No Room for Traitors

Chappy had forgotten what the attraction was when he first met me.  He loved that I was strong and independent. He loved that I stood for what I believed in.  I was not one to follow the troops just because some one said I had to, I lead the troop, even if I were the only one in it. 

My mother will tell you I came out of the womb questioning authority and my first spoken word was, "Why?"

She responded with, "Because, I said so."

And I said, "Who are you?"

"I am your Mother!" I have questioned her every day since.

Knowing that, one would think that he wouldn't try to overstep the boundary that I had set. But he had to challenge me.  He wanted to see if I was as strong outside of the mediation room as I was inside of it. He knew I was strong, but he had seen the weak side of me and that is where he needed me to be so that he could move on without guilt.

When you are leaving someone, you have guilt. The severity of it depends on whether the person leaving has a conscious. Leaving requires strength especially if you are leaving a situation of control, abuse or with children. You still fear the unknown and you still question whether you are doing the right thing, but by the time you are walking out of that door, you have been processing this for months, some times years and you have worked through most of the emotions. That is how you can appear to be so calloused and uncaring, you have processed the information to leave, you have plotted as to how you will carry it out, you have prepared for where you are headed, all that is left is to execute the plan and walk away from those you have just shattered with your news.

He arrived that day to pick up his things.  I had moved the furniture as close to the door as I could have. I had placed all his boxes on the screened in porch.  I had shut all the blinds so that he could not  peer in. I did not greet him like an old friend.  I waited for him to arrive and I took charge of the situation. 

To control how you are treated by another, you have to take control. Life is like a game of chess. Each move is critical as to how others will respond.  When you are among people whom you can trust and who love you, you move freely as there is no fear, but when you are challenged by some one who is out to hurt you or gain from you, you must always plan carefully and execute precisely.

By allowing him to approach the front door, I am allowing him the opportunity to look inside my world. By meeting him in the driveway as he pulls up, I have taken control of how far he can proceed beyond any given point.  I can steer him to the screened in porch to gather his boxes and while he is busy packing those, I can steer the two thugs to the front door that is out of his view to remove the furniture. I can steer all of them back to the truck and walk away closing the door on this chapter of my life.

That is precisely what I did. I had allowed them twenty minutes to load and leave.  There would be no time to lolly gag around for chit chat.  I had lead Chappy to the rear of the house to load his boxes and I brought the thugs to the front door. They had removed the couch and I was bringing a table to the stoop for them to carry to the truck, when Chappy appeared at the door.  That smirk dripping from his face. I had an end table with glass inserts in my  hands, "You need to back away from the door" and I kept walking toward him.

He had not entered, he was on the side walk looking inside.  He had been told to not come in the house.  I put the table on the porch and told him to take it to the truck, as I turned, I  reached for the  door to  partially close it so he could not see inside. I heard the sound of a hand stopping the door and turned to find his  arm extended holding the door from closing.  He still had not officially stepped in the house, but he was closer than five hundred feet.

I quickly turned and planted my feet firmly in the hallway, I was three or four steps from the door,  "I told you, you were not welcomed in my house, now turn around and walk away." There was nothing inviting about the tone of my voice.

The look on his face was that of a defiant child trying to see if I'd take a stance.  He was going to challenge me. He knew that if I said some thing to my attorney outlining boundaries, he was going to send the message that he wasn't listening. 

"YOUR house? I believe I'm paying the mortgage, this is my house and if I want to come inside, I will." He stepped inside the door frame! He was forcing my hand and I was going to have to pull out crazy Cindy!

I had been trained by the best, Killer had taught me to stand up tall and act like I owned the world, I firmed up my shoulders, jaw tightened and I headed toward him, "I told you to not step inside of my house. THIS is not  your house. You lost the right to claim it the day you started playing house under someone else's roof." I just kept moving toward him and he side stepped me.

"So now  you want to dance? I stepped in front of him again and was less than a foot in front of him, "Get out of my house, NOW!" That defiant child went to take one more step and I was in his face, not on purpose, I had expected him to stop, but we both took a step forward and there I was, in his face.

"I am going to say this one more time, get out of my house or I will call the police." He leaned over to his right, peeking inside of the family room, the large bouquet of flowers perched on the television set.

He retreated, the smirk gone, the defiance absent from his face, turning toward the door, "I wanted to be sure you packed my speakers, you aren't going to win at this..." and he walked out.  I closed and  locked the door.

Silently under my breath, "Oh you think so?" Snickering at the thought of him opening the boxes that were marked Bose speakers when he reached his destination in Boston, laughing at the anticipated look of surprise when he realized, in side the box was another box, marked refurbished. Ah, the smell of victory, "Ah, Mr. Schafer, you are wrong once more, I have already won."

I moved toward the kitchen, the screened in porch was attached, walking out the back door on to the deck, he was removing the boxes.  I stood there, Precious at my feet. Chappy had shaved off his moustache. I had never seen him without one. He called for Precious to "come." She sat there, next to  me, staring at him.  He leaned down and called for her again, she sat next to me. He attempted several times to get her to come to him so he could say good bye or pet her, but she sat at my feet.  I didn't tell her to stay.

"She probably doesn't recognize me without my moustache" he stated trying to convince himself that was the reason for rejection.

"Yeah, I don't think that is it.  She's a very smart dog. She knows an asshole with or without his moustache, but she also knows loyalty, unlike the asshole she is looking at now."  I opened the door, snapped my fingers and pointed, she got up and went inside.  We didn't care about him any longer, we had each other.  No room in our hearts for traitors.