Trapped Like Mice

TRAPPED, LIKE MICE

My life had turned into a big fat zero. I was out of work. I had put my mother into a nursing home because I was unable or didn’t want to handle the responsibility of taking care of her. Bill collectors had me on their speed dial, and I continued to ignore their calls. Worst of all, I was beginning to get the small-town blues. I didn’t want to remain in Newberry for the rest of my life. I felt trapped, frightened, helpless, and desperate. When a man finds himself in a desperate situation, logic and good reasoning are the first things to flee.

The one decision I knew I had to make, was to sell the house. There was no way around it. My childhood home held many precious memories, but those memories failed to stop the leaks, drafts, and much needed facelift, all of which would cost thousands of dollars which I obviously didn’t have.

On one particularly depressing afternoon, and there were many, I was sitting on our porch when a cousin of my family’s approached our house. I had always admired this woman. She was different. Talley carried herself in a way unlike most people. There was something about her gait, albeit a little slower than Sophia, in “The Color Purple,” as she marched through the corn fields after being beat by her husband Harpo. Talley grew up in Newberry but had moved to New York to make her fortune. Her demeanor was a little brash for most people’s taste in our neck of the woods, which made her, well, a little intimidating. She had a need to be seen and heard.

Talley had moved back to Newberry with a heavy purse. She had just sold a luggage shop in New York and had come back to Newberry with one intention, to buy property in the black community and lots of it. She may have been family, but she was first and foremost a shrewd businesswoman. When Cousin Talley dropped by the house that afternoon, she had more than just polite chit chat on her mind.

As we sat on the veranda sipping lemonade, one conversation led to another and before I knew it, she had talked me into selling her the house. I don’t even remember what she said, but whatever it was, I don’t think I needed that much coaxing. I concluded that she was an angel in disguise. As far as I was concerned, her timing was perfect. Besides, what choice did I have? My pockets were as empty as Satan’s heart. I had to either sell the house or wait for a lien to be placed on it by the bank.

Talley knew I was desperate because desperation has a scent, like too much Brut cologne. Hell, I didn’t even bother having the house appraised, that’s how off my business sense was. That woman took full advantage of my predicament. She made me an offer I couldn’t refuse but clearly should have. It was great timing for her, not so much for me. I just wanted to be rid of the mess I found myself in. When I accepted her offer, she pulled out a small black notebook she carried around with her constantly; retrieved a blank check and wrote it for $20,000 so fast, that the letters and numbers smoldered, leaving a cartoonish-like trail that spelled out the word, SUCKER! I held my head down like a castrated bull, took the check, and settled for the crumbs she threw my way.

At that moment, it seemed like decent amount of money, but in retrospect, the check was an insult to my intelligence. What really made me feel stupid was that I knew the money would be gone in no time. It wasn’t as though I had won the lottery. Most of the money was already past due on bills. I think what I wanted most, was just to get the hell out of Newberry and I had finally found a way to do so.

In my hasty attempt to sell the house, I acted solely on my own without informing anyone else. Since I had my mother’s Power of Attorney, I didn’t think it was necessary. Besides, the only other person, in hindsight, I should have informed about the sell/ transaction was my aunt. I think subconsciously, I decided not to tell her out of fear. I wasn’t sure how she’d react. What if she disapproved? Where would I be then?

Of course, my aunt found out. I mean, did I really think I could keep a secret like that from her? When she heard about the sell, my dear sweet aunt, a woman whom I loved dearly, turned on me like a cranky rattlesnake whose rattlers had just been stepped on.

In the meantime, before my aunt awakened me with a phone call I would not soon forget, I was able to experience a sense of normalcy. I prepared to move out of my family’s home and set up an apartment in nearby Columbia South Carolina. I was far from happy, but felt better than I had in a long, long time.

No one likes an unpleasant and unexpected phone call. I should have known the call was coming because I had set the groundwork for it, but still, it caught me off guard. The phone rang early that morning. The bedroom in which I slept was always cold. This was its normal state in the winter.

I always slept with about four heavy blankets covering me. So, when the phone rang early that morning, I really hated the thought of having to get out of bed. I let the phone ring about ten times before I crawled from beneath covers and made my way towards the irritating sound.

I answered the phone without expectations. “Hello,” I said, and the screaming began. “James, tell me you didn’t sell that house without my permission. Who do you think you are? You didn’t even discuss it with me. You had no right to do that. I am entitled to certain proceeds from that sell. She is my sister, and you had no right!”

I was speechless, caught with my pants down, as vulnerable as a newborn chick on a busy freeway. She ranted and raved for what seemed like, forever. I tried to explain to her what had happened and why it had happened, but I might as well have been talking to a shoe. My words fell on deaf ears.

A guy can only take so much abuse and that was when, at least in my mind, I launched a counterattack. “Look you bitch,” I exploded, “I’m the only one responsible for paying the bills around here and believe me, there are many. What am I supposed to do, stay here in Newberry for the rest of my life, grow old and alone until there’s nothing left of me?” Those were the words I fantasized about saying but alas, my actual response was a bit more subdued. “Look, I’m sorry you feel so upset about this, but it’s done.” She hung up on me with such a fury that I knew the old cliché “hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn, would soon become a reality.

I prayed that the rift between us would heal. I hoped that she would eventually come around and boy did she! Her “coming around” came in the form of a letter, a legal one.

I scrambled to open the letter from her, thinking that it was a truce in the making. I was wrong. It was from my aunt’s attorneys and they were requesting that my aunt be reimbursed for expenses she had incurred during my mother’s stay at the nursing home. I couldn’t for the life of me think of any expenses paid out of her pocket that my mother’s retirement check wouldn’t have been able to cover.

I kept reading down the list doing the math in my head until I reached the final itemized expense which brought me swiftly to my knees. My stomach turned and my mouth went bone dry.

I read line #10 over and over, repeated it aloud, until the reality sank in. #10: Funeral flowers for the casket floral spray of James Myers Sr., $75.00. My aunt, a florist, had never said that she was charging for the flowers, I assumed it was a family gesture. I’m sure that before our falling out, the flowers had been a gift. My aunt wanted to wound me emotionally and she had succeeded brilliantly.