Chapter 4

The next few months were a whirl of activity for me. I had to let all my friends and family know about my big move. I did a lot of research on tax laws. I had to learn a new monetary system and try to be conversant with both the USA and metric systems. I got a thorough check up and a tetanus shot. Busy, busy.

I called and spoke to an immigration lawyer who told me my chances for citizenship were slim due to my rather advanced age, unless I got married or found a high-level job. Not many jobs in Whispering Springs but I still had a powerful feeling that this was what I was supposed to be doing. I had made a major investment and I would just have to wait and see how it worked out. All I wanted was to live surrounded by the glory of nature, with good friends close by, and have my ecological footprint be as small as possible to make up for all the resources I had used up in my life.

Meanwhile, another dire e-mail came from Chuck. He said he feared for his life. Bill had returned and was throwing him off the property. Bill was a cocaine dealer and evil. He and his ex-wife had tried to kill Chuck a few times. I should never, ever have anything to do with these people, in spite of the fact they were now my neighbors. I took that warning to heart.

  

Happily, Chuck soon found a new place to live, a tiny shack behind another house in town. He was making it work for himself. He was on welfare now so he had to live very frugally, but he was doing it. Our emails started ending with hearts or flowers. Now it was coming on Christmas.

I was ready to make my first road trip up with some belongings in my van. It was an 18-hour drive and thanks to friends and family I knew which side roads to take and which highways were the quickest. So it was a pleasant drive, lots of scenery and not much traffic for most of the time. I spent a night in a lovely resort hotel. I did lose a few hours at the border while my van was searched. But all my papers were in order, so no problemo.

Once, when we were chatting, Chuck had mentioned that his feet were so cold in his new place. So for Christmas I bought him a pair of handmade, sheepskin, wool-lined slippers. They weren't cheap. I also bought him a large, beautifully illustrated book about a homesteader who built a house all by himself and lived in the wilderness, A Sand County Almanac.

I arrived at my house when I told him I would, Christmas Eve around noon, but he wasn't there. So I unloaded everything all by myself. I discovered he had set up a bedroom for himself in the house. Well, that's okay. He was doing stuff around the place. The driveway was all shoveled out of some recent snow. He had added new counter space. He put in baseboard heaters which I like. The house had previously been heated by propane and I didn't want to stay with that. They have natural gas in town but it's not available out in the woods, so I had to settle for electric heat until I could get a wood stove.

I was, of course, billed by and had paid Chuck for all his work, twenty dollars an hour. I paid him with wire transfers instead of checks. He didn't want the welfare office to find out he was making any money. Not wanting to stir up trouble for myself, I had agreed to his wishes.

Finally I was finished unloading the van and I found my way over to his new place. He was delighted to see me and had a fridge full of beer. So we had a few and talked about this and that. I asked why he hadn't been there to help me unload. He explained that he wanted me to have some alone time with my new house, to really appreciate it. Well, okay, I could see that.

Then he told me he had a big surprise. We were going to a party. It was just across the street at a friend's whom he had known for some twenty years. I was quite pleased at the idea of meeting some new people.

We went over and I was delighted to meet such fine folks. Phil and his sister, Lizzy, had 10 other brothers and sisters and the night was a constant influx of people, all wonderfully nice. No one questioned where I had come from, they were just all happy to have me here. Friends and family kept walking in the door, without knocking, shouting “Merry Christmas!” It was one of the best times I ever had.

Around midnight all the guests had departed and it was just the four of us. There was no more beer. We all agreed one more would be nice and I said that there was some across the street. I asked Chuck if it would be alright if I went and got one more for each of us. He agreed it was a good idea.

So I went and was probably gone 2 minutes at the most. I walked back into Phil's and handed out the beers. Chuck looked at me for a minute, then screamed, yes screamed, “What the hell do you think you're doing, just walking in without knocking!!?”

I was stunned. I said, “I was only gone for a minute. You knew I was coming right back. Besides, people have been walking in all night without knocking. Phil, is it okay with you that I did that?”

Phil assured me that it was, but Chuck kept on raving. He said I had no manners, that since I was from another country I obviously didn't understand proper behavior. He told me I would never survive here with that sort of attitude. Then he said he was going home and I could do whatever I wanted.

I asked Phil if it would be okay if I slept on his couch. He said, “Sure. Stay as long as you want. You're family now.”

Chuck then stormed out and I stayed to finish my beer. We talked about it a little bit and Phil said Chuck was just drunk and most likely wouldn't even remember any of it in the morning. But I could sleep there if I wanted. Heck, I could even share his bed.

I thanked him profusely but said I really needed to get back over to Chuck's, if I could get in. Phil said he would leave the door unlocked for me, but to be sure to knock first. We had a good laugh.

So I went back over and Chuck's door was unlocked; he was snoring loudly in his bed. I undressed and crawled in next to him, and we slept the night away.

We awoke Christmas morning around 8. I headed to the bathroom and Chuck headed to the fridge, to get a beer. He asked if I wanted one but I declined, saying I'd prefer coffee. He put some on and he was quite cheerful. No mention of the night before. He then made us some eggs and toast and it was all very nice.

Christmas is such an odd holiday. What other time of the year would we put a dead tree in our living room and then sit in front of it, eating candy out of our socks? Well, we actually had neither tree nor socks, but I told him I had a gift for him and he said he had one for me, too.

I was so delighted. I certainly wasn't expecting anything, what with him being on welfare and all. He insisted I open mine first. It was a set of 2 picture frames to hang on the wall. Each would hold 4 small pictures. Something for my new house. That was just so sweet of him.

Then he opened his. He looked at the house shoes and put them on. Then he stood up and looked down at them. “I wouldn't wear these. They're ugly!”

I said, “Excuse me? Those are exquisitely hand-made sheepskin. No additives, no preservatives. They are extremely warm and I thought you needed them.” He just huffed, tossed them aside, and opened the other present.

“I can't keep this. Look around, I have no room in here for books. Think about it, I'm always having to move in a hurry. This would just be one more thing I'd have to worry about.” Then he chugged another beer and said he was going back to bed.

I decided I might as well drive back to my house and put some things away, so I took the book and left. I hung some pictures and emptied a few boxes, meanwhile contemplating all the events of the past 24 hours. Had it just been 24 hours? It felt like a week. Being with Chuck was obviously going to require some adjustments on my part. But I reminded myself of all the good things about him; they far outweighed the bad. In for a penny, in for a pound, I've heard said.

A couple of hours later he called and asked what I was doing. I told him and he said I should come back to his place. It was Christmas, after all, and I shouldn't be working. Besides, I was only here for two more days. So I went and he was all happy again. He was making a big pot of homemade soup.

He put some music on; he wanted me to hear his special CD of his favorite songs that he had made off the internet. The first tune was Cyndi Lauper's “Time After Time.” I had always loved that and in time it became our song. Next was Jackson's “Man In the Mirror,” another favorite of mine. Then there was a 911 recording of a woman at McDonald's who was served the wrong burger. So she called the cops. It was very funny. Next was “All Out of Love” and “Thriller,” and then a George Carlin routine. That was it.

He told me he had so many albums years ago that had all been lost. First the ones he lost to his wife, then another bunch he had in a house he was renting with some other people. One day he had come home from a camping trip and the house was empty. The roommates had all vanished along with all his stuff. Wow, this guy has had some rough experiences. I told him I had hundreds of tapes and CDs and would be more than happy to share them with him once I got all moved in.

It was pretty chilly in his place at this point and he said we needed to get naked and get in bed, where it was warm. So we spent the next 18 hours playing, laughing, touching and learning all about each others' most intimate desires. When I drove back to my country the next day, I had an ear-to-ear grin on my face that wouldn't go away. 

Chapter 13

More snow, more shoveling. In February Chuck sees me outside and tells me to come over. We sit by the wood fire and chat a bit. Then he says, “This came in the mail today. I opened it because it has my name on it, too.” He hands me a large envelope.

It is the marriage application along with a letter of permission. I think I probably said, “Hooray,” or something similar as I read it.

He says, “I would never marry you.”

Something in my brain shut down at that moment, and my soul shattered. I could not think, I could not breathe. I could not process all the things that statement implied. My instinct for fight or flight had never been so strong. But I already knew that trying to fight this was hopeless, so I got up and went home. And cried and cried.

Crying became a way of life. When I went to bed, I'd cry. I cried when I woke up in the morning. In the middle of the day I would curl up into a fetal position on the floor and cry for hours. I couldn't eat. I couldn't stand to listen to music. One day in a store I heard the song “Time After Time” and I had to run out to my van in tears.

I had to do something to save myself, so I turned to my internet friends. I am forever grateful to them for all the help and support they gave me. One day I got a private message from Dog. He told me I had better check out the mental health forum and see what was going on. I went and found that my old post asking for advice about bipolar had moved back up to the top because Chuck found it and replied.

How dare you say those things about me? You are the one who is delusional and needs help, not me. If I ever see you post here again, I will have you thrown out of the country.

Dog posted a reply:

Hey, we had no idea who you were. We are all anonymous here and I think you know that. You are not allowed to threaten people here. We have alerted the moderators. If you have problems with that person, work it out with her. You're obviously in the same place. Stay out of our private sanctuary.

Within a short time all those posts were removed from the board by the site administrators. A couple of people sent me private messages, like this:

Hi. Please Read: My husband used to tell people there was something wrong with me because he was paranoid and projecting. Believe me, I understand.

And:

 That guy sounds seriously dangerous. I think you should get away from there as soon as possible. Be safe.

I wrote to the site administrators and asked if I could be allowed to change my user name, due to the threats. They told me that I could and so I did. Then I was posting and talking to people about other things when I got a private message from Chuck.

You can run but you can't hide

as you wish . .
carry on your delusions
nice try 

Ask anybody in my town that has known me for the last 25 years if they think I need "meds"You are not going to quit trying to convince my friends that I need "help"

Quit stealing from me and lying about what has happened.

I warned you - admit your own faults, and get help.

Leave me alone, and stop lying.

So I quit posting there entirely. Instead I started trying to learn all I could about what I need to do now, to survive. Because I have had some times here recently when I thought that I wouldn't, or didn't want to. I turned to spiritual websites. They told me how important it is to be forgiving. They told me to keep my thoughts positive.

Eventually I started visiting with Chuck now and then in hopes that this would all somehow turn around because I still believed we were meant to be together. I was so depressed, though, I'm not sure now what all I said during those visits. I'm pretty sure I told him I didn't want to live without him. I know I said I'd rather die than go back to my country because I had now become completely discouraged with how insanely corrupt it was. I could no longer relate to those people.

In March I got this message:

Before the snow is gone, I will make sure your van is gone - as that has been your prescribed method of suicide - a topic which you have discussed many times in the last few months.
I have no illusions that I will be able to live out my life here - I have to move on - you will not change, you will not seek help.
I sought help, and got it - and I'm OK with myself.

You steal stuff and make up stories
You do and say things you do not remember
You kicked me out for reasons I do not yet know

I want the keys to your van
I will remove it from in front of your place to over on this side
You refuse, and I will call Customs - they will remove it

Keys to your van
By Friday.

I ain't kidding.

"behaving violently" in MY country and town.
No one will believe that.
except you.
ya right
just try and sell that idea

THINK ABOUT IT

Think? I'm no longer sure I can think. Instead my mind just reels. I cannot get a handle on what I should do. I had let the insurance on the van expire because I expected it to be “ours” soon and would have to get new insurance anyway. Now what do I do? Maybe I am suicidal. I give him the keys. The van gets moved out into the woods, where no one can see it.

What have I got myself into, and how will I ever get out now? Everything I have is here. There's no place else for me to go. My cousin had moved on so that place is gone. There has got to be a way Chuck and I can work this out. We are both human beings, after all.

A couple of weeks later I am getting low on food so I call and ask if he will please give me a ride to town so I can get groceries. He agrees and drops me off a couple of blocks from the store. He tells me to meet him back at the same place when I am done. I was able to get a few things, anyway.

I called Ellen and told her what was going on and she assured me that she would be glad to take me to the store whenever I needed to go. Then I called Phil and he told me the same thing. All I had to do was ask, and help would come. 

 

In April Chuck built a large greenhouse next to the trailer. It's amazing. He used all those big thermal pane windows he had found at the dump. I go over a few times to admire it and we talk about gardening. Last summer I had put in a small garden and grew a few tomatoes, onions, peas and potatoes. The potatoes were a surprise. I had one from the store that had sprouted so I cut it up and planted it. I'd never done potatoes before and I didn't think anything would come of it. Then, in the fall, I was delighted to find I had created about a dozen spuds. The tomatoes were good, too, but it gets cold quickly here so I was really wishing I could have a greenhouse to be able to grow more.

We started having nice, little April showers so one day I pulled the last of the beige carpeting out of my bedroom. I laid it outside just behind the house to get a rain wash. The next day I went to Northview with Ellen to do some shopping. It was late in the day when we got back. When I got up the next morning and looked out my window, the rug had been moved. It was now all the way over by the trailer. I went over and pulled it back to my yard where he could no longer see it.

I saw him outside later so I went over. “How dare you take my carpet! I put that out for a rinse and you just decide to take it for yourself? What is wrong with you?”

“I didn't take it. I just moved it out of the way a little bit so I wouldn't run over it.” (It was nowhere near the driveway.) “I don't like you coming over here and making accusations like that. You clearly aren't thinking straight. Stay away from me!” I left. 

 

Meanwhile, my mom was getting worse all the time. She passed in the first of May. I started getting in touch with all my family then on a daily basis: Dad, Brother, Sister, Aunts, Uncles. Plus long-time family friends and my old friends online. I got many condolence messages and replied to all telling them that I was doing just fine but due to circumstances here I could not possibly travel back down there now to attend the funeral. I rarely left the house over a two-week period.

Then, one day while I was taking the trash out to the road, Chuck saw me and walked over. “Hey, haven't seen you around for a while.”

“Yeah, well, my mom died. I've been kind of busy with that.”

“She died? I didn't even know she was sick. You never tell me nothing about your family!”

 

I was so numb at this point, all I could do was shake my head and walk away.

Chapter 15

A week later I heard from Chuck. “Come over. I got fired. I can't talk about it on the phone.”

So, from what I understand, he was moving a big truck and he crashed it into another big truck. Lots of damage. Oh Chuck, Chuck. He said he was afraid they would try to charge him with doing it on purpose. I told him if needed I would testify to the fact that he would never hurt a vehicle on purpose. Then I started going over every day to spend some time with him. He was very depressed. I still loved him and was committed to trying to help him.

His greenhouse started producing like crazy then; there were tomatoes, cauliflower, cucumbers, onions, and he had a small corn field on the side. One day Ellen and I were sitting in my yard and he came over with a big bag of produce, and gave it to her. “Hi! How you been? Here, check out what I've grown in my garden.” They talked for a few minutes while I just sat there with my mouth agape. Then he left.

I looked at her and said, “He's never given me a thing from that garden. And he's only paid me rent twice this year, while I continue to pay for his electricity.” She gave me half of what was in the bag.

Yet, I continued to go over to spend time with him, but we now had a new rule. I was no longer allowed to speak. He told me all I did was jabber and he just wanted to enjoy the silence. He already knew all my opinions about stuff, so unless I had something really important to say, I should just shut up. He would tell me this jokingly, of course.

One day he told me, “I don't care what other people are saying, I think Sarah Palin is HOT.” This from a proclaimed life-long liberal/progressive who always stated he judged people by their character, not by their looks. Well, Chuck, there's a big difference between having character and being one.

Then he said he had decided to try to get back together with his old girlfriend in Northview. Seems he was seeing this lady all the way up to the time he left there. Once he moved to Whispering Springs he had told her he couldn't have a relationship with her any longer because she was bipolar. He said she used to call and beg him to reconsider. Now he was beginning to feel he wasn't really wanted here so he planned to move on. He had high hopes that she would take him back. Maybe she would come up here and help him move.

I decided I had finally found something really important to say. After all the times I had turned the other cheek, it was time now to turn both cheeks and say, kiss my ass. “Get off of my property. Now! Take your crap and get the fuck out of here. Go live with your girlfriend in Northview. But don't you ever bring her here. If I ever see another woman on this property, I will have her arrested for trespassing.” I walked away, for the last time.

A short time later I get this message:

 I asked you to leave me alone
 Instead, you bother me again and state you "want me out of here"
 Give me a reason You want more money?

         I never come over to your house,
       I live with no running water or bathroom facilities - "guests" ask where they can use the         bathroom and I have to say the house is not available . . .
       you figure it out
       they are not impressed
       I'm going to build an outhouse over here for my guests.
      That is not a question.
      And as far as I'm concerned, rent is paid for next month
      No response is required
      And stay away from me
      One more contact from you that is unpleasant, as they have been lately,
      I will contact Terry, Steve and Fred to see what is really going on with you
      In case you don't remember who they are, - they are your sister, brother and father -
      who you have never mentioned in the 4 years we have known each other
      amazing
      just amazing

I called Phil. “You won't believe what's going on here. It's beyond crazy and I really need someone to talk to.”

“Hey, we're just getting ready to go for a couple of days on a fishing trip. Why don't you come along, get away from there for a bit?”

“Yes, I'd like that.”

That was a good time. Days in the sun by the river. Boat rides and fresh-caught fish for supper. Beers around the campfire at night. Lots of friends and family there. I told them what was going on here. I was told that they always knew there was something wrong with Chuck, but not to worry, they would watch out for me. If I ever needed help, just call.

Chapter 16

I started spending more time with my friends and just getting on with life. But I still had this ache in me for all that was lost, so I got deeper into my spiritual readings and videos. I started meditating and doing yoga again. I found a treasure trove of information on the internet that I used to have to seek out in books. Be cheerful and optimistic, that is now my plan for each day. Find joy wherever possible, and humor. Laughing is so good for you.

Phil found someone to install the wood stove for me. I bought some firewood and put it in my newly-built shed. Wow, life is about to get so much easier. Now I can have hot water in the winter, which I will heat on my stove.

I decided to put a latch on the inside of the entry door to my porch. That door opens to my enclosed, wrap-around porch which covers two sides of the house. I had asked Chuck to return my keys, including the keys to the van and truck, but he refused. Well, at least now I didn't have to be concerned about him walking in on me.

Aug 8

When I leave,
so do you.

That message was repeated several times. He even talked to Ellen on the phone once and told her he would turn me in to immigration if I tried to do anything to get rid of him. “If I go, she goes.”

Then, all too soon, snow season was upon us again. Only this is "global warming" snow, so instead of the soft, fluffy stuff, now it's mixed with ice. The snow plow comes down the road and pushes the ice to the side, under my mailbox. I work like crazy to try to keep it cleared out, but it's just too much. Then I get a note from the mailman telling me that the mailbox is inaccessible, so now I will have to pick up my mail at the post office until I get the ice removed.

I see Chuck out shoveling and I go over to tell him about it. Since he gets his mail from the same box, would he be so kind as to help shovel that out. He says, “No. I have too much other shoveling to do. I don't care if I have to get my mail from the post office.”

The next morning I'm getting ready to go out and shovel and I hear truck sounds, engine sounds I don't recognize. I look out the window and see an ATV with a plow on it coming up my driveway. It's Phil! He cleared out all the snow and ice. When he was finished he came in and had a coffee. He told me how he just had the plow put on and from now on he would always come over after a big snow. I asked him to please be careful of the live electrical wires going to the trailer, which were now under several inches of snow/ice. I showed him exactly where they were. Over the next few months there were a couple more big dumps of snow and Phil was always there the next day, clearing it all away for me.

Chuck had actually started paying me for electricity again, once it started getting cold. I got $150 in October and November, on the first of the month. December 5th came and I hadn't heard from him. So I called. “Hi. Can I come over and get your payment for the month? Want to meet me in the middle of the yard?”

“No, I'm not paying you anymore. I have to save my money so I can go to a motel when Phil runs over that power line and cuts it off. I really hope he doesn't get electrocuted when that happens.”

“I have showed Phil exactly where the power lines are; he always lifts the blade when he goes over those spots.”

“Phil is stupid. He doesn't know what he's doing. You're a fool to trust him.”

“Okay, if the cord gets run over, I'll pay for your motel room.”

He hung up on me. 

 

A couple of weeks later we had a power outage that lasted for two days. I called Chuck to assure him that this was a genuine blackout, everyone was affected. I did just fine those few days without electricity. I had the wood stove and batteries to keep myself alive. My computer was on dial-up back then so it still worked. I survived. So did Chuck. He has a generator and two propane tanks. Life went on as usual.

Chapter 17

January 1, 2009
To: Chuck Howe
From: Maria

Under our agreement that you would pay $150 per month to cover your electrical usage while living on my property in my trailer, and which you did not pay in December 2008, you now owe me $300.

Your electrical usage during the month of December, 2008, has exceeded $150 and I am neither willing nor able to continue to pay this expense for you, so I will be disconnecting it in 48 hours if you do not pay now. Since you managed to survive the recent 2-day outage caused by the weather, I am certain that you can safely continue to live in the same fashion. If you want to continue to use the electricity, I will need $300 now and at least $150 in each subsequent month, at the beginning of each month.

In a conversation we had several weeks ago you assured me you had other places you could go, so I want you off of this property as soon as possible. By the end of March, 2009, at the latest, I expect to see you removing yourself and your belongings from my property.

That message was delivered online and in a document attached to his door. On Jan 3, since there was no reply or payment, I turned off the breaker to the trailer.

Jan 4

To: Maria

It's time! Give me the money for the motel.
Propane and gas costs me 20 -30 bucks a day - and a whole lot of time and loss of sleep - noisy smelly damn thing
pay up - my line got cut!
I'll eat up a couple months rent in no time running this generator . . .
and 60 degrees in the morning is just too damn cold to shave and wash . .
so I sorta stink a bit . . .

To: Chuck

Your line didn't get "cut,"‏  it was turned off due to non-payment. Just like in real life, you gotta pay your bills. And I believe I make that easy enough for you. So, I don't understand your reluctance. Just pay the agreed upon $150 per month. That's $300 now. Really, how hard is that?”  

Actually, I could use a shower myself. Wanna get a room at the motel up the road? You and me?

He calls on the phone and says he would like to rectify the situation but I put so much pressure on him he doesn't know what to do. I tell him to just pay his bill and all will be fine. He hangs up on me.

To: Chuck

Rectify? I would like to do that, as well. “PRESSURE? You proposed to me! I spent almost $500 on the paperwork to get that approved, and then you told me, in these exact words, "I would never marry you.”

Tell you what, I will pay for a motel room for us for a day or two. We can relax and unwind there, talk things over. I would, of course, tell many people in advance where I am going. I'm sure you would want to do the same. And there will be a weapons check at the door. You okay with that?

There was no reply, but a few minutes later I heard yelling outside and pounding on the door. “Turn the fucking power back on! Turn the fucking power back on!” Evidently he had discovered he was no longer able to just walk in on me.

I decided to go out and try to talk to him, quietly. It was January outside, cold and snowy, so I put on boots, coat and hat. At the same moment my hand touched the kitchen doorknob, I heard the sound of shattering glass. I turned right around and walked the 6 steps across the kitchen to grab the phone and dial 911.

“911. What is your emergency?”

“A man is trying to break into my house! He is beating out the window of my entry door, beating and beating. Listen, can you hear it?” I held up the phone towards the door.

“Yes, I hear it. A patrol has been dispatched and is on its way. Do you know who the person is?”

“Yes, he's my ex-boyfriend. He's drunk and mad that his electricity got turned off for nonpayment. I think he's trying to get in to get to my breaker box.”

“How far away are you from the door?”

“It's a door to an outside porch and he's not through that yet. Then he'll have to break down another door to get to where I am.”

“Stay where you are and stay on the phone with me. The patrol car will be there any minute. What's happening now?”

“Oh, listen, it sounds like he's trying to kick the outside door down now. There's a latch hook on it I guess he can't see. Can you hear him?”

“Yes, I can. You should see the car lights coming up your street any minute now. Do you see them?”

“Yes, and I see him running back across the yard to his trailer now.”

“I'll relay that. Stay on the line with me. Okay, they've caught him now. Someone will be at your door in a minute.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Yes, they're here. Thank you so much for your help.”

There were two cars. Two officers went to his place, one came to mine. He told me Chuck was being arrested because they could see the damage he had done. Now he wanted to come in and take a statement from me.

Okay. He sat in a chair in the kitchen and I told him the whole story, which I have relayed here, only I just started it with the day Chuck asked me to marry him. I showed him our messages on my computer, including the threats made. He wrote everything down then asked me a series of questions. The last question was, “Do you think he was deliberately trying to hurt you?”

I said no, I think he was just trying to get me to turn the breaker switch back on. Later I came to wish I hadn't said that.

The officer, though, said something that helped save my sanity. First he said, “I don't think you realize this but you are a victim of domestic abuse. Use that computer to get yourself informed about that. Next, here is a card from the local women's shelter. Call them tomorrow. They will give you very good advice about what to do.”

He walked out onto the porch, which was covered with shattered glass, and said, “Have you been out here to look around yet?”

'No, and I don't want to, not right now. This has been the most horrible night of my life and I just want to go to bed. I'll deal with that mess tomorrow, when I feel stronger.”

So, I went and had about four hours sleep; then the phone rang. It was the police and since I didn't really press charges against him, he was just charged with drunken mischief and was being released. He had been instructed to stay away from my house and had signed an agreement to replace the broken window. And I had to turn his electricity back on. An officer would be coming in the house to watch me flip the switch.

I called Phil the next morning and told him what had happened. He told me he'd already heard that there were a bunch of police cars here and he would be right over. He came into the porch and said, “Oh, damn. What a mess. Did he drop this log here?” That's when I saw the piece of lumber Chuck had evidently thrown through the window when I first heard the glass break. That could have hit me, if I had walked out when I was going to. Instead it knocked over a bucket full of trash. “There's another log just like it outside the door, on the ledge.”

 

I asked Phil if he would please drive me to get some beer. It looked like it was going to be a very stressful day. As we left it dawned on me that there was now no reason to lock the door, since there was no longer a window in it. Plus, Chuck still had a key to the kitchen door. So I would have to do something about that right away.

When I got back home I called the shelter and talked to a lovely woman for about three hours. She listened to my whole story then gave me advice about calling lawyers, and how that might not really work out for me, due to my situation here. There could be the issue of me making him a homeless man, so I was finally advised to just tell him to take the trailer and go.

I went out and stapled a sheet of plastic over what used to be a window, then picked up some of the glass. Each shattered piece was a slice through my heart. Dear Lord, how could he possibly do such a thing? What happened to that sweet, gentle person I met so long ago? There is my life, my hopes, my dreams, all shattered on the floor in front of me now. Nothing can ever put those pieces back together. Then I drank a beer and went to sleep for about 12 hours.

The next day I called Ellen to tell her about what happened and she insisted on coming over for a while. We drank a few beers and had a good talk. She assured me she would always help with anything I needed.

I tidied up the kitchen then, moved some newspapers that were on the table. There was a pair of brown cloth gloves underneath. I figured Ellen must have left them and I put them in my coat pocket to remind me to give them to her the next time I saw her. That was two weeks later when she picked me up to go shopping. I said, “Here, you left these last time you were over.”

She looked at them and said, “Nope, not mine. I've never seen them before.”

They must be Phil's then. A week later when he came over to plow again I showed them to him and asked if he had left them. He assured me he had never had gloves like that.

There was only one other person the gloves could have belonged to then: Chuck. So he was either in the house when I left with Phil, or while I was asleep. I installed a hasp on the outside of the door and put a heavy-duty padlock on it which I kept locked all the time. Now I was locked in. I prayed there wouldn't be a fire.

Chapter 19

In May I'm outside cleaning up the yard and I see Bill drive by. He's back! I go up to see him the next day and he has a couple of friends there. I give him a welcome back hug and say, “Boy, do I have something to tell you.”

“Well, I have something to tell you first. Chuck came by last night. He walked up, carrying a beer and said, 'I have to tell you about Maria. She's evil. I have never met such an evil woman. Don't trust her!'

“Well, I'll talk to her first and make up my own mind about that.”

One of Phil's brothers was there that day. I had met him a few times before. Laughing out loud, he says, “She's evil?” 

Bill said Chuck was asking if he could move back up there, but Bill said no, that's not going to happen. Chuck starts wandering around the property, picking up stuff. He would say, “I'll take this.”

“No, no you won't. Go home.”

I asked if Chuck had told him about how he beat the window out of my door. No, he failed to mention anything about that. So, I tell everyone what happened over the winter. I asked Bill to please take him back, get him the hell out of my life.

“Sorry, dear. You know I'd do just about anything for you. But that's more than anyone deserves. That guy should be in jail.”

“Yeah, actually I think he'd be happy there.”

 

May 16

Subject: some guy who shot his landlord is going to jail.

hmm - my landlady cut my heat off at 20 below this winter

I never considered shooting her

hmmmm

free heat, 3 squares a day

hmmm

I decided it was high time to get the door replaced. Doors are expensive, $300. But I obviously had a psychopath living next door and it was keeping me from sleeping at night. Any sound would wake me with a start, and this old house makes lots of sounds in the night. Phil came over and helped me install it and it only took about an hour. It's such a joy to have a real door again. 

The long-awaited warm days of June finally returned. I watched and waited for the day Chuck would leave around 10 a.m., because then he would not come back until later in the afternoon.

When I saw him depart I turned off the breakers and went out and cut the power line going into the trailer. Then I came in and undid all the wiring he had connected in the basement. Next I replaced all the padlocks on the barn. Then I just sat and watched. 

 

He came home and went in; after a few minutes he came out and looked at the wiring. He looked over at my house, then looked back at the wiring. He looked at my house again, then went back in. About 20 minutes later a police car pulled into Chuck's driveway. I called Phil and asked him if he could get over here right away and he did. So he was with me when the officer finally came and knocked on my door.

“Good day, ma'am. Your neighbor over there claims you cut his power line. Did you do that?”

“No, not really. First, that's not his power line. He doesn't pay for it. I had a bunch of friends over earlier: Phil here, and Bill, Dan, Joe, Tom. They all know that he hasn't paid me a cent towards the costs here for six months now and has been told to leave. So, they were all out here helping me move some stuff in the barn and I guess one of them decided to just go ahead and do that. Or maybe someone ran over it. I really don't know.”

Phil says, “Yeah, she's telling the truth. That guy is a crook.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

 

He went back over and talked to Chuck, then drove away. Woo hoo! High fives!

Later that day I had a surprise visit from one of my neighbors across the street, Jack. I had met him once, years ago, when he stopped by to say hi to Chuck. They had known each other for around 20 years. Over the past year I would occasionally see Chuck go over to his house. Jack wanted to know if I was okay because he'd seen the police car. He then invited me to come over, have a beer, and meet his wife. I thought, “Well, this should be interesting.” Indeed it was.

The first thing I learned was that despite knowing Chuck for all those years, they did not like him at all. Lisa said he was mean, nasty and he stunk. She said he would come over when their friends were there and the friends would all find reasons to leave right away. So they dreaded his visits. But they were too polite to just tell him to go away.

Jack told me that in all the years he had known him, Chuck had never been able to hold down a job. “Hell, they even kicked him off the volunteer fire department because once when they were out fighting a brush fire, Chuck just sat down and ate his lunch while he watched them. The guy is totally worthless.”

I gave them a run down on all that had transpired for me. They asked why I didn't just throw him out so I explained to them how he was blackmailing and threatening me. “My God, he's holding you hostage there!”

 

“Yes, that's exactly what he's doing and it's good that you can see that, too. I'm just glad it's being done in such a beautiful spot. I love it here so very much. I sure do not want to go back to my country. People are killing each other all over the place down there. The police are mostly all corrupt as well as the politicians. I would be terrified to go back now.”

“Oh, we understand. We think this is one of the nicest places in the world to live. Well, we'll see if we can come up with a plan to get him out of the neighborhood. Meanwhile, we'll keep an eye on you over there and help you out if you ever need anything.”

See what I mean? The people here are just so amazing. A few weeks later it was quite a hot, sunny day and Bill stopped by to ask if I wanted to go boating. He has a big bass boat. So, off we went and soon we were out in the river, cruising along, just the two of us. He stands up and says, “Here, you drive for a while. I want to lay down for a little bit. If I fall asleep, don't steal any of my rugs.”

Omigod, I never drove a boat before! “Nothing to it. Just steer and try to keep us from running into the shore.” I had so much fun. What an honor to be trusted like that. After all these years of being told I was stupid and incompetent, this day was a real turning point for me. I love you, Bill, more than you'll ever know.

                                                     

Chapter 21

One day I was over at Phil's and heard a cat crying outside, and I do mean crying. After a while I said, “Whose kitty is that?”

“Oh, the people next door. Cat used to live inside but they have a new baby now and I guess it was always getting in the crib with the baby and they were afraid the cat would smother it or something. So they threw it out. I let it come in here a couple of times but I can't stand the cat hair. So now it just sits out on the porch and cries all the time.”

“Oh, for God's sake.”

I went out and the little guy came running right up to me. I picked him up and his ears and little de-clawed feet were ice cold. It was November, after all. He shivered and snuggled up under my chin. I fell in love.

I said, “That's it, Phil. We're gonna have us a catnapping. Take me home now so I can call Ellen and make sure she's okay with the idea, since I already have Belle. Then come get me in the morning and we'll bring the little guy to my house.”

He called in the morning and told me he had talked to the people and they were more than happy to give him away. They had given Phil his food, some toys, and a cat box, and he would bring them all over, if the cat didn't have some sort of panic attack in his truck. About half an hour later they drove up. The cat was sitting happily on the seat, obviously enjoying the ride.

“His name is Mick, and he sure seems to like riding, just like a dog.”

Thus came a new love into my life. My little Mick, who absolutely adores me. Turns out he's a Manx, I hadn't realized that; I had never met one before. Are they always this smart? He seems totally capable of reading my mind.

He has to be wherever I am. He sits in my lap when I am at the computer and stares up at me with eyes full of love. Sometimes when he's doing that he seems to swoon and falls over against my chest. He sleeps all cuddled up next to me. Belle has always preferred sleeping in a box in a separate room. They get along pretty well. There is the occasional “Hisss, fffft,” and they bat at each other with their clawless pads, but I separate them and all is well again. 

I made another new friend around that time, too. The house right across the street from

me had been for sale for a good while. Then I found out a single woman from out of town had bought it. One day after the movers had evidently finished bringing everything, I went over and introduced myself. I gave her a Welcome to the Neighborhood card with my phone number in it and told her to call if she needed any help at all. About a week later she called and asked if I'd like to come over and have a glass of wine.

Dee Dee was still living amidst piles of boxes but she uncovered two chairs and a small table and we plunked ourselves down for a good, long chat. She had left an abusive relationship down in the city and decided she needed to live the wilderness experience for her mental health. For her physical health, as well.

I told her about the situation at my place and that she should be very wary if Chuck were to come over and offer to help her out with anything. She told me that the realtor, a life-long Whispering Springs resident, had already warned her about him. This was the same realtor that sold me my house. Why didn't he warn me?

Anyway, we became fast friends and I eventually introduced her to everyone I know. The winter went by pretty quickly having so many friends to pass the time with. I could go into town whenever I needed to. Phil and his son are both avid fishermen and hunters so I was always on the receiving end for fresh fish and venison.

We had very little snow that winter so I was able to keep it shoveled out by myself except for a couple of times. Then spring came early with some really strong winds, which blew my greenhouse over. I built a frame inside it with 2x4s and stood it back up. 

Dee Dee bought a rototiller so she could put in a garden in her yard. Then she brought it over and made my garden plot bigger. Spending so much time working out in the yard, I decided to let the cats come out with me. Oh, were they ever happy with that decision.

They love exploring all around the yard. Mick has to always be where I am. When I dig in the garden, he digs in the garden. When I mow the yard, the cats run into the house because they don't like the noise. But as soon as I'm done, Mick comes out and climbs up onto the tractor seat, looking around with great satisfaction. 

 

Eventually the cats became more independent, sometimes wandering over to Chuck's. This worries me. Chuck is fanatical about feeding the birds. He has half a dozen bird feeders set up over there. Since they're the only friends he seems to have left, I certainly don't begrudge him. But cats do kill birds, although I do my best to discourage them whenever I see them stalking one. I even took down all my bird feeders.

Cats kill a lot of other things, too. Mick is my mole getter. He'll crouch down by a hole and just wait. Then, bang, he gets one. I am happy for the sake of my garden. Belle, on the other hand, likes snakes.

One day I was outside and see her come trotting across the yard, something in her mouth. As she gets closer I see it is a snake, about two feet long, and she wants to bring it in the house. Ah, geeze. I run and close the back door and then beg her to please put it down. She finally does and I get a shovel and pick it up and take it over to where the land drops down towards the creek, and toss it.

Another time she actually did get into the house with one and dropped it on the kitchen floor. It was still quite alive. I was freaking out and jumping up and down yelling, “Ah, Ah!” It quickly slithered away under the pantry door and I never saw it again. I'm guessing it found its way down to the basement and then out from there. They're just garter snakes and I'm not really afraid of them. I just didn't want to find one in my bed.

Once she brought in a chipmunk. It, too, was still alive. When she dropped it, it jumped into the cupboard under the sink. I don't have a door there so it stays warm and not likely to freeze the pipes in winter. Belle went in after it and suddenly containers of dish washing soap, laundry soap, paper towels came flying out, followed by the chipmunk and Belle. I had opened the kitchen door so after a couple of laps around the kitchen, chipmunk and cat were out the door again. I don't know how that event ended and it's better that way, I'm sure.

I did learn, though, to always look out the window before opening the door for the cats because you just never know what prize they might be bringing home to Mom.

Chapter 25

It's 2012 now, and we're still here. “Married.” Not legally or anything, but we're still in each others' lives. I can't get rid of him and he can't get rid of me. Dear readers, be careful what you wish for.

Here are last year's adventures with the psychopath.

One day in early spring, after most of the snow had gone down, I went out to the mailbox. Just as I approached it, it fell over on its face. That was unexpected. I'm glad it fell before I was in front of it, or while the mailman was in front of it. It was quite heavy and the 4x4 wood post had evidently rotted away at the bottom. I turned it over and retrieved my mail. There was something for Chuck in there so I just left it.

Later I saw him go over to it. He got his mail and then spent several minutes looking at the situation. Thinking he might have some interest in helping to get it set up again, I went out and said, “Bummer, eh?” He just looked at me and sneered, and walked away. So I dragged the remains into my back yard and contemplated what to do now.

I decided to go up to Jack's and ask if he had any spare 4x4s so I could build a new post, but he didn't. I called Phil but he didn't have anything, either. So I pulled out my catalog from the local hardware store and found they sell an entire post and box set for $75. Ouch. I called and was told they didn't have any in stock, but they ordered one for me. It would be in the following week and they would call me when it arrived.

Meanwhile, what to do? I needed a mailbox. I looked around at what I had, then gathered a wooden stool and a few boards. I pried the metal box from its perch of 30 years, maybe longer, secured it to the stool and set it up by the road. With the help of some stakes and bungie cords, it seemed quite sturdy.

The next day I went out to meet the mailman when he came by, to explain the situation and ask if this was acceptable, albeit a bit different. He checked it out and said yes, it would work, for a while. What a relief.

A week later I hadn't heard from the store, so I called. They looked it up and told me those were on backorder at the warehouse; one would be here in 2 months. So I got on the internet and found they had them in a Northview hardware store. I called Ellen, told her what was going on, and asked if we could maybe go for a bit of shopping. I would give her $12 for gas.

So, a few days later we went, and we did lots of shopping. We had a great time. The next day I unpacked it all and read the instructions. I still needed a 4x4 piece of wood and a deep hole.

Next day I went out with my little spade and started digging a hole. Jack came by while walking his dog. “Whatcha doing?” I updated him on my project and said what I still needed. Now that he had seen the situation, he said he was pretty sure he had something that would work in his storage shed. He'd be back.

He returned about an hour later with a post, a bucket of tar, and an auger. In no time at all he augered out a hole, poured some tar in it, and set up my new mailbox. I awaited the mailman the next morning to ask if this passed inspection. It did, of course.

A few days later I went to Jack and Lisa's with a six pack of beer. At first they said, no no, we weren't expecting any payment for that. We were just helping out a friend. I said okay then, we'll each drink two and this will just be a nice visit. Which it was.

All summer long, then, Chuck enjoyed the new mailbox, as much as I did. Although, he's never done anything to help maintain it.

My garden that summer was great. I had all sorts of things growing. One day I took a picture of it, in all its glory. The next day I was gone all day, spending the day at Phil's. The next day I went out to pull some weeds and it looked different. I saw missing branches off of some plants. So I took another picture, not sure what happened. Comparing the two pictures on my computer, it's quite obvious that entire branches have been removed. 

The next day, I saw Chuck on Face Book post pictures of my garden, calling it his. The pictures were taken with all the branches still on. The pictures were dated the day I was gone. The next day some branches were gone. Draw your own conclusions.

It was coming on fall then. I decided I really wanted that old truck off my property, along with a whole lot of other scrap metal scattered here and there. I decided to sell it all to a scrap dealer. I went across the road to Jack's to ask if he could recommend someone and he informed me that his son did that.

So I arranged for a pick up. His son came and Jack came over, as well, to help. One thing I wanted removed was an old electric stove that Chuck had tossed over behind my barn 3 years ago. It had been laying there, on its side, untouched, and always in my way for all those years. We each grabbed a corner and the three of us carried it down to the driveway. Chuck was sitting outside as we walked by with it. He said, “That's mine, you know.” 

 

I told the guys to just ignore him as it had been abandoned for many years which legally made it mine now. So, we kept on and eventually lots of garbage got removed from my yard. I got a few dollars for it. 

A week later, Jack was walking his dog up the road and Chuck was out shoveling the new snow from the driveway he uses. Chuck looked over at Jack as he walked by and called him a thief. Now, Jack is a very mellow person, an artist, and this really upset him. So, later that day when his son stopped by to visit, he told him about it. His son doesn't like anyone messing with his dad, so he went over to Chuck's to explain the situation to him. Chuck saw him coming and called the police.

Now, I didn't know about any of this. I was upstairs doing laundry so I didn't hear anything. I came downstairs and looked out the window and saw a cop car in my driveway. WTF? I went to my entry door and saw Jack and his son talking to one cop at the end of my driveway. There was another officer over at the trailer talking to Chuck outside. Chuck was clearly agitated.

That one then walked towards my house and I braced myself for a visit from the police, for whatever reason. But he just said to the other officer, “That guy is a nut bar,” and they got in the car and drove away. 

 

A short while later, I saw Chuck walk through my driveway and he dropped a plastic bag there, close to my door. I thought it was one of the free newspapers we get. So I went out and picked it up.

Through the plastic I could read: “STUFF TO PONDER:

Even the most gentle creature will become vicious, when backed into a corner.”

There were several pages: a picture from the cover of the book, The Sociopath Next Door. This book has some sets of crazy eyes on the cover, and he Photoshopped a picture of my eyes onto there. Because, you know, I am the sociopath. Oy. There was a page from the Tenant's Association about reasonable enjoyment of property. He seems to have that one backwards. Then there was a page of personal information about me that he somehow gathered from different sources which I'm sure made him feel like quite the detective. 

I took it all up to Jack's to show him; that's when I learned about what had happened and why the cops were there. I told Jack about hearing the one say Chuck was a “nut bar.” Yes, we agreed, he sure is.