I wasn't going to write, but then realized that I've been so wound up, and unloading it all here... and anyone reading might feel like they missed the end of the story. Or of the poorly written chapter anyway. Rambling ensues:
Thursday, after a perfectly distracting and comforting slice of my 'normal life', my father and I drove up to Boston. It's important to restate why my father was the perfect choice as opposed to Landry's comforting, and bat-weilding ways... I adore my father, and his perfect balance of snarky comments, 70s rock, and side trips along RT84 to childhood haunts (Hebert's Candy Mansion - which we used to visit on the way to see my grandparents when we were children) was exactly what was needed. It also forced me to stay in my head - which while often the slippery slope to hysteria for some - was creating the cool, relatively calm exterior I needed to get through the weekend. My shell. A little armor.
We arrive and accept the only part of the trip I might have changed if I had actually wanted to waste money on this crappy weekend. We stayed at a slightly shady place, and ate at an even shadier pub down the street. A little depressing, but early on in the evening - upon eyeing the Days Hotel with the REALLY shady Japanese place in the lobby - deciding to ride it out that way. Eff this weekend - OF COURSE its the shady hotel with the questionable food. One interesting thing that reinforced the surreal nature? The hotel is next to a skating rink... and all the snow shavings from the ice were dumped outside near the dumpster... so there was a small mountain of snow which of course begged for snowballs in the parking lot of the hotel.
Dad and I crashed soon after eating, and watched TV from our double beds in a room with way too many fabric/wallpaper patterns to be legal, and I fell asleep wound ridiculously tight. In trying to find something to think about to distract my brain with I wound up exhausting it and crashing soon after the lights went out.
We left in the morning and pretty easily found our way to the courthouse downtown. Breakfast, and I was getting more closed off by the second. All the little doors and boxes. Lids tight. Met A at the courthouse and was struck by feeling like I no longer knew who he was. Looked the same - although it was hard to see him after 10 months. And we made fucking small talk. My father, me, and him. About the trip, the courthouse, coffee, bullshit. And then my father left... knowing that I would have been more apt to lose it knowing he was standing behind me in the courtroom... and he and I were left alone in the court, listening to five minutes of other peoples lives as they were called before we were and stood in front of the judge to answer questions. Lawyers crawling all over... A woman who hadn't had sex with her husband who she never lived with? Annulment. A man looking for full custody of his kids? Awarded. A woman looking to get divorced from a husband she couldn't find? Granted in his absence.
And then the judge called out all three of our names. The last time we'll hear them strung together I think. We used them that way... strung together for our business, our wedding, our return addresses on envelopes... and he held open the little gate for me... which struck me as so fucking strange and faux gallant in the face of getting divorced. And we stood at little desks in front of the judge and he asked us 5 or so questions which we answered in unison... in front of people listening to a little bit of our lives.
And then that was it. Maybe 6 minutes or less. And the judge said "120 days, judgement granted, good luck" (which was his parting words to every couple or non-couple before him.) And then he held the little gate again. And the door... and we were in front of elevators, and overwhelmed, and so violated... and I started to well up. And he saw it, and he genuinely, gallantly, left after we quickly said goodbye and didn't touch... because he knows me well enough still to know that I did not want to cry about this, not in front of him, not amid crowds of people with their own shitty lives. And I didn't cry there.
I went downstairs and took a deep breath of air walking across the street to the cafe my father was in. And I refused all calls. My mom called, my sister called. People TMd and I stopped looking at my phone. My father asked me one small thing... like if I wanted some of his toast, and I started crying. And then all of a sudden, before he had the chance to say more than "Jen..." I stopped. Eff this weekend.
An hour later I changed into jeans and pulled myself together. We went to the Science Museum for the rest of my father's gift of distraction. I have a geode paperweight to remember this weekend by. I saw the largest Vandegraph Generator still in use today. Halfway through and I could finally look at my phone. Walked through a butterfly garden with warm air and the lightest looking most beautiful little things on earth. A few hours later I could finally hear Landry's voice without crying. We got on the road and picked up McDonald's and gas. I called my sister. I talked to my mom.
I went home to my parents and got to unwind a little. I came home to Landry and J having let themselves in over the weekend to leave flowers and food and a beautiful note. And now I'm stepping back into the world after a four day break. Feels like a very long week (including the end of a cold), and its so disconcerting that the world kept spinning while I got off for a few days. Work emails still arrived, mail still piled up... feels like everything should have stopped. But instead I have laundry going in the basement. And I put one foot in front of the other. A little shakily, but forward.
