Authors: Fran Riedemann
From: Gloria Zachery
To: Brittany Foster
Subject: Let’s chat
Brittany,
I am going to be in D.C. attending a lobbying seminar next Wednesday (long story), and was wondering if you could get away and meet me after the seminar for an early dinner around 4:30? I want to discuss something with you. I’ll be taking a late plane home that same day, so I can’t offer you other options. You pick where and I’m treating. I will be at the Hilton Garden Inn.
Gloria
She hit reply and responded:
Gloria,
I am free this coming Wednesday. I would be honored to have dinner with you—for any reason. How would it work for you if I pick you up at the Hilton at 4:30? You can put your luggage in my car and after dinner I will drive you to the airport—it’s the least I can do. I think you will enjoy a seafood restaurant near the waterfront that’s on the way to the airport. Attached is my cell phone number so that if anything changes you can call me.
Brittany
She was more than a little curious about what it was Gloria wanted to talk to her about, but she would not bring it up in an email. She wanted whatever it was to be on Gloria’s terms, but she knew that Gloria wasn’t a frivolous person, and wouldn’t have made the offer if it wasn’t something important. So, at 4:30 sharp on Wednesday afternoon, she pulled her car up in front of the Hilton Garden Inn. Gloria was waiting for her outside.
Brittany’s doing the driving bought them some time, so they took the scenic route to the restaurant. It was literally
on
the Potomac River, with part of the building hanging over it. It resembled a large shed, and was rustic, sprawling, and very crowded.
Walking from the car to the restaurant they were assaulted with the unmistakable oily smell of dank water and dead fish, and while not particularly appetizing, it was part of the ambiance, judging from the crowd. Brittany was thankful the restaurant took reservations, because without one the wait would have been well over an hour. While Brittany was waiting to give her name to the hostess Gloria walked over to a large tank that contained a couple dozen live lobsters. They ranged in size from medium to very large, and seemed to be lining up for the selection process, clicking their taped claws against the window for attention.
“
Should we?” Gloria mouthed to Brittany, pointing at them. Once seated, Gloria declined the offered menus. “Bring us each lobster, and I want to pick them out myself.” She winked at Brittany before following their server back to the tank. When he arrived with the cooked lobsters later they were so large they were served on platters. It was evident the bibs he offered to tie on them were required apparel.
While they were eating, Gloria got right to the point of why she was in town, and told Brittany about her new mission to lobby in behalf of victimized single women. Her goal was to educate legislators as to not only their plight, but for the need for the government to assist nonprofit groups to be able to proactively seek a remedy allowing both dignity and independence to women who had been victimized within relationships, not just handouts or welfare.
She explained the tremendous cost it was to the taxpayer to bear the burden, which was not only the women who had been victimized, but the huge ripple effect on the next generation, who would inherit the mantle that inevitably gets passed on.
“
Our society has a critical cultural and moral dilemma—how to help this huge block of women to become productive and empower them so they don’t get sucked into perpetual social dysfunction.” Her eyes filled with tears as she continued, “I have talked to dozens of women who have lived with men, some have children with them, they were an equal part of funding their lifestyle, put their partners through college, acted on every level like a wife, but in a split-up are left with nothing.
“
Some gave up their own educations, subordinated their careers, and even supported their partners while they achieved their career goals, and in return do not take away a single asset from the relationship.”
Brittany shook her head. “I never thought about that. When you are married, at least in mine, almost everything was in both of our names. But, you’re right, I have known a couple of women who lived with men, and when it was over they were left scrambling. Of course, they might benefit from not sharing the liability of their other half’s debt, like happens in some divorces. I thank God Craig and I didn’t believe in credit cards.”
“
Think about it, Brittany. Many of the men are deadbeat dads, no question. But, many of those dads are successful. They walk away, wash their hands of their responsibility, and because they weren’t married, they give little thought of whether family, the government, or compassionate nonprofit groups, will pick up the slack. And, who ends up paying for the deadbeats: The taxpayer.
“
What I am attempting to do is to raise enough eyebrows, and garnish enough support, so that every state legislature has to deal with this proactively. The way the system is structured enables and perpetuates this dysfunction, rather than making it punitive for those who are responsible for creating the dependency. There needs to be incentives and accountability attached to the assistance.” She paused for Brittany to digest what she just told her.
“
I hate to say it, Brittany, but some women are so naïve they choose to move in with someone without an agreement or any form of protection for themselves, and several years later find themselves on the system because they neglected to respect themselves enough to have covered their fannies’ with an exit strategy. Some studies suggest that over eighty percent of these relationships are so loose that unless the female has a job that provides insurance for them, most of them won’t have any. Imagine!”
Brittany nodded. She got it. “I work with a woman now who has lived with a man for six years. She is always complaining about how everything is in his name. They share a house, and all of the expenses, but her name isn’t on the deed. Her car’s in her name, but it’s not paid for.” Brittany told her, adding, “In my divorce recovery group some of the situations are what I would call dire. Most of the women in the group were married, but not all. Two of them fit the description of the women you have described. I personally carry insurance through my work, but I think a husband who initiates a divorce should be required to provide insurance for his family, not the government.”
She looked at Gloria. “How can I help you?”
“
My goal is to surround myself with bright people who have some form of empathy for what these women are going through. You may not have experienced the financial hardship many women do, but I’m sure you have had to work through the self-worth issues that come with the aftermath. And, what if you lost your job tomorrow; wouldn’t that change everything?”
Over the last year Brittany tried not to obsess about that happening, but Gloria had hit the nail on the head. A day didn’t pass without her offering up a prayer of thanks for her job and praying that she could work there for a long time—liberal rag that it was.
Gloria continued, “What makes this issue so convoluted is that this propels the children caught in it into a generational downward spiral. It creates entitlement-minded leeches that have been taught by example, how to work the system with no other work ethic. Talk about an oxymoron!
“
This is a huge part of what is breaking our system’s back, and on the other end are the women who were raised to take pride in being independent, have some level of higher education, most of whom want to work, and most don’t have a clue where to start with putting a plan together for the rest of their life because they made the disastrous decision to live like a couple, but weren’t. Many of these women won’t inquire about what assistance is available to them, because it never crosses their mind that it is available to them.”
“
I get it.” Brittany said. She pointed out the two women in her recovery group who had shared stories of how family members had come down on them when they suggested they might be eligible for food stamps. To complicate matters even more, the same family members turned their backs on them, ignoring their plight, instead adding more guilt to it because they considered welfare. The church was supplying food for them while they tried to find work.
Gloria shook her head. “For decent people there is a stigma attached to getting government assistance, while a whole generation has been raised on it, even blogging and bragging how easy it is to get. I was recently forwarded something about a woman who was getting hundreds a month from the government for each of her five children. She wasn’t married to any of her five sperm donors.”
Brittany’s cell phone interrupted them; her alarm, warning of the impending airline departure. Gloria quickly summed up the reason for their dinner. “Well, we will have to wait until next time to repair the breech, so to speak, but now you understand what it is that I am delving into. I would like you to be on my board, Brittany. I know you will add valuable input. And, I need all the prayer that I can get. The media is already trying to discredit me.
“
Oh, and you also need to know that you come highly recommended. I have been keeping track of you through the Stones. We have been praying together about this for some time. They are so proud of you, and honored to be part of your spiritual journey.”
“
I love them like family. It was what you shared at dinner at their house that night at dinner that got me thinking. Before that night I had never considered my life might have a higher purpose.”
She paused, and added, “It’s funny, but from that first night I had a strange feeling that we would somehow fulfill something in each other.”
“
There is no hurry. When God opens a door, no man can shut it,” Gloria spoke with confidence.
Chapter Thirteen
When Allan told Brittany about Craig giving her the car, she knew immediately how she would use the money. She wanted to help the very needy women in her divorce group at church.
The BMW sold quickly, to one of Allan’s associates. Once he explained the circumstances surrounding the sale to him, further telling him what Brittany was going to do with the money from the sale, he chose to not negotiate. The car had only fourteen thousand miles on it and still smelled new, so he was happy.
When she originally told Allan that she intended to create a fund to help struggling women get on their feet after divorce or rejection Allan was stunned and tried to dissuade her. But, her mind was made up—at least so far as the concept went. “Allan, I know this is what God wants me to do with the money. I never would have thought of this on my own; I’m way too selfish.”
He disagreed, telling her there was nothing selfish about putting the money aside in a Rainy Day bank account, but she was adamant, “It really isn’t my money in the first place. I have no doubt this is what God wants me to do. Can I form a foundation?”
“
You know that this will require some front work to set up, don’t you? This isn’t as simple as you make it sound. There will be accounting issues and you will have to keep good records.” She smiled beguilingly batting her eyes at him, “Well, that is the third part of this miracle, silly. I have you!”
“
Oy Vey,” he responded, holding his head with both of his hands, pretending to be perturbed.
She reached over, taking one of his hands in hers, turning it palm up. “And for your trouble I see something wonderful happening in your future.” She batted her eyes again, making him laugh.
“
For the life of me, I don’t know how you can be so sure of yourself.” He said, but he knew as well as she did that he was putty in her hands.
Brittany being sure of herself could be blamed, in part, because ever since the evening of their ‘
business dinner
’ they had seen each other almost daily, and when that wasn’t possible, they would spend long hours on the phone most evenings.
Allan, it turned out, was a wealth of information about divorce, although he had never been married. He recounted how after two years working as a divorce attorney he’d made up his mind to stay single. “Some divorces are so ugly it takes your breath away.” he told her. “You have these great friends, who are individually really nice people, and once they file for divorce, they turn into demons. Three years ago I quit representing friends altogether. It’s just too much information, if you know what I mean. And then, once the divorce finally gets settled, neither of them wants anything to do with you, because you have learned too much about them. In the beginning it took me by surprise, and after a while I began to anticipate it.” His experiences had given him valuable perspective on how no divorce was baggage free.