The Damndest Divorce I've Ever Seen

Memorial Day weekend I'm going to Lake Powell. That much is decided. I've even managed to find decent dog care for Basil with someone who understands she's not a dog, she's an active participant in the Witness Protection Program disguised as a Wheaten Terrier and she has her requirements. Number one, when she's in residence it's no longer your house, it's hers. Number two, when it comes time to go to bed at night, scoot over. Way over.

So I was in from the minute Claire suggested the trip that snowy Sunday morning when we were indulging in one of our regular "figure the world out' late Sunday breakfasts at Cherry's Cafe, a hole in the wall across the boulevard from my condos that makes without question the best $8 huevos rancheros this side of heaven.

"We'll fly down and stay on the houseboat. It will be great."

"I'm absolutely in."

"So it's a done deal."

"With one exception," I said. "Bill. Don't you think we should run it past him? I mean, it's his plane and it's his houseboat, and last time I checked neither one of us was a pilot or had a boat."

"Are you kidding, Mad? It's Bill. Of course we're going."

And just the thought of it at that moment, sipping on a scalding cup of coffee even worse than I've ever made, looking out at the pouring snow and sliding traffic, May couldn't come soon enough.

And it was Bill and Claire was right. He couldn't wait to go. Bill is in for everything, and usually is the organizer of trips like these. He even threw in his speed boat. But Bill is in for everything. Every Friday night after work cocktail hour, every housewarming, and he's even wound up on the guest list of one or the other of Holly's 'I'm just gathering people together' gatherings. Bill loves to go and do and he's got the gear for every adventure. Boats, planes, snowmobiles.

He's also the saddest person I've ever known and while he doesn't say much about it he pretty much said it all last year when he insisted on coming over and installing my ceiling fan because in his mind I had better uses for my money than using it to over pay (and is there any other kind of pay?) an electrician to do the same.

Bill has been married for twenty years. And he and his wife are, he said, 'the best of roommates, period'. He'd have left long ago, he went on, except for his son. "I would never," he said, "be a weekend Dad." And to be bluntly honest and openly materialistic he explained, he wasn't in any hurry to lose half of what he'd worked twenty years to build. So he roomed with someone who shared zilch of his passions and when he wanted to boat, fly, snowmobile, or just laugh -- he'd assemble a crew from work.

Claire and I, as I said, were in. That left two seats on the plane. Beth from Graphics filled one. Beth is a lot of fun and she cooks. That left one seat.

"You fill it," Bill said over lunch in the cafeteria. "Or not."

I wracked my brain and came up with nothing. I may know a lot of people but not many I would be comfortable: a) being cooped up in a plane with and b)hanging out with in no make-up and completely not in work mode. Of those who fit the bill, three were elsewhere committed that weekend and the other two had gotten married since the last trip and couldn't 'break away'.

Claire solved the dilemma today, motioning me into her office. "Dex," she said. "He's been wanting to go. He thinks the world of Bill and besides, he's instrument rated. We'd have two pilots." As if there was a chance the first one may keel over mid-flight, but you never knew.

Which immediately, never mind I grew up basically being shuttled around in the back seat of my grandparent's Cessna, made me feel better.

"Great," I said. "Sounds perfect."

So I called Bill in his office this afternoon. "We're set," I said. "Dex is coming to Powell."

Bill was thrilled. Dex is a great guy, he said. Even I found myself actually looking forward to meeting him.

"Honestly," I observed, "that's the damndest divorce I've ever seen. I struggle to get Brent to return a phone call and Claire and Dex vacation together, for Pete's sake."

"I know it," Bill replied, chuckling. "All married people should be so lucky."

So Lake Powell is finalized and I'll finally meet the semi world famous Dex. I'm sure we'll all have a great weekend and when it's all over life goes back to being life and Claire continues dating on Match and Dex goes back to San Francisco and flies people around for a living.

Don't get me wrong -- I think it's great they're friends. I could never imagine the same situation for Brent and I.

I last saw him in September after making the final payment on my car. We met for lunch and he signed off on the title. We reminisced but not morbidly and not for one minute did I wish or think about our being together.

Honestly, I wished him the best and also wished he'd ordered something less expensive because I was the one who'd just lost a $500/month obligation to Chrysler Financial and picked up the check.

I talked with him several times in December. He'd heard about the closest thing I'd ever had to a health crisis from friends, and wanted to offer support.

But...vacation with him?

No.

There's no animosity. Maybe it's just me, in the long run. You couldn't have asked for a more committed married person than yours truly. I forgave, in the last analysis, everything and finally drew the line at the one unforgivable. I stayed when I should have left and maybe, not so unlike Bill, talked myself into a life without feeling because I loved my over sized home, many toys, and in my heart couldn't stand the thought of breaking up the dogs (in the end, he kept both. No reason they should have to divorce, too). I left exactly once, never having been one of those dramatic people who 'leave forever' in the heat of an argument and return a few hours later. And being me, I always knew I'd only leave once and if I did once meant always.

The divorce itself happened in slow motion. Separated for two years and one month before it ever even saw a judge.

One heck of a 'cooling off' period.

But it saw the judge and it was done and it was...done. Once you're done there was no looking back because I don't believe you can move forward with your eyes behind you. The time comes to let go and I did.

So in my mind, Claire has the damndest divorce I've ever seen. One that would never work for me, but I'm glad it works for her, or seems to.

She and Dex are kind of like Bruce Willis and Demi Moore, only minus any kids to tie them together.

We're a mishmash of a Lake Powell crew. Two divorced who have never really let go, one married who quit holding on to what's meaningful long ago, me who's let go, moved on, and just really wants to get some sun, read a book and catch some fish, and Beth who's never married and honestly just wants to water ski.

I just know that Basil will be well taken care of and I don't have to cook or set the alarm for a few days, so as I said, May can't get here soon enough.