Duplicity - A True Story of Crime and Deceit by Paul Goldman (general ebook reader .TXT) 📕

in hand, I led Audreyup the stairs to our bedroom, and we appropriately celebrated herhomecoming. Afterwards, I lay back, exhausted and enveloped in awarm, happy cloud. As was her custom, Audrey immediately rolled onher side, facing away from me. I turned on my side, looking at theback of her head, but knowing she would hear, and said softly, “Ican’t tell you how happy I am that you decided to quit working upin Cocoa Beach. We can finally be a full-time family.”

Audrey rolled over, into my arms. “All I everwanted was to be one big happy family,” she said. Her lips movedclose. She gave me a little kiss on my ear. I could feel her warmbreath, as she whispered, “I feel we're almost perfect. There'sonly one more thing we need to do now, and that's to shareeverything.”

When she said this, my heart melted, andtears came to my eyes. Finally... finally, I thought. Finally wecan begin to create that emotionally deep, intimate relationshipI'd been wanting for so long.

“Everything? Really? I'mso happy you're saying that because… ” Before I could say anythingelse, Audrey cut me off to continue what appeared to be a rehearsedspeech.

“First you should put myname on your business, and then our two Florida houses.” I sat boltupright, turned on the bedside lamp, and turned to her indisbelief.

“What?” I said, nowgrasping what she meant by “sharing everything.” Alarm bells weresounding in my head.

“It’s only fair,” Audreycontinued, not wanting to break stride. I stopped her.

“I think it’s a littleearly for that, don’t you? I mean, we've hardly spoken for days,we’ve been a part-time marriage before then. Maybe after a fewyears of a full-time marriage.”

“No. I want it now. Andthat's it.” And there it was: an ultimatum. I felt like I had beenlured into a trap. Audrey offered a full-time marriage, but therewould be strings. She had a price, and she had anagenda.

“I'm sorry, no. That's notacceptable to me,” I replied. I stood up, grabbed a pillow and anextra blanket, and went downstairs to the couch. On my way out, Isaid, “We'll talk about this in the morning.”

Audrey looked unconcerned, said okay, rolledover, and went to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up with a crick inmy neck, grouchy, crushed, and pissed. I went upstairs and Audreywas dressing. “I can't believe what you said last Night. It'stotally ridiculous. I'm really hurt. I thought everything was fineand we were coming back together forever. I don't know what tothink about this. You need to go live with your parents.”

“Fine,” she answered. “Goahead and treat me like an outsider, not like I'm your wife andequal partner. To you I'm just someone you want to take to bed.”Audrey shot me a hateful look, grabbed her bags, walked downstairs,and left.

Since I refused her deal, I made a deal withmyself instead. I was done chasing after her. I was done being theone who did all the work. This time, there would be no emails, nodesperate phone calls pleading for a reconciliation. My computerwould be left alone.

I spent the next weekburied in papers, letting work provide some distraction. Then, onValentine’s Day, I came home to find a message on my answeringmachine from Audrey. The message was simple and clear.Happy Valentine's Day, it began.

Don't contact me until you've arrangedeverything so that we can be an equal family.

Without even a thought toreplaying her words, I grabbed the yellow pages from the cupboardand looked up “Divorce lawyers.” Methodically, I spoke with severaluntil I found one with whom I felt a rapport, and made anappointment for the next day.

The drive to PeterGreenburg’s office from my house was a mere ten minutes. On theway, I went over in my mind all I had been through with Audrey inthe last fifteen months, wondering what an objective observer wouldthink about it. Was it me, or was it her? I asked myself. Did Iinterpret correctly Audrey's words and motives, or was I theirrational one?

A few minutes later, I was sitting in frontof Peter in his modest office. After the initial pleasantries, Itold him my story. When finished, I was exhausted and relieved. Isat back in my chair, and glanced at pictures of Peter's lovelywife and two kids monopolizing the top of his large wooden desk.Peter was about my age, in his forties, Jewish, and spoke with asoftness that drew you in to him. He nodded his head while I spoke,showing both concern and understanding. I took a deep breath.

“So, what do you think,Peter?” I asked.

“I think she’s a fuckinggold-digger, Paul. That’s what I think,” he announcedmatter-of-factly. I was delighted with his unexpected and brashstraightforwardness. “I also think we should file for an annulmentbased on fraud. Now, let me tell you, there is a 200 year old lawthat says if the marriage is physically consummated, then youcannot get an annulment. However, I think it’s time to challengethis law as archaic and not representative of our current society.That law was created at a time when a wife was expected to be avirgin, not a twice divorced mother of three. I’ll tell you, wehave a small but legitimate chance of a judge going along with ourreasoning and ruling in our favor. If he does, you will havecreated a new case law. It will be known as the Goldman law,” heannounced, sitting back in his own chair with a sense of triumph.He’s good, I thought, he’s very good.

“Let’sgo for it!” I agreed, finding energy in being proactive. “And bythe way, Audrey is now living with her parents, but she has thekeys to the Jupiter Lakeshouse. Can I change the locks?”

“Yes, you can,” Peterresponded firmly. It felt great to have someone on my side, even ifI was paying him. “Write her an email and tell her the following:since she is not the woman that she represented herself to be whenyou married her, because she married you solely for your money, youare filing an annulment. Further, in order to protect your assets,you have changed the locks on the house.” Happy with his advice, Iwrote Peter a $5,000 check for his retainer and that was it.