He opened his mouth, looked at me, and then at the stack of exhibits on the table. My attorney waited. Finally, she asked him to walk the court through a typical week during our marriage. Who packed the lunches? Who took the children to school? Who drove his father to dialysis three times a week? Who handled the bills, grocery shopping, doctor’s appointments, home repairs, birthdays, holidays, and every emergency call while he was traveling? One by one, he answered, “She did.”
My attorney nodded and picked up the deposition transcript. She slowly read his own words back to him: “You’ve never worked a day in your life.” Then she closed the binder and asked, “So are you telling this court that none of those responsibilities were work?” The courtroom fell silent. Even his attorney didn’t interrupt. There wasn’t a good answer because every truthful answer contradicted what he’d sworn under oath eleven weeks earlier.
When the final order was entered, the judge specifically acknowledged my years of unpaid caregiving and homemaking as substantial contributions to the marriage. As we left the courthouse, I remembered how close I’d come to believing his words that day in the deposition. It turns out some lies sound convincing—right up until someone asks the person who told them to explain what they really mean.
