their assistance in this matter.
The evidence includes photographs of Millard and Andrews entering numerous restaurants and bars, as well as walking hand-in-hand to a motel and entering a room. No adulterous video or photo evidence obtained to date.
Subject Millard is a former employee of Towercrest and is currently being sued for divorce by his estranged wife Vikki Millard. He is—
Craig stopped reading and recalled all the nights Chrissie claimed she was working late. She always had an explanation, always ready with an excuse. He gave her the benefit of the doubt. I was such a trusting fool.
He now had proof of Chrissie’s ongoing affair with Eric Millard. Craig did not understand or approve of this sort of behavior. He believed you should be faithful to your partner as long as you lived under the same roof. He was upset at Chrissie but also at his own naivety. Craig was learning this process was both an expensive and gut-wrenching life lesson. Divorce turns over rocks and exposes the ugly side of life, hurts everyone involved and makes lawyers rich. This is why she was out late all the time. The thought made him angry. I can’t believe I trusted her. This is her fault—and that sleazebag Millard. He should pray he never crosses my path.
Craig’s thoughts were interrupted by a conversation between two women seated in a row of chairs backing onto his. They were discussing a court case. He surmised one of the women was involved in a divorce action, and the other was a friend or relative. He tried to be polite and not listen, but their conversation was so intriguing, he couldn’t help himself.