Talking Turkey

I calmly explain that I went to the courthouse to file for support from him.

And I wait for the sound of an atomic explosion.

Nothing.

Lars tells me that he expected me to do that. He wants me to do what I have to do to be able to provide for Hil and Pat. He has no desire to see me struggle. It makes sense for me to get help from him.

I look at my phone to make sure I've dialed correctly. Clearly the man I divorced under the most acrimonious of circumstances has been abducted by aliens and replaced with a Muppet.

I tell him that I really had no choice. Randee had not withdrawn the order of support against me, and I was going to be hauled off to the pokey if I did not cough up a pile of cash in short order. I'd gotten a lawyer. She'd advised me to file.

Again, he says he understands that part. What he doesn't understand is what happened after THAT.

I told him about the court date and how the overlapping claims we had against one another needed to be sorted out, and we'd called Randee to cancel the hearing so we could engage in a thoughtful discussion about how to settle things. He'd owe me money, I'd owe him money, yadda yadda yadda, let the payroll deductions begin.

He said he'd had no idea. He'd not heard from her.

I tell him in no uncertain terms that she came out swinging on his behalf and made some outrageous accusations and put forth some ridiculous demands.

He's intrigued and asks for an example. I hate when men ask for examples. It always seems like they think you are lying. And if I were, bonehead, don't you think I'd lie about the damn example, too?

I tell him that she screeched in a voice that can be heard in Deep Space that I'd lied to the court and had hidden my earnings from everyone. EVERYONE! (Because everyone knows I am a reclusive millionaire and live my modest little life because money is such a burden...)

He replied that he always knew how much I made. I'd told him myself. He didn't need more money from me. He knew how to get it if he did, but he really wasn't interested in that. He could be earning more money himself. He's turned down better opportunities. He just doesn't need the extra responsibility and commitments. The money is fine. More money generally means more of a trade off. He'd rather maintain the status quo than work weekends, or take call, or have to carry a beeper like a little electronic leash.

I almost faint with disbelief. I am certain my children's father has been replaced by a pod person.

I also tell him that Randee insists that I pay him all the arrears. And has neglectfully let them rack up long after she said she'd withdraw the order.

He says he considers us all square because I paid his lawyers fees from that disastrous day in court.

I tell him Randee seems to have let all those recollections fly out the back of her little Toni Home Permed head. She was on her horse and riding, and therefore, I felt like I needed to leverage the trip to get him to call off his pit bull. I have no burning desire to interfere with his travel plans. The kids are looking forward to the trip. I just needed to get his attention so he'd get hers. I also remind him that she needs to act on HIS wishes, not some deep seeded preoccupation with winning. Once again, she caused a problem between him and me, and for no reasons but her own.

He said he'd call her. I call my lawyer with an update.

And I open a much needed beer. A new beer called Alimony Pale Ale. Because there is no such thing as Child Support Pale Ale, and if there were, it would be laced with hemlock.