Getting It Through My Thick Skull (30 page)

Even without my participation, the hype for the show was huge. Teasers were aired on
ET
weeks in advance, and the producers stretched out the Joey/Amy confrontation over two long weeks in May. I watched several of the shows before I left for Chicago and just shook my head. The two of them fought and hurled insults at each other. It was embarrassing. Mean-while, the calls kept coming.
ET
still hoped I would agree to an appearance. I flew to Chicago on a Wednesday and taped at Oprah’s studio on a Thursday.

This was the big “after” show, where they played footage of my doctors’ meetings and surgery and talked to Dr. Azizzadeh about what exactly he’d done and why. I made my grand entrance at the end to show off my new look. My hair was styled, I wore a new outfit, and I was literally queen for the day. I looked great, and Dr. Azizzadeh was thrilled with the results. The man is a genius. I didn’t look pulled too tight or overdone in any way. I simply looked younger, rejuvenated, and similar to the pretty young woman I’d been before I was shot. The peace, calmness, and contentment in my life were now accurately reflected on my face.

When I got back to my hotel after the taping, I had literally a dozen messages from
ET
producers saying they would work around my schedule if I would just meet with Joey and Amy for a couple of hours. I was feeling very strong, happy about my new look, and ready and able to face anything. Maybe, I mused, it wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe I could get an answer or two to some of the questions I still had. At the very least, I could lend a bit of dignity to the proceedings, so that Paul and Jessica could see one of their parents behaving properly. When they called me back yet again, I agreed to make one appearance, for one hour only. I would listen to what Amy had to say, listen to what Joe had to say, and then leave. That was it. Needless to say, the show’s producers were ecstatic.

I flew home to Los Angeles that night and had barely tumbled into bed when a limousine picked me up at 5:00 AM on Friday, the day my
Oprah
show aired across the nation. Stu and I were driven to a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, where
ET
was taping the show. I was immediately hustled off to my own room in the mansion. The producers were anxious to keep the three of us separated to preserve the tension—it would make great TV to capture my reunion with Amy. I was as cool as a cucumber. I was just going to listen, say my piece, and then go home and rest. They didn’t want me to see Joey before the cameras rolled, either, but he threw a fit and swore he wouldn’t go on until he spoke to me first. I rolled my eyes, and then went to see him.

Joey started talking nonstop the minute I saw him. He told me that he’d been very ill with diverticulosis. He’d been in the hospital, in fact, but had checked himself out just so he could be there for me. He was going on and on, and I just wanted to get on with the task at hand. I broke in and said, “I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well.” I no longer cared what he said about anything. I turned to one of the hovering producers. “Are we ready to go?”

I was brought to a huge empty room and placed on my mark. When Amy walked in, I walked right over to her. Very conscious that millions of people would see this on national television, I put out my arms and gave her a short hug. The truth is, as long and hard as I had worked at forgiving her, a big part of me still would have preferred to strangle her. But I knew I had to stay calm and collected. I absolutely refused to sink to their level.

Not surprisingly, Amy had no answers for me. She didn’t know why she had done it. When I asked about the two boys she had tried to hire early on to shoot me, she refused to talk about them. When I asked about her father, she told me she hadn’t come to talk about him. She was there to see me and tell me she was sorry in person. That was all. Amy was hard, cold, and evasive throughout the meeting. Ten minutes after laying eyes on her, I realized that the vague hope I might get any answers was foolish. This was a complete waste of my time. There was certainly no grand awakening on her part or mine.

Then Joe was brought in. He didn’t last fifteen seconds before he stood up, grabbed his microphone, and threw it across the room, screaming, “Fuck you, you fucking cunt!” at Amy. He went off. I just sat in my chair next to his and looked straight ahead. The interview was over. I had no chance to see them interact in person together. Looking back, I should have known he’d do something to prevent me from asking them both questions they couldn’t squirm or lie their way out of when all three of us were present. That was one thing Joey would prevent no matter what.

All the media excitement was over, and I returned with relief to my everyday life with Stu, looking and feeling fantastic. Joey’s antics were the only fly in the ointment. It had been quite upsetting to Paul and Jessica, of course, when Joe had to serve his time for insurance fraud, but everyone had gotten through it. He hadn’t even been out of prison for a year when I was sitting home one afternoon, minding my own business as usual, and got a call from one of my friends.

“Did you hear? Joey got arrested again,” he said.

“What?” This was the
fourth time
. “What for?” Apparently, he had been busted on a parole violation. Joe had once again been put on probation for five years after serving the five-month sentence. Parole officers searching his house had uncovered a box of shotgun shells that went with an old rifle he’d once owned and promptly rearrested him. There were no actual guns there. It was ridiculous, not a big matter, but the damage was done.

I hung up the phone and called Stu into the room. “Stu, you are never going to believe this one!” I said, and related the story to him.

Stu just looked at me. “I can’t believe this. What is wrong with him?”

Jessica happened to be at our house that day, sitting in the den doing her laundry and watching television. She was absorbed in some show when I walked into the room.

“Jess,” I said, “I don’t even know how to say this, so I’m just going to tell you straight out. Daddy got arrested again.”

Jessica turned her head away from the screen and looked at me for a moment. “Who cares?” she said. “I’ve got laundry to do,” and turned back to her program. I stood there for a moment and then went back to the living room to track down Paul. When I got him on the phone and told him the news, he laughed.
Laughed.
“What the hell did he do now?”

Stu watched this with disbelief. “Mary Jo,” he said after I’d hung up, “I don’t think you realize how crazy this all is. If my mother called me and said my brother had been arrested, I would be going crazy. I’d be running around trying to get money, find him, you name it. One kid goes on with her laundry, the other just laughs, like this is a normal, everyday occurrence. No one’s excited here. What is this, another day in the park?”

“Yes, Stu, this
is
normal—for Joey!”

All Stu could do was shake his head. The chaos was back on. Joe was soon calling me constantly to complain. He had to go back to jail, he’d lost his business, and he was on the verge of losing his huge house. I always tried to listen patiently and offer good advice, but every time I made a suggestion, he replied, “See, this is why we’re not married anymore! I don’t want to hear this!”

“Joe, then why do you call me and ask my opinion?” He really just wanted a shoulder to cry on while he went on about how everyone was out to get him. I wanted our relationship to remain amicable. I had tried to stay friendly with him for the sake of our children if nothing else, but his calls escalated in frequency and aggravation to the point that I realized I just couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t want to hear his troubles about money, Evanka, the system that was out to get him— any of it! Talking to Joe was very upsetting to me, which upset Stu. My ex-husband continued to affect my life in a negative way. When push came to shove and Joe realized he had to sell his house, I got yet another jolt of bad news. It had been mortgaged to the hilt. There was literally not a penny to be made from its sale. I was due a certain percentage of the proceeds— it was all clearly spelled out in our divorce decree—but there was nothing to get. Enough was enough.

Same old broken record—me hysterical and disbelieving, Joe swearing up and down it wasn’t his fault, the bank had screwed him, he hadn’t done anything wrong . . . it was very stressful. My nerves were shot, I was drinking too much wine, and my relationship with Stu was suffering. We never argued or fought, but I was so drained from listening to Joey, worrying about the house sale, and fretting about the missing money that I had very little to offer Stu. When he wanted to go out to a movie or golfing for the day, I was always too tired. My mind was constantly racing; I was distracted and distant.

Then one day, the light came on.
Why am I in such a state because Joe’s life is once again out of control? We’re officially divorced—we don’t live together anymore!
And just like that, I decided to stop taking his calls or interacting with him in any way. I’d spent so many years accepting all this chaos as normal that I habitually and unconsciously fell back into the groove. I had forgotten that I no longer had to be a part of it. I was free! I had been free for a long time, and from this point forward I was going to take advantage of it!

The next time Joe called, I didn’t pick up the phone. When I listened to the message, it was very pleasant. “Hi, Mary Jo. Just wanted to talk to you. Hope all is well. Call me back. Love you.” He closed every conversation with these words, even now. I didn’t return his call.

A few days later, he called again. “Uh, are we not speaking? Did we have a fight? Because you didn’t return my call,” he asked plaintively. “Give me a call. I need to speak with you.” I didn’t return that call either. Several more days passed. One more message.

“All right, well, if this is what you want to do, I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll leave you alone. You know where to find me if you need me. Love you.” Click. And that was the end of that.

A lovely letter from him showed up a week or so later in the mail, containing a photo of me in kindergarten he’d held on to.

You were the most cutest kid in the class. You still are . . . Just thought you should have this.
All my love,
Joe

It was a beautiful letter, meant to tug at my heartstrings, and it did. I felt guilty for not calling him back. Cutting him off made me sad. But I just knew I couldn’t do it anymore. The final layer of the onion had been peeled.

Joe returned to jail briefly for his parole violation. I was finally done. I washed my hands of the whole matter. But my former husband still had some surprises up his sleeve.

I felt I had had quite enough attention from the press given the huge ratings that the historic Joey/Amy/Mary Jo triangle, together again after fourteen years, had generated on
ET,
as well as my
Oprah
makeover. David Krieff, the producer who conceived the reunion idea, had delivered a blockbuster, one of the top ten Nielsen-rated shows of the week. He called me again with a brilliant new idea. “Would you be willing to recreate the shooting on television?” he asked.

“For a million dollars, David!” I said sarcastically. “I’ll be happy to do it if someone wants to pay me that much. Otherwise, forget it.” We hung up, and I never heard from him again.

Three weeks later I was in New York, appearing on
Good Morning America
on the fifteenth anniversary of the shooting. This had been, on the other hand, a very appealing offer because they were doing a piece called “Life after the Light” and wanted to talk about where I was in my life. I was actually in a terrific place and looking forward to saying so and hopefully being an inspiration to people. Wouldn’t you know it, as I was walking the streets in New York, a huge photo of Joey and Amy holding hands on the front page of the
New York Post
was suddenly in my face, on every newsstand on every street corner of the city. I absolutely could not believe my eyes. Apparently they were “back together.” Both were divorcing their spouses and planned to live together. To say I was shocked was an understatement. This announcement made a big, but short-lived media splash as they appeared together on shows discussing their “reunion.”