Chapter 8 - The Penthouse
The penthouse became the least important thing.
Which was funny considering how much we fought about its keys.
It was jointly leased under a long-term arrangement through a company unaffiliated with either family.
Neither of us secretly owned the building.
No trust clause.
No dramatic eviction.
The lawyers arranged temporary access.
Inventory.
Personal property.
Mark moved into a furnished apartment after the first interim hearing.
I returned to the penthouse with Maya for several months because it kept her near school.
Then I chose to leave.
That surprised everyone.
Especially Mark.
“You fought to keep it.”
“I fought against you deciding I had surrendered it.”
Different.
The apartment had become too full of memory.
Not all bad.
Maya’s first steps.
Christmas.
Mark cooking pancakes in a kitchen designed by someone who clearly never cooked.
Then the affair.
The guest room.
The keys.
I did not want winning possession to become the reason I stayed.
So when the lease renewal arrived, we ended it jointly.
I moved to a smaller apartment ten blocks away.
No private jet required.
Arthur offered to buy me something larger.
I said no.
He asked once.
Then stopped.
Progress.
Mark bought a condo after the divorce.
Not impoverished.
Not destroyed.
He remained successful.
Chloe did not move into my old home.
That mattered emotionally less than I expected.
The fantasy of replacement had depended on geography.
Wife leaves.
Mistress enters.
May you like
Family swapped.
Reality refused to arrange itself so neatly.
