CHAPTER 70 On The Loose

3 0 0

copyright 2015 Chris Smith All rights reserved.

I heard a car drive up and the sliding glass door open into the master bedroom.

"Hey. How'd it go?" I yelled down to Dad as he walked in.

"Really great," Dad said.

"Where's Mom?"

"I have no idea where Your Mother is," Dad said.

His tone said it all. There was trouble in paradise. Shocking. Oh, the horrors. I could only guess that Mom was stomping around somewhere, fuming inside, and ready to let him have it with both barrels. Poor Dad. The man was pretty much fucked.

Sure she still loved him. But it was love with an edge to it. It was a love riddled with a past and Mom couldn't let go. It was a love with a history of emotional baggage. And right now, all of their collective baggage was killing us.

"Is she checking the [water] tanks?"

We lived in the rural countryside so we couldn't get city or county water. We obtained our water from a well. And we'd learned a long time ago, to always keep track of the water usage, not just at the tanks, but also the usage at each house. It was the quickest way to learn if there was problem with the water. A serious water leak could empty both of our five thousand gallon water tanks in a few hours. Water was a necessity and we didn't take it for granted.


"What? It didn't go well down there?"

"No it went great. I had a great therapy session."

"Really? Fantastic!"

"On the way home Your Mother saw some dogs on the road and wanted me to stop so we could help them."

There were always dogs running around loose in our area. It's a normal occurrence. The dogs trespass on other people's property and in some cases they cause damage or do harm. Though it's illegal in our county to let your dog run loose it's also impossible to enforce.

What Mom thought they were going to do about it, I had no clue. Apparently neither did Dad. Dad didn't want to have anything to do with the dogs. So he didn't stop the car.

Then Mom responded by going into one of her Episodes. How typical of her when she didn't get what she wanted. The behavior was akin to tantrums a child might give you, except this one was coming from an adult woman who seemed to hold no control over her emotions. Nor did she care to.

I predicted that Mom would block out that she even had an Episode, thanks to her selective memory. Sometimes I wondered where she got all the negativity and energy for the tantrums from. I'd be exhausted. One big tantrum, throw some things, stomp off, and I would be in bed for a week trying to recover!

Why couldn't she put the energy into something productive?

I didn't know.

Dad didn't say anything else. He was lost in his own thoughts trying to decompress from another one of my Mom's Episodes. He was spending a lot of time being reactive to her these days.

"Well, how can I help you?"

"I'm going to go for a walk," Dad replied in a flat tone.

"Really? That's a great idea," I said with a lot of enthusiasm.

I was glad too. Dad was toxic and having him around wasn't helping me in the slightest. Being around people with toxic energy was like nails on a chalkboard or a really bad sunburn. And these days, it hurt a lot more.

After about half an hour passed, both of them came back to the Main House at the same time. Then we all sat down in their makeshift little bedroom.

"For the past three days, every time we've come home, Your Mother has gotten upset. Can you think why?" Dad asked.

"Gee I don't know. I think I'll take a stab at it though," I said.

"Okay," said Dad.

"Let's see, could it be because she's upset about her Farm being taken away from her right before her very eyes?" I asked.

"Good guess. That's right. Every time we come back here, we pass the signs."

"They put signs on the gate?" I asked in horror.


"Oh, you mean the Eviction postings on the door," I said.

"Exactly. What if we could change this all right now? What if we knew today, we had the funding and Tuesday was taken care of?" Dad asked.

"We'd be acting totally different. We wouldn't be concerned about people coming on the Farm."

"Right! Mom would probably be over there greeting them, happy to show them the boundary lines."

Dad laughed! He said he should set up a table under the avocado tree over by the old house, the A-Frame, with a sign that read "Property Tours". And he could sit out there on a lawn chair, and for a fee give the prospective buyers a short tour of the boundary lines.

I laughed my ass off! How funny would that be!

Then I looked at my watch and said, "I need to do my eye."

"She can do her eye later. This is important. I just figured this out," Dad said.

"Let her do her eye," Mom said.

Dad always wanted to world to stop when he had something to say. Then he wouldn't give you the time of day when you wanted his attention. It was downright rude and insensitive. I abhorred his double standard.

But the eye was important. In my world, the eye came before Dad. So I went upstairs to get my Drops and then came back downstairs to the master bathroom so I could do my eye routine. The eye routine took about ten minutes or so to complete.

But that didn't factor the time I needed at every cycle. Right before I put The Drops in, I had to gather up my courage. It took guts to do something to yourself that you already knew would be painful. I knew it was going to hurt each and every time. So I would stand there, the Drops in my hand, the glass on the counter top, and take a deep breath. Then I would exhale, and take the leap, resigning myself with the discomfort that always followed when the diluted mixed Drops met with my sensitive and sickly eye.

I put myself through the pain because I knew it was the only way to heal.

"People need what they truly need until they change their own consciousness in a manner that manifests a different need."

Dr. William A. McGarey

American Physician, Author

( -2008)

A TASTE OF DESTRUCTION Book 1 (EDITING) is the juice worth the squeeze seriesRead this story for FREE!