The Divorce Papers He Made Me Sign

I signed with a smile

Dale wanted the divorce done fast, so we did it fast. Roy made sure of only two things: that not one word of Ada’s estate was mentioned in the divorce settlement (Dale’s own lawyer, a cut-rate fellow from two counties over, did not think to ask, because Dale had told him it was a simple no-assets split), and that every date and signature was clean and unchallengeable.

I signed the papers in Roy’s office on a Monday morning. I read every page first, slowly, which annoyed the cut-rate lawyer, but Roy just sat there with his hands folded and let me take all the time in the world. And when I got to the last page, I picked up the pen, and I signed my name, Diane Merrick, in full, and I did it with a smile so wide it made my cheeks ache.

The cut-rate lawyer thought I was being a good sport. He said, “See, this doesn’t have to be hard.” I said, “No. It surely doesn’t.” And I smiled at him too.

Dale did not come. He sent word through his lawyer that he did not want to see me. He was already, I heard, moving Tammy’s things into the house on Sycamore, Ada’s house, planning the wedding, telling everyone at the store that he owned the place now and things were going to change around here.

Twenty-two days later the divorce was final. The judge signed it on a Thursday afternoon.

And on Friday morning, the bank trust department, the actual executor of Ada Louise Merrick’s estate, sent a certified letter to Dale Merrick informing him that the condition of the bequest had been triggered, that the estate had passed in full to Diane Merrick under the terms of Article Six of the will, and that he was to have his personal effects out of the house on Sycamore Street within thirty days.