Mail Order Divorce

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Dear Margaret,

            I’m sorry I couldn’t say this to your face.  It’s too painful.  You know I loved you once, but now I’m just not sure.  I don’t want to use the typical “it’s not you, it’s me” excuse because that would be a lie.  I’m sorry but the truth is that it is you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.  In the last seven years you’ve tried fertility treatments and in-vitro, but they just didn’t work.  I know you have no control over your ovaries, but I wish you did, because then I wouldn’t have to leave you.  I want kids, and you can’t give them to me. 

Don’t get me wrong, I love Grace, but she isn’t mine.  We’re the only middle class white couple in the neighborhood with a Chinese baby.  When she gets older, the kids are going to tease her because she has slanted eyes, and we, or you rather, won’t be able to comfort her, because you can’t relate.  I don’t want any part of that.  I have to leave because I think adoption is fucked up.  I don’t know how we passed the screening process.

            I’m sure you’ll figure out how to cope with being an adoptive parent as Grace gets older, even when she’s a teenager and her angst is amplified.  She’ll accuse you of taking her away from her real mom and it’s going to hurt, but you’ve always dealt with rejection well.  Honestly, you’ll do fine.

            While on the topic of honesty, I might as well come clean and tell you that I’ve already got a baby on the way.  Remember that girl Sasha you met at my office party last Christmas?  Turns out she’s fertile.  Go figure. 

I’d appreciate it if you could sign the divorce papers that should be arriving any day now.  You’ll undoubtedly want to go to court and I’m prepared to do that.  I’ll let you use Frank as your attorney; I’ve found a new one.  Sasha’s ex-husband is representing me.  Weird, huh?  The two of you might actually get along.  He’s infertile too; that’s why Sasha left him.

            I’ve already found a place to stay (you’ll never guess where), and by the time you get home tonight I’ll be gone.  Don’t call.  Don’t write.  Don’t try to hack into my e-mail because I’ve already changed all of my pass words.  After this letter, all communication between us will have to involve my attorney.  Sorry.



Created: Jan 03, 2011


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