The House That Jack Built

Back in March, 2017, when I got an attorney, Deidre O’Brien, I filled out an extensive financial statement, then started proceedings to divorce you. Mostly, to induce you to come to the table.

When you received the letter, you acquired Attorney Shauna Finnegan. Then you called me right away. We both met to try and do this amicably.

That afternoon, we were in my apartment drinking Postum and talking rationally. I remember you saying that once we got this behind us, we could become “close” again.  Immediately, I knew what that meant. Oh God, so not you.

After years of intimate unavailability, that was a slap in the face.

From then on, I was on my guard. As you were leaving, you took phone shots of the credit reports I had paid for and then said you had a lot of work to do settling your mother’s estate.

You were also sitting on almost a hundred grand I had given you from the sale of the house. My house, you had no credit, remember?

But after two weeks and three letters to your attorney, you produced no financial statement. What were you hiding? I remember my attorney started berating your attorney. She was getting irritated, calling her a rookie.

You still wouldn’t come around, so I had to cut my lawyer loose. I was just about broke at that time because you wouldn’t help pay any part of our debt. It was all left to me. I was hemorrhaging. Maybe that was your plan all along?

Then you stopped taking my calls or answering my e-mails. Cruelty. You left me to swing.

The last conversation we had, according to my journal, was on Friday, March 17, 2017 at 3:15 pm. I said if your stall tactic was allowed to drag on any longer, I wouldn’t be able to go through with the divorce.

You were not forthcoming. I rattled off all our debt, down to the decimal point and asked if you could help in the short term. Crickets!

Then, in desperation, I said if you give me $11,500 cash, a month’s worth of our bills, I would walk away. Clean. A deal in anyone’s eyes. I just needed some breathing room at that point.

That’s how desperate I was to salvage my credit. Those cards were all in my name. You loved it.

I said, “OK, I’m gonna walk, I don’t care what happens. I’m not gonna grovel.”

It was terrifying to have to go “straight to deadbeat” from a responsible business owner.

The last thing I said to you was, “Be careful here, you may think you’re getting over on me but you haven’t thought of everything.” Then I said it again for effect, “You haven’t thought of everything.”

The last time I heard from you was when you surreptitiously emptied my bank account, then… sent the police.

You filed a phony restraining order, restricting my mobility in the area. I couldn’t afford to accidentally bump into you and land in jail. I left for Arizona the next week.

I was also worried about them repossessing my car. Then I would have been stuck in that hole forever.

Six months later, while I was still under that abuse order, you divorced me ex parte, and dumped all our debt on me using “of parts unknown” as my address. As a bonus, you extended that “order of abuse”. Abuse? Never in your life.

Another assault on my character. And you told that bald-faced lie to boot, about my whereabouts.

But you messed up. You texted me during that period to wish the “threat to your safety”, me, a Happy Birthday. You knew where I was all the time. That’s gonna bite you.

I will never let up. Until I die. I won’t forget what you did to me and what you tried to do to me. You must have known deep down this is how I would react. 15 years. Remember?

You gotta be some kind of evil. You must be rotting from the inside out.

You won’t get away,  because….you haven’t thought of everything. 🙂

Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.

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