Robyn Carr - The View From Alameda Island

“You’re not their father!” she said.

“I’m not their biological father,” he said. “I’ve supported them for a dozen years and we’re very close. I’ll be their parent as long as they’ll let me.”

“I can’t believe you’re giving up on us so soon!”

“Beau,” George said. “Why don’t you sit down and let’s just talk about this issue.”

He thought about it for a second. He even began to take a seat; he’d always been so accommodating. Being cooperative and helpful had worked for him. He firmly believed it had made him successful. Then he remembered that Peacekeepers were also bombs and he stood again. “Sorry, George, this is the end of the line for me. Thanks for trying to help. Look, see if you can convince Pamela to get a little personal counseling. She’s angry and unhappy.”

“How dare you say that about me!”

“I’ll tell the boys I just didn’t have one more try in me.”

He turned and left the small office. He was surprised by how terrible he felt. He had expected to feel free and nothing could be further from what he felt. He felt disappointment and heartache and sheer dread. And there was guilt because he had plotted out this day carefully and while Pamela shouldn’t have been surprised, clearly she was broadsided. She had expected him to go on like this forever.

He had two appointments. First the lawyer and then the locksmith. Sonja Lawrence, the attorney, was a woman in her sixties who had been doing this for a long time. They had met for the first time two months ago and after a brief interview, she gave him a list of things to do and to decide. She pulled the list right out of her top drawer—so clinical. It was like the list the dentist gave you after he’d pulled a tooth. He tried to explain to Ms. Lawrence about the separations, the other men who Pamela referred to as a little casual dating during a separation, the counseling, the toxic environment—

“Really, Mr. Magellan, it’s irrelevant. This is a no-fault state. No one has to be right or wrong. The lawyers have to work on negotiating the division of property.”

“She’s going to take half my business, isn’t she?”

“I imagine she will try,” Ms. Lawrence said.

He gave a huff of forlorn laughter.

“I know it’s not funny,” she said.

“No, it wasn’t that. It’s just that... I like you, I really do. I don’t want anyone else. I didn’t set out to find the meanest lawyer in the Bay Area. But you remind me of my grandmother... When I was younger, of course. But will you be able to get me a fair deal out of this?”

She smiled patiently. “Don’t let looks deceive you, Mr. Magellan. Most of the time they never even see me coming.”

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