Page 92 of Letters From Victor

Frank blinked, startled, as if he’d braced for anger or reproach and didn’t know what to do with my quiet acceptance. “Thank you,” he said, and his relief was almost painful to watch. “Barbara, we’ll make this as seamless as possible. My lawyer will be in touch soon.”

“Of course,” I said, my voice even and calm. Inside, a rush of conflicting emotions swirled—anger, relief, sadness, and an odd sense of freedom.

Giselle tapped the horn lightly, and Frank flinched. He turned toward the car, then back to me with an apologetic shrug. “I should go. But…take care of yourself. And our son.”

“I will,” I said.

With that, Frank walked toward the waiting car, his pace quickening as he neared Giselle. She leaned in, whispering something in his ear, her lips curving into an undeniably smug smile. Frank grinned—boyish, carefree, unburdened.

He glanced back at me one last time, but I turned away and walked back into the church.

35

VICTOR

“Idon’t know what man in the sky you pray to, Victor”—Lawrence pushed a document across his desk to me—“but whoever it is, they came through for you.”

Superior Court of the State of California in and for the County of Los Angeles

Final Judgment of Divorce

My name, right there in black and white. My freedom, sealed by ink and bureaucracy.

I fingered the page like a crisp million-dollar bill.

“It’s done,” I said softly—partly a question, partly to make myself believe it.

“It is. In all my years practicing law, I’ve never seen a divorce go through the courts so fast. Who did you… You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Barbara is free to move forward with her divorce now, right?”

Lawrence leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking like old bones. “Yes…” he answered tentatively.

“But…”

“But just because she can move forward doesn’t mean it will be as smooth for her as it was for you. Victor, you had every advantage—a willing spouse, the best representation money can buy, and a very ‘amenable’ judge. Barbara’s situation is different.”

“Her husband had a change of heart. He’s on board now.”

Lawrence glared at me over the rim of his glasses. “Did he now?”

I shook my head. “No, no, nothing like that. Barbara says he’s found himself a girlfriend, so he’s willing to move forward with the divorce.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “Oh good, I was afraid I’d have yet another pot of boiling water to save you from.”

Lawrence had saved my skin more times than I could count. As much as I valued his counsel, I needed him to understand the urgency.

“I’m serious, Larry. I want to marry her as soon as humanly possible. What will it take?”

Lawrence studied me, his gray eyes sharp behind his gold-rimmed glasses. “Victor, you realize that even with Dorothy out of the picture, you’re still looking at a waiting period before you can remarry. Twelve months is the law. And if it’s Barbara you’re set on marrying, that’s twelve months from the date ofherdivorce.” He exhaled, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the desk. “I’m sorry, friend, but there’s nothing quick about this, and there’s no favor I can call in to speed it along.”

I started to protest, but the look on his face told me he wasn’t finished. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“That’s the law inCalifornia,” he reiterated with a knowing look.

I could play ball. “But not somewhere else. Like Mexico, for instance.”

Lawrence sat forward, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled. “Victor, be very careful here. I’m your lawyer, and I have to advise you within the bounds of the law.”

---