Courtney Antonioli - Separate Together

 

It's Tuesday in December. By 08:00 AM, I've been up for four hours and I've traveled 150 miles. I'm standing in line now waiting for the courtroom to open. I'm feeling pretty self-conscious, because like everybody else in Waterbury, courtroom is dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and I'm wearing a suit, and Peter is because Peter says that “No matter when you go to court, you dress in a suit, even if you are getting divorced, like we are today.” 

 

When I arrive there, Peter's already there, because he's still living in our apartment. He gives me a really big hug and he tells me, “It's going to be okay.” And I say “Okay.” We wait in line for a little while and court opens and you get ushered through a series of courtrooms and-- Because I live in Connecticut and it is super white Anglo-Saxon Protestant, you get to get divorced in front of a judge and a room of strangers. So, we wait in the outside room for the pre divorce room to be open. I've been crying, because I cried on the train and I cried in the car and I try to not cry in front of Peter. 

 

He doesn't really know what to do with me anymore, because we're in that weird in between phase of like lasts. It's the last day we're going to be married and it's the last day that he's going to be my Peter. He wants to give me another hug. We get lucky, because the courtroom opens and 15 other couples go in with us and we sit down. I notice that Peter and I are the only couple sitting next to each other. Everybody else is sitting very far apart. [audience laughter] 

 

But that makes me really happy, because Peter and I don't hate each other. There's not that kind of anger that everybody else has. I'm really glad for that, even though I'm really sad. Peter and I, he called me the funniest person that he ever knew. And so, throughout the times the other people are going up, they're being called by the judge, I'm making little jokes and he's whispering and he offers me some gum and he asks me how is my life now. I get him to laugh. 

 

When Peter laughs, it's like I've accomplished something. He laughs like his whole body. I feel so good that I can make him laugh. And at the same time, I think he's going to start telling people that I'm the funniest person he used to know, that's if he keeps talking about me after today. That's a hard thing to think about that Peter might not talk about me anymore and eight years is going to end today. After three hours of sitting together, other 14 couples have gone. We finally get called by the judge. I really want to cry. I want to cry so bad. 

 

Peter gives me another hug and he says it's of kind going to be okay, because he knows I need that. And he tells me, “Just answer the questions and always remember to call them, Your Honor,” because Peter's a lawyer and it's very important that I remember that. Peter's the plaintiff and he has to go into the witness box. Peter is tall and big and he wears these Coke bottle room glasses and he takes them off. He's a grown man now crying in a box, and it breaks my heart. Because the last time I saw Peter cry, the only time I saw Peter cry was the day I told him I wanted a divorce, and that broke my heart. 

 

I start crying. The judge sees that we're the only two people who have cried today. [audience laughter] He starts to ask a series of questions to Peter, and he says, “Mr. Brown, you came for divorce today?” And he says, “Yes, Your Honor.” And he goes, “You sure you want to get divorced today?” “Yes, Your Honor.” “Because I don't think you want to get divorced today.” “No, I do, Your Honor. I want to get divorced.” He goes, “I don't know.” “Are you sure you want to get divorced?” I know why the judge is doing this, because he has to make sure that, we're sure. 

 

But Peter has to keep telling him that he doesn't love me anymore. I know that that kills him and it kills me too, because I do love him so much. I start to wonder as I hear the judge questioning him, like, maybe we've made a mistake. Maybe he should say that he's not sure. Maybe we didn't try hard enough. Maybe I didn't love hard. Maybe I should just scream out, “No, Your Honor, I'm not sure.” But it's not my turn. And so, I don't. Peter answers another five minutes of these questions, having to tell them he doesn't love me. 

 

And then, I have to answer the same questions and do it in front of him. We finally finish, and we get all our belongings and we ushered into the hallway, and a bailiff comes out with a clipboard, and they just have you sign your name and then you're divorced. And then, you find yourself standing in a hallway now. I remember that when I met Peter, I met him in a hallway, and everything seemed possible and now nothing seems possible. 

 

I want to ask Peter a bunch of questions about how he's doing, but instead, I just ask him if he hates me, because the truth is, I hate myself. I want him to say that he hates me, because then I won't be the only one who hates me right now. But he says, “Courtney, I could never hate you.” I hate him for not hating me. Peter gives me one more hug and he tells me it's going to be okay, because he's the only one that I believe. As he walks away, I think, I don't know who's going to tell me it's going to be okay. Thank you.