Divorceland

A short story

Jenny traced her fingers along Caleb’s leg before wrapping her arm around his chest and pulling him to her.

Caleb shivered, despite her warmth. 

Mourning doves cooed on their apartment’s window sill, softly vibrating the bedroom air through the open window, fluttering the silk canopy above them. A year ago, to make the last year of their marriage as dreamy and romantic as possible, they bought a four-post canopy bed built by a fairy tale. The bed occupied almost their entire bedroom, but they didn’t mind not having any other furniture because bed was where they wanted to spend their time.

“So, this is it,” she said. “Tomorrow, we say goodbye forever.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry about, babe? We had five good years. No, make that five amazing years. I can’t imagine a more wonderful life and husband.” She kissed his neck. 

Caleb turned to Jenny and stroked her silky blonde hair. “But you will find out if there’s a more wonderful husband.” Tears tumbled down his cheeks and streamed along Jenny’s shoulder.

Jenny cried, too. When she could muster her vocal cords, she said, “I don’t think so. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want us, the memory of us, to last my lifetime and not dilute that memory with anyone else.”

“You’re twenty-seven, and you’ll marry again.” Caleb's words wobbled. “I don’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life.”

“The law’s an ass.”

“Yes, it is.”

“The Perfect Harmony Law makes no sense. Having to divorce after five years is the stupidest idea ever.”

“Congress enacted the law because so many marriages end in divorce soon after the five-year mark. Many couples who should be divorced aren’t, holding onto a dying marriage because they’re too embarrassed to divorce, parental pressure, kids, work, inertia, or for some other reason. Staying married when you shouldn’t be affects behavior, turning people into mean, unpleasant, rancid citizens.” Jenny raised her hands to fashion air quotes. “Mandatory divorce after five years makes for a happier, more tranquil society, a better America.”  

“That’s not us.”

“That’s not us.” Impossible as it was, Jenny snuggled even closer. “We’re still perfect together and would be for another five or five hundred years.”

“I never thought tomorrow would come. When we married, five years felt far away, like the most distant star in the night sky, a place and time we’d never reach. But tomorrow at noon, it’s over. We’re not allowed to date or see each other or talk on the phone or be in contact on social media or by mail any other way.” Caleb’s lips trembled. “We’ll be arrested. I’d happily go to prison for five years to spend another hour with you.”

“Don’t do it, babe. It’s not worth it.”

“I think it is.”

“You’ll find somebody new, too.”

“I don’t want to.”

Jenny kissed Caleb for a long time. “I want you to.”

One year later

Caleb passed Elena a piece of his chocolate, mint-covered baumkuchen, sliding the fork into her mouth. 

Her eyes went wild, her cheeks glowed like sunrise, and she moaned, “Yummmmm.”“Oh, my god.” Elana pressed her hand to her chest. “Give me a moment to stabilize. I had a heart attack when that landed on my tongue. Want to try my peach cobbler?”

Caleb nodded, opened his mouth, and thought, She likes desserts, that’s good. 

But why don’t I feel happy?

Elana was Caleb’s first date since Jenny. They found each other on Cupid’s Corner, one of three government-sponsored dating apps for divorced people. Two left swipes, and both their apps flashed glowing red hearts, automatically sending messages to each other, an AI chatbot initiating their first conversation, probing their phones’ calendars for mutually-available times and for the kind of restaurants they each frequent, and then scheduling a date. 

They had a lot in common. Divorced a year, both STEM, Caleb, an engineer for New York’s Metropolitan Transportation Authority, designing subway tunnels when needed, but mostly making sure that nothing fell apart, and Elana, an aeronautical engineer for Phoenix Aviation. They both enjoyed casual cafes, bookstores, and Troye Sivan.

Bronto Café buzzed with the overlapping chatter of the twenties and thirties couples that occupied every table. Caleb wondered how many were divorced and going through the motions of finding a second mate. He wondered how many were like him, locked into another place and time by love that never dimmed.

“So, how are you?” Elana asked.

Caleb forced his lips up. “I’m okay and doing better every day.”

“I don’t think you are.”

“Is it that obvious?” Caleb finished his wine. 

Elana signaled the waiter for another wine and said, “Tell me about her.”

“What?”

“Your ex. What was her name? What was she like? How did you meet?”

Caleb sniffled and gripped the napkin on his lap to have it ready to dam any waterfall of tears. He narrated how they met while waiting in the early morning coffee line at Starbucks, and by the time they got their coffees, their souls had intertwined. 

Their whirlwind courtship turned into marriage six months later. 

After he talked for fifteen non-stop minutes, his date asked, “If you could be with Jenny again, would you?”

“Of course!” Caleb slapped his hand over his mouth. Too loud.

Elena swirled the wine in her glass and took a sip. She lowered her voice and looked directly into Caleb’s eyes. “How far would you be willing to go to be together?”

“I would do anything for just five more minutes with her.”

“What about for forever?”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“What would you be willing to sacrifice to be with Jenny for the rest of your life?” 

“You mean like moving to Yemen or Venezuela?” Caleb asked, the only two countries that didn’t extradite Americans who fled to get married. Canada, France, the UK, Brazil—every other nation forcibly returned Americans who tried to remarry overseas.

Elana shook her head.

“Wait. Aren’t we on a date? Why are you asking me this kind of question?” A chill cascaded down Caleb’s spine. He wasn’t familiar with the ins and outs of the Perfect Harmony Law. What if Elana wasn’t who she said she was but instead was a government agent or informer on a mission to entrap me? 

“I think—”

“No, I think I should go. This date—or whatever it is—is over.”

Elana placed her hand on his. “You’re right, it’s not a date. But I have something that might interest you. Are you in touch with Jenny?”

Entrapment for sure! The hairs on the back of Caleb’s neck stood up. Contacting a former spouse was against the law, except through a lawyer. 

“A lot of couples use Signal to keep in touch.”

Signal was an encrypted messaging app, which the government could not read or track. Caleb knew this because he and Jenny used Signal, though every message between them shattered his heart even more. But he certainly wasn’t going to tell Elana that. 

“What does this have to do with Signal?” Caleb thought that was an innocuous question that would not land him in prison for conspiracy to violate the Perfect Harmony Law.

Elana retrieved a business card from her bag and slid it across the table face down. “Contact us. We’ll get you back together.”

“Who are you?”

“We’re people who believe that love should be forever.”

Caleb shook his head and said, “I don’t understand.”

“Call the number when you’re ready.”

Two years later

Caitlin stroked Jayden’s black hair as they lay in bed. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been,” Caitlin purred. 

Manhattan’s lights twinkled through the window of their Brooklyn apartment. It was a quiet night, with squirrels chattering in the nearby pin oak tree. 

“Happier than when we were Caleb and Jenny?”

“Yes, because the state won’t force us apart unless we are married, and they’ll never figure out who we were or that we were once married to each other. Five years isn’t our limit; forever is our limit.”

“I wish we’d known before that we didn’t need to be married to be happy,” Jayden said. 

“You’re not angry with me for going out on a date after we divorced? Caitlin asked.

“You were supposed to date. I wanted you to be happy, and I always want you to be happy. Most importantly, your meeting with that Elana person led us to this.”

Caitlin propped herself up, leaned over, and kissed his pink chest scars. “Are you still in pain?”

Jayden smiled. “A little, but also a little less every day. The surgeon said any residual pain from the gender surgery would diminish over time, but you know you are the antidote to everything that ails me.”

“Me, too. We beat the law, babe.” 

“I love you.”

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If you enjoyed Divorceland, I think you’ll also like my story, The Snowflake.