Page 79 - Too Much and Never Enough - Mary L. Trump

fights escalated after that gratuitous bit of cruelty, and by 1970 my mother had had all she could take. She asked Dad to leave. When he came back unannounced a couple of weeks later and let himself in, she called my grandfather and insisted that the locks be changed. For once, Fred didn’t object; he didn’t ask any questions, and he didn’t blame her. He simply told her that he would take care of it, and he did.
Dad never lived with us again.
My mother called Matthew Tosti, one of my grandfather’s attorneys, to tell him she wanted a divorce. Mr. Tosti and his partner, Irwin Durben, had been doing work for my grandfather since the 1950s. Even before my parents separated, Mr. Tosti had been my mother’s main contact for anything having to do with me, my brother, or money. He became her confidant; in the bleak landscape of the Trump family, he stood out as a warm and supportive ally, and she considered him a friend.
As genuinely kind as Mr. Tosti may have been, he also knew on which side his bread was buttered. Despite the fact that my mother had her own counsel, the divorce agreement might as well have been dictated by my grandfather. He knew that his daughter-in-law had no idea how much money my father’s family had or what his future prospects, as the son of an exceedingly wealthy man, might be.
My mother received $100 a week in alimony plus $50 a week for child support. At the time, those weren’t insignificant sums, especially considering that the big expenses, such as school, camp tuition, and medical insurance, were taken care of separately. My father was also responsible for paying the rent. Because my grandfather owned the building we lived in, it was only $90 a month. (I learned many years later that my brother and I each owned 10 percent of the Highlander, so in retrospect, charging us rent at all seems excessive.) Dad’s rent obligation was capped at $250, which limited our ability to move if we ever wanted to relocate to a better apartment or neighborhood. My father, the scion of a family that at the time was worth well over a hundred million dollars, agreed to pay for private school and college. But Mr. Tosti had to approve our vacations. There were no marital assets to split, so my mother’s total net worth was the $600 she got every month, an amount that wouldn’t change over the next decade.