Chapter 23 - THE DIVORCE
Everett did not contest.
No property war.
No custody theater.
We divided:
Our home equity.
Retirement accounts.
Ordinary marital savings.
My business remained mostly separate except agreed marital growth adjustment.
His Hearthway sale proceeds remained his after restitution and taxes, subject to marital-property analysis we resolved through mediation.
Piers’s support remained structured.
No hidden child trust.
No family throne.
Joint legal custody gradually restored after Everett completed probation milestones.
Medical decisions shared.
Financial decisions involving large child expenses required both of us plus independent adviser because history taught us caution.
Physical custody:
Primary with me.
Regular weekends and school-night dinner with Everett.
Piers liked it.
At final hearing, judge asked whether we believed agreement served him.
“Yes,” both of us said.
Outside, Everett cried.
I did too.
“Was this inevitable?” he asked.
“No.”
That was the hardest answer.
Different choices might have saved us.
That did not mean we should force the present to pay for the past.
He hugged me.
I let him.
Not husband and wife.
Two people who had loved each other badly and later learned to parent better.
Piers asked that night:
“Divorce done?”
“Yes.”
“Can Daddy still come baseball?”
“Yes.”
“Christmas?”
Some.
“Birthday?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Then what changed?”
I smiled sadly.
“Mostly grown-up things.”
“Boring.”
“Very.”
Good.
Children do not need divorce to become identity.
Then Everett began dating two years later.
I hated it for three days.
Human.
Then stopped making it moral.
I dated later.
No revenge romance.
No billionaire.
Normal people.
Piers adjusted.
The family scandal finally stopped being daily life.
Except one unresolved question:
Marcelline wanted eventual contact with Piers.
Legally, no automatic right.
Emotionally, the choice would become his as he grew.
At nine, he said no.
At ten, no.
At eleven:
“Maybe letter.”
We gave him the old apology.
He read.
His first reaction:
“She said hunger makes kids comply.”
“Yes.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Did she love me?”
“I think she believed she did.”
“That’s not answer.”
He was right.
“I don’t know what her love meant then.”
He nodded.
“Better.”
He did not write back.
May you like
But he kept the letter.
For now.
