AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I set a hand on her arm. “What happened, Nat?”
She’s reluctant to say. I wait and eventually she does. “My friend, Kristy, told me her husband said it was time to ask me to leave. I think I was in the way. I overstayed my welcome.”
“Oh God,” I say, thinking how awkward that must have been for her and what it would have been like to be asked to leave by a friend. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. She felt terrible about it, but I get it. Three’s a crowd,” she says. The look on her face tells a different story. She swallows hard, and then I see it in the downcast eyes: a mix of sadness and despair.
“When did this happen?”
“This afternoon. She said I didn’t have to leave right away, that I could stay until I found an apartment or somewhere else to go, but I didn’t feel comfortable staying, once I knew I wasn’t welcome.”
“No, of course not. I get it. I would have left too. Did you eat dinner yet?” I ask. I haven’t eaten in hours and the smell of food is prevailing on me. “Do you want to grab a bite?”
“I’m not hungry,” she says, and she wouldn’t be, not after what she’s going through. Food is the last thing on her mind. “I should let you go. I shouldn’t keep you like this when you have your daughter waiting for you at home.” She turns to go.
“No, wait,” I say, stopping her. “She’s not. Sienna is with Ben. I don’t have to leave. Do you have another friend you can stay with, Nat? Or money for a hotel?”
“Yeah,” she says, shrugging a shoulder, “sure.”
“Who?” I don’t want to overstep, but I remember what she said the other night in the restaurant, how she couldn’t talk to anyone about Declan because they were all biased toward him. They liked him too much to believe the things he was doing to her. It’s not lost on me now that the only person in her corner is me, someone she hasn’t seen in over twenty years. My memories of Nat from high school have faded over the years, but I have vague memories of her as fun loving and easygoing with an infectious smile. She was captain of our tennis team, a leader. People looked up to her. Now she seems practically meek and I hate that a man did this to her, that he changed her very essence. I don’t know him, but still, I hate him for it.
I regret that she and I fell out of touch and wish now that I’d made more of an effort to stay connected over the years.
“There is a hostel close by,” she says.
“A hostel?” I ask, aghast. There is one on this street in a brick midrise. I walk past it almost every day. From the outside it looks nice, but when I think of migrant travelers, of dorm-style living or shared bathrooms and amenities, it doesn’t sound appealing.
“That’s all I can afford,” she says. “It will be fine.”
I think back. The other night at the café, she told me that her ex, Declan, is a lawyer, an associate at a law firm in the Loop, but that soon he would make partner. Nat, on the other hand, teaches preschool. This makes him the obvious breadwinner. He should be paying alimony and the payments should be significant enough that she could get back on her feet, that she could rent an apartment or at the very least, afford a few nights in a hotel.
“You must have money from the divorce. Alimony payments?”
“Declan has our money.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t have access to it. He has all of it.” Dividing assets is a divisive time and never does anyone get exactly what they want, but they should get something, and Declan already has their apartment or house. There is no possible way a judge would have given him all the assets. Nat has a job. She earns an income. Where is that, the money she makes?
“I... I don’t understand. He can’t do that, Nat. Some, if not half, of that money is yours. Have you talked to your lawyer? If Declan is keeping your money from you, that’s illegal.”
“I don’t have a lawyer.”
“You represented yourself in the divorce?” I ask. A person can represent themselves in a divorce. It’s not always a good idea though, especially if the divorce is contentious. My heart breaks for her, thinking she somehow lost everything in the divorce, including her home, her money, her right to spousal maintenance payments.
“No.”
“I’m confused, Nat.”
She’s reluctant to explain.
“Nat?” I ask, and eventually she tells me.
“Declan and I aren’t divorced.”
I’m taken aback. “I... I thought you were. You never filed for divorce? Why, Nat?” I ask.
Again her eyes fill with tears. “Because I’m scared. Scared of what he’ll do, of how he’ll react if he knows I’m leaving him for good. But until I do,” she says, “he has all of our money and I have none of it.”
