The Plum Jacket

It was a plum jacket. High quality. I bought it at Von Maur. Underneath was an ivory turtleneck, blending in well with the change from Nebraska fall to winter. My boots were black Italian stretch leather. My first purchase of expensive footwear from an exclusive boutique store in Omaha. My black slacks were also likely overpriced, but a must-have from a store recommended by the high class of Omaha; doctors' and attorneys' wives and the sort.

On this cold day in November, I chose to wear this ensemble. There was a sense of pride that I had made it. I was one of the Omaha elite. Shopping where they shopped. Living where they lived.

This was my wardrobe choice to my first appointment with my divorce attorney.

Classy yet conservative. And high quality. Just the persona I wanted to exude. Dress for the part.

I needed a divorce attorney and I wanted the best. Diligently researching, I found him. But I also knew that his client list was the upper tier of cliental in Omaha. He did not need me, but I needed him.

As a successful partner in an accounting firm, I was well versed in the client-to-professional success formula. I knew that I wanted to be an 'A' client, not a 'B' and definitely not a 'C'. I did not want the crumbs. Without a trust fund to support an 'A' status, I felt I needed to be my best to obtain the desired divorce result. This playbook was not new to me.

With many recommendations and reference calls ahead of the appointment to bolster my status, John was expecting me. I had done my research and knew he was not only a good attorney, but a good man. Something I desperately needed on that cold chaotic day in my newly overturned life.

Head held high, I walked into his office and assessed the situation. With a shaved tanned head and a lean built body, John looked like a cross between Mr. Clean and Kojak. Handsome. Confident. In control.

I tried my best to follow his lead as I handed over my cash for our first one-hour consultation. Apparently it is best to collect cash for the first hour as most people contemplating divorce don't come back for a second consultation.

I hadn't a clue on where I actually fell in this mix.

After I handed over the cash, he asked me to tell him my story.

I started confident and factual. I did my best to live up to my reputation as an admired successful female executive in Omaha. The beginning of my story mirrored an interview I recently had for my Top 40 under 40 in Omaha award. But as his intense eyes reviewed me carefully, John asked more pointed questions. Then I let my guard down.

All the crazies of my life started spilling out like an episode of Jerry Springer. I didn't cry and I tried not to blink, but I just spewed out every detail of my very messy undesirable existence that I wanted so desperately to go away. I wanted my life back to the way it was; what I saw as our perfectly normal successful upper class family.

But it wasn't so perfect.

It was a complete mess.

I rambled and told the stories that carried shock factor. I wanted to see him respond. I wanted him to tell me this all would pass. That he sees these things happen all the time. I wanted him to tell me everything would be alright. And then he spoke and that wasn't what he said.

"Sandy, your husband doesn't want to be married and it is likely something you can't control."

I stared at him blankly, convinced that I could save my marriage. John continued to drive his point home.

"Your husband may not want to be married anymore because he doesn't like your plum jacket. He may simply just dislike plum. You have to stop trying to figure out the why. If he doesn't want to be married, you can't force him, and you may never understand the reason."

Silence followed my confusion. How can he dislike my plum jacket? How can I not save this mess?

"What do you mean?"

John went on to explain to me that I needed to stop beating myself up for what I did or didn't do. My husband was making choices that likely had little to do with any rational thought and this was something I couldn't control. I had to except the fact that I may never have a clear answer on how we got here and I was making myself crazy in trying to figure it out.

John smiled his big broad smile and reemphasized that my husband may simply just dislike plum jackets.

I smiled back but left with the determination that I was going to try to save my marriage.

One month later I called John and I filed for divorce.

For the one year until the divorce was final, John was my trusted advisor; many times giving me messages I didn't want to hear. I did my best to keep my 'A' status by not being a pain, heeding his advice and paying my bills. I think I succeeded, for the most part.

My attorney succeeded in schooling me on how to be a better person and how to understand the stance of a divorced father. It may have taken me a while, but John's words have stayed with me.

When we were finalizing our divorce in court, I was angry because my soon-to-be-ex wanted the memorabilia from our boys' rooms that I saw as being taken from their home. This hit a nerve because I felt like the boys' home was being stripped from them. Looking back, I now see that their dad was trying to make a home for them as well. But I couldn't rationally see this. I was incredibly determined to fight tooth and nail for my kids' stuff.

Outside the courtroom, John looked me sternly in the eye.

"Sandy, I will take you shopping and you can buy new stuff. It DOESN'T matter. It is stuff! You need to let this go. Your boys don't care which house has their stuff!"

Trust is a delicate thing. But I trusted John. And I let it go. We settled out of court, literally in the court hallway. John and I never did go shopping and my boys could have cared less about their accumulation of stuff. This was affirmed by my solo effort in cleaning out all the stuff in their rooms long after they moved out.

The day the divorce was final, John and I walked to the outside courtroom door. There was hesitation. How do you end a year of craziness, leaving the one who has guided you step-by-step through the process? Although there was a feeling of relief, I was also a bit scared to have at it on my own in my new world.

"Sandy, you are a very kind person. And just so you know, you can be read like a book.... when you are happy, sad, angry, confused. Your face shows it all. Keep being good. You will be just fine."

The pep talk was timely and taken.

I walked out of that courthouse exhausted. We have all since moved on, living happy lives in second marriages, co-existing as a modern family. A lot of this stems from the counsel and support I received from a good attorney.

Although my initial willingness to listen stemmed from a desire to be an 'A' client, ultimately it came from a place of trust. I learned great lessons in this divorce year. At the top of the list was that happiness and success live in no level of class. They live in a person.

The best advice I have ever received was to hire John. And alternately the best advice I have ever heard was from John. No plum jacket required.