For the first time since the clinic, I could think beyond the next hour.
Gavin called twenty minutes later.
“Why did you cancel that?”
“What was it for?”
“Business.”
“Which invoice?”
He began talking about quarterly expenses, then claimed it was money he planned to return.
I asked him to send the documents to Elise.
“You hired a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“My mother paid for that, didn’t she?”
“The lawyer represents me.”
He asked whether I was filing for divorce.
I told him I was taking the steps necessary to protect myself and that we would communicate about money through counsel.
“You’re doing all this over one bad stretch?”
“You tried to transfer another ninety-six hundred dollars today.”
He said I didn’t understand pressure.
I looked at the appointment folder, statements, and list of costs on the table.
“I understand it better than I did last week.”
The next several days looked boring from outside.
Forms.
Questions.
Records.
Appointments.
Kelly covered school tasks I couldn’t finish while Marlene drove me where I needed to go.
Elise filed the case and sought temporary financial protections.
After the papers were served, the restrictions and additional orders required disputed funds to remain preserved and necessary expenses to be handled under a documented arrangement.
The account could no longer function as an unlimited source for either of us.
The mortgage and approved household expenses still had to be paid.
Gavin’s individual debts still had to be identified.
But he could no longer quietly move the remaining savings.
Marlene listened while Elise explained the next steps by speakerphone.
When the call ended, she asked whether the money already gone could ever be recovered.
“We’ll work through that,” I said. “Today, he didn’t get the rest.”
She folded the canceled-transfer confirmation and put it into her bag.
Gavin came to her house Thursday evening.
I was in the guest room sorting baby clothes Kelly had helped me bring over.
Marlene met him on the porch.
“I want to talk to my wife.”
“She’ll decide whether she wants to talk.”
I stepped into the hallway.
He stood beyond the screen door holding the bouquet he usually bought when he wanted an argument to end.
“I’m getting help,” he said.
“I hope you are.”
“I called someone.”
“Keep the appointment.”
He looked past me toward his mother.
“You could have helped me before this became a legal mess.”
Marlene kept one hand on the screen door.
“I have helped you many times.”
“Then help me now.”
“I will help you get treatment. I will not give you another dollar to gamble.”
He stared at her as though her voice had changed.
“You’re choosing her.”
“I’m asking you to take responsibility for what you did.”
He said we were destroying the family.
For a second, Marlene’s face crumpled.
I thought she might let him inside just to make him stop saying it.
She stayed where she was.
“You told me she might be kept out of the hospital,” she said. “You used my fear for her and the baby to ask for more money.”
He glanced down at the flowers.
