I’m still waiting, waiting, waiting for a response.
No, says the lawyer’s office, all we can do is ask. We cannot force them to mediate.
And if they will not mediate, we go to trial.
And the cost of a trial will ruin me.
And then. And then.
I keep reminding myself, a trial will ruin him too. He has nothing to gain from a trial and everything to lose – same as me.
But he’s had nothing to gain from all the legal maneuvers he’s pulled so far, and he ran up the bills anyway. His own bills mostly, but mine too – needlessly.
I start crying to the paralegal on the phone. I go from weeping to raging to apologizing for making her sit through this, and she just says, no, no, I understand.
I try to go a couple of days without calling, and last for two.
Have we had nothing yet? I ask. Still no reply?
She’s confused. Didn’t you get my email?
No, obviously not.
They signed, she said.
There will be no trial.
And so it was that 9 months after he departed, I got a gift: The damage would be controlled.
The end is finally, mercifully near.