If I Did It by O.J. Simpson Read Free Book Online Page B

their
bags for the flight home the next day, and when we were done
Nicole poured herself a glass of wine and came into the living
room. ”Thanks for letting me come,“ she said. She looked real sad.
”The kids had fun,“ I said.
”Did you?“
”Sure," I said, trying not to look at her. I didn't know where
she was taking the conversation, but I knew I didn't like it.
    “What happened to us?” she asked, and she began to cry. “We
were so happy together.”
“ Us?' I said. ”What do you mean us? You left me.“
”I'm such a mess,“ she said, still crying.
”Look,“ I said, cutting her off. ” We had a few great days. Let's
not blow it. I have to go to work tomorrow, and I've got notes to
review, and the limo's coming at eleven to take you and the kids to
the airport.“
She finished her wine and left for the hotel, thanking me
again, and I went to review my notes for the next day.
At that point, to be honest with you, I really didn't want to
hear any more of her shit. Paula was still mad at me—it had taken
three days of calling before she even spoke to me—and I was in
no mood to listen to Nicole. We'd had some great times together,
sure, but the last two years had been torture. Nicole had been
erratic, moody, and worse, and it didn't look like she was getting
any better. I had vowed keep her at arm's length, and I'd failed,
but that Christmas I decided that things were going to change. I
was only going to communicate with her if it was about the kids.
I didn't want to hear about her personal life. It was her life. She
had chosen it. She had made that bed, and she needed to start get-
ting used to it.
For the next three months, I hardly talked to her. She called
once to tell me that she had decided to get into therapy, and that
she was very happy with the shrink she was seeing. This wasn't one
of those highpriced, Beverly Hills, you'reabeautifulperson
shrinks, she said this was the real deal.
”I'm beginning to see that I messed up a lot of things for us,“
she said. ”I'm sorry I blamed you for everything.“
”We both fucked up,“ I said, trying to be generous. ”I'm glad
you're getting help."
Of course, years later, when I was fighting her family for cus-
tody of the kids, my lawyers got hold of some of the therapy notes
from her many sessions, and the picture that emerged was a little
different. One thing that really pissed me off, and that they tried to
use against me, was about the kids, of course. She told her shrink
that after that Christmas visit I hadn't called the house in weeks,
and she wondered if I even cared how the kids felt about that. It was
total bullshit. I had called, but I called when Nicole wasn't around,
for obvious reasons. On several occasions, in fact, I spoke to
Nicole's mother, Juditha, and she puts the kids on the line, and I
talked to them at length—and my lawyers have the records to prove
it. The lawyers also explained, in court, that I had been deliberately
avoiding Nicole, whose constant phone calls were beginning to
affect my relationship with Paula Barbieri. I had told her, repeat-
edly, that I didn't want to talk to her unless it was about the kids,
and then only if it was an emergency, and I had even made arrange-
ments to have my assistant, Cathy Randa, shuttle them to and from
our homes—all because I wanted to avoid further drama.
It worked, too. We went several weeks without a single argu-
ment. In fact, the only argument we had during this entire period
related to the kids' vacation schedule. I had wanted to take them
away for a week in February, and I'd booked a trip in advance, but
at the last minute the school old me that it wouldn't he a good time
    to take them out of class, and they asked me to reconsider. When I
called Nicole to try to change the date, telling her I needed to push
it back a week, she wouldn't budge. “It's got to be that week or
nothing!” she barked. I told her to kiss my ass and hung up.
Later, I found out that she had split with