690 THE ADVOCATE
VOL. 77 PART 5 SEPTEMBER 2019
The claimant confirms that:
X There is no possibility of reconciliation.
My handbag bounces against my thigh as I walk through Charles de
Gaulle Airport. I have kept the court papers in the inside zip pouch for my
entire journey. They seem now to burn through the leather and scald my
I step onto a moving walkway. It makes its slow progress down a long corridor.
I notice an enormous red-lit board to my left with information on
departures. You can go anywhere from these big European hubs: Moscow,
Sydney, Taipei, Marrakesh, Rio de Janeiro. The sense of endless possibility
thrills me every time, even today.
When I see Tel Aviv on the list, memories surface. A boarding pass stub
that my mother had saved as one tiny souvenir of Israel. Foreign television
overheard from another room at my zayde’s and bubbe’s house outside Montréal.
The sparkle in Mama’s voice when she told a family friend, “You
would love Tel Aviv.”
I step off the belt and continue my brisk walk to the exit.
“His lawyer’s a jerk.”
Blair Price looked at me across her smooth desk the day after Josh’s
appearance at the condo. “I’m serious. Adultery? Please. It’s 2018. He probably
pried that little nugget out of your husband and was all like, ‘Hey, if
you don’t wanna wait for a year of separation, you can do this thing now and
get back at her while you’re at it.’ Total jerk.”
I responded with a weary smile. I knew Blair from running club. She was
seeing me on short notice as a favour. Her minimalist corner office overlooked
Government Street. When she whisked out of the room to have her
assistant draw up a retainer, I stood to take in the view from the south window.
I could see Victoria’s Inner Harbour.
The hotel where Aur and I had had our reception was visible far off to the
right. A dull hollowness grew in my chest when I spotted the building. It
had been a beautiful wedding. Expensive. Glass walls and ocean and
My father had looked so formal, so old world that day, surrounded by our
posh-casual friends. When he was getting ready to leave the party, he came
up to Aur and me. He tipsily stroked my new husband’s firm jawline, which
made Aur flash a playful smile. I giggled. Then Papa grew more serious. He