Chapter 13
On a perfect spring day in late May, Simon left the office at four with Matilda fighting the phone.
He was grateful it was still ringing, though the racket meant there would be a stack of calls to return in the morning.
For some unknown reason, his practice had hit a busy cycle after the latest lull and there were some nice fees.
But the divorce was looming and would consume money he didn’t have.
And the situation at Chub’s had not improved.
Betting on NBA games was proving, once again, to be more challenging than the NCAA.
He found the field, one of a dozen, all with games raging, and saw Paula standing alone at one end.
“What’s the score?” he asked as he stood beside her without looking at her.
“One–zip. Janie scored a goal in the first thirty seconds. You missed it.”
“Chalk up another one for you.”
“She’s really quite good. Her coach wants her to play on a summer travel team.”
Simon’s shoulders sagged a bit as he exhaled with frustration. “A travel team? There goes the summer. How many games?”
“Dozens. Six weekend tournaments. Washington, Baltimore, Charlotte, Atlanta, can’t remember the rest.”
“Great. And I suppose you’ve already said yes.”
“No. She mentioned it for the first time this morning at breakfast.”
“How much?”
“Forty-two hundred.”
“You must be kidding.”
“Nope. Fancy uniforms, travel, tournament fees, the works. Plus, a paid coach.”
“A paid coach? She’s nine years old, Paula.”
“Yes. I know.”
They had yet to look at one another. A month or so earlier they had sat together in the bleachers and a little chat grew somewhat testy. It was best if they stayed away from the other fans.
He said, “And I’m sure Janie wants to spend her summer playing soccer.”
“I think so. Her therapist says she wants to stay away from the house as much as possible.”
“Her therapist?”
“Yes. She’s had two sessions.”
“Why didn’t I know this?”
“You haven’t been home. I’m raising the kids now. Solo, it seems.”
He wanted to start yelling and cursing loudly but figured that might disrupt the game and embarrass his daughter. Plus, it would only give Paula more ammunition. He had to stay cool at all times. He ground his teeth and made himself smile.
“How much for the therapist?”
“Two-fifty an hour.” Same rate as the Honorable Simon F. Latch, Attorney and Counselor at Law. He swallowed hard and asked, with as much sarcasm as possible, “Anybody else in the family seeing a shrink, other than you and Janie?”
“Not at this time. I’m going to protect the children, Simon. Whatever it takes.”
“As if I’m trying to harm them?”
“The divorce will do enough damage.”
“And the divorce is a mutual undertaking, right? We both want out and have agreed to get a divorce.”
“The sooner the better.”
The soccer ball bounced nearby, out of play, and Janie scooped it up for the inbounds. “Nice work, Janie! Atta girl!” Simon yelled intensely. Of course, his encouragement was not acknowledged. He glanced at Paula and she rolled her eyes in disgust. What a bitch. He couldn’t even cheer properly.
Simon knew that the odds of Janie earning a single dollar playing soccer were about as slim as him winning billion-dollar verdicts against Big Pharma. But his dreams were over. Janie’s were only beginning.
“Any comments about the property settlement agreement?” he asked, changing the subject to something other than soccer. Why did he pick the PSA?
She sighed and glanced around to check on their privacy. “Is this really the place?”
“No one’s listening. You want me to stop by the house and discuss it in front of the kids?”
“Who prepared it?”
“I did. I told you I would.”
“Figures. I’ll feel better if I have my own lawyer to review the agreement. And I don’t trust any lawyer around here because you know them all.”
“Of course I know them all. Sorta goes with being in the profession. And just because I know a lawyer doesn’t mean I trust him. In fact, I distrust at least half of the lawyers in town and don’t like most of them.”
“I’ll find one.”
“Great. And pay him or her five grand to nitpick a PSA that is straightforward, fair, and includes everything we’ve already agreed to?”
“You’re raising your voice, Simon, please.”
The game dragged on as Simon boiled and Paula seethed and both wanted to walk away but neither would be the first to leave.
Janie would know instantly if one of them left.
Late in the game she scored a third goal.
Simon faked a cheer while wondering how much it might cost him.
When the ball went out of bounds at the other end, he turned and walked away without another word.