The Divorce Papers: A Novel (47 page)

November 23

Dear Mia,

Jane is a gift of a child. First Atalanta, now Maisie, taking in everything her parents say and do. Wait till her first novel comes out!

You were very lucky in your husband’s first wife. As his third wife will be in you. I don’t think Dr. Stephanie cuts the mustard. Daniel wrote a very good letter.

I’ll tie up all the loose ends shortly.

Regards,
Sophie

Shrinkage

Dear Maggie,

I’ve taken a big step. I’ve decided to grow up, now that I’m 30. This morning I called Rachel Fischer, a professor at the Child Study Center at Mather, and asked her if she could recommend a shrink. I apologized for calling her—conflict of interest (?): she was a Durkheim shrink—but she couldn’t have been nicer. I told her who my stepdad was and asked if she could find someone who didn’t know him, or at least hadn’t trained with him or under him. And no NY Psychoanalytic. I said it didn’t have to be a psychiatrist, and it couldn’t be Isabel Stokes, another Durkheim shrink. She gave me a name, a psychiatric social worker who was trained at New Salem Psychoanalytic, Antonia Phelps. I called her and have an appointment next Tuesday. I had to do it. I sent some confessional emails to David Greaves that were inappropriate (to put it most generously to myself) as communications between boss and underling. It’s time I paid someone to spill to, like a proper grown-up, and stopped leaking all over the place. You must be weary of my spilling. I am. And I’m worried that I’ll never have a decent relationship (with Will or anyone) unless I talk through my bad boyfriend jones.

My plan is to keep this venture to myself (and you, of course) for now. Jake would want to vet her. And of course, Papa will think she’s a quack. He always says he doesn’t “believe” in therapy (and has said it increasingly since Maman married Jake), in exactly the way he says he doesn’t “believe” in creationism.

Have a great Thanksgiving. I’m going for the good-enough.

What would I do without you?

xoxoxo
Sophie

P.S. I forgot to tell you. A headhunter for Farrow Allerton called me yesterday and asked whether I might be interested in talking to them about their new criminal practice. Apparently, one of their partners heard me arguing my latest Trilling motion. I wonder if Fiona knows, if she’s behind this. It’s too soon for me to move, even if I wanted to move (no?), but it certainly was an ego booster. I said I would seriously consider the offer. I suppose the manly thing to do is to tell David and see what he has to offer. I think I’m a very good negotiator when it comes to my clients, but I hate hate hate doing it for myself. WWFWD? Talk to Joe first and have him do the negotiating for me!

Thanksgiving and Therapy

Dear Sophie—

I’m so glad Thanksgiving was an unmitigated success. It was lovely of all of you to call and sing “La Marseillaise.” I don’t know what my in-laws thought. They seemed dumbfounded. They don’t understand my relationship with the Diehl clan. They don’t socialize outside the family. Matt and his sisters always found it confining growing up but thought, until they went to college, that everyone’s family spent every weekend with family. I told Howard and Linda that from the time I was 8 until I went to college, I spent every weekend at your place. “But didn’t your parents mind?” “Nope, they thought it good for me,” I said. Did they notice I was gone? “And your grandparents, didn’t you want to see them?” That I could answer safely, they all being dead. At the wedding, I could see they were perplexed that your parents, and not my parents, gave toasts, but I decided I wouldn’t explain if they didn’t ask. And they didn’t ask. My parents had cleaned up for the wedding pretty well, but toasting was not something they could do, unless it was
“down the hatch,” or “Cheers.” When my mother took my father home immediately after dinner so he couldn’t get falling-down drunk there, the Davidoffs didn’t think it odd; they thought it was Catholic. Theirs is an insular world, but there’s no malice in them and they’re kind to their children and to me.

I think therapy is a good step. And I agree that you shouldn’t say anything to your parents now. You’re right to think Jake would want to vet the therapist, and your mother would probably be skeptical. She wouldn’t be hostile, like your dad, but she’s too French to think it useful, unless, of course, it was Lacanian. She can’t help herself. The French regard psychoanalysis as acceptable as a kind of graduate school experience, good for one’s intellectual growth, but “therapy” they think
infra dig
, only for the weak-minded or undisciplined, a.k.a. Les Americains.

Saving the best for last, I’m so glad you had a good time on Sunday with Will. I think, like your mother, you’re happiest when you have a man you can argue with. Did you really think he would be as liberal as you? No one’s as liberal as you and still aspires to political office. You’re unelectable in every state, even Massachusetts.

Love,
Maggie

P.S. I got the part in
The Rivals
. At the rep. I just got the email. Oh bliss, oh rapture.

MARIA MATHER MEIKLEJOHN

90 Germyn Street
NEW SALEM, NA 06556

December 8, 1999

Dear Sophie,

Jane and I moved out of the St. Cloud Street house on the 1st and are now very cozily ensconced in our apartment on Germyn Street. We took Tito but left Fido. I know Daniel and I skirmished over that, but this place is too small for a dog, and without a proper backyard I’d have to walk him morning and night, which in the clear light of a new day did not seem attractive.

I’m a bit embarrassed about the stationery, the third monogrammed version in less than a year, but it’s so ingrained, having it and using it, that not having it and not using it would be like going outside without underpants. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But I would feel undressed without it, or at the very least badly dressed, stationerily speaking. I still confess to you.

Which brings me to the real point. Can a divorce lawyer and her client ever be friends? I know I’ve behaved badly in front of you, but then I’ve behaved badly in front of many of my friends—and relations too. I can also behave well. I’m hoping now, with this all settled, I’ll settle too. Maybe we can have a drink sometime. At Golightly’s, for auld lang syne?

Thanks for everything,

P.S. Don’t forget to send the bill. I must owe you money.

You Won’t Believe This, Part II

Dear Mags,

I just tried calling you. Where are you? I had a jaw-dropping moment this evening, in Good Foods. I still can’t wrap my mind around it. You won’t believe it. I don’t believe it. But, of course, I do. I was there.

As I was standing in front of the ice cream freezer, trying to decide between Narragansett Dairy’s Compton Salted Caramel or New Salem Nougatine, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I wheeled around, almost expecting Harry. But no. It was Daniel Durkheim, the almost ex-husband of my divorce client. “Hello,” he said. “I thought it was you.” “Oh,” I said. “Hello.” I started to turn back to the freezer. He spoke again: “I was hoping I’d run into you.” He paused, smiling slightly. “Oh,” I said, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to think. How would Emily Post handle this situation? He went on. “I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink sometime?” I must have looked as astonished as I felt. “Are you serious?” I asked. “Of course,” he said, “why wouldn’t I be?” “Well,” I said, taking a deep breath, “you’re the man who forever ruined Golightly’s for me. Why would I want to have a drink with you?” He flushed scarlet, then turned and walked away.

I will never ever understand men, not as long as I live. I bought both ice creams and am now, as I sit in front of the computer, eating alternately out of the two cartons. Next up, I’m going to make myself a stiff gin and tonic and watch at least three episodes of
Tinker Tailor
. I worship Alec Guinness.

Love,
Sophie

P.S. Yesterday Will and I went to see
Mansfield Park
. When I told him earlier in the day I wanted to see it, he had no idea what it was. I was so taken aback. “Haven’t you read Jane Austen?” I asked. Shamefacedly (well, sort of, he doesn’t shame easily), he admitted he hadn’t. “Not even
Pride and Prejudice
?” I asked. He shook his head. “How can that be?” His response: “I wasn’t an English major.” I was aghast. “What has that to do with it? Didn’t they make you read any novels at Penn? Didn’t they have gen ed courses?” He went on the offensive. “You haven’t read any David Foster Wallace,” he said. “He’s the greatest writer of his, our generation.” I told him I had tried but came a cropper. “He’s like Bellow,” I said. “So many words.” He gave me a kiss. “I’ll give the old girl a try,” he said. And he’s doing that. He just called to say he picked up a copy of
P&P
. In a spirit of reciprocal good sportsmanship, I am reading one of DFW’s essays, “Neither Adult Nor Entertainment,” about the porn Oscars. It’s very good, funny too. All the women are called “starlets” and the men “woodmen.” Who else would think to write about this, besides, of course, Hunter Thompson?

P.P.S. Joe came through. David gave me a $25,000 raise (not a bonus!) for turning down Farrow Allerton. Joe said David was at first stunned. Who goes recruiting raw associates? Then he got alarmed. Good. He first offered to raise me $10,000. Joe told him to get serious. The negotiations went two more rounds. Joe is the best. The next day, David asked me why I didn’t come to him myself. I’d prepared for that, not wanting to look craven. I quoted the old saying that any person who represents herself has a fool for a client. David raised an eyebrow, then congratulated me. He’s the next best.

TRAYNOR, HAND, WYZANSKI

222 CHURCH STREET
NEW SALEM, NARRAGANSETT 06555
(393) 876-5678

TIME SHEET

Attorney Work Product

*
Proctor Hand and Felix Landau will charge $150/hour for 2 hours of consultation each in accord with the Fee Agreement.