What is spousal support? Why does it involve money? It sounds like it should involve love and understanding. Nancy’s mind mulled over spousal support until the sound of her lawyer slamming his briefcase closed jolted her out of her daydreams.

“Well there’s not much more I can do. I hope we can get spousal support,” he said.

“Yes, I want that,” Nancy said smiling. She hated these meetings with her lawyer and always left his office feeling more alone than ever before. Leaving his office this time, she just wanted to curl up in a ball at home and sleep off the bad marriage.

*********************************************************

She opened her front door, one arm holding a brown bag of comfort food, the other hand held her keys. She missed the way her husband used to hold her hand, give it a reason for living. It used to be useful; especially under the covers at night. They’d seek out comforting ways to make him squirm.

“Bastard,” she breathed, it had no conviction, she missed him. She put her keys down on the counter along with her comfort food. Her answering machine blinked at her. It was winking, my god it was hitting on her. She walked towards it cautiously.

“Bastard,” she whispered, smiled, and pressed play. An official, business voice came on,

“Nancy, this is Blake Thompson, I need you to come down to my office to sign some papers for your divorce. Call my office when you receive this message.” beep.

“Bastard,” she smiled.

“Nancy, It’s Don, I’m sorry about all this but … just … know I love you.” beep. She didn’t say ‘bastard’ this time in fact she stood stumped. She hadn’t heard from her husband in weeks. The tears started to roll down her cheeks. She imagined herself in one of “those” movies: her face turned towards the sky, rain pouring down on her as she kneels on the earth screaming “why” up into the heavens. Her daughter’s voice snapped her back from her movie montage.

“Mom, this is really bad, what is going on? Why is dad filing for a divorce? What did you do?” She giggled into the tape. “Please call me, I love you mom.” Beep. Nancy knew her daughter was joking but it cut her deep. What did she do? Why is her husband leaving her? She was confused. It felt like a big chunk of her life was taken. Like with those shark attack victims who get an arm or a leg stolen from them, never able to get it back or even seek revenge. What the hell triggered this? One day her husband just stopped coming home and shortly after, she got a letter from a lawyer saying he’s representing her in her divorce. Divorce, what an ugly word,

“Bastard,” she muttered. She wanted some damn answers. She grabbed the phone, and watched as the buttons started to fade and retreat into the deep recesses of the receiver.

“Damn I can’t call him, I’ll call Bianca.” The buttons miraculously reemerged.

“Bianca?”

“Hey mom, how are you doing?” She sounded well, healthy.

“I didn’t do anything.” Nancy said defensively.

“What?”

“I don’t know honey, how’s Berkeley?” Nancy asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Good, good are you okay?” That hint of worry in Bianca’s voice caused Nancy to shiver a little.

“I’m fine I just miss your father, that’s all.” Nancy lied.

“What happened?”

“Baby girl I don’t know.” It was the truth Nancy didn’t know.

“Well, I mean, did you have a fight?” Bianca’s voice sounded fragile, faint, and was leaning towards high-pitched.

“No, he just didn’t come home one day and the next I knew I had divorce papers to sign, what’s spousal support?” Nancy asked earnestly.

“It’s like child support but for your spouse. Dad will pay a certain amount of money a month for your living expenses. Oh my God do you think he’s cheating?”

“Oh so it’s money.” Damn, Nancy thought to herself. Why did Bianca bring up cheating? Don wouldn’t cheat on Nancy. They were high school sweethearts, they had been through the ups and downs; they supported one another in every way, shape, and form.

“Mom do you want me to, you know, talk to dad, or come home or something?” Bianca asked seriously.

“No honey, don’t trouble yourself, I’ll talk to you father.”

“Um, Okay, I’m coming home and I’m calling dad right now.” That stubborn, little bitch, Nancy thought. She’s just liker her father.“Ok, honey,” Nancy said through clenched teeth. She just wanted to be alone with her bag of comfort and her thoughts swirling like a toilet inside her skull.

“Love ya mom,” Bianca said in her modern, hip tones.

“Love you too sweetie.” All Nancy heard next was a dead line, a strangled mess of emotions and screams blended into a long, lifeless beep.

Nancy wanted to cry. She wanted to call Don and ask mumbled questions between sobs. She went to her bag of comfort food; her ice cream was starting to melt. She shoved it into the freezer and headed for her bag of cookies -- double- chocolate, chocolate chipped, chocolate coated brown mess of comfort. That’s the color of comfort; brown, drab, comfort isn’t stimulating. She could do the girl thing and watch love movies, cry into an endless amount of tissues, while devouring a whole bag of comfort. Or she could do the woman thing and drink until she couldn’t remember her life; the time line of her life becoming an open field where she could jump, love, and pick wildflowers. She decided half and half. Her dinner consisted of brown. She had the whole bag of cookies and a six-pack of brown bottled beer. It had to be cheap beer. Eventually she’ll move to the rum. She sat on her couch prepared for a night of depression when the phone rang.

“No,” she yelled at the phone. But eventually answered it, resisting all the way,

“Bastard,” she used it as “hello.”

“Nancy?” A voice she loved said, “It’s um…me…Don?” He said
his name with a question mark. Why?

“Crap,” she muttered.

“Um, yeah. Look Bianca called me and said you weren’t doing too great …" His nervous laughter made Nancy sick to her stomach, "wait are you drunk?”

“You blame me? The man I love is trying to divorce me for reasons unknown.”

“The reasons are not unknown; we’ve talked about this you are too distant for me you never talk --”

“I’m talking right now --”

“You are never here with me, you drift, and I’m just not happy,” he made her feel so dirty with those words. What kind of a man bitches about a distant wife?

“But, but,” her face was getting hot. “You said you love me.”

“I do love you Nancy, it’s just --”

“No, no love shouldn’t be like this. Love should overcome anything. You didn’t even try counseling, God damn it you just gave up, you just moved out, you just moved on, you didn’t attempt, you left. So fuck you!”

“Nancy, you are been childish; we’ve been going through this for years neither of us were happy.”

“Did you ever ask me, if I was happy, Don, did you? Or were you only thinking of yourself? See what it looks like to me is you were unhappy therefore you assumed I was as well. Was that it Don?” Silence struck the phone. It could not speak. “Are you cheating on me Don?”

“What?” He asked but there was a tone in his voice, a knowing tone that hinted at truth.

“Is that what this is all about? Are you trying to fabricate problems so you won’t feel so bad about cheating is that what this is?” She was screaming without realizing it.

“Nancy, please, I love you and --” he was stuttering, he was reaching.

“Fuck you.” She hung up the phone, no, she didn’t hang up the phone she slammed the phone so hard the plastic cracked.

“Bastard,” she said and broke down to her knees wailing and weeping. She curled up into the fetal position in a pool of her own tears. This is how her daughter found her the next day.
A broken phone lay next to her mothers’ head and her mother slept with both arms wrapped around both knees.

“MOM, MOM! OH MY GOD, MOM!” Bianca yelled with child-like worry.

“Quit shaking and shouting damn it,” Nancy didn’t understand what happened.

“What happened?”

“I talked to your father.” That bastard was all Nancy could think.

“And?” Bianca said, guiding the conversation towards realization.

“You want to go out tonight sweetie? We can go where your father and I always went, please?”

“Um, okay,” Bianca said with furrowed brows.

“Good,” Nancy smiled.

Twirling in front of a mirror in the slim-fitting dress she saved for the 25th wedding anniversary, wasn’t making Nancy feel any better. She cried too much, her face was red from it. She put on make-up promising herself she would survive. Her daughter looked stunning; with her long blond hair hanging over her shoulders, her perfectly tanned skin, and her big green eyes. Her daughter was beautiful.

“Not my genes.” Nancy said out loud.

“What?” her daughter smiled.

*************************************************************

The restaurant was busy, as always. The mother-daughter team headed towards the bar.

“Martini,” Bianca said.

“Budweiser, in a bottle please,” Nancy said, not caring about what people thought.

“Mom,” Bianca said in that patronizing, you’re embarrassing me voice.

“I know.” They sat, chatted, Nancy watched her daughter get hit on. Nancy watched the poor boys crash and burn. Now, every man that approached her daughter she saw as burnt matchsticks. Their heads black and their bodies twisted and charred. She turned away and looked at the bar.

When she headed to the bathroom, alone, she noticed a familiar head, and the face of her first and only love. She walked towards him, noting the pretty, young brunette at his side.

“This restaurant, huh Don, it had to be this one?”

“Nancy, you look good,” he said with a hint of that’s the woman I once fell in love with.

“Not as good as your brunette.” Nancy wanted to twist her head off like a soda bottle.

“Nancy, please, lets be adults-” He said in a cool, calm voice as through he had been practicing.

“Adults? Adults aren’t supposed to cheat on their wives, adults aren’t supposed to invent problems to get a divorce. Adults aren’t supposed to be cheating and offering spousal support.” She was calm, silent, casual, hadn’t raised her voice.

“Nancy, please,” he said with an almost irritated attitude.

“Oh Don, you were always a charmer,” she leaned in close and kissed him soft and sweet like their first kiss during an awkward night in front of her parent’s house. Bianca came running towards her mom and realized what was going on.

“Dad how could you do this to mom? God I hate you, you‘re such a bastard.” There’s that word that Nancy had been relying on, and her daughter said it, not her.

Once they left, Bianca went on and on about how awful her father was. The whole car ride home was filled with disapproving statements from Bianca. Finally, Nancy turned to Bianca,

“My God, you knew,” she said with calm collection.

“What? No I didn’t dads an ass and…” she went on about her horrible father. She knew, she knew, she knew, Nancy felt like a mannequin, a hollow shell of a person, a bad representation. She felt she was placed into the exact position they wanted her. Her daughter was gone before Nancy even woke up. She left a note; it was filled with some bullshit about a lie. Nancy grabbed a handful of her favorite clothes, ones she didn’t associate with Don or Bianca ones she associated with a life. She left her dress from last night laid out on the bed as though waiting to be worn. She grabbed her wallet, her keys, and some comfort food. She left; she got in her car and watched her life shrink away in her rear view mirror, her home wrapped in cellophane and preserved, for when she would return. Everything would still be the same. A little plastic version of her will always remain in that house. She felt something break inside.

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