AIDS Hikes the Stakes in Her Bitter Divorce

Randi Weber and her lawyer are talking in the hall outside the courtroom. He is very lawyerly, cool and logical, and Randi is not. She is sort of shuddering, trying to control herself, but often breaking down in tears.

Randi’s in a wheelchair now, because the AIDS makes it tough to walk, and she’s wearing sunglasses even though there is little sunshine inside these walls. The AIDS, too, has made her legally blind.

Randi and her lawyer are discussing the aftermath of her divorce. This divorce has gotten very old; the legal wrangling has been going on for more than five years. So Randi is saying things like, “How can he do this?” and, “I’m tired, I am so tired,” and then she’ll look at her lawyer and ask, “ Why ?”

The lawyer doesn’t have much of an answer for any of this. He is here today in Orange County family court strictly for the matter at hand. Randi’s ex-husband, a major in the Marines, wants the federal government to stop deducting alimony payments directly from his paycheck, a court order imposed only months before.

But Randi’s questions, characteristically, are weighted with larger implications and horizons beyond the here and now. These are beyond the scope of the law.

I’ve written about Randi before, a little over a year ago I was surprised to realize the other day. Since then, we’ve kept in touch, becoming friends.

Not too long ago, I was ashamed to tell her that the reason I hadn’t called was because I was terrified that she might have died. Her 40th birthday slipped by without the party that had been another one of Randi’s reasons to keep waking up.

But she told me not to worry, that I was on the list of people to be called when the time comes. She just hadn’t been feeling well enough for a party. Her tone was soothing, deliberate in its calming effect.

Randi knows the specter of her death haunts others. She seems comforted by the thought that one day the bad things will end.

What torments Randi now is the present, the legal fights and dirty tricks, the fallout from a bitter divorce. Certainly, she is not alone here.

I hear from so many women who are astounded by court rulings on what makes an “equitable” divorce, that I have collected their letters in a file.

Often an ex-husband will accuse the woman he once loved of being “hysterical,” and as I read or listen to their stories, sometimes I think that, indeed, these women sound that way. Then I think I, too, might become a bit unhinged if my children or I were treated the same.

For Randi, the stakes in her divorce are especially high. She worries that she will die without ensuring that her 18-year-old daughter, a runaway who recently returned, and her live-in caretaker will not be turned out on the street.

Randi’s daughter is due to give birth in the fall, and Randi is counting on being her labor coach. Watching her first grandchild come into the world is the next milestone that Randi is counting on to keep her alive.

But Randi’s doctor tells me that the stress of dealing with her ex-husband seems to be hastening his patient’s demise. He notes that the frequency of her seizures and other symptoms is up.

“Literally, the stress gnaws on her,” he says. “It still just shocks me the things that have gone on, the way that Randi has been treated. I was hoping the judges would be more understanding. But they weren’t.”

Back in the hall outside the courtroom, Randi is listening to her lawyer explain what today’s hearing means. She is concerned that her ex-husband has included distortions and lies in his petition, what her attorney calls “garbage” that any judge will ignore.

“Her attorney relayed to my attorney that her T-cell count is under 100, which means that she is on the downhill slide,” Randi’s ex-husband wrote. “While I feel a great deal of empathy for her and for her condition, her past performance has been somewhat like the final scene of a German opera in which she decided she wanted to tear down everything and everyone around her.”

“I know everybody has the right to go to court, but something should be stopped about this,” Randi is telling her attorney now.

The lawyer tries to calm his client. He says that she didn’t need to show up here today, that he will handle things and not to worry, it will all work out.

“But if I’m not here, I feel like I’m not fighting !” Randi says, clenching one of her hands briefly in a fist. Her AIDS-induced arthritis makes this especially hard.

Then Randi cries again. Her friends who have brought her here today come to her aid.

It was a blood transfusion, during surgery to remove a malignant brain tumor in 1983, that infected Randi with the virus that causes AIDS. To Randi, this is just one of those things. If she didn’t have the blood transfusion, she says without bitterness, she would have died way back then.

Randi’s husband of 6 1/2 years surprised her with divorce papers a few months after her condition was diagnosed as AIDS in 1986. It was then, too, that he began to beat her, as a police report attests. The court eventually ordered him to keep away from Randi and her daughter and later, his military commanders ordered the same.

He was transferred to the East Coast, but because he has been passed over for promotion several times, he must retire from the military next year, ending what will be a 20-year career.

Randi says that because she sought, and received, help from the military, her ex-husband believes she sabotaged his career. “He is incredibly angry at me,” she says.

Today’s hearing was held in a judge’s chamber, with only the attorneys and judge on hand. The court denied the petition of Randi’s ex-husband, so for the time being, Randi will continue to receive her alimony checks without the problems she’s had before.

Randi is also hoping to take out a loan to buy out her ex-husband’s half of their house in San Clemente. This is against her own attorney’s advice. He believes that it should be Randi who should be bought out.

“But this isn’t about money ,” Randi tells him. “This is about a home, our home, about planting flowers and watching them grow, about my neighbors, all my friends, all my wonderful support. I think I could live a lot longer knowing that Henry (her caretaker) and (my daughter) are going to be taken care of after I’m gone. I could just enjoy then.”

There is still no word about the proposed buyout. Randi says she might never hear anything about it, if the past is any guide. She believes her ex-husband is simply waiting for her to die.

The day after the court hearing, Randi slept most the day, to regain some of her strength.