I suddenly wish my father were here. Well, not really, because that would be a nightmare, but you know what I mean. It would be nice to have someone in my corner... who I’m not paying...
Since I’m the respondent in our case, I get to stand here, totally passive, listening to someone announce our names and our reason for being there. The judge is an old, grizzly guy who looks like he’s seen enough bullshit in family courts and the like to last him two more lifetimes. He does not look pleasant. Or happy that we are there.
“Petitioner approach.” Oh, good. He sounds like he’s about to have a coughing fit any moment. I didn’t really know my grandparents growing up, since most of them were dead before I was old enough to remember them, but I have a feeling my mother’s father was a lot like this guy. Old. Angry looking. Ready to whomp somebody on the head for being a dumbass at any second. So tell me, why is Ian the petitioner in this again? He’s got being a man on his side, but he also looks like the smarmy little shit you want to smack off your front porch. He can’t help it. His hair is starting to stick up. God, you’d never guess he was thirty. He looks like the frat boy he used to be.
Ian and his lawyer take a step forward. Clarence clears his throat, because Ian suddenly has a case of stage fright. Either that or his mother is making him nervous.
“Your honor,” at least his voice isn’t shaking. I would have to personally go over there and take over. Not that my voice would be any better... there’s so much negative energy in this courtroom that even I am shifting my eyes back and forth, looking for the nearest escape hatch. “I am Ian Mathers, here today to request an annulment from my marriage to Kathryn Alison, present today. The respondent has agreed to all of the terms of the presented annulment and has signed accordingly. The court has copies of all files on record.”
Miguel nudges me. What? Am I not standing up straight enough? Do I look too much like a corporate floozy? The judge’s eyes sear into me right after looking at Ian. He then pulls up a copy of our annulment agreement and peruses it with a pair of tiny bifocals.
“Should be cut and dry,” Miguel whispers in my ear.
On the other hand, I am glad that I am not the petitioner. Because it’s Ian’s job to walk the judge through our proposal. All I have to do is stand here and say “Yes” whenever I’m asked if this is correct, and “No” if I’m asked if I was coerced into signing anything against my will. Cut and dry... cut and dry...
“We’ve been married one week, your honor,” Ian says. “We have no conjoined assets or children. We are asking for an annulment on grounds of intoxication.” His voice peters out there, and when the judge glances up, Ian can barely maintain eye contact. Yeah, this is embarrassing for all of us.
When the judge still doesn’t say anything, Clarence cuts in on our behalf. “Your honor, the moment the petitioner and the respondent realized what had happened, they called us, their lawyers, to initiate annulment proceedings. Both parties are in complete agreement and have signed all the necessary documentation...”
“Yes, I see that.” The judge’s bark is worse than a dog’s. “Both parties claim to have been too intoxicated to consent?” He glimpses between Ian and me.
“Yes, your honor.”
I clear my throat. “Yes, your honor,” I echo.
“Huh.” The judge flips the paper over and consults the man in uniform next to him. “I’ve never heard of this supposed chapel. The marriage license is valid?”
“Yes, your honor,” Clarence says. “A copy has been provided to the court.”
“I’m assuming that you two fine gentlemen did some digging into this establishment.”
“Yes,” Miguel says, and I swear he’s shouting in my ear. “The chapel in question provided witnesses and a legally binding marriage license.”
“As you can imagine, we’ve been having some trouble with these chapels marrying people who have no business being married. The backlog in this court is...well.” The judge looks up. “It’s quite curious how you two managed to get a hearing so quickly.”
There is a lot of throat clearing happening in this court.
“Last I checked,” the judge continues, “there are people waiting past ninety days to get an annulment hearing. Yet here you two are, one week after your drunken mistake. You must have very, very good lawyers.”
Nobody says anything, but Clarence shifts on his feet and Miguel is starting to pale. Um. That’s not a good sign.
“Good lawyers and a lot of money.” The judge snorts. “Oh, yes, even out here names like Mathers and Alison raise a few eyebrows. I looked into the two of you.” For some reason, his gaze levels on me, and this is way, way worse than the time my father caught me sneaking in late when I was sixteen. And seventeen. And eighteen. “Both of you are worth about a billion dollars individually. What a messy Las Vegas hitch that has to be.”