The Will

I am on my vacation. That's right. Bill is dying and I am on vacation. It hasn't been without it's difficulties but I figured there wasn't much I could do by staying at home except take care of the baby for the kids. Outside of that, I can't do anything else. I am now the EX-wife, not the wife. As I have gotten used to the idea of not having to pay any more spousal support to Bill, I have allowed myself to do a little dreaming about this impending freedom. So far, I have decided to spend some time in France and will seek out an immersion program to get on the fast track learning French. At this point I don't want to pursue the teaching positions at Cirque du Soleil, I just have a passion to learn the language. It reminds me a little of what Diane Keaton's character did in 'Something's Got to Give'. She got divorced and decided to learn French. Whatever that is, whatever drives that desire, is also working on me. I have also decided to see Ireland. I want to do these two things within the next 16 months. In addition, I think it's time for me to seriously look for a place to live up near my sisters and brother. Today I looked at four houses with a realtor friend of my sister. The prices up here are quite accessible for me. Two of the four homes were great possibilities. One needed a little fixing up and the other was turn-key ready, just move in your stuff. The fixer is a more practical choice for me but the 'ready' one was stunning. I don't have to decide. I told the realtor this was just a fact-finding mission. I took photos of all of the places and sent some to Laura. She called me right away. She and Kyle had left work early to go out to see Bill. He has starting urinating blood. He told Laura he wanted to rewrite his will. When she found his current will, the one he wrote after our divorce was final, he had left everything to me and had made me and his friend David the co-executors. David said he doesn't want any part of it. They will rewrite this weekend. Bill wants to leave most of it to Laura and some to KJ. The woman? I don't know. The cancer center? I don't know about that either. The truth? What he really does? That might be a mystery/surprise, too. I also learned that while he was being transported to the desert on Sunday, he was muttering something to Laura, something to the effect that she would never get the money. It is likely that he was mistaking her for me. Nevertheless, it might be a dicey rewrite.

Surprising Timing

Yesterday was the first day of school. It would have been the first day of my last year of teaching if circumstances surrounding this divorce hadn't put me in a situation where I had to retire a year early. Nevertheless, I have felt wonderful about school starting and my not being there. I visited some colleagues on Monday, not envying their daunting classroom tasks, knowing all too well that what they are doing now is only the beginning of a long journey. Then I went off to have a pedicure. I didn't feel even the slightest twinge of nostalgia. Walking into classrooms only made me how tired and overwhelming this can be. Wednesday morning I lolled around in bed until 8:20, approximately the time school started, then rolled out for a leisurely cup of coffee. At 9:25 I loaded my bike onto the rack and drove to the marina for a nice long bike ride. I rode for over an hour. As I was putting the bike back on the rack, my cell phone rang. It was Laura. She asked if I was going to be home and if I could watch KJ. I said I would. When I got home, Dad's caregiver said David, Bill's friend, had come over and asked that I call him as soon as I got in. He had asked his ex-wife to get Laura's number the night before. She didn't want to be in the middle. It had ended up with me passing David's numbers to Kyle because Laura had misplaced her phone. When Laura arrived I asked if she had found out what David wanted. She said yes. He told her Bill is in the hospital and has been there for two weeks. His liver and kidneys are shutting down. He's not doing well. He might be on his death bed. Laura visited him. He was thin, yellow, only somewhat coherent, and there was a bag collecting fluids from his stomach. The onus is on her now. She has to get durable power of attorney, has to take over his finances, pay his bills and clean out his apartment. He will go to a woman's house after he leaves the hospital and will have no need for a home of his own. The woman is a former nurse and will take care of him. Hospice will begin. I told Laura that I would help her with whatever she needs me to do. But tomorrow I leave to go to north for my annual vacation. It is likely he will pass while I am away. I said I'd go out to his place with her and help pack on the weekends during September. My emotions are raw now. I am sad, confused, conflicted, torn, and just generally feeling bad. I didn't want him to spend his final days this way. I wanted to be the one who cared for him during his exit from this world. Even though he hadn't been a really good husband, we had had many good times, we had passed many milestones together, he was the father of my child, he had been both my best friend and my worst enemy. And now he would be leaving this world far away and in the company of strangers.

Making Ends Meet

As I approach the time where I have to pay Bill the final buyout sum and as I have reached the date when I had to increase spousal support as per our dissolution agreement, I have started being creative in how I make money. Initially I felt I was without many resources, but as time has gone by I have found additional sources of income. First I picked up a couple of tutoring students. I know that ten years ago tutors were charging $60/hour. I figured $70 wouldn't be out of the ballpark. Next, I have cut expenses. Laura and Kyle are off of my auto insurance and I am changing the landline and my wi-fi which together cost over $103 a month. Next, with the kids moving out, I am trying to host foreign exchange students in my home. That, and substitute teaching, should help me out quite a bit. We will see. First I have to have a representative from the exchange student housing check out the house. Then they have to find students for me. I could technically host three students: two in the garage apartment and one in my middle bedroom. That could be quite a boon for me. We will see. The terms of the divorce are non-modifiable. Bill can't come after me for any more money unless it is discovered that I have been hiding assets. (As if I had the means to have an account in the Grand Caimans...) The upside to that is that even if I got a job that paid me a huge amount of money, Bill can't come back for more. On the other hand, if I fall down and get a nasty back injury and am bedridden for ages, I can't go back to court and ask for a reduction in support.

Learning - The Bike Repair Edition

What might ensue in this blog could be several pieces on how I manage the learning curve regarding activities that had been in the husband's department during my marriage. This one, for sure, is about bicycle maintenance. As time has gone by, there have been problems with my bikes. I now own three of them. The newest, oddly enough, is the one currently in need of most repairs. It is unrideable now. Last night I took it to the local do-it-yourself bike repair shop which is volunteer-run and open only from 6:30 - 10:00 p.m. This proved to be quite an evening. I arrived at the shop at about 7:20 p.m. Rolling in with my bicycle I was asked to sign a waiver and then was introduced to the young woman who would be helping me. I told her I thought I had a slow leak in my rear tube and that I wanted to learn how to change it. I had even brought in my own replacement tube. Of course, with my level of bicycle-repair prowess, I had (and still have) no idea if the tube is the right size. We then took the rear wheel off the bike and commenced removing the tire from the rim. An hour later we were still struggling with the tire and the rim. There were now three of us, all women. The tube was stubbornly holding what air it had left, the valve was not releasing any air, and this was apparently making it tough for us to free the tire from the rim. Admitting defeat, we sought out a male with large arm muscles. ALL of his arm muscles were big, very big and very defined. He wrestled with the tire until we finally cut it off. I will now be buying a new tire. Before we could replace the tube and tire, the first girl noticed there were four spokes missing from the wheel. I asked her if I really needed them and she said, yes, the rim would warp without them. What we discovered next was the center part of the wheel was very wide and inserting new spokes required we put the spoke through a hole at the center, bend the spoke and then insert the threaded end in its hole on the outer wheel edge. What was interesting about this bike shop experience was the large variety of tools and gizmos we accessed. There are special, odd-shaped screwdrivers for tightening the spokes. There are special magnetic tools for removing ball bearings and magnetic dishes for saving the ball bearings while you grease inside the wheel. There are specific wrenches, of course, but what I didn't know was that there is a special set of very thin wrenches that are solely used to tighten and loosen the wheel's innermost nuts. The shop also has stands built especially for working on bicycles. You lift your bike onto the stand and clamp it right below the seat. With the bicycle suspended in the air, you can work on most parts at about eye level. But I was not to be able to work at the stand. All of my work was either on the floor or over at a big workbench on the east wall. What had seemed like a couple of easy tasks -- replacing a tube and inserting four spokes--- ended up taking hours. By the time the shop closed at 10:00 p.m., my hands and forearms were covered with bicycle grease, and all I had accomplished was the tire removal and the putting on of four spokes. To be clear, I had not been working alone. I was with the young female helper all this time. So at quitting time, I paid for my spokes and some time at the stand, took my bike with its front wheel on, took my rear wheel that was now missing both its tube and tire, put them on my car, and drove home. What remains for me is to file down the new spoke nipples so they don't puncture the new tube when it's installed, replace the spokeguard, put on the new tube and then the new tire. I was told that taking off the old tire is supposed to be the easiest part of replacing a tube. Whenever it is I return to the DIY bike shop, I will need to arrive promptly at 6:30. It might be another long evening.

More Hurdles Behind Me

In anticipation of the reunion of the chamber singing group I toured with in college, I thought of any potentially unpleasant 'encounters'. I knew my ex-husband and a former lover were co-hosts of this bash. As I reviewed the emailed invite responses online, I noticed my ex's sister was going to attend. This was quite a surprise because in the mid 70's she had moved to New York City and launched a successful singing career there. She and her first husband had been on our big European tour in 1972. They had later divorced after he decided he preferred a gay lifestyle. After that, the sister saw no reason to stay in California. At that time few opera companies were here and even they did all their hiring out of New York. She somewhat blazed a trail for her brother and me to follow her when we moved there in 1978. But shortly after we arrived in the city, she got an artist in residence assignment (there were only 8 in the entire country) in New Hampshire. Once there on her multi-month assignment, she met a man and gave it all up to marry him, move into the converted one-room schoolhouse he called home, and spend her life keeping house and working in her garden. And this had been a woman who never left the house without an extra hairpiece and full makeup. She had rarely worn pants and often wore a merry widow under her dresses. She was in love. Her new husband and I shared a birthday and for our birthdays one year she gave us copies of Richard Brautigan's "June 30, June 30". I remembered her as strikingly beautiful, enormously talented, intellectually brilliant, and someone who had not liked me at all until after I started dating her brother. In fact, she had really, really disliked me when I first started singing in Opera Workshop scenes with her. We eventually became close, but was that because I married her brother, or did she really come to like me? I knew that the evening would answer that question. I didn't recognize her at first. She no longer wears 'extra' hair, she seems more casual, and her marriage broke up ten years ago. She is still beautiful. When she noticed I had figured out who she was, she laughed and threw her arms around me. We chatted a little with a couple of other women from the group. Later in the evening, when I was briefly alone, she came over to me smiling and said, "Talk to me." She didn't hold anything against me for what had happened between me and her brother. She seemed very open, accepting and encouraging. Time and life experiences have relaxed her. Her move to New Hampshire put her life on a very different course. She went into graphic design, opened an ad agency with her second husband, got divorced and closed the agency, then wrote, sold and designed ads for radio stations. She said that for three years after he marriage ended, she cut herself off from the world. Then, when online dating was fairly new, she met a man she calls 'Wonderful Wes', lives with him and has no desire to make another commitment. She wears a promise ring and seems very happy. Wes makes it possible for her to live the life of a comfortably retired person and she volunteers as a graphic artist for those who cannot afford to hire people to design their logos, flyers, brochures, etc. The question seemed to be answered: she did grow to like me. The other hurdles I set behind me were interacting with the ex and not feeling awkward about it. I found out that he retired from teaching the same week I did. And I think he was there at the party with another one of the women from the group. She seemed slightly uncomfortable but I was very complimentary and friendly to her. I always liked her, and if she wants to date my ex, I am very happy for her. The last hurdle was the former lover. I remembered that he was not only a player but seemed to be a guy who was missing an 'emotional chip'. Many years later the time finally came when he was ready to settle down. He is still married. He teaches at Ann Arbor while his wife lives in Orlando. Do I think he's faithful to his wife? Not for a second. I looked around the party and remembered that several of us had had affairs with Bob. In fact, it occurred to me that we all had dated him right after we arrived at the university. That was Bob, a guy who had flings with all the girls when they were new. I was no different. Bob was one of my 'mistakes'. Live and learn, and move on. That's what I did. This evening was good for me. I felt whole, healthy, and pleased with what I have done with my life. I am moving on.

Apparently I Got Assertive

As I was cleaning out my dresser drawer the other day I found another letter. This time, from me to Bill via email. From the date on it I know it was in January of the toughest year I ever had in the classroom. I had the most unruly, rude and dysfunctional class of my career. Even today as I think about this group, I shudder. Bill, who was used to a wife who came home with a big smile on her face, was shocked to see the change in my behavior. What used to be a rhetorical question, "How was your day?" became something he hesitated to ask. He was used to hearing, "Great!" That year the answer was usually, "Awful!" or 'Horrible!" or something more detailed but always unpleasant. He would visibly flinch when I answered. It continued to surprise him no matter how many days we were into the school year. It was a year to be forgotten. After the group left me, I watched them torment teachers for the next five years. And that was after my two worst students moved away! From the letter I can tell that there was a day in January when Bill had a hissy fit about something, or committed some financial treachery of which I disapproved, and ran off to passive-aggressively punish me by gambling. I wrote, printed out and saved the following email. What surprises me about it is the date. It wasn't until June of that year I discovered that he had been gambling so much that he had taken $80,000 from a joint account we had set up for remodeling the house, and he had only put $59,000 in it. But here is the message from January 28: Dear Bill, You seriously blew it this afternoon. How quickly you have forgotten that this year is NOT about you; it is about me. I am doing all I can to unload my horrible class and until I have some satisfaction in that area, you are to support me. There is no negotiating here. I will not be speaking to you until I have a note from you, in writing, saying that you will put your ego behind you and help me out. There will be no more temper tantrums, no more running off to gamble because you are pissed, no more ignoring your phone. You need to be supportive of me in ways you have not done before. I will not be backing down on this. You are losing the best friend you have ever had and if I were you, I would seriously consider what you just did. I will not deal with this babyish bullshit. I have now contacted lawyers. Cindy> I don't remember contacting lawyers at that time in our marriage. But I wouldn't have lied about having done it. Did I get an apology in writing? I must have because he didn't like the silent treatment. Not one bit. I can't remember what he did but it must have been horrible for me to have written a message THIS assertive.

Cleaning Out Drawers

This weekend Laura and Kyle (and the baby) moved out. In some maternal quest to make things easier for them, I agreed to let Laura have my dresser because it matches the one Kyle took out of my extra bedroom. In doing so, I had to take everything out of my dresser and move it to the one in my bedroom. It had been basically empty since Bill left. As I was going through my top drawer, the one where I keep scarves, gloves and a million 'treasures', I found two letters. Keeping key letters is a habit of mine. That is, I keep letters that are important, that document milestones in my life---or crises. I found a letter Bill had written to me in 1999. At face value it looks sincere and full of love and regret. It sounds like it was written by a man who feels true remorse for things he has done. This is what it said: February 14, 1999 Dearest Cindy: This letter is being written on Valentines Day to profess my love for you. Also, to ask forgiveness for gambling behind your back. I love you and do not want you to agonize over my behavior any more. I give our marriage the highest priority. I know that I damage it when I am not honest with you (lying about gambling) and I put our finances at risk. Gambling has cost us money. It has also caused me to lose time from work. That is, I could have used the time to work or look for work. I know it is hard for you to understand that I endanger our marriage when I value it so much. However, my powerlessness over gambling is a sickness that has been very hard for me to control. This last episode of gambling has humbled me to an extent that I have not had an awareness of before. As I told you, I wanted to make money playing poker. Again, I was made aware that my compulsive behavior hooked with a stupidity that comes with a depressed emotional state makes me a terrible poker player. I learned this lesson. I cannot expect to make money playing poker even with an emotional state that is devoid of the highs and lows that have been there in the past. My goal for the near future is to get our family clear of debts. If everything goes well it could happen in two to three years. I promise you that poker will not interfere with this goal. Beyond the near future I need to keep in mind retirement and what my contribution will be. We should talk about this some more. Sometimes I wonder why you put up with me. I believe that you want a strong marriage and you are willing to do what is necessary to adjust and work with me through some bad times. You have a strength that has developed from when I first met you. I admire your strength and can only hope that you stay strong and that I grow with you. This setback that I caused is very humbling for me and I am ashamed that I chose to lie to you. My actions have affected Laura which I deeply regret. She does not need to grow up with the emotional problems caused by my actions. Happy Valentines Day. I love you and cherish the family that we have. Bill