Cracked Roots & Roses 25: Dissolution of a Marriage

I sat stunned. Here he was, as bold as flesh—and now great friends with the two owners of the title company I was working for. His smile widened.

“KIM BLAKES! Girl, get up and give me a hug!”

I sat still, staring in disbelief mixed with thin horror. He came around the desk, ignoring the invisible line nobody crossed, and hugged me from behind while I sat in my chair. That’s the way he was—nothing was off-limits to him.

One of the owners, Tim, asked, “How do you guys know each other?”

Ahmad smiled slyly and said, “Oh, this my girl! We worked together at the dealership a few months ago.”

Tim gave a knowing glance, dropped it, and motioned him back to their office.

Ahmad still smelled amazing. The air in the reception area was now mingled with his cologne. Still not wearing a ring and dressed to the nines, he was now in tailored suits with French cuffs. He was just as charming as ever. Real estate really suited him—I didn’t think it until I saw him standing there with them. He looked like an owner.

On his way out a few moments later, he tapped the desk and winked at me. I held the phone receiver to my ear to avoid any more conversation.

A few hours later, when I got off work and walked to my car, he was parked in a new white Jaguar next to me. Sigh. It was starting again—I just knew it. My stomach sank. I wasn’t strong enough.

When I stopped answering his calls and he didn’t see me at work, I was out of sight and out of mind. But now that he knew where I was, I was back in play.

He closed his phone, got out of the car, flashed that million-dollar smile, and said, “So, what have you been up to?”

I rolled my eyes and said, “How did you know what time I got off?”

He laughed and said, “I just asked.”

That made sense.

He leaned against the driver’s side door and crossed his arms, blocking me from leaving. “Let’s go have some dinner to catch up,” he said.

“I’d love to, but not today. I gotta get home,” I replied.

I had to say that because if I’d gone off on him, he would’ve laughed and somehow gotten me into the car. Next thing you know, I’d be at Wildfire, having a steak with his hand on my knee. That’s how he had me. I was putty.

He said, “Aw, okay. What about tomorrow?”

I said, “Don’t you feel the least bit guilty? You have a wife—I know this because she called my desk, remember?”

He rolled his eyes and ignored the question, like I was being silly.

“What are you doing here anyway? What happened with the dealership?” I asked.

He said, “Man, it’s a mess. All new management. Things got ridiculously strict. My deals were being scrutinized more. I also didn’t have you helping me with deals anymore. The place just wasn’t the same, so I quit. I worked at Pella with Dan selling windows for a while, but that wasn’t as fun or satisfying as selling cars.”

He paused.

“Stacy told me you worked up here,” he added, smiling.

I KNEW it! There was no reason for him to come to a title company unless he was closing a deal—and deals closed on the first floor, not the eighth. Stacy, the resident busybody at the dealership, now worked at the title company with me and a couple of other girls. She didn’t mention she saw him, which meant she didn’t know he was pumping her for information.

He then reached out and grabbed the bottom front of my shirt playfully, as if to pull me to him. I slapped his hand away without even thinking. Turns out, I was stronger than I thought.

I said, “Get off my car and go be a husband.”

He laughed and said, “Same ole Kim,” and opened my car door.

I wasn’t even out of the parking lot, and he was calling. I didn’t answer.

He came to the title company a few more times but was getting nowhere. What we had was born out of grief. I was still sensitive about my son, but the grief had changed. It was now something I guarded and worked through in my own time. I wasn’t vulnerable anymore.

Jeremy was fighting me on the divorce. He was now living with his pregnant girlfriend but refused to give me my divorce.

He said, “I’m not gonna make it easy for you to cheat.”

Wasn’t that rich? I wasn’t with anyone, and he was living with the woman he started dating while we were still together—and she was pregnant.

I let a few months pass and told him, “If you don’t give me my divorce, I’ll tell your girlfriend that I’m not fighting it—you are.”

That changed his tune quickly.

The whole time, I bet she was thinking I refused to sign and let him be free. He agreed to give me the divorce but said he wouldn’t pay a dime toward it.

I said, “Okay.”

I did all the paperwork online, took it to Maybrook Courthouse, paid all the filing fees, and got the date.

The morning of our divorce, we sat together in court and caught up before the judge came in. I never hated him; I always saw him as a friend. We didn’t sit on opposite sides or exchange snide remarks—we sat and talked like friends. I had no right to be mad; I tore down my own house. He had forgiven me several times.

Deep down, I think he knew we never had a real “love” connection.

Our case was straightforward—no assets. I gave him the nicer car and went light on child support. It was all my fault, so I wanted to make his life easy. Everything was amicable.

The judge granted the divorce. We walked the papers down to be stamped, and that was it. Jeremy walked me to my car and asked if I wanted to go for breakfast. I declined.

I was free. Truly.

It was the first time in my life that I had no man in my life. From birth till 15, it was my father terrorizing me, and from 15 till 27, I was someone’s property.

Now I was my own owner, and things would be different.