Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“And that was…” I urged.
“That was to say that there was something wrong with a case that I was listed as a contact on. Apparently, they investigated over thirty-two Texas counties, and forty-one individuals working on the cases under question. The individuals being investigated were embezzling money from the cases they were working, and then either hiding the cases altogether in layers of red tape or sending out fake documents that proceedings were taken care of when they weren’t.” He paused for effect. “Over two thousand divorces that were pushed through these counties were null and void over the last eight years. Y’all’s being one of them. For all intents and purposes, y’all are still officially married to each other.”
Silence.
Nothing but silence.
Then Landry squeaked. “What? How? I have papers saying that we are officially divorced!”
“Well, apparently they just never filed them through an official court. They received payment, fabricated fake paperwork, and then sent it to the clients. You got the paperwork they sent you, yes, but the court—and judge’s—signature was forged. And, that judge isn’t actually a judge at all—just a clerk. You are not divorced. You’re still legally married,” Jimmy explained.
Something close to elation started to pour through me.
“How does that even work?” my mother asked. “That’s absurd.”
“It is,” he agreed. “And the only reason it was found was because a couple was audited because they’d filed jointly for the last eighteen years, and then filed separately, both trying to claim their children. It was then discovered that they were officially still married even though they tried to explain that they weren’t. Which then caused the FBI to get involved with their embezzlement unit. You’re one of two thousand cases, and there is currently a class action lawsuit for this if you’re interested in participating in it.”
More silence followed.
“So…we’re still married,” I said, trying not to sound as excited as I felt.
“Yes.” Uncle Jimmy nodded, reading me like an open book. “You are.”
I looked over at Landry who was leaning forward and had her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. She was staring blankly at the wall behind my uncle so, I reached over and pulled her into my side.
“Well what are they supposed to do now?” my mother said, barely holding back her excitement.
“The FBI has asked us to hold off on doing anything for the time being. He said that they’re trying to figure out what’s going on, and anything on our end could interfere in the things that they’re currently trying to fix. As soon as I’m able, I’ll refile,” Jimmy murmured. “You should be thankful that I can still practice in Texas.”
Her words from earlier felt like an arrow to my soul.
I’ll never marry you again.
I could convince her that she didn’t really want to be divorced.
Before, I wasn’t prepared.
Before, I wasn’t as determined.
Before, I hadn’t seen my life flash before my eyes, and felt things change inside of me as I was laying on hot asphalt feeling my lifeblood draining out of me.
“Well shit on a stick,” my father interjected. “Why couldn’t you have just called us? I took a day off of work and everything for this.”
I snorted.
My father hated missing work.
Literally despised it.
He’d been working for the same company for well over thirty years, and in all that time, he’d literally taken what added up to a month of time off.
Then again, when you loved your job as much as my father did, I could see why he wouldn’t want to leave it.
My father was a youth psychologist and worked with kids day in and day out.
He loved them.
He loved it, even more, when he got to help them work through whatever was bothering them.
He loved seeing them open up and bloom into the person that they would one day become.
“Well,” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “I thought this was pretty fucking important. I didn’t say you had to come. I said that your boy had to come. He’s an adult, though. You don’t have to hold his goddamn hand anymore.”
My father narrowed his eyes. “The last time you had him in here, you tried to convince him to get a restraining order against your sister.”
I grinned.
He had, in fact, done that.
But, to be honest, I’d been fifteen at the time. My mother had decided that she wanted to make sure that I grew up honest and start going to church. I hadn’t been to church—unless you counted club meetings for the Dixie Wardens—ever. To a fifteen-year-old boy that had way better things to do than go to church—like drag racing cars because I’d literally found out how awesome that could be the weekend before I’d met with my uncle—the idea of having my free time altered was just unacceptable.
Hence the reason I’d gone to my uncle Jimmy to have him talk reason into his sister.