CUTLOOSEBLOG.COM
Friday, September 16, 2005
Surprisingly enough it's more difficult to be cut loose legally than one would think. The divorce that was supposed to be finalized today isn't because my soon-to-be-former husband was a no-show in court, and our rent-a-judge refused to issue a decree without his being present and accounted for. So here I am stuck in limbo for a little longer. This should all be brought to a conclusion next week, but for now I'm here with time on my hands and not much to do.
In the past I've always had work to fall back on. And family responsibilities. But my son is raised now. I no longer have to look after him, and although I'm not entirely finished with him yet, I no longer have a husband to look after, either.
So I've decided to treat this like an extended vacationa vacation in a place where I used to live, but where I was always too busy working to do the things tourists from around the world come here to do. Starting with the Getty. And the La Brea Tar Pits. Who knows? I may even throw over the traces completely and go for a walk on the beach or spend a day at Disneyland.
In other words, blogging will be light for a while for the very good reason that I'm out having fun.
Posted 2:16 P.M., September 16, 2005 by Babe
After that, Ali read through and posted some of the comments that had come in from her readers while she'd been otherwise engaged.
Dear Babe,
I know you're lawyer said your divorce would be final, but don't you believe him. Divorces ain't never final. They can give you a hundred pieces of paper that say your single, but being married don't just go away because of a piece of paper, especially if you have kids. And I should know. My husband can still drive me crazy even though we've been divorced for fifteen years and hes been dead for ten. If I end up still being married to him when I get to heaven, I may just turn around and walk right back out.
LILY
The next comment came from one of Ali's regulars, a widowed longtime fan from California, who wrote cheery little notes every other day or so. Over the months, Ali had come to think of the woman as a friend, despite the fact that they had never met in person.
Dear Babe,
I know this is a tough time for you. I just wanted you to know my thoughts and prayers are with you.
VELMA T IN LAGUNA
Then there was Fred.
What happened to "Whosoever God has joined together let no man put asunder"? No wonder the world is going to hell in a handbasket. First women wanted the Equal Rights Amendment and now they don't even want to bother with having husbands. And did you ever give any thought as to how you treated your husband and what might have driven him into the arms of another woman? I'm glad I only have sons and no daughters.
FRED
So am I, Ali thought. She decided not to post Fred's comment. Then she changed her mind. She suspected there were a lot of people in the world who shared his opinion and regarded independent women as a direct threat to their manhood and to their very existence. Maybe that was something cutlooseblog needed to bring up as a topic of discussion.
Dear Babe,
My husband did the same thing, married his little cutie two days after our divorce. It didn't last. Two months later he was back, knocking on my door because she'd thrown him out and begging me to take him back, which I did. He stayed for three more years after that then he left again and now I don't know where he is. But I know you're smarter than I am, so if your cheating husband asks you to take him back, whatever you do, don't.
WISER NOW
Ali's phone rang. She recognized the numberthe Flagstaff branch of the YWCA. "Hi, Andrea," Ali said.
Andrea was Andrea Rogers. A year ago, Andrea had been second in command in what was essentially a two-woman nonprofit spearheaded by Ali's girlhood best friend, Reenie Bernard. Reenie had been the outgoing, fund-raising brains of the outfit, while Andrea had functioned as office manager, keeping the place running smoothly in Reenie's absence. After Reenie's tragic murder, it had been Andrea who had tracked down Reenie's personal effects and, for the benefit of Reenie's orphaned children, rescued them from the thrift shop where they'd been shipped by Reenie's less-than-grief-stricken husband.
For Andrea, that one act of kindness on behalf of Reenie's kids had been the beginning of a new sense of self-confidence and independence. The Flagstaff YWCA had been so much Reenie Bernard's baby that, in the initial aftermath of her murder, there had been serious talk of shutting the place down, but Andrea in particular had been determined that Reenie's dream wouldn't perish with her. Over a period of several months, Andrea had managed to keep the doors open while Ali worked to convince the board of directors that, with a little assistance and encouragement from them, Andrea could be groomed to take over the executive director's position.
Her official promotion had happened three months ago. The board had hired a new assistant for Andrea, but Andrea had yet to catch on to the fact that she no longer needed to answer the phone herselfwhich she did most of the time.
Andrea was a plugger. She was dependable. She didn't have the finesse or the vision of a Reenie Bernard. What she had instead was an absolute devotion to her murdered boss and unbridled enthusiasm about carrying Reenie's life's work forward. One way or another, Andrea managed to get things done.
"Is it over then?" Andrea asked.
"It' being the divorce?" Ali asked.
"Of course, the divorce," Andrea returned. "What else would I be asking about?"
"I'm beginning to wonder if my divorce will ever be over," Ali replied and went on to repeat the gory details one more time.
"But what if you're not home in time for the board meeting next Friday?" Andrea asked, as a hint of her old reticence crept into her voice. "I've never handled one of those by myself. I've always had you there to backstop me."
"I'll do what I can to be home by then," Ali said. "But if I'm not, you'll be fine. You know more about what's going on at the YWCA than anyone. You'll be able to handle it."
"I hope so," Andrea said, but she didn't sound convinced.
Ali was talking on her cell phone. It surprised her when the room phone began to ring. "Sorry, Andrea," Ali said. "I need to take that."
"Ms. Reynolds?" a woman's voice asked.
"Yes."
"My name is Detective Carolyn Little," she said. "I'm with the LAPD's Missing Persons Unit. Mr. Ted Grantham said you were staying at the Westwood, and I took the liberty of calling."
"About?" Ali asked.
"About your husband."
"My soon-to-be-former husband," Ali corrected.
"Are you aware he's missing?"
"I know he failed to show up in court this morning for our divorce hearing," Ali answered. "That's all I know."
"He's been reported missing by one April Gaddis."
"His fiancee," Ali supplied.
"Yes," Detective Little answered. "She did mention that she and Mr. Grayson are engaged. It seems he went to a bachelor party last evening and never came home."
Ali felt like mentioning that for Paul to declare himself a bachelor prior to his divorce being finalized was a bit like putting the cart before the horse, but Detective Little didn't sound like she had much of a sense of humor.
"When was the last time you saw your husband?" Detective Little asked.
"That would be Friday, March eleventh of this year," Ali answered at once.