Chapter 14: The Balloons Were Still Up When The Server Knocked
The balloons were still up. That was the first thing I saw when my sister pulled into the driveway behind me. Pastel purple and pink against the living room window, sagging a little now after two days. The light was the same bright daylight that had been there for Sophia's party, falling across the cream walls and the hardwood.
I hadn't planned to come back with her. I'd told her we could just wait until the order said we could get the rest of their clothes, but she said, "You're not going in there alone." She had the copy of the temporary order folded in her purse. The kids were at her apartment with her neighbor. My suitcase was still open on the rug where I'd left it.
A gray sedan I didn't recognize was parked at the curb in front of our house. The man standing on our small front porch wore a navy polo and khakis and held a manila envelope. He checked his phone when he saw us get out.
"Veronica?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
He nodded. "Process server. I'm here for Diego and Teresa. Court asked me to coordinate so you could collect personal items at the same time. It's better if everyone is present."
My sister touched my elbow. "You want to do this now?"
I looked at the window. I could see Diego moving inside. Teresa was beside the sofa. I said, "Yes."
We waited on the sidewalk while he knocked. Diego opened the door. He was still in jeans and a t-shirt from that morning, his hair not as neat as it had been in the suit. When he saw me and my sister and the man with the envelope, his shoulders came up.
"What is this?" he said.
The server held out his ID briefly. "Diego Rivera? And Teresa Rivera? I have court documents and bank dispute papers for both of you. I need you to accept service inside."
Teresa appeared behind him, in the same burgundy dress. Her pearls were still on. She looked past Diego at me. "You brought someone to our house?"
My sister didn't answer. She just stayed close to me as we stepped into the living room. It smelled faintly of the smashed cake. The purple base was still on the floor near the rug, and the open black suitcase was there, half-zipped. Sophia's blonde doll was sitting on the sofa where I'd left it for her.
The server followed us in and closed the door. He laid two sets of papers on the coffee table. The top pages said Family Court - Temporary Order and Memo Savings Dispute Notice. He spoke clearly.
"Diego, this is a temporary protective order regarding the residence and contact. It requires you to vacate the house with your mother by six p.m. today and stay at least five hundred feet away until the hearing. And this is the bank's formal dispute packet. The transfer agreement you signed requires both account holders' signatures for withdrawals over five hundred dollars. Teresa, you are named here as the recipient account holder."
Diego picked up the bank packet first. He flipped past the cover letter to the copy of the signature page. His finger stopped on the line where both our signatures should have been. There was only his.
He looked up at me, and his voice got loud fast. "You went to the bank without talking to me? You filed something with the court? Veronica, this is our family. You don't do this. You call a lawyer on your own mother and your husband?"
He stepped forward toward the table, pointing at the papers the way he'd pointed at me that day on her birthday. "You think you can just take my house? My mom lives here. You want me to be homeless over money?"
The server didn't move. He just watched. My sister put her hand on my arm.
I said, "I'm here to get the kids' clothes."
Diego kept going. "This is not how we handle things. My mother told you to apologize and you—"
He stopped because Teresa reached for the bank packet in his hand. She read the line about both signatures and then looked at the server.
"He didn't steal anything," she said. Her voice was even. "I told him to use the savings. The house is family. We needed the roof and the taxes paid. A son takes care of his mother's house. That's not a crime."
The room went quiet. The server took a small notebook from his pocket and clicked his pen.
"Ma'am, could you repeat that for my notes?" he asked.
Teresa lifted her chin. "I told Diego to use the joint savings because the house is family property. I instructed him. He was doing what I asked him to do."
Diego stared at her. The aggressive pointing had dropped. He stood completely still, holding the court order that said he had to leave. The color left his face.
"You told me it was fine," he said to her, quiet now. "You said Veronica wouldn't notice for months."
Teresa didn't answer him. She looked at me. "You wouldn't have understood. You wanted to leave with those children."
The server wrote as she spoke. He then slid the papers toward each of them. "I need a signature that you received these. It doesn't mean you agree."
Diego signed first, his hand tight around the pen. Teresa signed after him, her pearl bracelet clicking against the table.
The server handed me my copies and looked at the clock on the wall. "The temporary order is enforceable now," he said to Diego and Teresa. "You have until six to collect what you need and vacate. The bank has frozen the receiving account pending the hearing. No further transfers."
My sister already had the kids' duffel open. We worked quickly and folded Sophia's lavender dresses and my son's navy shirts from the closet, not looking at the balloons still tied to the sofa. Diego stood by the window with the papers in his hand, not moving. Teresa picked up her purse from the hall table.
At the door, Teresa paused next to the suitcase. She said, "You made this happen."
May you like
I zipped the duffel. "I documented what happened."
We left them there with the papers on the coffee table and the cake still on the purple base, the front door open to the bright afternoon.
