When I finished, he asked, “Are you leaving her or leaving Seattle?”
“Both.”
“Same decision?”
“I think so.”
“You sound calm.”
“I am.”
“That worries me more.”
I laughed.
“How long have you been thinking about divorce?”
“I haven’t.”
“That’s not true.”
He was right.
I had not used the word divorce.
But some part of me had been imagining exits for months.
“What do you need?” Theo asked.
“Nothing yet.”
“Wrong.”
“What?”
“You need a lawyer.”
The next morning, I contacted Carol Ashworth.
A colleague at Meridian had used her two years earlier.
Her office was on Second Avenue.
She was in her early fifties, concise, calm and completely uninterested in emotional storytelling.
I liked her immediately.
“How long married?”
“Six years.”
“Children?”
“No.”
“Property?”
“Townhouse. Retirement accounts. Investments. Two vehicles.”
“Prenup?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Washington is a community property state. That does not mean everything is automatically divided exactly fifty-fifty, but we start with the assumption of a just and equitable distribution.”
She explained the mandatory waiting period.
Asset disclosure.
House equity.
Retirement accounts.
Possible temporary arrangements.
“What about adultery?” I asked.
Carol looked at me.
“Is there adultery?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“I’m curious.”
“Washington is a no-fault divorce state. Unless conduct affects finances or another legally relevant issue, proving somebody was a bad spouse is generally not the point.”
That was strangely comforting.
I did not need to solve Damon.
I did not need photographic evidence.
I did not need a confession.
I did not need to know whether Petra had kissed him.
Slept with him.
Wanted him.
Loved him.
I only needed to know whether the marriage as it currently existed was one I wanted to remain inside.
That answer was easier.
“No,” I said aloud.
Carol looked up.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Thursday evening, Petra came home around six.
I was already there.
“Can we talk?”
She stopped near the kitchen.
The tone must have told her this was different.
“About what?”
“Sit.”
She sat.
I stayed standing for a moment, then changed my mind and sat across from her.
“I called Ford Sunday.”
Her face changed immediately.
“Ford?”
“The Singapore job.”
Silence.
“It was still open.”
Petra stared.
“I accepted it Tuesday.”
Her mouth parted slightly.
“I start in six weeks.”
“Eli.”
“I’ve also retained a divorce attorney.”
She stopped breathing for a second.
“You what?”
“You’ll receive formal paperwork soon. I didn’t want papers to be the first you knew.”
Petra stared at me as if I had started speaking another language.
“Divorce?”
“Yes.”
“Because of Sunday?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Because of the year before Sunday.”
Her eyes filled.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“You made a career decision in two days.”
“No.”