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“You need to see a lawyer. Bryon needn’t think he can walk off and take no responsibility for you and that child. Don’t you have any idea about your finances? He always paid his rent with a check, so you have a checking account.”
“His uncle died and left him several thousand dollars a few months back. That’s in a savings account Of course, Bryon makes a big salary, but we spend lots of money, too.” Sonya thought about their affluent tastes. Bryon wouldn’t have anything but the best clothes and furniture. He loved his fancy, foreign car and eating out at the best restaurants in the city.
“I have an electrician coming to do some work, and I have to go,” Leta said, “but I’d advise you to check into your affairs quickly. If he’s the kind of skunk who won’t assume his responsibility as a father, it’s hard to tell what he’ll do.”
“I still think this is just temporary,” Sonya insisted. “He really isn’t the kind of person to act this way.”
“You poor thing! You still love him, don’t you?”
“Of course I love him. When you’ve been in love with someone for three years, you don’t forget it overnight.”
“More the pity for you! If a man mistreats me, I can fall out of love mighty quick. I tell you, see a lawyer. When a man starts to stray, he keeps it up. You’ll be better off without him.”
“I don’t feel that way, Leta, although I may be stupid to still care for him,” she added sadly.
When Leta left, Sonya showered, styled her hair and dressed in brown knit slacks with matching cotton blouse. After applying her makeup carefully, she peered in the mirror.
“I really don’t look too bad now.” No one would suspect by looking at her that she was pregnant, so surely Bryon hadn’t left because of her appearance.
The long day loomed before her. What could she do? She needed milk and bread, so perhaps she should go to the grocery store. She checked her purse—less than ten dollars—that probably wouldn’t be enough, but she wouldn’t need many groceries if Bryon wasn’t coming home.
Their checking account was joint, so she could write a check, even though she didn’t often do that. Since Bryon had been an accountant before he became a stock broker, it had seemed simpler to let him take care of paying bills.
She couldn’t find the checkbook, nor could she find the file in which Bryon stored the statements of their savings account. Sonya’s hands shook, but she still refused to believe the obvious. She searched the desk for an hour, but she couldn’t find any of their financial records. In her purse she found one check that she carried for emergencies. She could buy groceries with that, she supposed, but what if there wasn’t any money in the checking account? They overspent occasionally, causing Bryon to borrow from his father.
Frantic with worry, Sonya left the apartment hurriedly and walked three blocks to the branch bank where Bryon conducted their business. She handed her ID card to the teller.
“I’m Mrs. Bryon Dixon. I’d like to know the balance in our checking and savings accounts, please.”
“Just a moment,” the young woman said. She punched some information into the computer on her desk, and Sonya waited impatiently drumming her fingers on the marble ledge in front of her. The music wafting throughout the bank, intended to be soothing to the customers, rattled on her nerves like a nail drawn across a windowpane.
“There’s a balance of $929.38 in your checking account, but the savings account is closed. One withdrawal closed it two weeks ago.”
“Thank you very much,” Sonya said through lips so stiff she could hardly move them. She stumbled out of the building and paused. Which way do I turn to go home? She wandered around a few minutes and finally stopped an elderly man.
“I’m looking for the Sandhill Apartments. Could you direct me to them, please?”
“Turn north, ma’am. You can see the roof of the building from here.”
Strange she could remember the name of the apartment, but not the location. Was she losing her mind? she wondered as she trudged home.
When the elevator reached the third floor, Sonya ran down the hall to Leta’s apartment. The electrician was still there, but, noting Sonya’s agitation, Leta dismissed him quickly. When the door closed behind the man, Leta asked, “What has happened?”
“Bryon has taken all of the savings, and there’s less than a thousand dollars in checking. I don’t even have a checkbook. What am I going to do?”
“The first thing is to take the money out of that checking account before he snatches it”
“I have one check in my purse.”
“That’s all you need. Go to the bank and close that account This afternoon I’m taking you to see my lawyer.”
Sonya didn’t think she could walk to the bank again, and when she went for the car in the garage beneath the apartment house, she noticed Bryon’s empty parking place. She had supposed his car was at the airport, but no doubt he had driven to California since he didn’t expect to return. When traveling by plane, they usually took their old car to leave at the airport, but she hadn’t questioned his decision to drive the new car and leave the old one for her. Come to think about it, she hadn’t questioned anything that Bryon did. She loved him and trusted him completely, why should she have doubted him?
Sonya filled out the check for $929.38, drove to the bank’s drive-in and received the total amount in cash. Returning to the apartment, she spent the rest of the morning looking through Bryon’s desk. The gas and electric bills, car payment, and credit card statements totaled more than the cash she had.
Leta rang the bell at one o’clock. “Ready?” she said.
“Why is it necessary to see a lawyer? For one thing, I don’t have any money to pay attorney fees.”
“Lawyers are used to waiting for their money until the divorce settlement is made.”
“Divorce! I don’t want a divorce.”
“Even if this is just a separation, you’ll have to make some arrangements for him to support you.”
“I’ll get a job.”
“That’s assuming you can find a good job right away! Besides, Bryon should pay child support.” She pointed to the desk where Sonya had stacked the bills. “Someone will have to pay those, and you know you can’t. If you get a job tomorrow, it will be weeks before you would receive a check.”
“When is our rent due?” Sonya gasped, realizing that she hadn’t considered that obligation.
“You’re paid through the rest of this month, but don’t worry about that.”
Sonya reluctantly followed Leta out of the apartment building. As Leta drove along busy Dodge Street, she said, “The lawyer’s name is Daniel Massie. He represented me in my last divorce. Before I went to him, I’d heard he was always on the woman’s side, and I believe it. He surely held my ex’s feet to the fire.”
Leta parked in an underground garage. “Massie’s office is on the fourth floor of this building. I telephoned and made an appointment, so I’ll introduce you and then wait in the reception room. You’ll be more at ease if you talk to him alone.”
“I don’t know what to say, and I’m scared.”
“No need to be. He’s a gracious man.”
Sonya’s stomach heaved, and she nearly retched during the elevator ride to the fourth floor. She pressed sweaty hands to her abdomen and leaned against the wall, thankful that no one else except Leta had witnessed her discomfort.
Daniel Massie greeted Leta warmly when they entered his office, and after the introduction, he turned to Sonya with a smile and shook hands with her.
“I’ll be in the waiting room,” Leta said.
Massie motioned Sonya to a chair beside his desk. Daniel Massie was a man at whom people, especially women, took a second glance. Even as he leaned back, at ease in his leather chair, he exhibited a hint of latent authority. He was not handsome in the usual sense, yet his face was made up of winsome features—brilliant gray eyes, small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a warm smile. Yes, it was a face meriting a second glance, but although he had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen, Sonya couldn’t meet his gaze.
What kind of person must he think she was when her husband had deserted her?
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Dixon?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured. What a dumb remark! And she made it worse by stammering, “I didn’t want to come, but Leta thought I should.”
What had happened to her self-confidence? she wondered.
“How old are you?” the lawyer said.
“Twenty-three. I’ve been married two years.”
“Not quite as old as my mother was when my father went off and left her with two children to raise. That was twenty-five years ago when I was five years old, but I still remember the problems she had.”
Sonya twisted her purse straps. The telephone rang, and Massie engaged in a short conversation with another client relating to an automobile accident Water gurgled in the aquarium in the corner, and Sonya riveted her eyes upon the black and gold fish zipping gracefully through the bubbling water. The leather furnishings of the room weren’t new, but they had quality, and Sonya deduced that Daniel Massie had a thriving law practice much beyond what she could afford.
When he replaced the receiver, he said, “Mrs. Barton briefly outlined the nature of your problem, but perhaps it would be better if I hear it from you.”
In halting sentences, Sonya unburdened the trauma of the past two months, leaving out nothing. It was easier to talk to a stranger than her friends. “The worst thing about it is that we had been very happy up until that point I just can’t believe that my life could change so drastically.”
“On what criteria do you judge the happiness of your marriage?”
Was he suggesting that they hadn’t been happy? The nerve of the man!
Almost belligerently, Sonya said, “We lived in a large apartment in the best part of town, lavishly furnished, and we vacationed at luxurious places. Bryon bought me expensive jewelry, and he insisted that I buy nothing but designer clothing. Of course we were happy.”
“But it takes more than material things to make a happy marriage. You’ve mentioned nothing about tenderness, mutual respect and devotion.”
“We had those, too,” Sonya said with downcast eyes. But had they? Daniel Massie had given her something to think about.
“Do you want me to contact your husband?”
“Oh, no, I don’t want to make him any angrier. And I can’t have you working for me when I can’t pay you. Perhaps you can just advise me.”
The lawyer pondered a moment “Do you have family to help you financially?”
“My parents live in Ohio and would probably help me if I asked, but I won’t ask them. They were opposed to my marriage, and I remember my grandmother’s old adage, ‘If you make the bed, lie in it’ It’s my problem, and I don’t expect to burden them with it.”
“Then it might be a good idea for you to talk with a marriage counselor. You’ll need help from someone.”
“I’ll handle it myself. I still think Bryon will come back.”
“Even so, I suggest that you send those current bills to your husband. If he’s been caring for the finances, he’ll have to continue to do so. Also, if you won’t let me contact him, you’ll have to. Find out exactly what he intends to do. And I must warn you, Mrs. Dixon, from his actions, I think he means to make this a permanent break. If he sues for divorce, you’ll need an attorney.”
“I don’t believe in divorce.”
“You may not have a choice, and if he files, you must have help.” Daniel Massie smiled slightly. “You won’t let me help you. You won’t call upon your parents or a marriage counselor. But you must face reality. Mrs. Dixon, I’ve been through this with many other women. You can’t handle it alone. You’ll need help to get through this,” he added gently.
Sonya stood to leave and found that her legs scarcely sustained her body. She held on to his desk for support The lawyer quickly left his chair, came to her side and took her arm.
“Perhaps you should sit down for a few minutes,” he said, with concern in his voice. “I’ll call Mrs. Barton to assist you.”
Sonya shook her head. “I’m all right now. How much do I owe you, Mr. Massie?”
“Nothing at all today, since I haven’t done anything for you.”
“I won’t accept charity.”
“It isn’t charity—I never charge for a consultation of this type. If you need further help, then we can consider a fee. But there is one thing you can do for me.”
She looked at him questioningly, suddenly suspicious of his motives. What kind of woman did he consider her?
“I’d like to have you talk to a friend of mine, a professional counselor as well as a minister.” He picked up a notepad, wrote a name and handed it to her. “His name is Adam Benson, and he and his wife, Marie, will come to you anytime day or night when you have a special need. I’ve written down his home and office phone numbers.”
“I don’t need to talk to a minister or a counselor. I can handle this alone.”
“I’m sure you believe you can. But there comes a time in each life when human resources, and our own self-determination fail us. When those times occur, people who don’t have a higher power to sustain them will be overwhelmed by the pressure. I don’t want that to happen to you, Mrs. Dixon. Please take this card.”
This man is really concerned about me, Sonya thought, and she took the card from his hand.
“Thank you,” she murmured and walked weakly from the office.
Leta took Sonya’s arm and helped her to the elevator, and Sonya was thankful to have a friend to lean on.
“What did you think of Daniel?” Leta asked, as she drove out of the parking garage.
“He was all right, I suppose.”
“He makes a good appearance before a judge. I think he’s very handsome.”
“Maybe so. I was so embarrassed to be telling my problems to a stranger that I hardly looked at the man, but I was surprised that he seemed to be really interested in my welfare. After all, he must see dozens of people with such problems in a week’s time. How could he be interested in each one?”
“I don’t know, but he is. He makes all of his clients believe that solving their problems is his first priority. I’ve heard of a few cases when he’s represented abused women in getting their divorces and has charged no fee at all, simply because they couldn’t have gotten a divorce otherwise.”
Sonya thought about that. It was rare to find a person who helped others so selflessly. Daniel Massie was an unusual man.
The letter she’d been looking for had arrived when Sonya entered the apartment. She tore open the flap of the envelope with trembling hands:
Dear Sonya,
By this time you will have recovered from the shock of my earlier letter. As you may have gathered, I want a divorce. I hope you’ll be reasonable and not cause trouble about this, for I have no notion of returning to Omaha. You can send my clothes to the address below.
Bryon
Sonya dropped the letter on the floor and stamped on it. She picked up the second oriental vase and hurled it across the room. The shattered pieces joined the fragments of the other vase she hadn’t cleaned up from the carpet If she was only a possession to Bryon, perhaps if she destroyed everything else, he would turn to her.
She went to the desk, picked up all the bills that had accumulated in Bryon’s absence and stuffed them into a stamped envelope. Angrily she scratched out a note. “If you want your clothes, you can come after them.” Before she lost her nerve, she sealed the envelope, ran downstairs, and dropped it in the mailbox in front of the apartment house.
The next morning Sonya went to the unemployment agency and applied for work. Even as she filled out the blanks, she realized that she was a poor candidate for a job. She had no experience at anything. Being the wife of a successful stock broker wasn’t much of a recommendation for employment, and she’d taken only basic subjects her two years in college, so she had no training in any field.
What was it her father had said? “Please don’t get married before you finish college, Sonya. The day will come when you’ll wish you had that degree.” But Sonya had ignored her father’s advice and listened to Bryon instead. “But I don’t want to wait, Sonya. If I leave you here and go off to work somewhere else, you might find another man you want to marry. I want you with me always. Don’t I mean more to you than a college diploma?”
Sonya shook her head to rid her mind of such perplexing thoughts and continued to fill out the job application.
The clerk who interviewed her was sympathetic and kind. She suggested that Sonya should enroll in some kind of job training at a vocational school. After scrutinizing Sonya closely, apparently taking in her expensive clothing, she said, “If you need financial help, there are federal grants available.”
But that wouldn’t take care of her living expenses in the meantime.
“I’ll give that some thought,” Sonya told the woman. “Thank you.”
