Chapter 9

Finally, glorious summer has arrived here and we start having fun again. Chuck sometimes brings me bouquets of wild flowers. On hot days we sit in the creek together. We have a bonfire almost every night. We hike in the woods. We play Scrabble and Cribbage. I'm very happy.

He sometimes puts music on, that same mix he always plays. I like it, but he will only listen to that certain group of songs, over and over again. He is not interested in hearing anything new. He doesn't even like to listen to the radio.

Since he still refused to come into the house, instead he would come over and sit on the south side of the sun porch with me. There's windows that run the entire 15-foot length of the porch, affording a beautiful view. We would sit and talk for hours about our plans for the future, things we could do with the property, businesses we could start here.

Sometimes we would ride to the edges of the property, in his truck, and hike around enjoying the wilderness. There were always a number of animal tracks to look at and talk about. Then he showed me the raspberry bushes. Oh my, I have my own fruit. I got on the internet and learned all about wild berries. Later I discovered I also have blueberries.

Neither of us has a television so I spent a lot of time listening to public radio, which I really enjoy. I learned so much about the country's history and the people and government. I believe public, non-commercial radio is a true blessing.

Ellen starts coming over on weekends; she's got a job now at the nursing home. The three of us sit around the fire and drink and talk and have fabulous times. One night we start talking about Alzheimer's and I talk about my mom who is now in a nursing home for that reason. It makes me so sad and I wish I could bring her here to be with me as I know she would love being out in nature. Of course, that's not even remotely possible. We also agree, Ellen and I, that should either of us be stricken with it, we would rather take our own lives than go through the ravages of that horrible disease. 

 

Chuck thinks his mom might have it because when he went to his dad's funeral, afterwards, everyone gathered at a restaurant and had a meal, and then everyone was presented with a bill for their own food, even though his mom was quite wealthy. He said he'd never heard of such a thing and Ellen and I had to agree. He had told me many things about his mom over the years. His two brothers despised her. She was, apparently, very cold to them as children. She sounded pretty awful to me.

One beautiful night in July, Chuck and I were sitting outside. We'd had a few beers and he took my hand, looked deeply into my eyes and said, “Please promise you will always be my friend.”

“Oh, of course I will, Chuck. You know I love you. I would do anything for you.”

“I'm not sure I can ever say I love you to anyone again. But I would still be willing to marry you, that way you can stay here all the time.”

“Did you just ask me to marry you?”

“Yes, and I swear I will.”

There are no words to describe how happy I was that night. Or the next day when I called Ellen to tell her. She insisted on being my maid of honor, and I said of course. I wanted to have a private ceremony here, by the creek. Bernie would probably want to be best man. Then we'd have a huge party, set up a bunch of tables outside with food and beer and wine and invite all our friends. I have a little stereo we could set up for music.

I went out that day and added his name to the mailbox, right next to mine. I still remember how giddy I felt, doing that. At last, we are a team. When one door closes, another opens. I am living proof of that. You just have to trust in the higher power, and all things will work out, in the end.

I started searching online for someone who would come out to perform the ceremony. I also had to find out what sort of paperwork would be involved to make this happen. Turns out I had to get a special form from a lawyer, since Chuck and I had both been married before, in different countries. First we would fill out the marriage license application and take it, along with all the paperwork from our previous marriages, to be sent off with a letter from a lawyer saying we were both truly no longer married to someone else and then we would receive a letter of permission from the state.

Chuck signed the license application and agreed to let the lawyer pull his divorce records. Then he told me,” Since you're going to find out about this anyway, I might as well tell you first. My divorce was granted on the basis of abuse. But I only hit her once.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“After she told me she was leaving me, one night I asked if we could go out to dinner and talk. Then we went back to the house and ended up having sex. Afterward she said to me that the only reason I wanted to be with her that night was to fuck her. So I slapped her.

“I immediately realized I had done a terrible thing, so I got up and went to the guest room. She never spoke to me again after that. Then she filed the divorce papers based on abuse and she got her way. My lawyer was worthless and did nothing to defend me. I lost everything.”

I told him if he ever hit me he'd end up missing a hand. I will not tolerate that from anyone. Was that really the only time he had ever done that?

“Yes! Well, no. There was one other time, back when I was 15. I had a friend who was a girl. We were walking home from school one day and I told her about this other girl I wanted to go out with. My friend said that girl was a slut. So I slapped her.

“I realized right away that I had done a bad thing. I apologized but she never spoke to me after that, and I resolved I would never do that again.”

“Yet, you did do it again, later.”

“Yes, I admit that. But now I really understand how terrible it is to hit a woman. I couldn't live with myself if I ever did it again. I swear.”

So, off I went to meet with the lawyer and turn over all the paperwork, plus $500. I was told it could take a few months to hear anything back. A letter would come in the mail. I then explained all this to Chuck and he told me not to tell anyone about it. He didn't want anything to mess up his welfare status.

I told him, “Well, once we're married you won't have to be on welfare anymore. I have enough money to support us for a couple of years and then I'll be able to get a job here. And I will. I'll work, you stay home and take care of the property. It will be a perfect situation. Trust me, we can do this.”

August came and I should have gone back to my country then, but I didn't. I was having too much fun and was so busy with making plans. Plus I got a letter saying the marriage application was missing certain forms and I had to dig that all out again and resubmit it. So I really needed to stay here and keep on top of that process. Meanwhile, we were the happy little couple, me in the house and he in his 13-foot trailer.

He had to stay in the trailer because of the welfare thing again. He told me that if anyone found out he was living in my house, or even if we were having any sort of relationship, they would cut him off. Our relationship had to appear to be one of business only. We couldn't even be seen in town together.

In September he called to say, “There is this 18-foot trailer for sale in the want ads. I'm online with the guy right now. He emailed me pictures and it looks real good and it sure would be great to have. We could take it to go on trips. Besides, we can be married but you know we both need our own space so this would be perfect. I'll park it right next to your door so it will be just like having a whole 'nother wing of the house. Plus, we can live in it while we're doing renovations on the house. 

“It's only $1,000 and if you buy it for me, I will pay you back. When I do stuff for you, instead of paying me $20 and hour you give me $10 and the other $10 can go to pay off the loan. Plus, it's a 3-hour drive from here and since it's fall it would be a great road trip for us, lots of beautiful scenery. Should I tell him we'll be there tomorrow?” Oh, he does know how to play me.

So we went, we got it, and it was a fun trip. We went in Chuck's truck since it has a towing hitch. After we acquired the trailer we stopped in Northview to buy the wood stove Chuck was sure would be perfect for me. I paid for the gas since this trip was all about buying things for me. We also drove by Bernie's to tell him our good news, but his truck wasn't there. We figured he was still out camping somewhere.

As soon as we got back, Chuck immediately went to work getting the new trailer all set up as permanent housing. Instead of putting it next to my door, he parked it over by his other trailer, about 30 yards from the house. He told me he was too tired to try to back it up into position. We could do that later.

He installed five electric baseboard heaters that he got from the dump. He put an old wood stove that the Clines gave him next to the trailer and built a little lean-to over it. It seemed to be a good setup.

So, then we would cook and eat together, and spend evenings playing board games in the trailer. We would go to bed together in the bed at the back end of the trailer. We slept in the spoon position, with me in the back. I would give him massages to help him relax. Since I'm an experienced masseuse, he certainly seemed to enjoy that. We would sleep for a while until he started getting restless, then I would crawl over him as gently as possible, whispering words of love. I would lightly kiss his forehead and say goodnight, then walk back over to the house. I loved those walks under the stars. Sometimes I didn't even bother putting my clothes back on. 

 

We never actually had sex there, never have. He couldn't. I didn't mind, though. We liked to just hold and touch each other. That seemed to be working fine for both of us old folks. Until the night I touched his face, while he was sleeping.

He woke up screaming. “What are you trying to do?”

I said I was just brushing his hair away from his mouth so he wouldn't swallow it.

He told me, “Don't ever touch my face or my throat. I sometimes have nightmares about someone trying to strangle me. I think it might be my mother. She never wanted to have children and she always went blind for awhile after each of us was born. She never showed any of us any sort of affection so it makes me very uncomfortable now when someone does.”

“Well, Chuck, I do love you and I believe that in time you will come to understand that. I will respect your wish to not be touched. I'll just keep telling you how much I love and appreciate you. I promise. Is it okay to keep giving you back rubs?”

“Well, yeah, that's okay.”

 

 

Chapter 10

After we got the trailer our topics of conversation changed. Where we used to discuss all manner of things about the property, now all I would hear about was what he was doing with the trailer. If I tried discussing something I was doing with the house he would just tell me to be quiet, to zip it. Sometimes it was because he already had too much to think about; other times it was that my plans made no sense. He started telling me that I was delusional, that I didn't really have a good grasp on reality. I thought he was referring to my construction ideas. 

October, then, was time to make a supply run to Northview. Chuck didn't want to go, so he made a list of things he needed, which I bought for him. Instead, while I was away his plan was to go into the basement of the house and run a 220 power line out to the trailer so he could use the baseboard heaters he has installed. It would be getting cold soon.

I go, I shop, 6 hours later I'm back. While I was there I drove by Bernie's, but his camper still wasn't in the driveway.

When I get home Chuck doesn't come out to get his stuff. I unload mine then go over to see what's up. He is in a fervor; his computer is dead. He has been working on it all day, but it's gone.

I tell him not to worry, I'll find him another one. I know how important the internet is to him and I will start looking online for a used computer. I really can't afford to buy him a new one right now, but I know there are lots of good used ones out there. Microsoft just put out a new system so lots of people should be looking to get rid of their older ones. I'll search the local classifieds and then call him if I see one that seems right. If he is interested I will get a phone number he can call and they can talk about it. Then I will go pick it up and pay for it, provided it's only a few hundred dollars.

It took two days to find one. It was at a computer repair shop in Northview. The price was right and it was a very good one, an XP. Once again Chuck didn't feel like going. So, when I was in the shop to pick it up, I put Chuck and the salesman together on my cell phone, to work out any issues. I only wanted to be the delivery person, which I told Chuck several times. I also drove by Bernie's once again. I still saw no camper.

When I later pulled into my driveway, I expected to see a happy recipient of the gift I just gave. Instead, I had to carry the boxed computer to the trailer. This was about 3 in the afternoon. He came to the door, took it, said thanks, and went back in to set it up. I was relaxing outside about 40 minutes later when he yelled across the yard, “Where's the disc?“ He stormed towards me.

“What disc? I asked the salesman if there was a Windows disc and he said he explained to you that you did not need a disc, just the registration numbers, and you agreed to that. You have his phone number. Call him if something isn't right. Don't kill the delivery girl.”

I barely remember exactly what was said next because it just blew my socks off. I swear, those beautiful hazel eyes turned black. He said, “This isn't working out; you never do anything right.” Then he accused me of stealing from him. There was stuff in my house that I had taken from him without even asking. He had never met anyone who could do such a terrible thing, stealing from a poor man.

He mentioned a small stool in my kitchen. I tried to remind him that back in the spring, when he moved out here, he one day filled up his truck with stuff to take to the dump. He was tossing out a little, crappy wooden stool with peeling paint and I said, “I'll take that. I can use it.” So he handed it to me.

Then he says something about the green rugs he saw in my house and how they were his. I obviously stole them on the day I helped him move. I have 3 green rugs and I know, beyond a doubt, that I purchased all 3 of them, because of the drafty floor. He tells me that I am delusional. Now, I was pretty fed up at that point, so I got up and went in. I can't try to talk to him because if I try to talk to him, he tells me not to. Anything I say is just trying to justify my (wrong) actions.

I think about this for a couple of days and tell myself he's just cranky. I've known lots of cranky people in my life. If you love them you just learn to deal with the cranky times by stepping away for a bit. They'll get lonely after a while and get back in touch.

Sure enough, he called and apologized for blowing up. He remembered giving me the stool. He still thought, though, that some of his things were over here.

“Yes, there are things of yours over here.” And there are, but he put them in here when I first bought the place and here they have been for years. Some boards, an old chair, a couple of candles, I don't even know anymore what is whose. No green rugs, though. So I say, “If I give you $200 would you feel compensated for everything and we can just put this behind us and move on?“

“Well...., okay. I have a list though, and I'm going to add it all up. I'll give you the list.”

I still never have seen that list and really have no desire to. But, I go over to give him the money and that's when he tells me that he realizes that he has a brain problem and he has had it before, so he is going to go and get medical help. I just need to stay away from him for awhile because I am part of his problem and he really needs to talk to a psych doc about it.

See? He loves me, he just has trouble admitting it and this sets up an internal conflict. I tell him I think that it is a very good idea to seek help and I will do whatever it takes on my part. Nothing in the world means more to me now than he does.

I started looking online for information about mental disorders. I started in that same chat room where we met, which had a forum about mental health. I wanted to learn more about bipolar disorder. I had read a little about it and realized I had seen the manic/depressive stages in Chuck many times. So I was asking people online for any good websites. I found and read some, plus I made a few new friends. One was a guy who called himself Dog.

I posted:

I don't understand what is going on with my husband to be. He gets in these rages and goes for weeks without speaking to me even though we live in the same place. Then suddenly he'll get all friendly again as if nothing happened. This is putting a lot of stress on me but I really do want to understand what he is going through. I think he might be bipolar. Does anyone have any insights or suggestions that might help us get through this?

Dog wrote back to me in a private message and included an essay he had written a few years prior. It explained how he had been brutally cruel to his family and friends and was finally admitted to a hospital where he was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. After some years of hospitalizations and different drugs and psychiatrists, things finally turned around for him and he was able to become a normal person again who could keep a job and get along with people. He said he hoped his story would give me some hope that my situation could be improved, as well. 

 

I found another website which was all about bipolar disorder and I paid $100 for a book that really explains what you have to do if you want to live and survive with a person with bpd. It's a huge book with lots of information and it says it requires a major commitment. I was willing to make that commitment, though. I love the guy.

I saw him outside one day and he said hello. I asked how he was doing and he said pretty good, except he really wished he was able to use his new computer. I asked why he couldn't use it and he told me it was because he did not have the XP software disc. He was afraid to try to use it, that it would crash and there would be nothing he could do about it. He didn't want all that money I had spent to be wasted.

So, I got online and ordered a new software disc, $300. It was here within 3 days and he was very happy. He even actually kissed me on the cheek when I took it over to him. At long last, it looked as though everything was going to be okay again.

Chapter 11

A couple of days before Thanksgiving Chuck called to tell me he got a big roasting hen from the food bank. He wanted to cook it on his wood stove. Maybe I could whip up some potatoes and dressing and come over and we could have a feast. Plus, I could bring over some music. He wants to hear something different. Wow. I was delighted. So I made mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans, zucchini bread. I picked out five CDs. I chose some soft guitar, some jazz, all instrumental stuff.

We had a pleasant time cooking together. He told me when I first arrived to not bring up any relationship issues; we would just talk about simple things like the weather and what was going on in the world, and food. The food was fabulous. It really was a feast. I had my first experience of cooking on a wood stove.

When we sat down to eat he said, “Let's hear what music you brought.” I put on Jesse Cook. We listened for a few seconds and he said, “No, I don't like that.” So I put on another, and got the same response. We went through all five and decided to just dine in silence. Afterward, I took all the dishes home to wash. Oh well.

A few days later the snow started to fall. And fall. I've never seen so much snow. It's beautiful, of course, but day-um, that's a lot of shoveling. My driveway is about 50' long. Chuck had been using that same driveway all this time and had always kept it shoveled

out for me before he moved out here. But now there is also a back way to get to his trailer, which is about 150' long. He started using and shoveling that route instead. He never touched my driveway now.

He did, though, come over one time while I was shoveling to tell me how to shovel easier. He taught me lots of tricks, like shoveling out a path away from the driveway and you put your snow in a toboggan, pull it down the path and dump it there. That way you don't end up with huge piles on the side of the driveway. He told me that if the snow is deep to take the top half off first, then the bottom. It is twice as many movements but what you're lifting is much lighter, so you're less likely to hurt yourself. He showed me how to push, cut and bank it, too. He told me to stop frequently and just look around and enjoy the view. There's no need for it to be a hard chore.

So, I kept my driveway shoveled and I also opened a foot path between the house and the trailer. Mid-December he called me and said that since I had a path open I should come over and bring some beer. He had something to tell me. I went over.

“For weeks I've been searching online and making phone calls and I finally just found out today, Bernie died.”

“What? No! How?”

“Don't know. All I can find out is that they found him in his apartment a couple months ago. He'd been dead for a while. I tried to find a police report but can't get any real information. Are you crying?”

 

“Well, yeah. I loved Bernie, he was such a gentle soul. I'll never forget the times we spent together. I always think of him when I use my bread board.”

We commiserated for a bit, then he said, “I'd like to find out who got his trailer and boat. They should have been mine. His sister probably got everything. You know how much he hated her. And I was his best friend.”

I decided it was time to call it a night and go home.

Just before Christmas he emailed and told me to go and spend it at Phil's, like I always had. He expected to be going to the Cline's, like he had for the past 2 years. I don't know what he ended up doing, but I went to Phil's for Christmas and stayed home on New Year's Eve. I bought a nice bottle of wine and listened to some of my favorite music. Ellen called. She was home alone that night, too. We had a delightful chat.

The next day Chuck showed up at my door. He brought me a big bucket full of sand to 

sprinkle around outside so the ice wouldn't be so deadly slippery. We ended up spending the night together, holding each other in our shared sorrow for all that had been lost that year, 2007. After that we both became very solitary. I started spending more time at the computer.

At this time I heard from my dad that my mom was not doing well and wasn't expected to live much longer. There was no way to tell exactly how much longer, but her condition had really deteriorated and she was under heavy medication now all the time. 

Chapter 12

In early January I was sitting at my computer one morning and there was a raging storm outside. The wind was wicked. I heard this sound, different from the wind; it was kind of a whoosh. My house seemed to shudder. WTF? I got up and looked out a side window and saw little bits of spruce scattered all over the yard. I thought, “That must have been some wild wind gust.” A few hours later I went out to check the mail. There was a tree on top of my house.

Holy shit! Sorry, but that's exactly what you say to yourself when you find a tree has fallen on your house. In freaking January. I didn't know what to do. I called Chuck, he didn't answer. I grabbed my camera and took pictures. I noticed that the tree had fallen very close to the electric lines that go into my roof. Shit.

This tree was a split spruce with two trunks, next to my mailbox and driveway, about 40' tall. One side fell off, the side closest to my house.

I saw a truck coming up the road. It had a plow on it and was moving slowly. A woman was driving. I waved her down and said, “Look, a tree fell on my house. It's right next to the power line. I don't know what to do. Who should I call: police, fire, electric company? Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. What do you think I should do?”

She said, “Well, if I was you I'd call my insurance company.”

Light bulb moment. “Of course! Thank you, thank you. I was so freaked out I couldn't think straight. Yes, insurance company.”

So I called them and they had someone out first thing next morning. While they were removing the tree, I was outside, watching them. Here comes Chuck. “What's going on?”

“Did you not notice that a tree had fallen on my house?”

“Nope. Never saw a thing. Did it do any damage?”

“Apparently not. They took out a wall in the front bedroom to look and we discovered that this is actually an old log cabin underneath the siding. It's all huge logs stacked up and they can withstand a lot. All the trusses and stuff in the ceiling are fine. Just a few shingles fell off.”

“You know, I would tell them not to cut that big piece that's across the yard there. You could use that as a nice fence across the front. I'll just swing it around later with my truck.”

I liked that idea. So they left the bottom part of the tree in my yard. We went back to our respective corners.

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 14

In June I got a cash payout from the insurance company for when the tree fell on the house. So I had Phil take me to the hardware store and I bought some lumber to build a woodshed, some paneling for the house, a solar light, and a build-it-yourself greenhouse kit. Chuck got hired as a mechanic working on big rig trucks. He started working 12-hour days, five days a week, so I had the place to myself for a change. I built a wood shed and set up the greenhouse. I planted a garden. I adopted a cat.

Ellen had come over and asked me if I would please take one of her cats, Belle. The poor old gal was always getting beat up by the other cats and spent most of her time under the bed or in the closet. She really needed a nice home, free of other cats. Plus, she was a good mouser and I was having a bit of a problem with mice. Ellen said she would provide a cat box and help buy cat food. So, I finally said yes and got myself a kitty.

On weekends Chuck and I started hanging out together again, enjoying the property. There was no more sleeping together and I just really wanted for us to be friends. After all, we were in this completely bizarre situation now. The world was exploding and people were dying from horrible things everywhere. It was nice to have a real person to talk to about all the horrors the BFEE had unleashed upon the world. We were setting up our little safe haven. This could work.

This is an email that he sent then that made me feel more comfortable with what was going on here.

 

July 7

Let me know where you want me to move that lumber that is on top of my logs on the West side of your barn.
I don't want to put your lumber on the ground, but I want those logs out of there in the next day or two to prevent rotting.
I plan to move them (my logs) over to my greenhouse area
Thanx

So, we're outside talking again one afternoon and he decides to tell me the following about himself: “Sometimes people accuse me of being self-centered. I'll admit it, I am. That doesn't mean I'm conceited though, it just means I'm looking out for myself. I have to, to survive. I've been screwed over again and again. People always take advantage of my innocence, my gentleness. I trust them and then they rip me off. So now I always think of myself first. It's how I've managed to survive all this time.”

 

I began to realize that whenever I went over feeling happy he would immediately slap me with some criticism, which would put me in a weak and submissive state. He would then turn all cheerful and talk about how wonderful he was and how he needed things to be. I was only allowed to like his music, his food, his ideas. If I had my own ideas, this was stressful to him.

He often told me that I was not at all observant; it was like I was wearing blinders. He based this on the fact that when I walk I always look down. Lemme tell you something, I learned about looking down when I lived and worked in the big city. I learned to not step in dog doo or strange goop, and I frequently found money while walking that way. Now, out on my property, I'm always barefoot, in the summer anyway. I want to see exactly where my feet will be landing. He doesn't seem to understand about peripheral vision. Mine is quite good. I do still see what's going on, but he doesn't realize that.

I tried to explain it to him once, but to him it was just evidence that I was delusional. He could SEE, I couldn't. He told me that so many times, for a while I started to think maybe he was right.

One Sunday, a few weeks later, I was out working in my garden when I heard a truck pull into my driveway. It was Bill, the neighbor I'd never met, and he was carrying a chainsaw. I started getting a little freaked out and said, “Hi. What's up?”

“Hi. I'm Bill, I live over there. I think you probably know who I am and I think you have heard some really bad things about me. But, I've seen that tree laying across your yard for months now and I've seen how you try to mow around it. I decided I would come over and cut it up for you and get it out of the way. It's what neighbors do here.”

“But, but, Chuck was going to pull that around and make it into a fence for me. I'd like to have a fence across the front.”

 

“Trust me, I know Chuck; that will never happen. Just let me get it out of the way for you. Okay? Then we'll talk.”

So I let him. He made quick work of it and we moved it all out of the way. What a relief. I insisted he have a beer after and we talked.

He told me all about himself and how his family had grown up here. Then we got to talking about Chuck. I told him about the rent payments I signed for but never got and he said the same thing had happened to him. He asked me how many animals Chuck had shot here. I'm like, “What?”

“Oh yeah, when he first moved onto my property he told me how much respect he had for all the critters. Then one day he shot a porcupine, just because it was there. I was pretty angry about that because we don't see many porcupines around here these days, but he was all freaked out that it was going to attack him. Another time he shot a garter snake. He said it bit him. I don't believe that. I think there is something wrong with the guy.”

“Oh yes, I think so, too. But I'm trying to find help for him. I love him. I would do anything for him.”

“That's nice of you. Hope it works out. But come on up sometime, meet the gang. You have friends up the road you don't even know about. I'm only here in the summer though. I leave in September.”

We shared a big hug and he left. About an hour later Chuck came out. “I see you've gone over to the dark side.”

“No. I did not invite him here. I did not ask him to do that. He came over and volunteered to help a woman who appeared to be in need of help. I was, and I am very grateful for what he did. Here's something you should know about him. He was recently diagnosed with Parkinson's. He's doing okay so far; he's on a lot of drugs. But he has a horrible disease and he will eventually die from it.”

“I didn't know that. Maybe I should go and try to talk to him. Maybe we could make up.”

“I think that would be a really good idea, for both of you.”

A couple of days later I walked the quarter mile up to Bill's. He was just starting the grill. I met Sam, the guy who looks after the property now, like Chuck used to do. Then Rob, who hangs out most days and helps in whatever way he can. Bill took me on a tour of the property, some of which I had seen, all those years before. There was a bit of a tug in my heart to see that place where Chuck and I started out. But there was a whole lot more to see than just that little spot, like part of the big creek there. It was just stunning and we had a nice, long hike. Then he fed me, grilled burgers and fries. Yum. 

 

Weeks later I took Ellen up to Bill's and introduced them. He fed us, grilled burgers, fries, corn on the cob. It was a beautiful evening. Bill has this gorgeous cat, a tiny calico girl, so of course we ladies were all gushing over her. He invited us to an upcoming party in a few weeks. It was a party he had yearly and people would be coming from all over. There would be live music, a fairly famous musician even. I said I'd be there, for sure.

Ellen didn't get to go, she had to work. I went though, and oh my, what a great time. It was outside in the woods, about 20-30 people there, all of them very nice. One person came around offering venison sausage. Killed the deer himself. Now, I was never one to eat this sort of thing before. But this is a new world and I was tired of the old world of grocery store meat, full of chemicals and antibiotics.

So I took a piece and it changed my eating habits forever. It was so tasty. It went down so smooth. Now I eat venison whenever I can. Then came the live music. Several people there had guitars and fiddles and drums. What a wonderful, beautiful night I had. I walked home under the star-filled sky, and someone walked with me to make sure I got home safely.

This was a new person I had only met that night. He heard a bit about my situation and told me I should just tell Chuck to leave. “He already stated that he wanted to, right? Good. Now just tell him to go. You shouldn't have to live with all this stress and harassment. Just tell him to go.”

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.