My attorney informed me that Emily had filed for divorce asking for everything including my balls in a jar. Someone had seen me and Bethany at the hotel and had told Emily. I felt even worse for her. It probably seemed to Emily that I was continuing to pile up injury after injury on her. I gave her as much of my assets as the judge would allow. She asked and received a lifetime protection order against me saying that it was more for my protection than hers. She tried unsuccessfully to get a lifetime ban on me visiting Caroline’s grave. It probably wasn’t that the judge didn’t want to grant her that. It was just too hard to enforce. My lawyer told me Emily’s final words to me: “Go to Hell!”
My gut response to my wife’s words was: “I’m already there.”
Several people after hearing my story have asked if I considered killing myself during that time. I reply each time, “Not just then but every day, every stinking, fucking, horrible day since.” Then why haven’t I killed myself, you might rightfully ask? It was for Emily’s sake, not that Emily didn’t want me dead. She did. But, if I killed myself, she would get no life insurance payment for a suicide. In addition, she would not get the lifelong alimony I planned on paying. It was still a close decision every time I contemplated suicide because I had so much trouble functioning on a day-to-day basis and face the world.
In the new town where I worked, I lived mostly on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, tortilla chips and Diet Pepsi. I was living, make that surviving, in a cheap apartment in a bad part of town. I was mugged several times although I never reported one. The highest payoff for the muggers was $12. I had no need for lots of money and I had no credit cards. I used very little utilities. I had no TV or internet. My Trac Fone was the cheapest they sold, and I seldom used it. It had a new number that I told no one about it except my lawyer. I sent Emily every dime I could.
My attorney would let me know every now and then when someone wanted to hear from me, usually it was alleged to be someone who just wanted to ask if I was all right. I hate when people ask a question that they must know the answer to. The answer was obvious – “No, things are not all right, and they never will be thanks to my negligence.” I never bothered to reply to anyone, not even my parents who adored Caroline. I wanted to but I broke down several times just trying to dial their number. Thankfully, they passed along the word that they loved me and were there if I needed them. They were willing to give me time to heal. I didn’t think one lifetime was enough
I lingered in the pit of depression for a couple of years. One day I received a message from my lawyer that my wife had re-married and had petitioned for any payment from me to stop. I told him I wanted to continue to pay regardless. He was blunt: “Emily is emphatic that she wants nothing left to connect you with her. She refuses to take what she is calling your ‘blood money.’ Emily suggests you use your money for some act of repentance. Actually, her first suggestion was that you shove it up your ass.”