“Cheryl, are you sure about this?” I ask, taking my eyes off the road for a second to look at her.
“Positive” she answers with a nod of her head, “I want to get this whole thing over with as quickly as possible.”
“But the trial was only a month ago, do you really want to have to deal with lawyers and everything so soon after all that?”
For the past few weeks, all Cheryl has been going on about is filing for a divorce and while I understand that she wants to be completely free of Ashley once and for all, I’m worried about how she will cope with the stress of another round of court proceedings.
Ashley will more than likely contest the petition for divorce and make a fuss over any money or possessions that Cheryl is entitled to, which will mean going before a judge; and I’m not sure if she is ready for all that again.
“I want a fresh start Kimba” Cheryl sighs, “I need to do this so I can finally get on with my life.”
“I know babe, but you do realise he isn’t going to make it easy for you. I mean, his conviction will pretty much guarantee a quicky divorce but it’s all the other stuff that he’s going to fight you over, the money and everything, that’s what will have to be decided in court.”
Cheryl reaches out and puts her hand on my leg, her plaster cast scratching against the material of my trousers, “I honestly don’t care about the money or any of that other stuff; he can keep it. I just want my freedom back.” she sighs.
I pull into the hospital car park and park the car before turning to face Cheryl, “Nadine knows this guy who is a really good divorce lawyer. I’ll give him a call tomorrow ok. But for now let’s just concentrate on getting your arm back” I smile, tapping playfully at her cast with my fingernail.
“I can’t wait to get this thing off” she practically moans, jabbing a finger down the side of the cast and scratching furiously.
We exit the car and stroll towards the main entrance of the hospital. Once inside, Cheryl hands the receptionist her appointment card and we take a seat, waiting patiently for her turn.
A small TV is mounted on the wall of the waiting area and we gaze up at it to pass the time, watching the afternoon cookery programme that is showing.
Twenty minutes later a hospital technician calls out Cheryl’s name and we follow him through a labyrinth of corridors as he leads us to the correct room. Eventually we reach our destination.
“Will you come in with me?” Cheryl asks almost shyly, hovering outside the door
“Of course I will” I smile, following her inside.
Cheryl hates hospitals and despite her eagerness to get her plaster cast removed, I can tell she is nervous.
“Is it going to hurt?” she asks quietly, eyes darting around the large room.
I shake my head, “Nah, you won’t feel a thing. Even if the blade touches your skin it won’t cut you”
Cheryl gets this cute little look of confusion on her face, “How does that work then? It can cut through the plaster but it won’t cut me”
“I don’t know how” I shrug my shoulders, “But it doesn’t. Just trust me.”
“Take a seat Cheryl,” the technician calls across the room, “and pop your arm up on the table for me.”
Cheryl sits down in the chair and rolls up her sleeve. Placing her arm up on the table, she gives me a nervous smile before turning her eyes back to the technician who is over in the corner getting the machine ready to remove her plaster cast.
