Rush week continues with the cleanup of the Valentine's Day Massacre. I popped into the company car and headed to a tiny suburb on the outside of the city. I knocked on a small one story house's front door. Mr. H. opened the door dressed in a splattered painter's smock. H. was a small time painter just entering his 30s. He was married to his wife, L., for 2 years. L. was growing tired of the lifestyle and wanted to get away. She was going to move into the city and start with a fresh slate.
Carolyn told me that marriage cases have happened before. In these situations we help the partner file all the legal paperwork and serve it to the target on top of the standard services provided. We can't sit in for the partner on legal meetings but we offer a service to help get them on their way to a healed heart. H. didn't really seem to believe me when I told him all this. He asked who was I to tell him that message. How could I be the person who could tell him that his fucking wife was leaving him. I told him I was just carrying out the wishes of my client. His face flashed disgust and he looked at me like I was garbage when he signed off the paperwork.
I tried to avoid Rachel at work today. I didn't want to know what she had to say about Keith and I was pretty much in a bum mood already.
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