So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 5/26/2020
As you can imagine, I was traumatized to no end after the altercation with this nightmare next door. I spent the day processing what had happened and assessing how to deal with someone like that; a self-entitled male Karen, used to getting what they want no matter what. Thinking they have god on their side, thus justified.
The Christian-cult new husband has tainted everything. Bee’s cabin now looks weathered and stressed. The land looks dry and lifeless. A total stranger just told me to my face that my childhood home was no longer mine, but his. Merely because he forced his way into a marriage with my grieving hapless sister when she was most vulnerable after the death of her first, (equally awful) husband of sixty years.
I immediately sent a text to my sister- I don’t even know what you think of me at this point, but your husband is not well. I will give you a ride home. Your home… he’s dangerous.
She didn’t respond.
I had a stress filled sleepless night. I kept feeling like I was having a heart-attack. This stressed me out even more. The closest hospital is Victorville, another meth capital. I have a very rational fear of Victorville. The only good thing about Victorville is it’s the hometown of LaKeith Stanfield, but he was smart enough to high-tailed it outta there and make it big in Hollywood.
The next morning I calmed myself the best I could, made myself a nice cuppa tea, took Yasuke, (my Siamese Fighting fish) out with me on the patio and contemplated.
The local bunny, (the same one that comes out every morning and sits under the Juniper tree) sat down and watched me. I need your help, I whispered to her. Help me. They want to destroy our habitat.
After a while I sent a text to my sister- You need to come over and have a conversation with me. If your worried about contracting something, we can chat thru the window. My test was negative.
After a while she texted back- Rick I’ll text you when I’ll be over a little later.
Three hours later and not hearing from her, I text- When are you coming over?
She responds 40 minutes later- We’re cleaning the cabin right now, so if you need to go do something let me know when you’re back.
An hour later I text her- I’m back. (even though I didn’t go anywhere).
A half hour later she texted- Okay I’m coming. I’ll stay outside.
I originally texted her at 10am, she didn’t come over till 5pm.
Suzy, (not her real name) comes by and sits in the patio of Bee’s cabin. This is the first time I’ve seen her in person this year. She looks worn and tired, some of this because of life during the plague. Her hair is no longer dyed, (I think she gave herself a bad dye job) and her face looks weary. I certainly am not at my best. This plague has taken a toll on all of us. None of us are spring chickens! I’m gonna be sixty-two in July. Suzy will be 77 in August, we’ve been through allot. We chat through the heavy screen door.
I’m not gonna go into specific details here,.. even for a diary it’s too personal. The gist of the conversation was me warning her about where this will all lead. To stop seeing him through rose-colored glasses. There is no way he’s only gone-off like that once. She claims he gets mad, but swears he has never hit her. I tell her it’s only a matter of time. She makes excuses for him and apologies for his behavior claiming they’re going to counseling. I tell her he has absolutely no right to disrespect me the way he did. To talk to me that way, and to talk to her that way. “He treats you like his property,” I say.
She listens, takes it all in, and then responds with something she thinks I would want to hear. My sister never states her opinions. She only says whatever she thinks the other person wants to hear. I tell her, “I am your brother, and I’m worried for your safety. He went off on me because he didn’t get his way. His self-entitlement allows him to expect he can have whatever he wants. When you start disagreeing with him, it will get bad, and when it does, know that you can contact me at any time and I will be there. I am your brother, please listen to what I’m telling you.” She thanks me and promises that she will. Unfortunately I don’t believe her.
After all this she tells me the tree cutting, (of my father's fifty year old tree) has been rescheduled for a couple weeks, and “they” will be putting in a sensor light at Bee’s cabin. Even the victims in my family are control freaks.
As I’m writing this AAA has pulled up looking for my sister’s cabin. It seems Toby’s, (not his real name) car broke down yesterday,
(the one we landed on during the scuffle) and they will have to tow it all the way home. Karma, be thy name!
(the one we landed on during the scuffle) and they will have to tow it all the way home. Karma, be thy name!
So THIS is how the world will end.
copyright- rick castro- 5/2020
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