Chapter 1 The Eviction
The knock came like a warning I already knew was coming. Three soft raps against the door, deliberate and patient, and then silence. My heart thumped in my chest, heavy and hollow, and I held my breath for a moment, listening to the scuff of paws on the hardwood floor. Bitsy, my tiny terrier, had already started growling before the second knock even landed. Juniper and Tank shuffled behind her, curious and cautious, like they felt what I did and couldn’t put it into words.
I knew who it was. I had seen them go to other trailers, knock, and either hand the paper or tape it to the doors. I’d been counting down to this day for weeks, though I hadn’t wanted to. The ten-day eviction notice had arrived in the mail, crisp and unfeeling, stating that I had ten days to vacate, that my rent was overdue, that the landlord’s patience had run out, and that they would take it to court to enforce removal if I didn’t leave voluntarily.
I tried. I’d really tried. But every form I filled out, every call I made to churches, local organizations, and social services, had ended in waiting. Waiting for someone to call me back, waiting for money to appear, waiting for a miracle that never came. My savings had long since dried up. The pills I needed to keep the pain from consuming me were now rationed, as if every tablet had to carry the weight of survival itself.
“Ms. Keene?” The voice on the other side of the door was low, calm, and polite. I recognized it immediately. Jean is the new property manager. She was the kind woman whose voice could make you feel like you were a human being, even when life insisted otherwise. “I’m afraid it’s bad news. I hate having to give you this. I really do, I know how much you have struggled with your health.”
I told myself I had to breathe, even though every inhale felt like it was scraping against my ribs. “I know,” I said, my voice thinner than I wanted. “Give me a few minutes.” I had almost pretended to not be home, so she would just tape mine too.
She nodded through the doorframe, hands clasped together, a subtle expression of sympathy in her eyes. She didn’t need to say anything else. I already knew. I calmly reached for the paper, forcing a smile. “It’s not your fault, you’re just doing your job.”
She couldn’t even look me in the eyes as she started backing down the stairs, “Keep trying, maybe somewhere will have the funds and be able to help you save your home.” I just gave her a weak smile and went back inside, shutting the door on the world outside.
The ten days flew by, and the “Sorry, we just don’t have the funds to help. Unfortunately, you don’t qualify for the programs we have. You have no dependents, you’re not over 60, and you’re not disabled,” made me sink deeper and deeper into the darkness.
On day eleven, a sheriff called pulled up, hard raps on the door followed by “Sheriff’s Office.” This time, I didn’t respond, crouched at the dining room table so I couldn’t be seen. I waited a good ten minutes after I heard the car pull away before opening the door. On the handle was a rolled paper, attached with a rubber band, that paper would be the final nail in what was left of my hope.
The morning of court, I slowly got dressed before sitting at the table to drink coffee. Maybe if I pretended it was a normal day, it would be. At 8:15 am, my aunt showed up to give me a ride and offer support. The ride was silent, the scene a blur as we made our way there. Taking a deep breath, I entered the courthouse, nodding to the eight neighbors who were there for the same thing. Each filed into the courtroom as the doors were opened, and we all sat next to each other offering support.
One by one, we were called to go up front before the judge; in the matter of twenty minutes, all of us had lost our homes. We all had different stories, but our outcomes were the same: ten days to find a new place and move from homes we owned. Not a tear was shed until I locked my door behind me, panic began to set in, there was nowhere for me to go, and no money, even if there was.
Every morning, I made a list of things I needed to get done. Only on day one did I do anything; I went to a place that helped homeless people. They offered showers, food, and resources to find housing. I walked in somewhat hopeful to have a plan in place, only to be told that until I was actually living on the street, they could not help me. Deflated, all I could say was “Thank you, but the system is really broken.”
My neighbors were in a panic as well; none of us had anywhere to go. They had gone to the same places I had been told the same things. And like me, they were giving a tent, sleeping bag, warming blankets, a small cook stove, and a three-pack of canned heat. James went to look for safe places for us to go. He had spoken with the local group that helped the tent camps. He knew that with my health and being alone, it wouldn’t be safe for me to try to go there.
James had found a place, literally across the street, which was a ten-acre stretch of woods surrounded by corn fields. It was within walking distance of the stores and would be easy to get my stuff to since I no longer had a vehicle. But still in my fractured mind, I held out hope that I would get a call with the money to pay what I owed and be able to keep my home.
Every day, moving trucks would roll through, each carrying the broken dreams of those who, like me, had just lost their homes. Knocks would come, as each one checked on me, did I have a plan yet, did I have help to move my belongings, and a place to take them?
James had borrowed my little wagon; they didn’t have a vehicle either. The storage place they found was just two blocks away. I sighed as I watched him load everything he could onto the small wagon and make trip after trip. He did manage to get a lot of their belongings moved that way, but time was running out.
I listed item after item on a sale site; the more I could come up with, the better. The days dragged on as nothing seemed to be selling. “Well, guys, it seems our luck is about to run out. I am sorry for what we are about to go through. I am sorry, I am a bad dog mom. I promise it won’t be for long; it is a new adventure for us.” I would say to my furry babies as they sat on my lap.
My routine didn’t change, as plan after plan fell apart. I wasn’t able to sell anything in enough time to get a storage unit or rent a moving truck, not that it mattered since I had no one to help me move. I would sit at the table staring at the wall. The only thing that would get done is feeding and watering the dogs, and letting them out to use the restroom. I kept replaying the last year and everything that had happened to get to this place.
“Come sit on the couch with me and watch this episode.” Drew had said with a smile, those blue eyes shining playfully. It was one of our favorite things to do, sitting on the couch with my head in his lap as we watched shows and talked about anything and everything. Drew had been staying with me for a week while looking for a new place. It was a small taste of heaven, one that we had both wanted and avoided for almost thirty years.
All of a sudden, he flipped the TV off, “Babe, I have been thinking. We are both in our fifties, we love each other and have for years. Throughout the years, we have had a lot of really bad times. It always seemed the timing wasn’t right. My own insecurities made me withdraw and hurt you over and over. But we always seem to find each other again, don’t you think it is time for us to find the happiness we deserve with each other?”
Taking a deep breath as I sat up, “If you are playing around, it is not funny, you know that is what I have wanted for years. The reason I walked away from you nine years ago was that you were too afraid to take the chance and be happy. Too worried about what some people might say because of how we met. Are you serious? No backing out at the last minute, because if you do that again, I will walk away forever this time and not look back.”
“I am serious, this past week has been the happiest I have been in years. I don’t ever want to lose you or be away from you again. In fact, the trailer you have been thinking about buying, I contacted the owner about us buying it together. We are to meet with him tomorrow, I really think we should get it.”
I had no words, just tears as I answered him with a kiss. The next few weeks went by in bliss; everything was in order with the trailer, which we worked on during the day, getting things ready to move in. It was like we had always lived together, our routines synced perfectly, and I had never known life could be like this.
I slipped into bed after a long twelve-hour shift at work, and he rolled over, kissed me, whispering “love you” before snoring once more. Chuckling softly, I snuggled under the covers and was asleep within moments.
Stretching, I rolled over expecting Drew to already be up. He was always up, making coffee when I would stumble out of bed. It took me by surprise that he was still in bed. I smiled, sliding out of bed. I would surprise him with breakfast in bed. Proudly, I carried the tray filled with our breakfast and coffee into the room. “Wake up, sleepy head, I made us breakfast,” I called out as I walked to his side of the bed.
Something wasn’t right; he wasn’t moving, no grumble in response. The sound of the tray hitting the hardwood floor echoed through the room. “Drew, wake up, baby!” I screamed over and over.
