Searching for Tina Turner - By Jacqueline E. Luckett Page 0,58
should enter first. They choose the same sides of the table as the bed they used to sleep in together: Lena to the left, Randall to the right.
Mr. Meyers is a piler. His hands rest on top of the evidence of his obsession before him at the head of the table: two reams of 8 ½ x 11 paper, five 8 ½ x 14 yellow legal pads, two boxes of paper clips, two pads of forms, cell phone atop electronic planner atop calculator, and two containers of breath mints—the kind that rattle when they shake free of their plastic container.
Under the table Lena crosses and uncrosses her legs, wipes the palms of her hands against her black dress, and wonders if it’s too early to ask for a bathroom break. Instead, she opens her speckled notebook to the page where her rules are written and reads rule number four—let Randall think he has the upper hand.
Randall sets the leather briefcase Lena gave him when he started at TIDA on the table. The inside of the briefcase is inscribed: I’m with you through thick and thin. Congrats on the thick. Love, Lena. The gold latches spring open with one touch of Randall’s thumbs. He pauses, looks at Mr. Meyers and then his watch, and pulls out three clipped sets of papers. If asked, Lena would swear there is a Cheshire cat grin on his face. “Since Kendrick and Camille are of age, their support and tuition will not be an issue. We put away enough to cover their education, so this should be a fairly straightforward transaction.” Randall pushes papers to the mediator and Lena. “I’ve outlined what I think is a reasonable and equitable division of property.”
“Your papers may be useful later, Mr. Spencer.” Mr. Meyers cuts Randall off before he can respond with a hand gesture that says stop and pops a couple of breath mints. Lena watches the mints go from his hand to his mouth. He pops one red, one yellow, one white.
“However, in these sessions both parties will determine the division of all community assets to include personal and real property. With the statutory guidelines mandated by the state of California in mind, my job is to assure that the settlement is fair and equitable for both parties and, if necessary, to propose alternatives if it appears the two parties have difficulty reaching agreement.”
Lena listens closely to Mr. Meyers, rests her hands in her lap, and wipes them on her dress. She steadies her eyes on the evenness of the gold bands on the ochre law books behind him so that her gaze doesn’t move to Randall’s. She doesn’t want to look at him, doesn’t want to acknowledge the anger she sees in the small jerky motions of his right hand.
“You’ve chosen mediation, I assume, because it avoids the costliness of a court case. In mediation, both parties will come to a mutually acceptable resolution. Neither party may end up with all that he or she has requested. In this room, compromise is the operative word. Typically, the process takes five to six sessions.” Mr. Meyers reads from a document atop the pile, in a clear and practiced manner, what they will accomplish in the sessions. He explains the rules and tells them their lawyers may be present but can only advise, not advocate for them.
“In this case, because the wife is not currently employed, temporary spousal support must be set. That is what we will determine today. How much the supporting spouse—in this case you, Mr. Spencer—pays the non-working spouse on a monthly basis is defined by California Family Code and a computer formula. And, by each party’s income and expense declaration supplied by both of you prior to today.”
Mr. Meyers turns to his laptop and types. He tabulates numbers on an old-fashioned calculator with one hand. The calculator shakes like a miniature locomotive; paper billows from the top like steam. When he is done, the mediator writes a five-figure number on two separate yellow pads and passes them to Lena and Randall at the same time.
Just as Lena has a new mantra, so, she thinks, does Randall.
“Shit,” he whispers under his breath.
Lena hears him loud and clear. He snatches a red pen from the mediator’s pile and strikes a bold line through the figure that will be the above-the-line, tax-deductible amount of spousal support the state of California requires he pay.
“This is a non-negotiable number,” Mr. Meyers insists.